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$urvivcrl of the Fítüest IXD nost large universitles, úe UnivÙsly of Arizona is a v¡rtD¿l clty: 37,000 stude¡rs dd Dearly 1.1,000 employees orì a sp¡awtirg cam- pus L¡ Tucson oi 174 buildings a¡d lÌi000 pa¡k-

'I¡ose îumbers have roiled state and fedcralotfictå¡s from P¡esidenl BusL on do\\'n, ln û recent suwey, edùca. tion policy mskers ln 2? srstes sald tlìâtfi¡ùcfÂl sûÞrroÍ for hlghe¡ ed'rcâtjon should be tied in somc way to a unt versity's abl¡itytokeep åndsraduate ¡ts f¡eshmÐ. Gover- nors of seven stÂtes - Arlzonâ, Àrkas¡s, Mlchis¿rì, Min-nesotå, New Mexico, ohio a¡d Vlrsi¡ia - sây they are

John Me¡¡ow is o v¡s¡f¡ng scholdt ¿t the Cdnrcg¡e Foünda. tioñ for the Adúoncenent of Teachiìg and repo s øi ed* cation for "The NewsHout W¡th ¡lû Lehrcr."

20 Sunday,Ap¡ìI24,2005

¡ngspots. Àlso ¡ikc mosrof the counrry,s cottetes a¡d u¡lt verslries, it js not larticul¡¡ly selectlve. Arlzona admfts 83 perðent ol its applico¡ts, although mosr gradLiared in lbe rophâlfof rheir hlglt schæl class. They sir innùmbing lêc- ture hÊ¡ls !À,ltb 500 clâssmatcsi the only l¡slrucror rhey may k¡o'r¿ is a teachi¡g asslst¿Jìt, oú tlìey are, for ¡t¡ in, rcnts and purposes, ar¡o¡rymous.

Thls ,s not exactly the popular lmage oi llA.covered highc¡ educåt¡on, bùt lt's the truth ol ir- Most shdetrrs do not go to ån Amh€rst or û Wlliâms, They go ro enormous publÍc ¡nsl Dtions llke the Unlversities of Arl2o¡râ, Iowa, CoDecticL¡t, MltDesotai more thùì five milUon ünder. graduates alle¡d an l¡stltution r,vlth at icasr 15,000 sru- dents. The freshman clrss ¡lore exceeds Ute populât¡on ot a smau town, ¡d t¡e courE€ catrlog ls the s¡zeof å phonê book. M,l(e Morefield, â jun{o¡ at ¡.rizona, re'nomù¿rs lìis firstyear: "lt's like somebody comes along wlth å pin riahr after lìith schooì, pops your bubblc, picks you up, dr¡ows you nåkediìlosomecollege, ar¡d you've gorto figurelror¡1.,,

Mr. Mo¡efiold flgùred uoùt, but l,29t of his freshmeD clßsmates - 23 pe¡cenr of thc class - dLd Dot. tn tharvây, ioo, Arlzônâ ls t)ÞLcal. The ståte UDivcrsiry ot New York âl Buflalo ånd the Untversityol Kentucky losr 22 per- cent of tlìe,r freshmen last yeår. Th¡eeo¡ t¡e four Univer- sity of MassachuseLts campuses lost at least 2,1 percenr. Eastem MichisÐì Univers ir y lost 28 percenr A¡d stx yea.s after enle¡lng

^rizonå, oDly 55 percent ot freshmen wtlt

háve eårDed deg.ees- sughdybctter thân theìârional åv-

By JOHN MERROW

How five younEpeople try to find their way amid large lectures, low expectations and newfound lreedom. mâking a lriorry of lncreasing rhe a.counrabiliry of cot le8es ard untversrtes thát recetve publlc m¡ncy, accordtng 1o the Nâtion¿l Govemors Assoclâtlon. Aìd when Congress Íakes up reautholzatlon of the gishcr Educãrionr{cr lârer tl1s year, it ts expected to cons¡der ho\,!' topcrsuadeor @m- pelcouegês â¡duniverslties ro crearcwhar Educarlon Sec- retary Margårer Spe¡lings câlls "cômmon ¡â¡Buage and metrlcs" about t¡elr performaùcc that wlll glve p¡ospec. tlvc srudents aîd the¡r fåmuies berter toots lor decidi¡g wher€ to lnvest,¡ thelreducario¡,

Eow carì colleges help slùdents ståy lhe couÌse? Edu- cÀtors subscrlbe ro the idea that rudents need a sense of Delonglng Ðd commitment. To nurrurc iÌ, campuses rry ro creûle pockets ot intlmâcy - s¡y, .esidences for studentsofsimllar l¡teresls, like women l¡sclence and engtnearhg. Ar¡zona also provldes speciâl orjentâtioD ¡d counselûìB for Hlspùic and Amer¡can IMIâ¡| srud€nts. And the uni- vêrslty's nerv Inl€grâred tÆarni¡B Center, bu¡lt üIlder, gÌound at the heartof the campus,ls p¡omoled as a,home base" fo¡ freshmc¡ and sophomores. Opan 24 hours, it of- fers academic sdvlsing, access ro rutors ard computers ùd 14 classrooms, f¡rm audi¿oriums to seml¡ar ¡ooms, where råculty are srpportedrv'th multim€dla technolo8y.

"w:J""'":åi'ili:iï,i:ff '.iï.:i:,'îî1":1H,; 'rwith thc lntegrated Leârllng cenler, 'Èe've mêde a mas-slve co¡nmitme tir tcrms of physicalfãcilit¡cs Ând the ad- vlsing tlìat gocs wlth lt. 'llut, he adds, "il is a mo¡e Darwin- lârì eDvi¡oDment, â publlc university of tlì¡s character.,'Of foùnderil)t studeDts, he says: "Wc always have the fælins that lI we had tìe rèsources to rccognize them âs rlrey lau throùgh,1o plck them up, jn rhc ì{ây that a liberal a¡ts col lege does, we could kccp them frc'n fâllùlg. Bur vc don'r have thôsô rêsoùr.es "

Even thotìgh a uDivers'lyopens tlìedoor,ir cdftmaÌe a¡ adolescent walk drrough lt However losr rhey may be, coìlegestude¡ts mayncvcr seckour Ð adviser, ht¡midat- ed, shyor allenâted, rh€ydon't drop in di¡rins facully o¡ticc

The U¡i \)ctsitt of A.izono c¿hpr¡s, rÞov?. "I¿ is d morc Daghn^ r hvtoh¡nc t. o publc úateÞt st t ol thts choracter," say, Petcr , Liþlns, thÞ ptcside t hours, Parcnts our oI siglìr, ürey slrì¡Aglc with ttìeìr lreq. lound ¡ndelcndence, stårti¡gwith the freedo¡n nor ro wâke up before midday or lo eat Þlzzâ âny hour of the ¡icht -aDd agal¡ for breakfast - or to pr¡r olf rcåd]Àg assign-mentsùnlll cram llme ar firals.

The lâLest resulls from th€ NationalSúlvey of Student E¡rBagement - of ¡60,000 fresììmen and seniors tro¡n 420lrrstt(ulions - show thût oncLifth ot underyraduates åre "discùgåged." To the survey s dlrector, ceorge D. Kuh, that mea)s rhey do not take parr irì campus culhrål events, do ¡ot samplethcw¡de cholce ol ava'lable cuurses or put much erergy ûuo tleir sludies. Nor, he såys, do rhey

Rlchârd H. Hersl¡, former presidenr of Td¡ty Colegc 3¡d Hobårland Wi¡ll¡m Smlrh Ço¡leges,rcIeßro rhis situ- atlon as À "mutua¡ nonaggressior pacl." Prcfcsso¡s see teachi¡g as û reqùirement they have rofultrtl to do the rc- sca¡ch they prcfcr, he says, "so the professor gocs into class anddoes l ûsk much ofstr¡dcnts, \yho ill return doD,r ask much of the proiessor. T¡e proiessor gives out reason. aþly hlgh Eradas as a vay oI camoull¡gins thûr thts Þa'.- gâin has been r. ck, hls evaluations wlllbo sâtLsfacrory, ûnd studcnts don'r comtlãin oboul grades ûr !Þour tv¡erh- er they've leaûred rnuch."

Inlhevlew of Dr, Hersh, a Þroponent of accouùrabiliry in hisher edì¡carioD, s¿udcnts hava 1o be lreld respons'ble for thei¡ ov¡ irlllatlve, bùt low srânda.ds allorv rhem ro coast th.ough l,¡relr collegc ycâß r'ilh rìjl)lmâl iDvolvc. ¡nent. "Thål's lhe realdßg.âce,'he sâys

TIÉ experlences oI rileyouDspcoplc arúe Untversjry of^rlzona - four seDiors aDd one vho would have beeD -illustråte djfferent âs¡ccts of tltc cãmpus expericrce. ìror onc extraordlnary s denl, coÌlese has do¡e cxæt ly ,rhÂt lt should: tìlumt¡ate thc Þossibil'lics. For ânothe., it has bcen one lont pnrly,Iiltle more thdr a stcppingsro¡)è to â job. For âll,learni¡s seems Loùc oplio¡al.

lfThls ls Boozeday, Th¡s MùstBe College ail l UDENTS håve nâmc, lorcerla'n d¡vs.'Iu¡sday jsIt Boozed¡v. Thùrsdâv ,s'l b,rsrd âv at Ar g-p.m. on a B@/¡day Iâ;r fÊtt, Fóbrn Bhârta a¡d frlends are downiìg shots of vodka ar hls off"campus apartment. "we sâve money ütat \À,ay,,'he explal¡s to a re. porter warchin8 the r¡tual "Ger ô bùzz on âthone,rhengo bâr-hopplng " Surficicnlly buzzed, the stùdcnts who are of d¡i¡ling age dr'lve ro a popùla¡ bar rear c¿mÞùs, where rhey chùgbeer ånd dô hûrè shots.r¡l like logetdrunk,rìor btacl- o{tdrunk, but I like ro acr drùrk," M¡. Bhållasays. "You're able!olalkrogirlsêlotlnore.ADdItikeAirts "Byì á.m.t¡els "l'ibâ¡," $'hlch polilely fanslates as'fouled up beyo¡d all recognjtion,r' aDd is asked to leåve the bâr. Hc stots a stll- dcnt who he ls sure i¡s'rlted hin earlier that evenUrg and rushes blm, Ìntent oD lighlins. His friends puu ¡i¡n åway, ard Mr. Bhalla rccls aroundrhepark¡ng lor,curs¡rs.

