Higher Education Strategy Associates

Category Archives: Innovation

April 23

The State is not Entrepreneurial

If you’re interested in innovation policy, and haven’t spent time under a rock for the last couple of years, you’ve probably heard of Mariana Mazzucato.  She’s the professor economics at the University of Sussex who wrote The Entrepreneurial State, which is rapidly becoming the source of an enormous number of errors as far as science and economic policy are concerned.

Mazzucato’s work got a fair bit of publicity when it was released for pointing out that a lot of private sector tech is an outgrowth of public sector-sponsored research.  She has a nice chapter, for instance, outlining how various components of the iPhone – the touchscreen, the GPS, the clickwheels, the batteries… hell, the internet itself – are based on research done by the US government.  This is absolutely bleeding obvious if you’re in science policy, but apparently people out there need to be reminded once in awhile, so Mazzucato found an audience.

Where Mazzucato goes wrong, however, is when she begins to draw inferences; for instance, she suggests that because the state funds “risky” research (i.e. research that no one else wold fund), it’s role in R&D is that of a “risk-taking” entity.  She also argues that since the state takes a leading position in the scientific development of some industries (e.g. biotech), it is therefore an “entrepreneurial” entity.  From this, Mazzucato concludes that the state deserves a share of whatever profits private companies make when they use technology developed with public science.

There are two problems here.  The first is that Mazzucato is rather foolishly conflating risk and uncertainty (risk is tangible and calculable, uncertainty is not).  Governments are not a risk-takers in any meaningful sense: they are not in any danger of folding if investments come to naught, because they can use taxing power (or in extremis, the ability to print money) to stay afloat.  What they do via funding of basic research is to reduce uncertainty: to shed light on areas that were previously unknowable.  Individual companies do very little of this, not just because it’s difficult and expensive (if a company is big enough, that’s not a problem – see Bell Labs or indeed some of the quite amazing stuff Google is doing these days), but because the spillover from such research might allow competitors to reap much of its value (a point Kenneth Arrow made over fifty years ago).

The second issue is that nearly all of the examples Mazzucato offers of public research leading to technological innovation and profit are American, and a fairly high percentage of these examples were funded by the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA).  To put it mildly, these examples are sui generis.  It’s not at all clear that what works in terms of government investment in the US, with its massive defense infrastructure, huge pools of venture capital, and deep wells of entrepreneurial talent, hold very many lessons for countries like Canada, which are not similarly endowed.  Yet Mazzucato more or less acts as if her recommendations are universal.

The book’s recommendations amount to: government should own a share of young innovative companies by gaining shares in return for use of publicly-funded knowledge.  But this is pretty tricky: first, there are very few cases where you can draw a straight line from a specific piece of publicly-funded IP to a specific product, and even where you can, there’s no guarantee that the piece of IP was publicly-funded by your local government (Canadian start-ups benefit from knowledge that has been created through public subsidies in many different countries, not just Canada).  And while there’s a case for greater government investment in emerging companies (economist Dani Rodrik makes it here for instance), the case is not in any way predicated on government investments in R&D.  In Canada, the CPP could adopt such a policy right now if it wanted – there’s no reason why it needs to be linked to anything Industry Canada is doing in science funding.  To the contrary, as Stian Westlake points out, countries that have been most successful in converting public science investments into private hi-tech businesses eschew the idea of equity in return for scientific subsidies.

Worst of all – though this is not entirely Mazzucato’s fault – her argument is being picked up and distorted by the usual suspects on the left.  These distortions are usually variations on: “Someone said the state is entrepreneurial?  That means the state must know how to run businesses!  Let’s get the state more involved in the direction of the economy/shaping how technology is used!”  This way disaster lies.

So, Mazzucato did everyone a service by forcefully reminding people about the importance of publicly-funded R&D to any innovation system.  But her policy prescriptions are much less impressive.  Treat with care.

April 08

ATMs and the Future of Education

I recently came across a fascinating counterintuitive piece of trivia in Timothy Taylor’s Conversable Economist blog.  At the time ATMs were introduced in 1980, there were half a million bank tellers in America.  How many were there 30 years later, in 2010?  Answer: roughly 600,000.  Don’t believe me?  See the data here.

