HESA

Higher Education Strategy Associates

Category Archives: salaries

May 27

How High Can Pay Go?

A few months ago, in the midst of a very exciting battle of words at Windsor, I got into an internet discussion with a professor who was absolutely outraged by one of the administration’s proposals: namely, to put a ceiling on professors’ salary, including his, after 30 years of service.

To step back for a moment: collective bargaining agreements generally outline a grid: a series of salary scales (or ladders, or steps – pick your term), generally one for each rank, to determine compensation. Each rank’s scale has a floor and increments, usually corresponding to years of seniority. Occasionally, at places like Alberta, UBC, and Waterloo, the increments are conditioned on an annual merit review, in which case it’s possible for a faculty member to see no increase in a year, or jump more than one step in a single year, but basically the principle is the same. Compensation increases as faculty move up the scale, and the whole scale gains value every year to compensate for cost-of-living.  (For more on the Progression Through the Ranks system, see an earlier post here.)

Anyways, this professor was peeved at the thought that his salary (apparently he had 30 plus years as a full professor) could never grow by more than a cost-of-living increment.  “What’s my incentive to even show up to work?” he asked seriously, while making north of $150,000 per year. I suggested that salary ceilings were pretty normal, but he claimed this was nonsense. So I asked one of our policy analysts, Jonathan Williams, to figure out who was right.

Jonathan reviewed collective agreements across 54 Canadian universities to identify the prevalence of maxima, or ceilings, on scale compensation, and the maximum number of steps for Professors, Associate Professors and Assistant Professors. He then compared results across institution types, using the Maclean’s classifications of medical/doctoral, comprehensive, and undergraduate. Those institutions in our sample, but not in Maclean’s (e.g. Athabasca, Vancouver Island), we have left as “unclassified”. Since this is meant to be a short and convenient morning email, we’ll spare you the more detailed methodology report, but feel free to email us if you’re really curious.

Anyways, turns out the answer is slightly complicated, because while most collective agreements do have ceilings, they don’t always have them for all ranks.  As a result, in Figure 1 we display results not only by institution type, but also by rank. Across all institutions, over two-thirds have ceilings for Full Professors, and four-out-of-five have them for Assistant Professors.

Figure 1 – Percentage of Institutions With Pay Ceilings, by Academic Rank and Type of Institution

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Now, Figure 1 simply measures the number of collective agreements where there is some kind of pay maxima.  In practice, however, some of these scales have so many steps that almost no one will ever hit the top of the scale. For example, there are some collective agreements where there are more than 35 increments on the pay scale for Full Professors. Given that most people don’t make Full Professor until at least their mid-40s, only 80 year-olds would ever hit such a maxima (which, even with the elimination of mandatory retirement, seems a bit extreme). We therefore did a second analysis in which we counted scales containing 30 increments, or more, (i.e. incorporating 30 years of service, or more), as being equivalent to not having a ceiling at all.

Figure 2 – Percentage of Institutions With Pay Ceilings, by Academic Rank and Type of Institution (Assuming 30+ Years Per Rank Equivalent to no Ceiling)

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Across all institutions, this brings down the percentage with maxima by about ten percentage points. However, the effect is concentrated at comprehensive universities (like Windsor, as it happens). Of the 15 institutions where 30 or more steps existed, ten were in place at comprehensives.

However, these are, to some extent, outliers. If we look at the mean number of increments per rank, the numbers are considerably lower – most agreements have between 14 and 20 increments per rank – which is probably absurdly high for Assistant Profs, but are otherwise about right.

Figure 3 – Mean Number of Pay Increments, by Academic Rank and Type of Institution

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We can also examine these patterns by region.  Ontario turns out to have the fewest institutions with maxima, especially when it comes to Assistant and Associate Professors, as shown in Figure 4. Institutions in Ontario also, on average, have about five more pay increments per scale than institutions in the rest of the country.

Figure 4 – Percentage of Institutions With Pay Ceilings, by Academic Rank and Region

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It should be noted here that shorter times to maxima are not necessarily positive or negative, either for institutions or faculty associations. Agreements with fewer increments tend to have larger increases per increment, meaning professors may earn higher salaries more quickly. Conversely, more years may reflect more modest annual increments.