Lare rhe next mornint, Mr. Bhall¡ wakes up o¡ tùe floor of ¿vacant buildlng, Â shufered frâremiry house ,,I wâs so depressed, a¡d I looked at triy fåce and myhånds,,, I'e recålls, now siuing ¡n ê do¡nitory lounge for Ân tnrcr- uew. "¡ wås just likc, 'Wltat am I dol¡g vuh my Ufe?' ', But thât momert of ¡cllcclion smn passes- rlf I sât therê for d¡ys like that, what g@d's goil)g to com€ our ot ?' he says. Mr. Bhâlla p¡ofesses notto ¡êmember the qllercstion

About thc pu¡pose of colleae, he sâys: '.you go so you car get B job 3¡d make money wlen you're oidcr But ar t]ìe same lime you ge¿ ¡ife exper¡ences t¡åt âre prlceless, like networkilu." He expccrs that to pay off | .'I've made so many connectlons I never would tìave been ûble to make wit¡out lt, ùd l¡esc åre alì my frlends a¡d peopte dìar I k¡ow from the b¡rs dd from classes â¡d, you know, peG plê l¡at I've hùtg où!wth rhar þtêr ln üfc I'mgoirg tobc able to cau on and bc like: 'Ikrowyouhav€ âjobw¡th r¡ns company. Ilo you klìorv lf thêy¡!€ hlrl¡E¡ or can you get me M apÞlicalion ? Ca¡ I use you as ¡ reference?' "

Mr. Bhãüa, 22, a psychology maJor wìtl â ml¡or in I busiiÉss lg¡ada polfl Âverage 3.0, on û 4.0 scâlc), says he J stopf\ed golng lo mor of hls class* afrer sophomore yea¡ / ùd drårl cxcosslv¡ly rour nkhrs a vcd: usually Tues- l day, Thursday, Frlday, saturday. Nonerheless, he made I the dcù¡s ¡isr lasl spr¡ng. He says he has rârely tJve¡ t more ùe¡ ù hour ¡ ni8hl lor allhls courses. leachcrs

:;.r

Robin Bhallo soy s he ¿rdnh low ntghts o week o¡ A.izo,1q (bctotr, tõhnÉ abcet swiÐ_ s¿itl, h? on¿c mdde ¡l¡e deo¡,s l¡s¡

I sây, 'For evcry class vou sbou¡d do a cenain amounr of l reading, bur ¡ Deve' do that, he says. HIs ¡ourine: lowârd lùe end of thcscmes(er, scâr thc rcâdi¡Cs, revteqnoles to lsee whâr ùe raâcher said wâs lmpo¡rdr, eerrhe reacher's I rudy glide. He bcllevcs hn ß nor alone 'A lor ol peopte I jusr try and.oar by, and don r do r¡e reâülngs. Ihcy tr.l,' ¿nd cheal off lhc homevork, copy lhelrfricDds'.

"Now tþt I look bâck on tr, it's not r€ally hârd work,', he sûys. "I thbk orybody, tf they reaUy sat down ånd rrted to do thc vork, coulddo lt,"

Mr. Bhalla, rvho grew up lr fte Los Angëles suburb of oák Pårk, chose ;{rjz¡na (o get away trom the ground 'llles

of home ' My pa-rents always needed to krow whe¡e I vas, whâl I wÂs doi¡ì8," he sÂys. ','You cån'r do rhls, you cùldo t¡ar. r{nd rhcy d alwåys be houDdurg mcìodo my homework. So I ahvays hâd someoDe to rellme whatlodo', He wênt "a lltle crazy'' with his new lndependcncc. .fiy parents are, you know, I,000 miìcs ãwåy," hesays. "Olher. than phorto cals, they câ¡'t reâlly r¡vatch me, gr seo what I'm dolng flerc tt's: 'We're not golng ro watch you. Tùr¡ lL in Il you wa¡tj if you don't. l,urn lttn, wedon't care.",

charles M. T¡tum, dean ol ihe Colleg€ oI Hur¡aìiries, sâyshe ùderstå¡ìdshow {ough úce be 1o make fte r.üF sltio¡ fro¡n htgh s.-hodl to couage.',Iù highschoolihe¡e Âre dlrecl conscquences lor nol dol¡g your lromework," he

says. r¡Yoù lose polnts on your iinal mark In hish schooì the¡e's lnstant feedback. You're ln aclass ol maybe 25 or 30. Here, you wâlk üìto clâsses whcre süddenlyyou're nor expected to show rhe reacher on ã dally bas¡s yoù've done your homewDrk. You're lold: 'There's goi¡g ro be ¡ mid- t€rm, a,rd maybe â pap€r âlld üen a flnal aûm. co forlh ùd m8¡e the besl of it.' You'd beíor betleve úar certâin students cûnrt hmdle tÍat,"

Mr. Kuh, who ln addltloù to directiDg rhe srude¡rr e'r. 8âeement survey¡s a professofof hrghereducation ar hdi- s¿ Unlversiry, Bloominßron, doscrlþes studenrs ttke Mr. Bhûlla as'mazo smarl' - rt¡cv ¡aGl¡euãd õur wäärlrev Iha'@c;-I u'Slgbeonrhe€xamandslâvrnviqihlc'Thcy Upictrlâ¡Ã¡ | classcÈrnõ-sijiaTfi_(-cy l¡ so rhrcush üe drsrr¡burro or I Brâdes l¡ diffcrcnr majors ùd plck ü¡c casiesl otrc. T¡on I lhey tend Io hang toacrhcr.' Hc says rlrcsc srudcnß mßs I rhe polm ol couc8ei 'Tl¡csc arc peopte wtrl cnornrous ¡o- | lerrialarìd lalenr. Welus( necd rojdcnrrfy drcm. Thår cot I legcs cûn l tel such students morc lnvoived rn rhcir cduca- Itlotr¡s "ûrexcusable," he sâys.

ls il ¡cally possible to gct through a rajor university wjth so llttle effort? 'îs much as I would ltkc ro say,,Abç91 lutely notl,'yes, jt is possible," says Mellssa Vlto, deå¡ of stude¡ts at Arizona "we have a lorofsrudenls vhosc moü-

¡S'n"gS"" tt'."" pr"""r "f advrce rhâr I slvc a ll my corrcctions. suppose yoìr sisùed up ror a htstory class,ffg¡rEffio"rccs on no. ro makc thê most out oi and üþ onty reÀ;¡re;ent w;s ¡,n;jor råper ar the cnd. w:t@ql r havcn t lost a slr¡Bte onc yetI Then wh¡rlf you vrite thârfl,ìâlpaper andger ltback ffii rgmdy ln small Êroups $ât you j ol¡ or evcn lwo wee¡{s af rer the course enos ãnã on trrc õover page u forln you raelf. It ls antlrely cleù ùat rhc si¡Ble best sâys ,C-mtnus - John, r åsked stude ts to atralyzc vl¡alway !o

'ncreasestudenls' ensagement vlth rle¡r r¡ebook sald. youdidn'r arìstyze tr. you simply

åcademicvork, to connectstudents wlth othersrudcDts sutnmår¿e.l tt'Since this w¡s rhconlypaper, th€ arou¡d sùbstaodve ldeas rather thansìñÞltaõaiailz. cor¡rse l¡rcrå y hås ended. Too tata ro icarn trom rhts or ing, and to rrise the gr¿duation rate ¡s lo study t¡ chàtge ân],rhing, groups. Meet atmosr lwice aweeklorå¡ hou¡ and a ,,ln contrast, supDos€ you hÂd chosen ¿ history course hâlf ro so over ¡rsslg ed ¡eådi¡gs or prob¡em sers or l o ttìar askedyoìr ro sqbmtt ãêverat shor( plnèrs, TTen, discuss what ¡åppencd l¡ì class ycsterday. when gerl,¡g the tdcnrical com menr, yoÌr srllt would

"second, choose classes that slve you lro qüent have sjx or seven cha¡ìces ro makc a mi.rcou rse feedbâck, ì{hich auow6 you to make midcourse cor¡ectton. Alrd you m ay end up bor¡ì leamürg lots more

md gelrL€ arìA{DiÌus [!,rc¡dof a C-mnus "T¡l¡d, come to lhc ilrsr year of college \\,lth tlc

mindser rhat yoù are eåger tom6et people who ho¡d dlfferent vlews l.om fr¡ends you venr rohigh sctroot with. Oneof rhc happicst things about college ls þ€ing aÞle to chanse your m¡rd Àbourdrhgs.

"Sludents should staû atl|trlralslty wjlh lhc allitudc or | 'MÂybe I vl¡l end up lust r€arirmini my orlsh¡l beliefs,yetthls ls â speclal oppo¡runiry ro res! those bcÌofs and lohear ldcâs thâr arcne!v.I rnå! e¡d uD rr. Jccrurs rhen, yet ¡ cenain¡yshould ¡'sren.'Wfl mR'c,rA{ffiH}¡ßffi

1\ olessot ol cducotion&¡ vatg ond outhot al " Mat¿t¡s t h? Mostñr'otte&'

lT'::

EDUCA?'ION LIFÐ 2t

f vJlro¡ fo' ùu'nr g ln rn i\ lo É¡l J good Job. lhet th'r r,I How do I sêr l¡¡ pridcs?¡ ùrsr¡ad 01 rnrinp lo lcam. | Às for d¡l¡kirl8, Dea¡r ViLo says p¡obter¡s oflenstarl in

his¡Jichool, somctimes earlie¡. "studcDts comc hcre w'tl mo¡ehÂblts than theyuscd lo,"shesays, ¡nd alcoholisthe sûbstance ol choice. "lt\ what causes stùdents to make those bad decisio¡rs." At one poi¡t Mr. Bhâlla's drhkn)g crü8ht the ùiverdly's atrcùtio¡.IIevas senr to an alcohol education clãss in sophomoreyea. ailcr beûìg caught drlv- iDgù¡der lhe hnìrence, and was putonprobation tor â se- mester. He did no!getcâlght ãgain.

.¡¡ the end of a threÈhou¡ lnterview, Mr. Bhalla ,s ãsked ¡f he .e8.cts ¿rìyllìjDg he has doDc at Arizono. "These åre the ycds tìåt I'¡n ¡ot Boin8 to havc bâck,"he sâys, ".And I don't wâ¡t to be 30, 50, loo&i¡8 Þack åñd \Ìlsh- lng Ì'd partied thcn bccause Icú't do it now"

A r¡ontì alrorlhê i¡tervìcrv,l¡ December, Mr. DhBlla I sr¡duared ofler loì, r ¿nd â hâ lf yea¡ s ¡n collcac. Hc moved I ro Mlamt ro'oom wlú a (olle8e f ¡ iend. Hc hâs jus! sr¿fl ed I workinß fo' a ÞharmâceuUcâ¡ sÂles compry (basc ù¿lá- I ry: 530,000,. Forüemorpârl,hesâys,he goe,ouronlyon | !r'day and Sarurdåy rlghls. "J definllely mßs my coll.soI days,' hcsays. T¡¡ywere ùebcstfouryer¡sof mylfel

Gottlng Oflthe Comnrunlty Col¡oge Tråck

llt *:i.imtJåii::i';": ;ïiil :i'Å:Uf " r",,"" ^". ¡nste¿o o¡ s,vms a nus ro some-one wlrlr a Wi¡dcat b¡ckpack, I wås hug8ing conslruction workers we¡rbs ¡â¡d h¿ts," ahe re'Ìembers. "It was sad d'd a litrle ftastråtbg " Ï]'e ftìsr thing they would ãsk: Did sbe lìavc childrc$ yet? "A lot ofpeop¡e I wen! to high schooìr,vith did stârt off goir8 to college,"shesays. "We all entered PIma Community Colle8etogether as âgroup, but aboüt 90 to 9Spercentareno lorìger ¡'l co¡lese. PeDplehave blUs, Þeo0le have bâbles s¡d lû mllles."