Most people to whom I’ve told this story tend to get confused by this.  ATMs are one of the classic examples about how technology destroys “good middle class jobs”.  And so the first instinct many people have when confronted with this information is to try and defend the standard narrative – usually with something like “ah, but population growth, so they still took away jobs that could have existed”.  This is wrong, though.  When we look at manufacturing, we see absolute declines in jobs due to (among other things) automation.  With ATMs, however, all we see is a change in the rate of growth.

The key thing to grasp here is that the machines did not put the tellers out of business; rather, they modified the nature of bank telling.  To quote Taylor, “tellers evolved from being people who put checks in one drawer and handed out cash from another drawer to people who solved a variety of financial problems for customers”.

There’s an important truth here about the way skill-use evolves in the economy.  When most people think about technological change and its impacts on skills, they initially tend to presume “more machines → high tech → more tech skills needed → more STEM”.  But actually this is, at best, half the story.  Yes, new job categories are springing up in technical areas that require new forms of training.  But the more important news is that older job categories evolve into new ones with different kinds of requirements, and requiring a different skill set.  And in most cases, those new skills are – as in our bank teller example – about problem-solving.

Now, as a society, every time we see job requirements changing, our instinct is to keep kids in school longer.  But: a) pretty soon cost constraints put a ceiling on that strategy; and, b) this approach is of limited usefulness if all you’re doing is teaching the same old things for longer.

At a generic level, it’s not hard to teach in such a way that you’re giving students necessary skills to thrive in the future labour market.  Most programs, at some level, teach problem-solving (identifying a problem, synthesizing data about it, coming up with possible solutions, evaluating them, and coming up with a solution), although not all of them test for them explicitly, or explain to students how these skills are likely to be applied later on.  More could be done with respect to encouraging teamwork and interpersonal skills, but these aren’t difficult to add (although having the will to add them is something different).

The more difficult problem has to do with understanding where technology is likely to replace jobs and where it is likely to modify them.  What do driverless cars mean for the delivery business?  At a guess, it means an expanded market for the delivery of personalized services during commuting time.  Improved automatic diagnostic technology or robot pharmacists?  More demand for health professionals to dispense lifestyle and general health counselling.  Increased automation in legal affairs?  Less time on research means more time for, and emphasis on, negotiation.

I could go on, but I won’t.  The point, as Tyler Cowen makes in Average is Over (a book whose implications for higher education have been criminally under-examined) is that the future in many fields belongs to people who can best blend human creativity with the power of computers.  And so the relevant question for universities is: to what extent are you monitoring technology trends and thinking about how they will change what you teach, how you teach it, and how you evaluate it?  Or, put differently: to what extent are your curricula “future-ready”?

In too many cases, the answers to these questions land somewhere between “not very much” and “not at all”.  As a sector, there is some homework to be done here.

January 29

Universities and Economic Growth

If you read the OECD/World Bank playbook on higher education, it’s all very simple.  If you raise investments into higher education and research, growth will follow.

At the big-picture national level, this is probably true.  But it’s maddeningly inspecific.  What is the actual mechanism by which higher spending on a set of institutions translates into growth?  Is it the number of trained graduates produced?  Is it the quality or type of education they receive?  Does concentrating research in certain areas mean greater growth?  What about the balance between “pure” and “applied” research (insofar as those are useful distinctions)? What about technology transfer strategies?

Most importantly for a country like Canada: what about geography?  Is a strategy of widely distributing funds better than a strategy of concentration for spurring economic growth?  Should urban universities – nearer the centres of economic production – get more than universities in smaller conurbations?

Anyone telling you they have the definitive answer to these questions is lying.  Fact is, the literature on most of these topics is embarrassingly thin and provides little to no guidance to governments.  And the literature as it pertains to individual universities is even thinner.  Say you want an institution to “do better” at helping deliver regional economic growth: what do you ask it to do, exactly?  Here, the literature mainly consists of anecdotes of success parading as universally-applicable rules for university conduct (this European Union document is an example).  Which of course is tosh.

One solution you often see to the problem of decreased regional economic growth in smaller cities is for PSE institutions to “work more with industry”.  But if your local industry is in decline, there are limits to this strategy.  You can educate more people in a given field in order to lower the price of skilled labour.  You can get profs to work on upstream blue-sky research that will revolutionize the field, but the spillovers are enormous and the likelihood they will be captured by local business is small.  You can get your profs to work on downstream innovation with local business, but that’s not foolproof. Many companies won’t have the receptor capacity to work with you, either because they are too small or because they are too big and rely on a centralized R&D system, which more often than not is located outside the country (usually the US).