So there you have it.  Most institutions do in fact have pay grids with ceilings, although in some cases these are more abstract than real. This was a lot of effort to settle an 8-month old internet argument, but perhaps some of you will find it useful.

 

April 21

Lessons From Western: One of Us

One of the most extraordinary moments last week in the run-up to the Senate non-confidence vote on Western President Amit Chakma’s tenure was the publication of an opinion piece in the Western News – the official organ of the university, no less – entitled, “Nothing personal, but it’s time to go”.  Written by two professors in the English Department, it is a rhetorically excellent savaging of President Chakma.  Read it, it’s worth it.

Although well-written, I was particularly struck by the thinness of the litany of complaints.  There was a certain, and surprising, inchoateness to the anger. Yes, it was bone-headed of Chakma to take the second year’s worth of pay, but that’s not what’s driving criticism here.  The authors clearly believe that, at Western, things are going to hell in a handbasket in a way they aren’t elsewhere.  And they have no doubt that Chakma and his executive team are the reason it is worse at Western. Given the article’s claims, it would seem that Chakma’s most unforgivable sin is that he does not – indeed, cannot – understand Western because he is from somewhere else.  To the authors, he is simply not “one of us”  (personally, I found it difficult to read the article without thinking of that famous scene from the 1932 film, Freaks).

Now, sometimes the “not one of us” argument has some force.  When, after running into financial trouble, Cooper Union President Jamshed Barucha – formerly of Dartmouth and Tufts  decided to introduce tuition at the erstwhile free-tuition school, the issue of his sense of attachment to the institution could genuinely be called into question.  Free tuition was part of the school’s identity, and you don’t screw around with that lightly (ht to Keegan Goodman for the analogy).

But, to put it mildly, I don’t see anything of that magnitude happening at Western.  Universities are pretty isomorphic; the amount of local knowledge needed to run one is really small, unless it is really an outstanding and highly particular university (MIT, say).  I grant that under Chakma, the strategic direction of the institution has changed for the blander (see here for my take on the banality of its recent strategic planning exercise); but let’s face it, it’s strategic directions were pretty bland to begin with.  Apart from a stronger-than-average commitment to the undergraduate student experience, Western isn’t a particularly distinctive institution.  The one time it had a chance to be really distinctive – when its Waterloo engineering extension campus came up with a program for co-op education – it cut the campus loose because that co-op stuff was self-evidently second-rate, and had no future at a serious university.

My guess is that the “not one of us” line-of-attack is actually another way of saying: “if you’d been here longer, you’d at least act as if you understood the concerns of those in the institution who are doing less well under this administration than under the previous one”.  In other words, there seem to have been significant weaknesses in communication and consensus-building on campus.  On its own, these were probably not serious enough to come to the fore and become a political issue that anyone outside the campus would care about.  But Chakma and the Board, through the incomprehensible decision to allow Chakma to cash his leave-year pay while sitting as President, effectively handed a large, spiked club to anyone within the institution who had a grievance.  The result is articles like this one, which have substantial (though obviously not universal) resonance on campus.  Chakma survived the vote last Friday, but the damage done to his Presidency may be permanent.

April 20

Lessons from Western: Presidential Administrative Leave

Last Friday, Western’s President Amit Chakma barely scraped through a non-confidence vote following his decision to take pay in lieu of administrative leave when he started his second term, a move which pushed his pay to $967,000 last year.  The story has resonated widely across academia, so it seems worth a couple days of blogs to unpack some of the issues

With specific respect to pay, the real issue seems to be what to do with this “leave year” that all Presidents have apparently negotiated.  It would appear to be common practice for presidents to have five-year terms, supplemented by a sixth year of “leave” during which time the President stays on the payroll at his or her former salary.  What seems to get people tied in knots is not so much the base salary (that causes grumbling, but not non-confidence votes), but rather the way the “leave year” gets used.