Át the Þegin¡ing, Ms, Mârtlnezlad fit thenãtioDalprc,

22 Stìndây,Apri¡24,2005

lile of Hispdic srudcnts slre âtlerìdcd a higlì schæl thât was ?5 ¡ercenl Hlsparic, thaD å two-ycar collcae. HispaD- ics cnroll incollege ât lhc same r¡te as \rhirc studè¡ts, âc- cording to a stùdy Þy lhePev ¡lrspÐic Center and tlrc U¡i- versity ol Soud'enì CalilorDla, butone lll drree artend co¡l- munlty colle8cs, coml)ared v/il¡ one Ir llvewhlLe sludenls,

Ms. Martinez hÀd wa ted ro attcnd thc u¡iversity si¡)ceshe wâs 1ll klndergarLeù "lt$'âs LnstlucdtDnre early, the U is prestlglousi lt's lhe Þlace vhere I need to be," she says. Bul ln hcrscnior yearof high school, pithlhe distrac' tlon of lhe sludenr coutrctl ând chee¡leadt'rs, she look â Iess stressful scledùIe," she says, ålld wound ùp lacllng some admlssion rcq iremolts. SLudents j¡ rbe top h¡lf ol thejr c¡âss âre automâtically âdmLtled 1o tlÉ udlversìty lf thcy have ta*cn üireeyeÀrs of math, threc y¿a¡s of sclence and twoyearsof a forci8n læexagc. To earD a hlghsch@l ditloma, they need only t$ro years of math, two years of science ùrd Do forelgn lá¡gùâge, llc¡ less stresstul sched- ülchad keprherourol theùrlyerslty, so slìc wetrt to Phn¿ CommunltyCollege wl(h hcr hlgh schoolf¡

'ends.Begirìnlng next fal¡, the university willbe more selec- llvc, linitinA automatic acccptdce to t hc 1ôp 25pe.ccntof a high school class. The hope ls to i¡ìcreas€ Craduatio¡ râtes by, Mr. Lü{lûs says, "âdmiltl¡s l¡to our freshmân clnss studentswho mâyhave a betterp¡ospecroi success."

After lwo years atPima, Ms, Marllnez lrmslerred to rbe U ând slgned up for buslness aDd puDlic adninlstra- !ion, the u¡ivosity's second mosl potular mÂjor. "l vâDr ed to mÐ]{e money and be successful," sììe says. Dutdry ûc- counthE course$ convinced her she did Dot llkc rhc field. And there rvas social oplo¡(unity - she hâd jusl lurncd 2l and wâs living awây koh home rorllreflrst Ume,,'making my os,n n¡les.'r Three-qu¡rt€¡s of rhe woy lhrough the{irst sernester, she stopped golng [o clâss. "r didn'r otiiclelly drop the clâsses, brlt I didD't take the finãlexams, either," sl'e says- She so¡nehoìv got a C I ooe coü.se : "IlD'À, 1 md' ¿8ed thåt, notevcn la¡{¡ng d¡e final,I stiìl don't know,''

Thinkhs backover whyshe vasted û vììole semester,

shé sâys she ¡nisscd Lhc close rontact she had had wiLh t¿achcN a! Pnn¡ì an(l disl'kcd the "e{rãil relÂlionshit, ll there s ål]y coDneclioìl ¡t all" ì,vitlì profcssors. Also, "ar Plma I was i¡ lhc majority, butharc, wâìking arouDd and scctrg so nrúy bl'rc-cyed, blond-haircd pcople wûs a buge drock," shesays. "lt made itlìard to be comfortablc."

The universily's llispa¡ic enroìlme¡t ls l3-3 pcrccnt, ihough the ståre is more than 25 percent Hispaùic. Natio¡. al¡y, only ?3 perceDt of Hispùics who start college fiùish wlth a bachelor's dcgrcc, ard only ìSpercenl who stårl il) å commùùity college a d ttâìsfcr' !o lour-ye¿r hstltutlons finish ar aìI, ¡icco¡ding 10 the Perv HisDaùic Cenrer, The U¡lversity ol^¡¡zona's rccord ls co¡ìsldorâbly Iretler - 47percentgfâduate - dd it is work'¡8lo rltraü morc His-pa¡ic students, scDdins reprcseDtal'ves into elêrneitary schoo¡s 10 lãlk ¿opareuts âbouthowtoprepare for the U.

Ms. Martinez's mediocre âcademic performance - a 2.?5 c.P.A., dråßged down by the sorneste. ol gooi¡¡g off- taught he[ a lesso¡ : "I had [o be my own drill sergea¡l,.be- causa nobody else s'as goÌng to dlsclpli¡e ne. No reÞort ca¡d to Mom, and nobody to check on whether I went to

Now 24, she has sqitched her major to ¿lcmcntary educ¡rtion s¡d is student-t¿achi¡g ¡n hcr old school district. Like Mr, Bhâlla, shc sâys that ¡o m¿tter hov/ maDy øurses shehas o¡her schedule * or how lnary hours shc Epends at her part-ti'¡c job at Plmå Cour)ty Community seraices (no$ I a weêk, dovn rrom 25) - rshe has spcDLonlyrn hour a night on homevork. she NìU graduåle iD Þe- cember, seven å¡d å lìall yeers âfter'stâr'rùrg her colìege career. "I ù'oughr would be a lol more ìnteDse dd a lot harder," she says. "I'd Âlways thou8hl thal peoplc who rvc¡t to college we¡e drese brilliùl peoplc rvho had ro stay up hours ud hours studyins ard re¿dirì8, but l'rn ûûr a genius Ðd I m dolng just ll¡re."

Mr, Küh says hts $u.veys f¡nd th¡t mosl students stafr out wlth hlgh expectations, which âro r'ârcly me1. "They expecl 1o read morc, wrlre more, spend r¡ìore rimc vJrth lacùlty, ùd study more,'he says. "Theycxpect 10 be wr'it- tng three, four or tive pûpers, Uut studenß, particùl¿rly Âr larg¿ insritutions, can get through rlreir iirst year of col leseq)ithoùt ever hrvj¡g wrltten a ÞãDcrat all,"

When No OÍe Knows Your Name

- IKE rnânv voun! Dcoolc. Keiùr CawoJd eoudrcs r I

I - *u"c" o,;.rõm¿ *i'¡;¡¡er,e¡scrnrí. -voueorocol- |lI leee becauscyou don r,.\'anl ¡nrddlc-and lo;er{la\s I jobs, bccausc you don l war¡t Io sit rhere måÌrng $20.000 ro I $40,000 ! ycir," he s¡,ys. And thâr, h. adds, n¡cessi(ares I "lhâtpleceofpater."

Sowhen studeDrs come to tlú Trlden¿, a wood-Iranelcd bar papered wtrh Wildcât memorabilia ùd pholographs, Ire's sùre that some ol lhem look dov¡ on him wlen he aÊ rivedat the nniversity in fall2000 i¡orì Enid, Okla, hc ex- pectêd 1o beon the olher side of the ba¡, orderl¡ìg drùrks !! slead of serving llìem.lf he had tollowadtlrepaÌh of the Âv- €rage Arizona student, who täÌes 4.? ycars rograduate, he would bc gcttûrg his dlplomâ rhls âcadc¡nic yca.. Today, at 22, he's a dropoüt, mâ¡âging the Tridenl, ¡¡sr across Eãst SpeedwayAvenùe on thenortl sideoi câmpus.

Mr. c¡yr!'ood remernbers l)ow ovc¡rhelmcd he feit when he aùived on cam¡us, tle "classicnc¡d" with û map and Ào

'dea vhere Old MÂi¡ ræ Course offerLngs werc

dizzynìg. "Yor dldn't håve sonìeone, you k¡ow,leâdhg you by the haDd," be says. "No oDe ãcrually sat rltffc aDd g.Âbbedmcùrdsaid:'Hey,youkiìow,thisisascåryplace. Coma wlth me, and we'lltalÌ lhls tlìroìr8h-' I went ahcad turd lùit klrd oI jurnped ¡D, grabbed â schèdtrlc rrd took what I thought was needed "

Rernlnded thot the university offers emoUment ad. vice, hc acknowledges thal he k¡cw that. "I t¡rouglìr I was, you krorv, more matûre lhùt most ol my colleåAucs, buL I really w¡sn't," he says.

Mr. CÂJ¡ivood look severûl l¡rse leclurccourscs vhose ùìst¡ùctors, he says, dld not loìow h¡s ¡râme- Hc did not do vell. "I le¡l arslecp a lot," he recalls. "l got bo¡ed f,Dd I would talk wlth myfricùd. Thcre rvas no lnterac(ion, noone måklng sure I was obtâl¡lng rhc knowlcdgc üú! I should have bcen set(i¡g." He remembersone clâss l¡prrtlcular, \rlth 60 or ?0 sludents, raught by å graduale tcaclr,ìg as'

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Ketth cavwoo'l lou d the unÙet sitv of Anzana oveNlìc¡m ing o¡d ¡'nperuo¡ût. ¡te ttohsÍeûed La q co¡nmrntty coueße, then dropped out to wotþ ìn o tactt bat sßtarr. "We never ãcruaìly sarv a rc^l prcfessor¡, Ie says, "jùsr proplo who wereeittre¡ vorkurgoD ttrcirßrêduarc de_ arces or in bctwcen lobs, people jùst rltrne or tuur ye¡rs oldcrthd I âm."As heretives rhe memory, hisvoicertses tn I¡¡d¡ß a on, â¡rd sêve'at .ustomers ¡ook ¡ f¡om lhct¡drúr{\. We rc readrrs a þook tud Brvine our rsighrs, bur hoq r ¿¡ you ger a Eood vjew of peopte.s ins¡Ahts whrn lherc s60 pco¡l¡ ir thcret hc asks. How cd a,l.A. reâd C0 pâpcfs ove¡ the weckend a¡d Sive each a fair shate? ,,tl would have bcen Djcer if I had someo¡e more cradib¡e, somconc I had to ca¡l (p¡ofessor' who's tinished lús de- srees aDd has published books."

Mr. C¡)ryood's re(ottecr'oDs do 'úr surÞr¡se Lcc S.Shulman, presidenl of rlc ¡ ârnegic Founda,lon tor ll¡¡ Ad- vecement of Teåchlng. '¡The g.eat etrenìtes ot lcâming a¡e ûnonymity aÌd lnvisib"¡ty, ,Mr. Shulmân says. ,,pco_ ple who are l¡visible do¡r'r tearn. h no seNe are tììey ac_ coùDtable¡ h rþ sense arc they respoDsiblc, ând rherefore thcycâr¡ simplyturnolf.

Mr Liklns, Lhe presjdeDl, .ålls the jargc ¡ecrure ctass¡¡s¡ uofDrtunâre ecoDorìric ¡racessiry', at a dme whcn the slate Lcgjsl¡lùre has cut lr¡¡ds by more thÐ g50 mlllion over the past scve.al years, I-lle studeDt,teacher rario ar

^¡ izon¡ is high - l9 4 to I - bùr nor ùDusual.It,s Ìg ro I ârPem Srale, t? 3 to I at d'e UDivcrslry oI Kånsas and 22 to I

at lexasÀ&M. By conrrast, A¡nherst has oDeÞrolessor lor every nùe srudeDts. Eco[or¡ic reatfties dtcrate rhal un! versiries rclyon 1.4.'s ro ¡educe jr]strucrioDal costs ând ro

allow professo¡s ro corcentrsteon r¡rejr ¡esearc¡¡, ^rizonarequlÉs T,A. s lo Ârrcnd wækly ffahu¡8 semùrrrs ln rteirllr\l sem.sler of (eachi¡t, axd Mr. t¡kos sar,,s trù pncour.

ages senior faculty to teach t¡e gc¡ìerâl educâuon tccru¡T coqrses thal undergradtratcs ererequircd ro take.

