Commentary: To improve outcomes for students of color, the ‘college marketplace’ myth needs to end
2023/09/12
Antonio Perez/Chicago Tribune/TNS
Virtually every policy that governs our higher education system is based on a dangerous myth — that students do, and should, meticulously shop around for colleges nationwide and pick the best fit.
That’s the classic image: The prospective college student visits a slew of colleges and completes an array of applications. Then, they debate their options. Finally, parents pack up the car and drive across the country to drop their child off at college.
The entire college selection apparatus — including college rankings, recruitment, marketing and entrance exams — fuels this “marketplace” perception. And following the U.S. Supreme Court’s curtailment of race-conscious admissions, most policy discussions have focused on ensuring students of color can still access and choose between highly selective colleges.
Here’s the reality: Only 1 in 5 undergraduate students travel outside their home state for college, according to research I conducted with the Institute for College Access & Success, a nonprofit that advocates for student-centered public policies. And typically, students travel less than 17 miles from home — generally attending a community college or local public university.
That’s not due to a lack of talent or educational aspirations. It’s because a growing number of students need to care for family members, have close ties to their communities or have work responsibilities. Even with a scholarship, many still won’t want to travel far. They just want to get a good education close to their homes and communities. And contrary to the “classic” image, 1 in 3 undergraduate students are older than age 24.
It’s hard to overstate just how harmful this “marketplace” misconception truly is, particularly for traditionally marginalized students.
For one, our federal government assumes that students would shop around for schools and uproot their lives if they simply had “better information” about where to go. So policymakers pour a monumental amount of time, money and resources into massive information campaigns and programs that help students choose among schools — such as College Scorecard, College Navigator and tuition watchlists.
On its own, this information does provide value to some students. But to reach the majority of students, the information must also come with investments into resources that will make the most impact where it is needed.
Furthermore, by assuming students can and should simply choose schools that are highly selective or have the most name recognition, policymakers perpetuate a flawed, inequitable cycle of funding that worsens inequalities. For example, in 26 states, public schools receive funding based on their performance — in other words, the number of students who graduate.
But schools that serve traditionally marginalized students face an uphill battle — one that goes beyond the bounds of simply educating students. Due to rampant inequalities in K-12 education and beyond, these colleges need to invest more in support services — such as academic advising, child care and instructional assistance — just so their students can get by.
Meanwhile, highly selective schools that predominantly serve white, wealthy students don’t have to make as much of an investment in these support areas. So while a more selective school might use funding to improve facilities, bring aboard a renowned faculty member or hire lobbyists to get even more money, an underresourced school might have to put funding toward ensuring its students have the bare minimum to continue their education.
That creates a vicious cycle: Highly selective, well-resourced schools can churn out graduates with ease. Meanwhile, underresourced schools continue to be sapped of funding because they don’t have sufficient resources to help all students graduate.
And then there’s another crucial source of funding: federal research dollars. Each year, the National Science Foundation, an independent government agency, doles out millions of dollars to colleges and universities for research endeavors. A whopping 80% of that funding goes to selective flagship and research universities, which disproportionately serve few students from low-income families and students of color. These colleges can then shower students with top-notch equipment and facilities and provide robust research opportunities. And that experience can open doors for graduates down the road.
In policymakers’ minds, students could simply choose to travel and attend a school with higher performance metrics and more funding. But that simply doesn’t happen in practice — and it shouldn’t have to.
Moreover, the “marketplace” myth has been front and center following the Supreme Court decision on race-conscious admissions. Higher education policy discussions have focused on a central question: How do we ensure students of color can still access the most selective colleges in the country? To be sure, that’s a noble mission. But that will help only a handful of students.
The bottom line is: To truly uplift the vast majority of students, we need to shore up the colleges that are already supporting these populations. Many people — particularly people of color — live in areas with only one public college nearby. By infusing these local, underresourced institutions with needed funding and tools, we can significantly improve student outcomes — and opportunities.
Our higher education system is rooted in a perilous, long-standing misconception. By debunking the myth that students can and should shop around for college, we can start forming policies that actually fit the realities of today’s students.