From a PSE point-of-view there’s two ways you can go from here.  There’s the route of “give us more money and we’ll give the local workforce a broader set of skills”.  But the fact that a local population has high levels of relatively generic skills does not necessarily make a region a particularly attractive place for investment.  I’m not an economic geographer, but it seems to me that one of the driving forces of the modern era is that the most profitable companies and industries are those that effectively capitalize on agglomerations of very specific types of talent.  And by and large, to get agglomerations of very specific types of talent you tend to need a large population to begin with, which is why big cities keep getting bigger.

The other option is a “place your bets” approach.  For emerging industries to find the right kinds of skills in a particular region, you have to place bets.  You have to say: “we’re going to invest in training and facilities to produce workers for X, Y, and Z industries, which at the moment do not exist in our region, and indeed may never do so.  Cape Breton University’s emphasis on renewable energy is a good example of this strategy.  It’s a bet: if they get good at this and produce enough graduates, maybe within a few years there will be enough of a talent agglomeration that business will go there and invest.

Maybe.  And maybe not.  Problem is, public universities and their government paymasters get nervous about “maybes”.  Higher education is a risk-averse industry.

Tomorrow, we’ll look at a case study in this: Southwestern Ontario.

October 23

Where the Questions Are

I had planned to continue on today with my series about operating budgets by taking a look at some scenarios for Central Canada, but I’ve been on the east coast for work the past couple days, and so that post will have to wait.  We’ll get back to it shortly, I promise.  But for now, let me turn to something I’ve been thinking about lately.

One of the maddening things about many discussions that concern higher education and business is the crudeness of many popular views on their relationship.  Mostly, we hear about how business’ role is to “contribute” to higher education, either via taxes, or philanthropy, or both (depending on where you are on the political spectrum).  Often times, the role of business is to hire “our” graduates (and if that’s not happening then let the agonized introspection begin).

And while those things are all true, what these analyses actually miss is the true role of business, particularly with respect to science: it’s a huge, incomparable reservoir of questions to be answered, and problems to be solved.  Of course, people get this at the level of applied research – by definition, when companies engage with higher education on applied research, it’s to solve specific problems – but they have trouble understanding when it comes to “pure” research.  Partly, that’s due to rhetorical confusion – the wording of “pure” research (a rhetorical device of Vannevar Bush designed to keep money flowing to universities after World War II) implies that interaction between scientists and pretty much anyone else will “contaminate” research.

But a quick history of 20th century science will show you that this is nonsense.  Much of Einstein’s early work was hugely influenced by being immersed in commercial technology at the Swiss patent office.  Quantum physics was an accidental discovery made by German scientists who were trying to design more accurate instruments to measure very small weights.  The Manhattan Project wasn’t about meeting commercial needs, but as research goes, it’s about as applied as it gets.  Etc., etc.

The point here is that there are parts of commercial science that are up banging against the frontiers of the unknown just as much as university science is: just think of what was discovered at Bell Labs, or what Craig Ventner has accomplished.  It’s where the rubber hits the road: where the most advanced academic science gets put into practice and tested in real-world conditions.  Under commercial pressure, commercial science looks for every little advantage when learning how to cure disease, design better buildings, and develop new technology.

Even Vannevar Bush didn’t believe “pure” research happened in a vacuum.  Indeed, the justification for “pure” research is always that someone, somewhere, will find an application for it.  If you don’t have an inkling of where your “pure” research findings might actually be applied someday, you probably aren’t conducting your “pure” research in a way that’s very effective, because you’re not asking the right questions.

And this is the real reason universities need to engage with industry: it’s where the best questions are.  And you’re not going to get top-notch research without top-notch questions.

October 17

Innovation Literature Fail

So, I’ve been reading Mariana Mazzucato’s, The Entrepreneurial State.  It’s brilliant and irritating, in equal measures.  Brilliant because of the way it skewers certain free-market riffs about the role of risk and entrepreneurialism in the innovation process, and irritating because it’s maddeningly cavalier about applying business terms to government processes (in particular, the term “risk”, which Mazzucato doesn’t seem to understand means something entirely different in government, if losses can be made whole through taxation).