M¡. Câyvood tûsrcd until midteÍn ex¡¡ìsaì.¡then cn- rolled Ât Píma Comrnu¡ity College. . I had smat¡er clâssos, aDlqhe'c kom l8 ro 25 srudenß, tre says. ¡lhe reachêrs lncw nte by n¿mc Jnd werc wiling ro mccl mc aftcrctass aìd \{o¡k on projecrs. Ir wås a wholc lot bet!er,,' S1l¡l onty r¡, he sor a lob nr â bar when he boasred to rÌre ur raser thathe could ¡jft a fullkegabovehis head.,.she c¡¡ålentcd ¡ne Io prove lr, I d¡d. ùrJ shc hrrcd me, he sãys. He frn- lçhcd theycðrar pina burdrop¡edoul towork fullrl¡rc

Willhc to ù¿ck to 't

sh colte8"' Hc hcdSe!, callDB il a 8oâ1.lrur n s nol 8ol¡r8 lo h¡ppcn sool I D Dcjrjn€Eood ¡noney riShl now, hesays. I m a resForsrbte ncrsù ¡,¿y-nrrlerlrh irsu¡an.o ¿nd car ¡nsu¡oci,an¿ ¡enì o¡ n 0n¡c- ly basis. l cou¡d look bact and ùt'rk coL¡td of. shoutd ot,qould ot, lrut rt I ¡re¡¡ dwc ¡ng on thùres n rlc pa,t, rh¡r doesn l help' Hc hopes to ìruy his own bar sompdcy:,.t,,n movjl)g on {oberrar lhings,I be¡lcve.',

ì¡/heh EvoÌyone Knotvs Your Namo t NONYMI rY rsnol an rssuc tlyou r. a6{00l-¡ |^f. 4il l,x'r;lm's:"ll;tltÌil:"Ìyr:: ;i":" :iütïì

body's only 3,0 percenr Af ùca¡-A¡ncrÌcan. Tlte stale,s high schøl pìayer of rhe ye¡r, Ch&Dins Frye be8s¡ hts freslr_ D)ân ycar on aülettc scbôlarshlp_ Easínß lhe âccìirna- lion lo cam¡us I¡,c, ha roo¡ñcd vfh á lcammat¡, and tso orhcrs Uvcd acro,s lhc hatt. A junior or ,c lcam, Jasol Car(Ùrc¡, g¡v. hlm lhc A B C's. -Chaj¡ni¡g, horc's vhal you do,'.ML cÂrdner rold htm. .,you r¡od rhe horresr sirt taìl car¡ fi'¡d ðü you ¿sk ¡ìer wt¡c¡e your ct¡ss js, cvaD if you l{Dow whcre is. Thàas ju\r how you b;c¿k (h¡jce ðrd, you lnow, get comforraÞle vfh jt ,'

A¡nong âthlc¿cs' prillteges is åll acadc¡¡¡c advise¡ räÀ sec rhat thoy stây on lrrck ro gradùÐr¡ rar¡d ctigjbl¡ rr compcte). An àss¡s!dn hcad båskctÞâ , oach, Jim Ros. boroùgh, drivcs around carnpus ln ¿ gô¡t.dr( nrolira¡ilc c¡¡ss åtrendârco. On¡ professor sajs hc ¡s askeJ twrce â s.mcsle¡ for updalcs on the acãdc,¡rc ¡cto nå¡tcc ¿nd¡t(n dùÌceof alhìeres Ihisclåss.

Ar aqçistanr.o1ch and ttre ¡dv¡sc¡ helpcd Mr. F¡yù selcct cl¡sses ftcy rold hrm whrh Þ¡otcssots to avord. '¡lo be honcst, heroys, ¡thnLkit sbc crbDtt¡forlh¡årl! leta dd for thc professor, it rhe professo. docsD,t war)r ro å.lust the rules or, yoü kìow, be à li(ttc mo¡e leDieDl rGvrrd tl¡c âfhlêtr drd his scl.êdulo.' Duflnts ttrc se¡sol, p¡ayers mãy rntss ct¡ssps and tcsrs two or Urrcc days a veck bccause of road rrjps. .Sorncl¡m.s you car't trkr ûþsl,' Mr. Fry" extlains, t c.rus¡ you c4¡'l op.n youÈ cycs Le.susc you re so rirc,l f.om Scu ins bJ.k ai 2 or 3 jn rllu rnornurg." Hc{tors Dor rhxú rU¡tetësect û t¡e Ìidu:tr.

ï,Rèly ooi;ur peers. TI'ey câDprovidehorcsr ldîdbag$a sounJrn8 ùoârd a¡d à scDsÞor b¡toDts,,,ts l*f#Uc faiç$¡tf a va ne(y or Lrrå trorscs., ffixi: $*lì* ASAHTLLTARDù|p rcl¿ s sor.of u rban educstion,' ceo¡giû statc uñi\,crs¡ry "vlslt prolessofs arolf'cc tìou¡s. cer to k¡ow rhem, åÀd let tl)em k¡ow you. Forte â co¡xrecdon wlth r¡e o¡res yor¡ like. they caù ùe asource oi ¿dvicc a¡d mentorjlrg ùd Decome your tururc wrj ters of lelte¡ s of recom hend¡ r iôn "

"Tlerc ¡s too rnuctr ¡crding ¡narcristin the averâcù collcre coursÊ, aDd sharlnc rhe bu.dên c orÐc c,;,n l¡mc will reruy helD. Bùl chmsc your srudy ßrcun n¡embcrs carcrutly. F¡c^loade's ôróthers vho dox r contrlbute tDughüu¡ly slþùtd no! be ùlcludad. Also,do Dot loodup on cou¡scs for your cxpccrcd rnålor ù¡ r'cs¡¡mm year.låke ttmé to ox¡toro olt¡or arcâs.

"Fûryc ¡ì( loaçt o¡c f¡ i¡ndsh¡¡ wrü sontoo¡rc wt,o lnitially irri¡nidalesyou. KecÞ i¡ rouch wit¡ vour lrlcnds frorD lìiBh s(hno¡. Doyour laund¡r repulår tv, C¡lllromo weekly. And don't cut ctâss. tr'si¡r ult¡mare'dts " ÌìOBIN (i MA,TÍLET

De¿n ot rd¡r issioh, Sfon/ord

MICHELE LEVIN .,Ftnd somethtng (o 6tudy that excttes you¡ sc¡eÌce ¡eûc,¡e r, United Nû¡¡ons schoot, passions, ¡ro Drâtrer ho,,v cr;zy, ¡ rì1prâctrcaíDr

and tacent Haredñ graduarc trrclevâlrtmaysce,nroouì;rs. ior¡,uìeaDrnore f¡o¡n pürsujr¡s Ð jrnellc.l ù¿ I p¡ssion rhû ,itimj¿I¡ìì;\t r he corc currtcurur ns in I l,r wor¡d srdckcd ôilHå¡¡r Rõff#pachorho.,. ¡:¿w¡niïülrläi¡

,{ út rì o¡, . Frll¿c c uidc þtro¡¡e¡e.s\:Ât: $Tl

¡'IKD ROSE Ptolc ssot ol ¿ducohor. U.C.L A,

andauthotol Thc Mñdat wort?,

EDUCATION LIFE 23

On tl¡e Web Vidco Þrofilca oI sLL¡deùrs i¡ lhis arricle ca, be vjerve(¡ ¡ìt n]'times-coD/edùcåiionllfe. They we¡e nade ror "Decllrtr¡g by Degrees," à rwoìour docu- me¡rtary reported md nâùated by Joh¡ Mcrrow où the state ol hisher educalion. Il will bc Droadcast on PBS ¡r June.

s¿ys Lhey l¡)âìÌ a ¿ougher path l¡tâ!ì rhe coDvenriotât sru- dcDtbccauseof t¡rc reslonsibility thcyshoulder

Lytùe M. 'Iro¡sdal, the uìiverslty's åssistau vicc presldent for studc¡t retention, w¡shes ¡egu¡âr stÌ¡dcnrs cou¡d cnloy the hâ¡rd-holding errended ro athleres !'lf we coutd do fort¡reno¡ studen t-athlerc whât $e do for the stu- dent atllete, weVould have a retcndon ra(e il)at is rnc¡edi, ble," she says. Asked !o describe rhe athlere's parh, Ms. Trolsdal s¡nllcs. "TI¡ey are v]ooed, froùr the tlme they caù slr@t a baskct or play , irh a bâll, \¡rhåtever ft ls they do, , she says, "They're told, 'You're våluab¡ei $re waDt you ro come.' Once they'rc here, tlrey hâve acadcNic advise¡s who work wtth tlrem on a oneìo{ne basts, lookÍ* ar thejr schedüles, arrСgirìg tutor¡rg, mâÌtrg su¡e therr ctasses don't conllicL wlrlr prâctlce. A¡id if they have ar âlhtere who caùl write vcryqcU, theyhavc a wr¡ting lutor come ln to belp, They \À,ork Nilìì professots on rt¡e ¡thlctc's grådes, a¡d lf the gradc isD't gmd enorìsh, they'U help ÞeÌi- l¡on U'e grâdc. They help vitlì deadll¡ìes, give cåreer ad- vice, even teåch lhem how ro 6paal<ìvitl.the media "

The media (rair)hg seems evident when Mr. Fryc, 2t, ls asked ho\r many houìs a nighthc spends on schootwork. Hls filst ânsvcr is "ù hour, maybc an hou'. and a hau " Then he p¡uscs, sDilcs and â¡ncìds his answer, ,'Tvo hours, maybe lwo ând a hÂIf." He esr'måLes hc spends 20 perce¡tol h¡s rlme on ¡câdemtcs, t0 percent ,lenjoying co! Ieße lifc" ùd ?0percent d¿voted tobasketûall.

,As r serìior, M¡- Frye started every game, averaged more thar 15 points Ând ?,5 rebounds a gan)e aDd was sc- lected to BaskerbÀü Tnnes'All^m€ricâ teâm. He scored 24 po¡nts, trabbed I? reþou)ds ùd blocked 6 shots in hts låst couegiare game, â90,89overrimc loss to tllinois ln dre qüarterfinal round of tIc Nationål CollegiateAthìetic Asso, cialion tou¡nament. The coach, Lute OIsoD, says Mr. ¡'ryc ¡epresenls aU thatlsgood Âbou(college athlelics: ..qe is ¿ lour-yca¡ stÂr¿c., a wonderful representatlve wirlin the com¡nun lrv ând a b¡ €llr youtì8 mûn.

^swiLch In majors - from physical educario¡ to hrer-disciplh a ry stùdies, which å¡lowedhim to Þürsùc irìtcr€sts

tn Dotì rehglon aDd Âlric¿n-AmeücÐ stùdies - pur Mr.Frye one semerer behind, hc says. Alrd his c.P.A - 2.3s6 - ls low. But that's sdll ahead of the same. Arizonâ srecord ìvitb studcnt Âthletcs, dcspile the hùldlìoldiî8, ¡s Dot Bood. Sûce 1905, only t\\'o basketball Dlayers on sclìol, arshlp havc graduâtedt niDe håvé lefL eÂrjy 1o Þlay in rhe N B.^, The most recent ls Andre l8uodala, who droDDed oùt a¿sèãson's end Iåslyeâr àrd si8ned for g9 mitlionwlth the Philadclphla 76ers. Thc Ar¡zoûa rcam's overålt gradua- lion ¡åte js 25 percenr; only ì4 colteges in rìrc 65-team NC-ÀA, basketbâll tournament r¡ris year ha(¡ a worse.

"l've oÍlen thought \rIat ve nced tohavc åre âLhtcrcs çho play for a municipallty," Ms. Tronsdal says. ,,Ca¡l them thc Tùcson Wildcats ând ler lhem gerpaid,

^Dd úcD

we(.'n¡lljur slop f@In'B ourselves " TheN.C.AA. is a¡so coDcelrcd-Next yc¡ìrirwiu beeùr

poDaliz!,g rear¡s qhosc tl¿ye¡s arc nor nro8rëssrng ro ward 8råduation witl tlcir or'gi¡ìâlclass and rv¡rosegrád- uåtion rate fal¡s Delow 50 pcrcent. Mr. Fryc did consider lcavn)g ror ù¿ N.B.A. lâs( year. But, he says. '.I felr likc lastyca¡, both o¡ ùdoff üre court,I was¡¡t malùre enough ro srcp lnto tha real vrorld.I don'tk¡o$r who I voùld be it I hád ìeftìâstyeûr." Mr. Fryeis.ertain tobodrafedby rl)e N.B.A, in Jùne, o¡e tenn shy of grâdùation requlremcnts. tle pro¡nlses to "tinisl dre job" lhroush or i¡e .oùrses

chonn¡ns F¡ye,lcft, ¡s o¡c sct¡rcs,er shy of adegrac. He pronises toti¡ris¡, ¡¡o!ß\ the Artzo^ø bqslretboll Leoñ's ovcfall Erodüaliþh rt¡c ls only 25 p¿tccht.

t To help keep them ontrack, athletes {et their own academic adviser. A coach drives around in

a {olf cart monitorinp class attendance.