____
(Nicholas Hillman is a senior fellow at the Institute for College Access & Success. He is also a professor and director of the Student Success Through Applied Research Lab at the University of Wisconsin at Madison)
Virtually every policy that governs our higher education system is based on a dangerous myth — that students do, and should, meticulously shop around for colleges nationwide and pick the best fit.
That’s the classic image: The prospective college student visits a slew of colleges and completes an array of applications. Then, they debate their options. Finally, parents pack up the car and drive across the country to drop their child off at college.
The entire college selection apparatus — including college rankings, recruitment, marketing and entrance exams — fuels this “marketplace” perception. And following the U.S. Supreme Court’s curtailment of race-conscious admissions, most policy discussions have focused on ensuring students of color can still access and choose between highly selective colleges.
Here’s the reality: Only 1 in 5 undergraduate students travel outside their home state for college, according to research I conducted with the Institute for College Access & Success, a nonprofit that advocates for student-centered public policies. And typically, students travel less than 17 miles from home — generally attending a community college or local public university.
That’s not due to a lack of talent or educational aspirations. It’s because a growing number of students need to care for family members, have close ties to their communities or have work responsibilities. Even with a scholarship, many still won’t want to travel far. They just want to get a good education close to their homes and communities. And contrary to the “classic” image, 1 in 3 undergraduate students are older than age 24.
It’s hard to overstate just how harmful this “marketplace” misconception truly is, particularly for traditionally marginalized students.
For one, our federal government assumes that students would shop around for schools and uproot their lives if they simply had “better information” about where to go. So policymakers pour a monumental amount of time, money and resources into massive information campaigns and programs that help students choose among schools — such as College Scorecard, College Navigator and tuition watchlists.
On its own, this information does provide value to some students. But to reach the majority of students, the information must also come with investments into resources that will make the most impact where it is needed.
Furthermore, by assuming students can and should simply choose schools that are highly selective or have the most name recognition, policymakers perpetuate a flawed, inequitable cycle of funding that worsens inequalities. For example, in 26 states, public schools receive funding based on their performance — in other words, the number of students who graduate.
But schools that serve traditionally marginalized students face an uphill battle — one that goes beyond the bounds of simply educating students. Due to rampant inequalities in K-12 education and beyond, these colleges need to invest more in support services — such as academic advising, child care and instructional assistance — just so their students can get by.
Meanwhile, highly selective schools that predominantly serve white, wealthy students don’t have to make as much of an investment in these support areas. So while a more selective school might use funding to improve facilities, bring aboard a renowned faculty member or hire lobbyists to get even more money, an underresourced school might have to put funding toward ensuring its students have the bare minimum to continue their education.
That creates a vicious cycle: Highly selective, well-resourced schools can churn out graduates with ease. Meanwhile, underresourced schools continue to be sapped of funding because they don’t have sufficient resources to help all students graduate.
And then there’s another crucial source of funding: federal research dollars. Each year, the National Science Foundation, an independent government agency, doles out millions of dollars to colleges and universities for research endeavors. A whopping 80% of that funding goes to selective flagship and research universities, which disproportionately serve few students from low-income families and students of color. These colleges can then shower students with top-notch equipment and facilities and provide robust research opportunities. And that experience can open doors for graduates down the road.
In policymakers’ minds, students could simply choose to travel and attend a school with higher performance metrics and more funding. But that simply doesn’t happen in practice — and it shouldn’t have to.
Moreover, the “marketplace” myth has been front and center following the Supreme Court decision on race-conscious admissions. Higher education policy discussions have focused on a central question: How do we ensure students of color can still access the most selective colleges in the country? To be sure, that’s a noble mission. But that will help only a handful of students.
The bottom line is: To truly uplift the vast majority of students, we need to shore up the colleges that are already supporting these populations. Many people — particularly people of color — live in areas with only one public college nearby. By infusing these local, underresourced institutions with needed funding and tools, we can significantly improve student outcomes — and opportunities.
Our higher education system is rooted in a perilous, long-standing misconception. By debunking the myth that students can and should shop around for college, we can start forming policies that actually fit the realities of today’s students.
____
(Nicholas Hillman is a senior fellow at the Institute for College Access & Success. He is also a professor and director of the Student Success Through Applied Research Lab at the University of Wisconsin at Madison)
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