Anyways, one thing that occurred to me while reading was just how America-specific much of the literature on innovation is.  Take the Defence Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA).  In innovation policy circles it’s generally considered a wicked-cool way of organizing Big Science: it’s project-based, it brings teams together from both academia and business, and it has substantial independence.  And, of course, the basic research has produced things like GPS and the Internet (still the core anecdotes used to back the “government-should-be-involved-in-research” argument). 

Brilliant, right?  So why doesn’t everyone have a DARPA?  Why doesn’t Canada?

The answer is that DARPA wouldn’t make any sense here.  Our government agencies don’t have enough of the “big problems” that DARPA is designed to solve – or, at least, that could be solved at a price we can afford.  And frankly, we don’t have enough private-sector research scientists to make headway into these kinds of projects, anyway.

More broadly, the American system of funding science works because of a particular combination of factors: the problems needing to be solved, the presence of major private sector research efforts, a particular type of venture capital industry, and scale.  Canada – like most countries in the world – would, at most, get part-marks on any of those four criteria.  So why do we think that policies based on American examples work for us?

Take questions of “applied” vs. “basic” science.  Maybe the classic Vannevar Bush formulation of, “government funds universities to do basic research, and companies do the applied stuff” only makes sense in the US context.  Maybe without the VC culture, or the private sector research culture, the idea that government should only be playing in the “basic” side of the continuum doesn’t make any sense. Maybe countries who aren’t quite at the technological frontier don’t get as much bang for their buck in basic research as America does.

This is just speculation on my part, of course.  But I’m tired of the innovation literature assuming that US-inspired solutions will work here.  Just for once, I’d like to see some literature and policy prescriptions based on what works in Korea, the Netherlands, and Scandinavia.  There’s probably a whole other set of policy lessons to be learned, if only we looked for them in the right places.

June 05

Time for a Talent Agenda

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been critical of cheap talk about “skills gaps”.   That doesn’t mean that I think business complaints about human resources are baseless; the calls of dissatisfaction are too loud and broad for that to be the case. 

Business in many sectors has said loud and clear that it can’t get the workers it needs. The problem, I think, is that policymakers have concluded that the problem lies in the quantity of graduates in particular fields.  But what if the real problem is one of quality rather than quantity?  What if the shortage is not of skills or of labour, but of talent?

Canadians don’t spend much time thinking about how to develop or attract real leaders and innovators.  In the War for Talent, Canada is basically a conscientious objector.  Part of the problem (in higher education at least) is that focusing on talent is somehow seen as antithetical to promoting access (something Canadians rightly value).  But that’s a false dichotomy: success in promoting access shouldn’t be an excuse for failing to identify and nurture top talent. 

And fail we do, right across the board.  Our high school guidance system can do “tick-the-box academic advising” but can’t link students to horizon-broadening leadership opportunities in their own community.  Post-secondary scholarships are used as cheap enrollment management tools rather than as a means to identify and develop top talent.  The usual defense of our inaction is that talented young people take care of developing their talents on their own and that public policy should focus on the less fortunate.  But that’s only true if one takes the massively condescending view that “talent” is equivalent to “stuff children of the professional class do”. Assuming we want a broader definition of talent and achievement, and that leadership is something that is necessary in all occupations and walks of life, then its development is something we actually need to pay for. 

Though I could go on at length – how about an immigration policy which actually goes out and actively lures talented people in specific fields rather than complacently wait for them to show up? I’ll spare you.  But just imagine for a moment: a policy agenda which engages educators and businesses across the board in thinking about how we structure opportunities for youth, how we given them the tools to develop their own talents to the fullest, and how we engage everyone in becoming leaders and innovators in the economy and in society.  Now compare it with the juvenile “my-occupation’s-skill-set-is-more-important-than-yours” crap we’ve been dealing with for the last few months.  Which is likelier to lead to a Canada we can be proud of?


May 24

The Best Idea I’ve Seen All Year

I travel around a fair bit, and I get to see a lot of interesting stuff that’s going on at universities in Canada, and abroad.  People often ask me: what’s the best thing you’ve seen recently?  The answer this year, hands down, is UBC’s Start-up Services Voucher.

Now, UBC’s been a leader in commercialization and spin-off companies for at least twenty years.  They caught a lot of attention when they created a $10 million Seed Fund, capitalized by donations from alumni and the BC Innovation Council, which was designed to promote entrepreneurship by making early stage, pre-seed investments in start-ups founded by students or recent alumni.