24 Sunday, April 24,2005

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The Open M¡nd

- RlINIìY ScHl!ÍlDT w¡" Lùn.hed o!¡r ¡ spc.lroIl ;""r *¿:ru,1*l'* Jti;',iî tåf, ,TlL,"'lÌ'"-ï"î

ls more sùÞrised to be lhere thâ¡ she is. she å¡rivcd o¡ .arn¡us in lall ?000 Ni(l' å clear plo: be'ausÞ sh¡ Iov¡d crcarive wri(rnÊ snd horsrìJack ridmg and w"s âcrive lll rle Future Fârmers of âmerica, she rvot¡ld studv E¡glish and ¿Ar'cullurc Now sh. ts a !illh_ycãr senior malorjng jn Dhvsics r3.! G.P.A.) ând h¡¡di¡8 for 8râduhle schooì i'r ;lÐcr¿n scichcc. I owc ¡I âl¡ ro mv educalional id¡n'rlv lfls¡s," ¡¿. Scl¡mi¡t, zZ, says wlth a ¡¡uBh ¡ alwav5 knew exâctty wlratlwa¡ted to do.1wås independent,I vâs going to go g¿t it, ând I væ Justgoi¡s to do amâzùrg things."

college \ras a disappointment Professors gâvo har the ¡nrpression they woùld rather Þe someplâce elso rhcir ¡ujtude wås, "'O K., well, I've got to teach, but I re¡lly am ùìrefestcd in reseârcb, or lm re ally interes tcd lnwhat I'm doing alter clåss,"' she sâys. "'Uty'd come ror ân hÔÙ. âDd givc thcir lectures sd leave. There's no( that owner_ sht¡ rhal you feel in hrgh scbool Thc¡e ¡ kr,cw all rhc rcachcrs Сd âU rh¡ srudeDrs Ànd then t gor hcrc ðnü wàs on¿of 3?,000 people oncampus, and re¿llvnorÐ imporlant onc I diatn't knorv whcre I llr ¡¡ tltcPlclure "

aìl of ssùddcD. shc recaìls, "Iwasjùs1like: 'l lìave Do ìdeâ \ebo I am. I don't know what I'm gohg lo do. I don't kùowwhãt I wÐr{ to do,'I was set!¡ng

^'s in ¡lLmy classcs,

Uut I lvasn'Lbeirg cha¡lenged, dd I wâsnÌ llìitrkltg aboul ncw rhings." she declded that she needed t0 staft ovcr somewhe¡e elsc, but metnwhile, she enrolled ùt â selncs te'"s worth of gcneral4duc¡tion require'nents - "s¿m' plrng, âs she Puls il. Sludcnts musl lal¡ l¡ courses in dlf_ fc¡enr "reûs: malh,

(omÞosillo¡, a s€cond lângì38o, natu_ rat scicnce, humtnitles, art, non-Western studles, trådl tions and cultùres and i¡divlduals and soc¡ety

À natura¡-science class caught hèr itnaginado sìd sh¡ begd srâyùtc aÍle¡ cìass, tallint wi¡h llte leâchlng as_ s'srúß- Shê had never mct a sc ent'sl beforc "I bêg¡n 1o lcel like I rcalìy belo¡ged," shc sÂvs. "I would ask thc TA.'s whât llìey were rcsearchùìg, and whv l asked all rhesc oucslions I d âleavs though( aboul butnevcrhâd lhc oÞÞor;ntty to ssk.

^s the somcrer Progrcsscd shc lelL

comlortåble enoùgh to apProach the prcfessor' Rober

Protessor Bro\\, remembers Ms schmidt as "just a facc irì the crovd"of 160 students u¡ti¡she shoved hcr pas' ston, aod then he lnvhed her lo set involvcd In laÞ wotk 's$dentslikeD t¡ey\À,ho hâve tlat exlra motivarion usu- auy tâÌe leâdershlp roles," says P¡ofessor Brown, vho saveup âî åppo'Jìtment alN^SA'ß Jct Prolulslort Labor¡r- ror v ro comLi'rc reâchùrs w'r h ¡ e5earch " l ¡kc Io chã¡lcDge rh.;, lo marc su¡e rhcy u<'ì ¡lìeir I'frs " Ms schm¡dl rc_ câlls the day he chauonged her' "one dâv, Dr Bro\rn sat t¡e dov ånd said: 'Læk, you'rc ndependent enough to come i¡ and âsk questions- ln my cxPcnence, that lwelor indepodence ls someone vho does reaìlv well h scì¿Dce. You should .eally thìnk aboür giving lt â go "

Shc aptrc.tst¡s l¡¡ universily s t'Dcrrtedu'ar'on re' quircm¡Dt, she says, alrJìough 'c!êryonc comPlrins ¡boul rì. lt i' ¡m¡o¡tart for Iwo ¡casons: Srudcnr\ who rnav hâve ioundvhattÌrey wa¡ì!todo are rorced to gel å dceper

und€rstá¡ding, so lbey gct rnore context to cxplåItr thl¡lgs to orhers, And students who don't kDow what t¡ey vant to do caD exlreriment â¡d sludy loß or subjects."

Ms. Schmidt€ndcd uP havlrlg ùe experience that Ari' rcna admintshators would like all sudenls to go th.oug¡, "We doD't want our stude'ìls 1o fecl likc thcy came here snd fust Êot a trado, bul l¡rar lhPv lefl hÞrccdÙc¿lcd"s¿ys Ms. V'to. rhedeeofsrudcnrs.'Even if yod'rcsoinslobe a sclenUst, it's tmporr t to hûve somc e4)erience with the humditics and ot¡rc¡ trâditio¡s ând cu)torcs,"The uDlveF s¡lv s fundamen(al bellel isrhatbc,Dgcducâred ro"ôns,shc ,ais, hav¡¡t a s"nse or qisdom aìd culture, which ls drf_ ,crenr lhùrjust belng prcParel toEo l¡rlo âJob r'

lD Ms. Sctìmidt's esllmâtiõ|l, thatìfoùld bc moreProD' åble lf studenls were morc resÞonsivc and lf rÌore leach_ crs reaclìed out. "I vas lùcky," dre savs "l took a class from som€body who really ca¡cd, ù'ho thougl)! th¡t léach' lng a gênerÂl educalion clâss gâve Iìim ûchanceroì erâct rvith mo¡e sluden(Ê oi dillerentvårieties,"

Tom Flemjng, a se¡rlor lcctu¡€r in asltonomv on ¿ ycarly appoii)irnent vilhthe ùntvarsltv, is mÓther Profes sor who sees va¡uc !¡ trviìlg ro sh$kc ùp dre ¡eluctanl uD_ derclassmêÀ i¡r ã reqliiredcoùrse. "l caD't sit herc 8rìd raùt and rave å¡d complajll thaL, 'Oh, our slandards 8re low drd rlc s(ud¿nts don't lcarù In high school \trlrat lhev used lo.' The lact ol the matler ls I hâve 135 sludcnls hcre Dow' ard I cân,t go bâck atd change historv as to wlrat sort ol

hlgh school education tlrêy ¡ cceivcd lf r pùblish a !âPcr iir rhc .{stroplrysical Journal snd 12pcopLe in the eDrirc wo¡ld rcad lt fro'n covcr to cover, that's å high reade.slìip. On UE otherhÐd, everysa¡tesler I can af¡ccl lhclivcs ol Ì00 10 t50 Þeople, and it's muclt mor e g.åtilyirg ''h Mr. Flemlng's c¡asses, lllcrc is no hidi)g itì lhe b¡.k. He ic jusl as Iikoly ¡o call on (ho'e i¡ l¡re lasl rov ûs xl rhc frontas he movcs auout the auditor¡um lfstudents ârc rc¡ìdi¡g The Daily w¡¡dc¡t, s¡ccPing or tcrl_nìcssasi¡rg or¡ Ureir cellphoDcs, "l ãsk thenl to lcave the rÔon," he savs rD hb teclures, hc loses proDlcms thât stùdeDts ¡rn$wqà with håod,held t| spondcrs suÞpliedby tlre uDjversilyi if stù.lc¡ts underslaDd rhc concepl, he movcs oni ifnot, lhay discuss il i¡ sma¡lt¡ouPs ¡nd rhctì revlsit lhc problem tjh- derstarding ls the 8oal, hc says, nol "coveragc" of atopic

Ms. Schnidt has beel) accepled at the Urrivcrsity of C¡lifor¡iâ, Los Anscles, in Þlanctary Plìysics ¿nd at the Unlversity of Cìricago ln cosmo_cheûistrv but hâs not dc_ cidcdwhich gradùare sclrool to atlend.

she oflers this advice to incoming f¡ eshmeD i "Cel oÙ I or you' co¡nfo¡l ¿o c. You ìc¡rn so mu(h ¡norc whur you ¡râve lo cl¡ânÈc wh¡t yuù re ûoirr!, üan ifvou lusl c¡mc ¡n aú ssid, 'Well, this ls ûre ¡nd I'm aì{ays soûìg to be likc thjs drd I'm Àlways Soitg to siudy this' If vou thùrk tlìat \1'ây, then yôu never sLop to qùeslion whelher tbaÌ's wh¡t really you're strpposcd to do RelÀx Yoù ¡ìaven't liv€daþ perccnt ofyourlitc. What's lhe rush?"

B,hcy Scht¡lidt lound her ptss io¡, ,r¡d,relory sc¡eñce ¡i to hs to Eenerct cducotion courscs s¡¿ plo¡s to d¿ Srtduole wor'?