It’s worth looking at a couple of other Presidential pay packages that didn’t raise eyebrows in order to understand why Chakma’s actions were perceived as so horrible.  Absolutely nobody seems to have ever made a fuss about Presidents who take their leave year and return to the professoriate.  Academics apparently feel that as long as a President appears to be doing duty as an academic, the fact that he or she is making between two and three times normal professorial pay is an acceptable perk of being a President.  Also, people don’t seem to mind if a President defers the leave year if a second term is earned. Arvind Gupta’s contract at UBC is quite clear on this: if re-appointed, he gets to take the leave year at the end of his second term (also clear: he won’t get to earn a second year of leave if he is re-appointed. One and done).

Chakma’s former boss at Waterloo, David Johnston, cashed-out at least one year of leave, in full, when he became Governor General in September 2010 – the Sunshine List records him as having received slightly more than $1 million that year.  Nobody raised an eyebrow then, so it’s probably fair to say that either Johnston gets a pass because he looks like everyone’s cuddliest granddad, or nobody think it’s a problem to cash out that leave year if you suddenly leave the university (or both).

Another way leave years have been used is to be folded into later pay packages.  At least one President (Sara Diamond at OCAD University) had her leave year salary divided into five, and spread over her second term.  Again, this has not been subject to any criticism, so far as I know – in which case, we can deduce that people don’t actually have a problem with converting leave years to salary, as long as they don’t do it all at once.

The issue, then, is a pretty specific one: total compensation is not a problem, leave years are not a problem, and converting leave years into cash is not a problem, provided you don’t cash the leave all at once as a sitting President.  And honestly, that’s not a test most should find too difficult to meet.

Basically, it comes down to the nature of the leave year.  If both sides view it as equivalent to a sabbatical, or as severance, it’s OK.  If it is viewed just as a way to increase compensation over the course of a contract (i.e. spreading $2.2 million over six years instead of five) then you’re probably heading out onto thin ice.

April 07

Not Mutually Exclusive

One often hears university administrators say things like: “if we don’t reduce growth in salary mass, we’re all in trouble”.  Sometimes, the word “academic” gets thrown in front of salaries, for good measure.  In response, one often hears faculty unions say: “but academic salaries are down as a proportion of operating spending since 1992”, or “salaries as a proportion of the budget have remained constant in recent years”, and conclude from this that salaries can’t possibly be the problem.

How should we evaluate these claims?  Well, first off, we should acknowledge that these are all true statements.  Let’s start with the question of academic salaries as a proportion of operating budgets.  Between 1990 and 2002, these did fall substantially, from about 39% of total operating expenditure to about 30%.  But it has remained more or less constant thereafter.  There were multiple reasons for this fall, the main one being that academic staff numbers actually fell during the mid-90s under the effects of that decade’s austerity, which meant that absolute dollars spent on staff were frozen from about 1992 to 1999.

Figure 1: Academic Salaries as a Percentage of Total Operating Expenditures, 1991-2012

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Of course, one countervailing factor here is that a greater proportion of compensation is now going out in the form of benefits (mainly pensions) rather than salaries.  So sometimes, instead of looking just at academic salaries, we want to look at total compensation – and not just for academics, but for all employees.  Figure 2 shows all compensation as a percentage of operating budgets.  This, too fell in the 90s, but is just now starting to edge up a bit again, to around 75% of total spending.

Figure 2: Total Spending on Compensation as a Percentage of Operating Budgets, 1991-2012

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Now, looking at these graphs, you could very well ask: “so what’s the problem?”  As indeed many faculty unions do.  Well, the answer is that these graphs represent fractions: expenditures as a percentage of total expenditures.  But it’s worth looking at both the numerator and the denominator here.  Figure 3 shows what has been happening to total operating expenditures in Canada.  Between 1998 and 2012, expenditures increased by 67% after inflation, or an average of 4.7% per annum in real dollars.

Figure 3: Total Operating Expenditures and Expenditures on Compensation, in $2012, 1991-2012

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So it’s quite possible to look at Figure 2 and say, “up to 2012, staff compensation was in no way a cause of financial hardship to universities”.  However, to go from here, to saying: “therefore we don’t need to worry about compensation, and things can continue on as before”, requires one to believe that university revenues will continue growing at 4.7% per year, in real dollars.  And flat out, that hasn’t been happening, and isn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Take a look at the last couple rounds of provincial budgets.  On average, the 2013-14 budgets saw funding go down by 0.7%.  The 2014-15 round saw them increase by about $7 million nationally (or 0.066%).  And that’s in nominal terms – in real terms, that’s a decrease of about 4%.  Now, tuition increases of 6.6% over two years makes up for that a bit, but at best – even including the effects of rising international student numbers – we’re probably looking at increases in operating budgets of about 1.5% in the last two years, and in all likelihood for the foreseeable future ( and this year will almost certainly be less than that).