But more quietly, the university has done something else which I think is much more interesting: about two years ago, it created the Start-up Services Voucher.  If you’re a UBC student, staff, or faculty member, and want to start a business, you’re eligible for up to $5000 worth of business services (though, in practice, most use far less).  And unlike virtually every other entrepreneurship system in Canadian PSE, there are no requirements whatsoever with respect to using UBC technology, nor is there any stipulation that the business be some kind of technology enterprise.  Want to open a flower shop?  This fund’s for you.

There’s no catch.  UBC certainly isn’t interested in equity, for instance.  All they want is recognition.  All companies that move through the program must display a logo declaring themselves as “UBC-affiliated companies” for a period of five years.

How brilliant is that?

First, it creates a great, dense network between an institution and small businesses in its community (which will no doubt pay off philanthropically, down the road).  Second of all, it allows the institution to get a much better handle on the post-graduation activities of its entrepreneurs, and hence allows UBC to highlight its larger role in job creation and innovation in British Columbia.  Frankly, UBC could pay for this out of the Government Relations budget, and it would make complete sense – how great will it be to be able to walk into an MLA’s office and rattle off the names of all the new, “UBC-affiliated” businesses that have started-up in his/her riding?

Students learn a lot in PSE, and not just inside the classroom.  When they start their own businesses, it’s the ultimate expression of the mix of hard, soft, and creative skills that they’ve gained at school, and are now applying in innovative ways.  It’s a huge, practical impact that universities and colleges have on their communities that no one’s ever been able to quantify or publicize.

Until now.  Bravo, UBC.  A great idea that deserves more attention – and some imitators.

April 24

Canadian Innovation, Seen from Abroad

So, I came across this quite remarkable little document yesterday – it’s a report prepared by MIT-Skoltech on the universities around the world who contribute the most to their local innovation systems.

(What is Skoltech, you ask?  Well, it’s a university located in a nascent science and tech hub, just outside Moscow, in a place called Skolkovo, and is the pet project of the Medvedev wing of the Kremlin.  Anchoring this tech hub is the new Skolkovo University of Science and Technology, or Skoltech.  To emphasize its difference from the rest of Russian Academia, the institution’s hired an American, Edward Crawley, from MIT as its first President. In the stuffy world of Russian Academia, this was a Big Freaking Deal.  MIT quickly signed up for a long-term partnership deal to develop Skoltech; hence, MIT-Skoltech).

Anyways, since the whole point of the Skolkovo project is to create a self-sustaining economic cluster which isn’t totally penetrated by the usual gang of oligarchs and kleptocrats, the role universities can play in developing technology-based ecosystems is much on the minds of campus leaders.  And so they hired a consultant to interview some of the world’s leading thinkers on innovation, higher education, and tech clusters, and asked them to name, i) the universities around the world which have the most highly-regarded tech ecosystems, and ii) the universities that do the most to develop tech ecosystems in challenging circumstances.

Here’s what they had to say about Canadian universities…

Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

Maybe it’s not a surprise that none of our universities would make the top ten in the world; though Technion, ETH Zurich, and the National University of Singapore all cracked the top ten’s inevitable Anglo-American cartel.  But the identities of the schools that made it into the “doing most with the least” category ahead of any Canadian university should raise eyebrows: Sophia Antopolis (France), Aalto University (Finland), and KAIST (Korea).  Oh, and the University of Auckland.  At innovation, we rank below hobbits.

Of course, this is just expert opinions; it’s not in any sense “factual”.  Maybe if one were to delve into some metrics (the paper actually has a very useful section on measuring innovation at universities, though it does not use them in its comparisons), one would find that places like Waterloo and UBC “deserve” a place at the top table.  But experts usually aren’t that far off the mark.  And even if they are, the fact remains: people who matter in this field don’t think of Canadian universities and “top innovators” in the same sentence.

Universities with a reputation for innovation and entrepreneurship attract investment and top-class industrial partners.  If that’s not the image we’re projecting, we should be asking ourselves some pretty tough questions.

January 14

Better, not Cheaper

If there is one clear meme concerning higher education coming out of America during this recession, it’s this: “higher education is too expensive and it’s delivering a sub-optimal product.”

Zeitgeist statements like this one have to be handled carefully.  Even if you don’t agree with this meme, failure to engage with it can expose one to charges of being “defensive,” or “part of the problem”.  So, for the moment, let’s accept this statement at face-value, and focus on how one might respond to it.