#ie "affior y.u. ¡o¿v wû'kouråcÒuplcorr¡¡rcsa.*fiek. bd6occ ll,c bcêr rnd cold cercâlin vou¡ dier wirh ffi"*t'iffiffi"¿uc"eroulus. dpel ãsoodn)shl sslccp ffi" Sffi" Yotwtll hclberrcr aodset q¡ck l"ss

!AURENCE SIE¡NBERG Profe$or of psychotogy, Tenple V niversitv

"Don't takc no tor aD arìsrver- If vour caursescheduLe lsn'tlvlìat yoù hadhoted, your sectioD lc¡deror tcach¡ng asststaDt isn't inspiru)9, or you don't get hro yoùrf¡rscct'oicc clâsses, bc âssertlvê v¡tlou( b"Û)B ¿g8ressive. Reâpplylor Èhat semÙrar, ârrange aD DrdcDcrdcnr srud\ wirl s profcssor, Òr Ii¡c up a faculrv aovrie¡ Io supe¡ viscyou so you can ßet crcd't for

so¡ncrhurg you '

u wôr ki¡8 oD Ücyon'¡rl'c cl¡ss'oon' And ¡lyouever feel losto¡loÂcly or trcublcd, don't sulfer ln sllenco. CoucsectmPusÊs âr'c ¡iosrgncd torcspond l\'siudcûl De€ds,bul theirorrv ¡s' ifvou'¡e fcclùrß dorvn, )ou ãre le¡stllkelv Lo bc in the frÂ'ncbf mind to åvûilyourseuof allthe services available to yôu. Tetl å friend, faDrllymcmber, dorn advlscr, dnronc, I hat you Dced hclp and ask them 1o stecr you lo rlìc riÊht Place "

ÛILENREEVI'S Ed4cútion ediro¡, Th¿ Nete Prcss,

o norprof it Publ¡c' iirc rest püblish¡"4.o¡nPÛnI

g¡o¡n âr lcast one or Lwo studenlorgùizaliots Tìrcy may jùrolvé somethn€ you do vell - a musi.ãl sroup' a sDorls tcam or ro0orlirrg lor fhc sludrnr nowspå¡rcr - or ihcy m¡y ra¡ ¡nro ¡r ¡¡ro'csr you d ¡,kc ro c¡Plorc cvon lhoughyouhave n0 spcci¡l þletr' You arc mosr likcly rû e;joy lhc c¿ml,rs âr)d do vcll n vour.lasses rf vou 0lso engaÄe ln ùr cxlracurricul¡r åclivitv "

fIIOMASI:IlRLICII Pt¿sÍde¡r e m¿ rirls, lndl(¡û Univ¿ rstt,

'cDvuv rrcht on the vice", -.r' "' -, ',ffi¡l,'ÌçåË5ocierv, ¡' ir,6oc,aì r"mhlc uinl ¡crrul" ml ãqd{s^rc¡¡fl)PAlçp Mc,iù¿¡, BûscÞdi¡ Hfift o/ FSh¡

EDUCATION LIIìE 25

DATì' "- Nt r \blot

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wìiñiä

Public Colleges to See You Through F oures releâsed lasl month by thê Educåtion 0êpartment painl a

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s"r¡¡o9q1u,fr'r9¡ ... ur 91 Pl|.s9qiglì, flt':b'1r91 Colorâdo School ol Mines rr".,^ siate ivò.i Nq s!:l?1l1r9i9h.

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College ol N.J

üffux 13$11 287" $7,370 $24,290 5sqg. .99. . 1779 .?q'196

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22,254 2A . 5,378 17,836 31.,.191 5 5,73s 14,435 24,Aü . 24 7,410 18,710

962A700 zl ¿q l¿ 5,610 1S,907 r ì,ss¡ ¿ã s,zie et,¿ga r¿piz ss g,óre ls,6ao 24,043 11 4,628 16,848 11,420 34. 4,934 20,13-4 27;47o.. . P . 9.,s51 17,156 14e.14 . ?!. 8,362 21,s62 30,155 33 7,112 1S,508

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1..,696 o 1,90! ¡f,aào 16,418 4. . .3.P! 4.. ..1!..1.!!. 18,503 12 6,960 16,086

Students must gradl]âte in four yoars.

65/4r t,315 10 4,991 11,25i 65/34 19,240 37 5,342 15,134 65{30 12,521 5 4,737 14,688 .65!27 . . 4.6.?? ... .6.. 3,998 8,965 64146 4,755 2 5,44t t1,701 64/45 3,684 10 7,020 13 754 64143 5,995 3 A394 11,792

Õ I

U of Virginia 92%lA3õ/. W¡lliam & Mary (Va.) 897q U. oi Michigan. Ann Arbor 87/67 u c L.A. 87157 u 919il'1.rBgilql"L. . 8293 U S. NavalAcâd. (Md-) 86/86' U.S Mrlitary Acad. (N.Y-) 8,4/84' SUNY Delhi .. 83/91 U. olcalil. San Dieso 83/9q. Penn Slate, U. Park 83/48 u.s Ak Force Acad. (cojo.) e1181' U. ol N.C. Chapel Hill 81/67 Colleg€ ol New Jers€y .81/93 U. ol Calit , Davis A1144 SUNY Genesoo Miami U. (Oh o) . .. .80/6.s James Madison U (V€ ) 80/62 U. of llllnois. Urba¡å 80/58 U ol Calif., kvin€

üffsN I48-4 647" $10,748 $24,934 5,864 14 6,376 14,054

16,867 12 11,436 20,784 2,946 21 A,143 20,725 q,?gs 26 5,s70 10,400

21,570 I 4,784 16,982 .?,q1?...90 . 17,560 26,e56 ..1,.q97 . ?3. .. 6,890. rgr?09 ?0r?91 .30. . 5,s35 18,15s 24,833 32 5.372 22,A26 ?1.ì7.19 20 5.6s4 15,724

773 19 3,800 20,500 28,255 15 3.208 16 340

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Ohro 9191êr.qo]y.1b9.s. 62/31 38711 14 8082 1930s U. of Wis., L€Crosse ..... 6?29 7,782 16 5,225 15,271 tl. of Nsbraska. Lincoln 62122 16,395 20 5,598 14 508 u. or N.c., wrminoron 6l/37 s.los r: 3694 13405

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63/37 7,139 3 8,607 14,901 6312A 5,37A 23 8,194 19,384 aáizs ìa,iio li ¿.azo rá see

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?81?9......2382 8 10 026 15.140 58/26 10.994 1S 4,106 9,306

Mrllersville u. of Pa. 60/35 6,646 4 6,358 13 928 60/34 17,726 2 6,068 12,328

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60/30 12,969 19 7,096 16,030 washtngton stalê 60/30 17,445 S 6'010 15,018 Oregon Stale

Shippensburg U of Pa. 59/40 6,450 6 6,284 13 708 Wesr Chosler u. of Pa. 59129 10 182 1l 6 147 13,633

59t27 18,713 16 5,290 16,360 SUNY, Stony Brook 58/37 14'155 3 6 340 12,600 U- of Mains, Farmington 58/32 2'026 17 5 631 12'861 PennSLal€, Borks MississiÞÞi Slate

P 97.%!5o:þ

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64/33 3,440 B 10.148 t5 546 Pufdue, w. Lafayelre (lnd.) 6,4/31 31,419 26 7.096 21,266 Penn Stare, Altoonê . -614q1. . .9,1q! 12 10,148 15,546 U. of Norlh6rn lowa 64/30 10,645 5 5 912 13,424 rJ. of Missouri, Rollå 64115 3,538 28 7,492 '6.hll

63/50 11.144 5 5,880 12,140 U. ol Pilrsburgh, Johnslown 63/41 2,910 1 10,344 20'224

Oklahoma Slal€, Slillwaler 58/24 17,337 14 3,110 10,591 U. olWiç. Stevons Poinl 58/21 7 823 I 5 062 15 IOB

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Jennifer Washburn. University Inc. The Corporate Corruption of Higher Education. (New York: Basic Books, 2005), pp. ix – xx.

Introduction We are living in the information age, a time when a college education increasingly marks the

dividing line between fulfilling the American Dream and falling short. In the United States today, attending a top-ranked university is often a prerequisite to finding a financially rewarding (and personally fulfilling) job. But a university degree is ultimately worth far more than this. For most students, the college years mark a time of awakening to a larger world: to history, art, science, culture, to unknown capacities in themselves, to new aspirations and dreams. In the face of spi- raling tuition costs, millions of Americans put aside money each year so their children can enjoy these educational riches. For many families, getting a child into a good college is their single greatest priority.

Since 1980, however, and especially over the past decade, a foul wind has blown over the campuses of our nation's universities. Its source is not the stifling atmosphere of political correctness that has received so much attention from pundits and journalists, but a phenomenon that has gone comparatively ignored: the growing role that commercial values have assumed in academic life.

In higher education today, a wholesale culture shift is transforming everything from the way universities educate their students to the language they use to define what they do. Academic administrators increasingly refer to students as consumers and to education and research as products. They talk about branding and marketing and now spend more on lobbying in Washington than defense contractors do.1 Many have eagerly sought to convert "courseware" into intellectual property that can be packaged and sold over the Internet for profit. Others have allowed whole academic departments to forge financial partnerships with private corporations, guaranteeing these firms first dibs on the inventions flowing out of their labs.

These developments are hardly a secret to university presidents, administrators, professors, and students, many of whom have watched their campuses take on the look and feel of shopping malls in recent years, replete with Starbucks, fast-food chains, and Barnes-and-Noble-operated bookstores. Thus far, however, their collective significance has yet to reverberate in popular consciousness. Ask the typical parent what are the big issues in higher education today, and you are likely to hear about the rising cost of tuition, or how competitive the admissions process has become. Missing from their list of concerns is the single greatest threat to the future of American higher education: the intrusion of a market ideology into the heart of academic life.

As this book shows, this development mainly took root in the late 1970s, when, in response to heightened competition from Japan and other countries, a powerful nexus of political, economic, and industrial forces began pushing America's universities to forge closer ties with private industry, convert themselves into engines of economic growth, and pump out commercially valuable new inventions. More and more, the job of teaching students was shunted to the side, even though the universities' most important public function was to nurture intellectual creativity and talent.

The reformers who pushed these changes were, for the most part, motivated by noble intentions, genuinely believing that universities could take on these functions without compromising their core educational mission. And, in one sense, what they advocated was not entirely new. Both the computer and the biotechnology revolutions were born out of academic research labs. Moreover, as far back as the mid-nineteenth century, university professors collaborated with private industry and made vital contributions to U.S. industrial and agricultural development. The problem is not university-industry relationships per se; it is the elimination of any clear boundary lines separating academia from commerce. Today, market forces are dictating what is happening in the world of higher education as never before, causing universities to engage in commercial activities unheard of in academia a mere generation ago. Universities now routinely operate complex patenting and licensing operations to market their faculty's inventions (extracting royalty income and other fees in return). They invest their endowment money in risky start-up firms

founded by their professors. They run their own industrial parks, venture-capital funds, and for- profit companies, and they publish newsletters encouraging faculty members to commercialize their research by going into business. Often, when a professor becomes the CEO of a new start- up, there is considerable overlap between the research taking place on campus and at the firm, a situation ripe for confusion and conflicts of interest. The question of who owns academic research has grown increasingly contentious, as the openness and sharing that once characterized university life has given way to a new proprietary culture more akin to the business world.

When researchers at the University of Utah discovered an important human gene responsible for hereditary breast cancer, for example, they didn't make it freely available to other scientists, even though we—the U.S. taxpayers—paid $4.6 million to finance the research.2 They raced to patent it and gave the monopoly rights to Myriad Genetics, Inc., a startup company founded by a University of Utah professor, which proceeded to hoard the gene and restrict other scientists from using it.3 On one occasion, the company actually threatened legal action against Haig Kazazian, chair of the genetics department at the University of Pennsylvania, after he had tried to use the gene in his own breast cancer research. "This is just the tip of the iceberg," Kazazian told the Chicago Tribune. "We may end up down the road with a large fraction of the genetic disease testing done under these exclusive kinds of arrangements. That's generally not good for patients, and it's not good for the public."4

Such stories are hardly rare these days. Especially in the sciences, where corporations now fund a growing share of academic research— money that increasingly comes with strings attached. Secrecy and delays of publication have become routine since 1980. Professors frequently sign sponsored-research deals that cede control over the research process to the companies underwriting their work. Were the federal government to engage in some of the practices detailed in the chapters to come—preventing students from publishing their theses on time (in order to protect proprietary secrets), deleting information from academic papers prior to publication, suppressing research studies that uncover significant health threats—it would surely provoke public outrage. The commercial sector's routine violation of these academic norms has been met with comparative silence.

Boosters will tell you that whatever the downsides may be, the heightened commercialism on campus has generated phenomenal benefits for the economy, helping to pull the United States out of the doldrums of the 1970s. This argument has become the conventional wisdom in much of the business press and is repeated like a mantra whenever academic administrators gather at technology-licensing conferences to exchange tips of the trade. But such claims are vastly overblown. Indeed, many economists and experts on innovation—and some prominent members of the business community—have argued just the opposite, warning that the commercialization of higher education may actually impede long-term growth by drawing universities away from their traditional roles. The truth is that few universities are capable of creating the sort of high- technology growth that many state governors now dream about. In fact, only a small minority of schools prove successful at licensing research to industry, despite the enormous time, energy, and money that they have devoted to such efforts in recent years. Although every university president eagerly awaits that blockbuster discovery—a cure for cancer, an inexpensive way to desalinate sea water—that would generate millions in royalties, in reality a mere two dozen universities in the entire country make significant profits from technology licensing. Many others barely break even— or lose money. The more universities try to sell politicians on the idea that they can serve as engines of economic growth, the more they are setting themselves up for failure and undermining the basis for their public support.

The new commercial ethos in higher education is affecting more than just the sciences and

engineering. It is also changing the priorities of universities in ways that raise disturbing questions about what parents and students are getting in return for the increasingly steep tuitions they pay. On the vast majority of our nation's campuses today, the most valued professors are not the ones who devote their time and energy to teaching; they are the ones who can bring in the most research money, and whose ideas can be turned into lucrative commercial products and licensed

to industry. To be sure, universities have long struggled to maintain the appropriate balance between teaching and research. But the new commercial ethos in higher education has tilted the balance further toward the latter of these functions. The same universities that invest millions in high-tech research labs and industrial parks have been whittling down the professoriate, replacing tenured and full-time faculty with part-time adjuncts and graduate students. Whereas star professors in fields like computer science and economics are recruited to campus with six-figure salaries (and assurances that they will have to do little teaching), humanities courses, which form the core of the academic curriculum, are taught to several hundred undergraduates at a time in large lecture halls, with graduate student teaching assistants (TAs) bearing nearly full responsibility for the one-on-one instruction and grading. Indeed, with the exception of the smaller liberal arts colleges, the job of undergraduate education often seems like a subsidiary activity at many universities today—a task farmed out to the growing army of part-time instructors who receive no benefits and meager pay.

As one disillusioned grad student explained to me: "Your first semester, the administration makes it clear what the real priorities are: 'We've got to fill seats. We need a body in front of the classroom. Go teach.'" If you want to succeed in academia, he said, what matters are publications, prestige, and grant money. "Forget about teaching. Forget about broadening young people's minds. Whatever you do, don't spend a lot of time on that. It's a waste of time."

Are these the educational values we want our nation's top universities to embrace? Since 1980, college tuition and fees at public universities have increased at three times the rate

of inflation, rising over 50 percent in real terms over the past decade alone. At private colleges, over this preceding decade, tuition and fees rose by a corresponding 36 percent.5 To pay for these increases, more and more students took out substantial loans, causing the average cumulative debt burden for a graduating senior to rise from $9,800 in 1992 to $18,000 in 2000 (not including interest).6 Given this level of economic sacrifice, doesn't every student deserve the very best classroom instruction a university can provide? Even on purely utilitarian grounds, the downsizing of teaching makes poor economic sense. As one American executive from Honda recently noted, the United States' future global competitiveness "will not come from its cheap labor or its abundant natural resources. What will keep America economically vibrant," he said, "will be our intellectual advantage" over other nations.7

State governors and legislators, prodded along by the federal government, have exacerbated this trend by pushing universities to pour resources into commercially oriented research centers, in fields like medicine and biotechnology, hoping to spawn "the next Silicon Valley" in their backyards. Many of these same politicians have been considerably less generous when it comes to financing the universities' general funds (which actually go toward educating students). At Penn State, for example, the state's contribution to core educational operations fell from 54 percent in 1976-1977 to 31 percent in 2001-2002, forcing students and their families to shoulder more of the costs in the form of higher tuition. The share of the University of Virginia's budget coming from the state declined from roughly 28 percent in 1985 to just 8.1 percent in 2003.8 Most public colleges and universities, which serve the vast majority of the nation's students, have suffered similar declines, even as elected officials continue to press these institutions to serve as engines of economic growth. "That such a substitution"—more money for technology-related programs, less for the basic educational mission—"is going on seems inescapable," wrote Irwin Feller, an emeritus economist at Penn State and an expert on education, "especially in states where governors tout their high technology initiatives at the same time that they propose meager increases for public universities even in flush budget years."9

Not surprisingly, these trends have put a squeeze on less commercially oriented fields such as the humanities and social sciences, which at many schools are being neglected or downsized. Under the new corporate style of management in higher education, Business Week observed, English professors must demonstrate that Chaucer can pay the bills as effectively as engineering or business classes do.10 A study in the Harvard Magazine concluded that although fields that "make money, study money or attract money" are flourishing, those that do not are languishing.11 It is true that these changes are partly a reflection of student demand, as a more pragmatic

generation of undergraduates selects courses and majors guaranteed to enhance their financial prospects. Traditionally, however, universities strove to balance careerism and credentialing with the ideal of a liberal education. As Lynne Rudder Baker, a philosophy professor at the University of Massachusetts, cautioned, "The point at which we look to nothing but demand to determine what a university should offer is the point at which the market becomes the enemy of excellence."12

Indeed, one could argue that in a knowledge-driven economy it is all the more important that undergraduates are provided not with narrow vocational training but with a broad-based foundation in reading, writing, arithmetic, and science—an education that sharpens the students' intellectual faculties, their curiosity about the world, and their ability to think critically and creatively. Because technology and the state of knowledge in nearly every discipline are changing so rapidly, the most valuable skill universities could impart is the capacity to learn and grow intellectually throughout one's lifetime.

Disinterested Research: Going, Going . . . Gone Visit a college campus today, with its red-brick buildings, manicured lawns, and tree-lined

walkways bustling with students, and you are likely to come away charmed by the bucolic setting. What you aren't likely to notice is the growing number of buildings, academic chairs, and institutes that are financed by corporate interests, and that sometimes bear their names: the Ken Lay Center for the Study of Markets in Transition at Rice University, for example, named after the recently indicted Enron CEO. Or the Harvard School of Public Health's Center for Risk Analysis (HCRA), which, as David Brown, a reporter at the Washington Post, discovered receives the majority of its funding from industry. In 2001, Brown published an article quoting an HCRA spokesperson who downplayed the significance of a government report on the presence of pesticides and heavy metals in U.S. bodies. Only later did Brown learn that this prestigious Harvard center received 60 percent of its funding from industry sources, including many major chemical and pesticide manufacturers. "It never occurred to me to ask," Brown wrote afterward in a letter to a Harvard dean expressing his dismay. "Harvard University has a budget larger than that of some countries. I am surprised it is willing to trade its most valuable thing, its reputation, for a handful of silver."13

The truth is it never occurs to most of us to ask. When I began reporting on public health issues in the mid-1990s, I assumed the best place to find disinterested, objective information was at a university. Reporters are far more apt to take the findings of a study published by an academic in a peer-reviewed journal at face value than, say, a corporate press release. Similarly, when a consumer wants to check on the safety of a drug that has just been released on the market, he or she is more likely to trust a study conducted by university scientists than an industry-sponsored one. But much of the university research that we assume is independent often is anything but. Today, at prominent medical colleges, it is not unusual for professors to be paid by drug companies to put their names on review articles and academic papers ghostwritten by industry. These articles are then published in leading medical journals, without any disclosure of corporate involvement. Whereas, in the past, clinical studies at universities were conducted at "arm's length" from the industry sponsor, today these sponsors routinely exert control over the study design, the raw data, and even the way results get reported. What's more, it is increasingly common for the lead investigator and the university itself to own equity in the company sponsoring a drug trial, so they have a direct financial interest in a favorable outcome.

It would be hard to overstate the importance of preserving a space in our culture where the ideal of disinterested inquiry is preserved. Many major public-policy questions Americans will grapple with in the decades to come—global warming, the search for alternative fuels, the safety of genetically engineered crops, international economic development, the regulation of human cloning—will require us to turn to trained experts to help us untangle the complex moral, social, and scientific issues involved. Unfortunately, it has already grown difficult to find disinterested authorities in many fields. A government report recently found that when the Environmental Protection Agency puts together advisory panels to weigh the cancer risks associated with certain chemicals, they are frequently filled with experts who have direct financial ties to chemical

manufacturers.14 More than half the experts hired to advise the U.S. government on the safety and effectiveness of drugs now have financial links (stock ownership, consulting fees, research grants) to companies that will be directly impacted by their conclusions.15 When a prominent scientific journal, Nature Neuroscience, asked Charles B. Nemeroff, the chair of the psychiatry department at Emory University, to review roughly two dozen experimental treatments for psychiatric disorders not long ago, the editors assumed they would receive an impartial assessment. In 2003, however, it came to light that three of the treatments Nemeroff praised in his article were ones he stood to profit from—including a transdermal lithium patch for which he held the patent. Nemeroff did not disclose these or his many other financial ties to the drug industry in his article.16

In my own profession, journalism, it is considered inappropriate to receive gifts or funding from any of the companies or individuals one writes about, because doing so can create bias or, at the very least, the appearance of bias. Shouldn't universities and professors be held to the same standard? It's no secret that part of the reason companies fund academic research is to obtain the imprimatur of a prestigious university. During the 1990s, the tobacco industry realized the best way to fight regulation was to manufacture confusion about the dangers of smoking by paying academic scientists up to $20,000 apiece to write letters in prominent journals and newspapers downplaying the risks of cigarettes.17 In one instance, the University of Texas even agreed to allow a professor to conduct secret research for tobacco company lawyers over an 11-year period, in return for nearly $1.7 million.18

Less well known was the Enron Corporation's campaign, during the same decade, to buy academic influence by financing prominent research centers at Harvard. One of these, the Harvard Electricity Policy Group (HEPG), churned out no less than thirty-one reports promoting the deregulation of energy markets in California—precisely the kind of market Enron would learn to skillfully exploit. William Hogan, HEPG's research director and a professor at Harvard, advised the state of California to adopt the "Enron model" of electricity deregulation and later, after the market collapsed, coauthored two reports discrediting the idea that companies like Enron had attempted to withhold electricity to improve their own profit margins (even as government investigators were on the cusp of uncovering clear evidence of price manipulation).19 Meanwhile, Enron paid handsome consulting fees to several professors at the Harvard Business School, which produced a series of glowing studies about the company that would soon make headlines for its accounting scandals.20 "Harvard University should apologize to the people of California for having sold its research institutes and faculty members to corporations," concluded HarvardWatch, the student and alumni group that investigated and uncovered these ties.21

As we'll see, Harvard is by no means alone. All too often today, the names of our nation's most prestigious universities, along with the extraordinary public trust they command, are being bought and sold in similar ways.

The Free-Market Bazaar To question the growing commercialization of our universities is not to denigrate the value of

markets themselves. The problem arises when markets are presumed to be so perfect—so superior to any other form of social organization—that they are permitted to penetrate areas for- merly governed by other considerations. "Markets do a great deal well, but they fall far short of being perfectly self-regulating," the economist Robert Kuttner noted. "They often lead to deprivations of personal liberty and economic security that are no less painful for representing authority that is private rather than public. They spill over into realms where they don't belong. ... A society that was a grand auction block would not be a political democracy worth having. And it would be far less attractive economically than its enthusiasts imagine. . . . Everything must not be for sale."22

Unfortunately, we are living in an era when everything increasingly does seem to be for sale. From the operation of prisons to the provision of welfare services for the poor to the conduct of military operations in Iraq, an ideology of free-market fundamentalism has led some ideologues to promote the privatization of everything of late. Companies like Edison have taken over public

schools and even entire school districts around the country, and publicly traded corporations have been awarded government contracts to provide services to at-risk youth, the developmentally dis- abled, and other vulnerable populations, boasting to their shareholders that there are abundant profits to be made in such work.23

This book is written out of a belief that although the profit motive plays an important role in our society, so do other values that limit and constrain what unregulated markets will do if left to their own devices. In the past, our universities have played a vital role in this regard, not least by focusing on issues the market ignores. Traditionally, for example, universities tackled public health threats that offered little immediate financial return but impacted millions of lives. They protected and defended the information commons, the pool of public knowledge that is freely available for researchers and creators to use and build upon. Academic scientists also excelled in the performance of research that corporations were reluctant to undertake: undirected "blue-sky" research, risk-taking experimentation, and unconventional inquiry that yielded important practical results over time.