From a business perspective, there’s simply no question that in a quasi-monopolistic system like higher education, the choice between cheaper and better is obvious.  Only a chump gives up the revenue.  If consumers perceive that the quality – however that may be defined – isn’t there, that’s what needs to be fixed.

Given this, it’s absolutely astonishing to me how quickly the debate in America has focussed around cost.  Everywhere, the mantra is about “bending the cost-curve” (tellingly, a phrase consciously borrowed from the health-care debate), and states like Florida, Texas, and California are all making serious moves to implement so-called $10,000 degrees (that’s not the price, it’s the cost).   Faced with the proposition that, “higher education isn’t delivering the goods, and it costs too much”, the dominant reaction in America seems to be, “well, let’s make it cheaper, then”.  Now, obviously, this response is being driven by political actors rather than educational ones, but it’s stunning nonetheless.

Canada hasn’t quite seen the same level of disillusionment with higher education, mainly because youth unemployment hasn’t spiked in anything like the way it has in the US (the irritating but inevitable fact: higher education will take blame, and credit, for preparing young people for jobs in direct relation to the amplitude of the economic cycle, over which it has zero influence).  But the “cheaper-not-better” agenda could easily take root here, too; Lord knows, in Ontario, we’ve only recently escaped the clutches of a Minister who was in thrall to exactly that vision.

So, here’s a thought: let’s be proactive about this.  Instead of waiting for the next crisis to pop-up, let’s get ahead of the curve by improving the value proposition of undergraduate education.  As I’ve said before, what people really want are graduates who are effective, engaged, and innovative, so let’s find a way to deliver on that.

Put aside for awhile the pitches for more grad students and more research.  Winning the battle for public trust in the system is going to depend first and foremost on how our system delivers on undergraduate education.  Only by being better can the system avoid the call to be cheaper.

December 21

Barking Up the Wrong Tree

I haven’t written about MOOCs in awhile, mostly because I’m finding the whole discussion pretty tedious.  They’re an interesting addition to the spectrum of continuing education offerings, and they’ll exist so long as venture capitalists and large, big-brand universities feel like subsidizing the hell out of them. Period.

The supposed “value” of MOOCs is that they deliver the same old lecture-driven process at a cheaper price.  But what should be our real priority right now: Making education cheaper, or finding ways to deliver greater value?

Imagine you’re in the early 1950s, and someone gives you the task of saving be-bop from the predations of rock and roll.  And suppose that same person hands you some piece of technology from 2012, which can deliver be-bop to the masses, at a cheaper price:  MP3s, live streaming shows, that kind of thing.  With this, you could make be-bop accessible at anytime, anywhere, and maybe even for free!  But Be-bop’s decline had nothing to do with being too expensive;  Buddy Holly was still going to kick its behind, because he had become the more relevant market choice.

In many ways, the same is true of education.  The fact that we can make the existing model of education cheaper doesn’t adress the issue of relevancy – focusing on cost when relevance is the key issue is misguided, and a distraction.

Undergraduate education has always been about preparing people for the labour market.  Back when it was a pursuit for people who either had hereditary wealth or were heading into guaranteed spots in the public service, we could pretend that higher education was about seeking Truth.  But if we’re honest, all those Truth-seekers ended up getting a pretty good financial return on their educational investments because their degree certified them as being significantly brighter than their non-degree-earning peers.

But when 70% of the youth population has some form of post-secondary education, that deal no longer works.  Having a degree no longer proves that you’re among the best and the brightest.  Graduates need something more.  And that “something more” is being a person who is engaged, effective and innovative.  When parents send their kids off to school, that’s really what their hoping their little ones will become.  Now this doesn’t mean that kids can’t study philosophy on the way to being engaged, effective, and innovative; it does, however, mean that PSE institutions need to think a lot harder about how to give students those skills.

It’s not rocket science.  Waterloo does it through its co-op programs.  Ryerson is doing it through its Digital Media Zone.  Polytechnics like NAIT who use applied research projects to drive curriculum are doing it, too.  Mostly, institutions are doing it by acknowledging the pedagogical value of interactions with the world of work, and opening themselves up to collaboration with businesses and government agencies to deliver it.  And its working.

Engaged, effective, and innovative students.  Let’s make it a watchword for 2013.

Page 4 of 512345