Such research has long played a vital role in stimulating innovation: One 1997 study by the National Science Foundation reported that 73 percent of the scientific research cited in American industrial patents was carried out at universities and other labs funded by the U.S. government.24 Another study by researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology found that publicly funded research was a "critical contributor" to the discovery of nearly all of the twenty-five most important new drugs introduced between 1970 and 1995.25 It is thus worth asking whether erasing the distinction between the academic and commercial spheres is really in the best interest not only of the public but of the private sector. As my book will show, the corporate stranglehold on academic science has been most pronounced in medicine, pharmacology, and biotechnology, the same cutting-edge fields that are expected to drive the U.S. economy in the years to come. If universities become little more than appendages of industry, will they be able to generate the innovative ideas needed to sustain our competitive position in the global economy? Many experts believe that our science and innovation systems already are lagging behind those of our competitors.26 Is further commercialization of the academy really where we should be headed?

Universities have served as a check on market values in another way: by providing an environment where young people have been encouraged to think critically and explore ideas, not because of their dollar value but because of how captivating or original they are. Without this inde- pendent academic sphere, would the United States be as open, pluralistic, and democratic a society? As Martha Nussbaum, the American philosopher, explained:

When we ask about the relationship of a liberal education to citizenship, we are asking a

question with a long history in the Western philosophical tradition. We are drawing on Socrates' concept of "the examined life," on Aristotle's notions of a reflective citizenship, and above all on Greek and Roman Stoic notions of an education that is "liberal" in that it liberates the mind from the bondage of habit and custom, producing people who can function with sensitivity and alertness as citizens of the whole world.27

To invoke this ideal is not hopelessly quixotic. Nor does it mean we must call on universities to

beat a hasty retreat to the ivory tower and wall themselves off from private industry. As I argue in my conclusion, universities should be places that are engaged with the outside world, encourage creative problem solving, and support entrepreneurial thinking. They should have mechanisms in place to facilitate the transfer of new knowledge and inventions to industry and should provide students with the tools and training they need to start up new companies and pursue careers. It is imperative, however, that universities accomplish all of this without sacrificing their autonomy or compromising the values and ideals they have long pledged to uphold.

This book is written for parents, students, professors, administrators, and all those who care about such ideals, who take it as a given that the university's primary mission is still the education of well-rounded citizens and the performance of public research, not merely service to industry's short-term bottom line; who expect academic administrators to stand up to corporations when they threaten to sue a professor who has unearthed information that the public deserves to know; and

who want to see the line separating business and academia preserved, even as universities continue to play a role in fueling innovation and stimulating economic growth.

U.S. colleges and universities, whether they are public or private, enjoy enormous levels of public support and tax exemptions because of a belief that they are generating goods that no other market actor would produce without a public subsidy: basic science; liberal education; independent, publishable research. Every year, the federal government pays roughly $20 billion in taxpayer money to subsidize the research at our nation's colleges and universities, and another $60 billion more in loans and grants to help financially disadvantaged students attend these schools.28 At the state and local levels, taxpayer contributions to higher education now run around $68 billion.29 In addition, hundreds of thousands of Americans carefully put aside their hard-earned income to pay for tuition, room and board, books, and other expenses needed to send their kids to college. It is up to them—up to all of us—to make sure that the world of higher education is not for sale.

Endnotes 1. Jeffrey Brainard, "Lobbying to Bring Home the Bacon," Chronicle of Higher Education, October 22,

2004, p. A26. 2. Anne Wilson, "U. Parties Settle Dispute on Cancer-Gene Patent," Salt Lake City Tribune, February 16,

1995, p. B1. 3. Eliot Marshall, "NIH Gets a Share of BRCA1 Patent," Science, 267(5201), February 24, 1995: p. 1086. 4. Ronald Kotulak, "Taking License with Your Genes," Chicago Tribune, September 12, 1999, p. 1. Alien

Bale of Yale University also reported being forced to drop out of a large NIH study on early-stage breast cancer because Myriad refused to let him conduct the sequencing of the BRCA1 breast cancer gene himself. See: Kimberly Blanton, "Corporate Takeover Exploiting the US Patent System: A Single Company Has Gained Control over Genetic Research and Testing for Breast Cancer and Scientists and Doctors Have to Play by Its Rules," Boston Globe, February 24, 2002, p. 10.

5. College Board, "Trends in College Pricing 2004," Trends in Higher Education Series, (New York: College Board Publications, 2004), p. 3, available at: http://www.collegeboard .com/prod_downloads/press/cost04/041264TrendsPricing2004_FINAL.pdf.

6. General Accounting Office, "Student Financial Aid: Monitoring Aid Greater Than Federally Defined Need Could Help Address Student Loan Indebtedness," GAO-03-508, April 2003, p. 6.

7. Remarks by Edward B. Cohen, vice president of Government and Industry Relations at Honda, "The Tuition Spiral: High Cost vs. Higher Education," a forum hosted by the Atlantic Monthly magazine, Washington, DC, October 5, 2004.

8. Mark F. Smith, "Growing Expenses, Shrinking Resources," Academe, July-August 2004: 32-35, p. 34; Ronald G. Ehrenberg, Michael J. Rizzo, "Financial Forces and the Future of American Higher Education," Academe, July-August 2004: 28-31.

9. Irwin Feller, "Virtuous and Vicious Cycles in the Contributions of Public Research Universities to State Economic Development Objectives," Economic Development Quarterly, 18(2), May 2004: 138-150, available at: http://edq.sagepub.eom/cgi/reprint/18/2/138.pdf.

10. Keith H. Hammonds, Susan Jackson, et al., "The New U," Business Week, December 22, 1997. 11. James Engell, Anthony Dangerfield, "The Market-Model University: Humanities in the Age of Money,"

Harvard Magazine, May-June 1998. Available online at: http://www.harvard-magazine.com/. 12. Lynne Rudder Baker, "Should the Humanities Be Saved?" UMass, alumni magazine, Winter 1999:

18-23, p. 22. 13. Howard Kurtz, "Reading Between the Lines," Washington Post, April 2, 2001; Jonathan H. Esensten,

"Mixing Science and Politics: Graham Faces Opposition," Harvard Crimson, April 17, 2001. 14. General Accounting Office, "EPA's Science Advisory Board Panels," GAO-01-536, June 2001,

available at: http://www.gao.gov/new.items/d01536.pdf. 15. Dennis Cauchon, "FDA Advisors Tied to Industry," USA Today, September 25, 2000. 16. Shannon Brownlee, "Doctors Without Borders," Washington Monthly, April 1, 2004. See also: Melody

Peterson, "Undisclosed Financial Ties Prompt Reproval of Doctor," New York Times, August 3, 2003. 17. Sheldon Rampton, John Stauber, Trust Us, We're Experts (New York: Penguin Putnam, 2001), p.

199. 18. Lee Hancock, Mark Curriden, "UT-Tyler's Tobacco Ties Questioned; School Officials Say

Relationship Uneasy," Dallas Morning News, November 15, 1997, p. 1A.

19. "Deregulation Deception," a report by Harvard Watch, Cambridge, MA, May 21, 2002, pp. 8-13, 17- 18. For an example of Hogan's lobbying see: William W. Hogan, "An Efficient Bilateral Market Needs a Pool," Hearings, California Public Utilities Commission, San Francisco, August 4, 1994. The two reports Hogan wrote downplaying Enron's role in price manipulation and the need for reregulation are: Scott M. Harvey, William W. Hogan, "Identifying the Exercise of Market Power in California," Law and Economic Consulting Group (LECG), LLC, Cambridge, MA, December 28, 2001; Scott M. Harvey, William W. Hogan, "Further Analysis of the Exercise of Market Power in the California Electricity Market," LECG, LLC, Cambridge, MA, November 21, 2001. See also: Marcy Gordon, "Enron Directors Spread Blame Around," Associated Press, May 8, 2002; Nella Banerjee, David Barboza, et al., "Will It Be California Redux?" New York Times, May 12, 2002; Tim Reiterman, Nancy Rivera Brooks, "Enron Memos Fuel Inquiry of Power Pricing; Energy Documents Lend Credence to Claims the State's Crisis Was at Least Partly Manufactured," Los Angeles Times, May 12, 2002; Ricardo Alonso-Zaldivar, Richard Simon, "Power Firms Are Ordered to Turn Over Trading Data; Energy Regulators Seek to Determine If Sellers Tried to Manipulate the California Market," Los Angeles Times, May 9, 2002.

20. The Harvard Business School reports are posted on Enron's Web site at: http://universityaffairs.enron.com/case_studies.asp (accessed on June 4, 2002).

21. "Deregulation Deception," Harvard Watch, p. 5. 22. Robert Kuttner, Everything for Sale: The Virtues and Limits of Markets (New York: Knopf, 1997), pp.

361-362. 23. Brian O'Reilly, "Why Edison Doesn't Work," Fortune, December 9, 2002; Eyal Press, Jennifer

Washburn, "The At-Risk-Youth Industry," Atlantic Monthly, 290(5), December 2002; Eyal Press, Jennifer Washburn, "Neglect for Sale," American Prospect, 11(12), May 8, 2000.

24. Francis Narin, Kimberly S. Hamilton, et al., "The Increasing Linkage Between U.S. Technology and Public Science," Research Policy, 26(3), October 1997: 317-330; William J. Broad, "Study Finds Public Science Is Pillar of Industry," New York Times, May 13, 1997.

25. lain Cockburn, Rebecca Henderson, "Public-Private Interaction in Pharmaceutical Research," Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 93, November 1996: 12725-12730.

26. William J. Broad, "U.S. Is Losing Its Dominance in the Sciences," New York Times, May 3, 2004, p. Al; "Going Global: The New Shape of American Innovation," Council on Competitiveness, 1999, available at: http://www.compete.org/publications/ competitiveness_reports.asp.

27. Martha C. Nussbaum, Cultivating Humanity: A Classical Defense of Reform in Liberal Education (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997), pp. 8-9.

28. According to NSF estimates, the federal government contributed $21.7 billion to universities and colleges for R&D in 2003. See: National Science Foundation, Division of Science Resources Statistics, "Table 1A: Federal Obligations to Universities and Colleges for Total Research, by Detailed Field of Science and Engineering: All Agencies, Fiscal Years 1973-2003," Federal Funds for Research and Development, Research to Universities and Colleges by Agency and Field of Science: Fiscal Years 1973-2003 (Arlington, VA: 2004), NSF 04-332, available at: http://www.nsf.gov/sbe/srs/nsf04332/start.htm. For the student loans and grants figure, see: Stephen Burd, "Bush's Next Target?" Chronicle of Higher Education, July 11, 2003, p. A18.

29. Paul E. Lingenfelter, Hans P. L'Orange, et al., "State Higher Education Finance: FY 2003," State Higher Education Executive Officers, Denver, 2004, available at: http://www.sheeo.org/finance/shef.pdf.