So, assuming 4% increases in compensation costs, and 1.5% increases in income, what does Figure 2 look like, extended out a couple of years?  Figure 4 tells the tale.

Figure 4: Total Spending on Compensation as a Percentage of Operating Budgets, 1991-2017 (Projected)

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The result, simply, is that at present rates of expenditure and income growth, compensation will rise from 75% of the budget in 2012, to 85% of the budget in 2017.  Or, put another way, to make room for compensation growth, universities will have to cut their non-salary budget items by nearly a third over the next few years.

And that’s why, despite faculty unions being correct about the salary growth having been affordable up to now, the evidence still points to present salary mass growth as being unsustainable going forward.  The two stores are not mutually exclusive.

January 22

Classroom Economics (Part 4)

Yesterday we looked at ways to get the teaching budget down.  Today, we’re going to look at the other half of the cost equation: all that overhead.  And we’re going to look at it by asking the question: how big a cut in overhead would it take to equal the effect of replacing 20% of your credit hours with sessionals (which, as we saw yesterday, reduces overall teaching loads by 17%)?

Recall the equation: X = aϒ/(b+c), where “X” is the total number of credit hours a professor must teach each year (a credit hour here meaning one student sitting in one course for one term), “ϒ” is average compensation per professor, “a” is the overhead required to support each professor, “b” is the government grant per student credit hour, and “c” is the tuition revenue per credit hour.  Given that equation, the answer to our question is simple: you need to drop overhead by 17%.  But how might one go about achieving a cut that size?

On average across Canada, universities spend about $16,300 per FTE student on things other than academic staff compensation (yes, really).  Over half of that – 54% or so – goes to non-academic staff compensation: the professional staff, the cleaners, the lab techs, the janitors, etc.  They’re all in there.  No other single item comes close.  The table below shows the full breakdown.  Most of those categories are pretty self-explanatory, except perhaps for “other” operational expenditures (which is mostly long-term space rental and property taxes, with a few miscellanies thrown in for good measure).

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Now imagine you want to achieve your 17% reduction without firing anyone, or trying to get them to give back salary – what are your options?  Well, to start with, it’s important to acknowledge there’s a bunch of things in here that are difficult to touch.  Scholarships, for instance.  And not paying interest isn’t too smart.

So that leaves only 35.8% of the whole non-academic budget.  Squeezing 17% out of that would be pretty horrific; it would require cuts of as close to 50% as makes no odds.  What do you think our universities would look like with half the library acquisition budget gone?  Half the travel and communications budget gone?  Half the budget for light and heat gone?  It’s simply not an option.

All of this, of course, means that balancing budgets this way leaves you with very few options other than reducing labour costs.  Say you had a way to reduce your non-academic staff costs by 10% – either by wage rollbacks or layoffs, or some combination of the two: you’d still have to find a way to squeeze 20% out of the rest of the non-academic budget to make the math work.  And that would be tough.

Bottom line: there is no easy salvation here.  Any serious reduction in costs on this side will require some bloodletting in terms of staff.  That’s never easy to stomach.

My wrap-up on all this tomorrow.

January 21

Classroom Economics (Part 3)

(If you’re just tuning in today, you may want to catch up on Part 1 and Part 2)

Back to our equation: X = aϒ/(b+c), where “X” is the total number of credit hours a professor must teach each year (a credit hour here meaning one student sitting in one course for one term), “ϒ” is average compensation per professor, “a” is the overhead required to support each professor, “b” is the government grant per student credit hour, and “c” is the tuition revenue per credit hour.

I noted in Part 1 of this series that most profs don’t actually teach the 235 credit hours our formula implied. Partly that’s because teaching loads aren’t distributed equally.  Imagine a department of ten people, which would need to teach 2350 credit hours in order to cover its costs.  If just two people teach the big intro courses and take on 500 credit hours apiece, the other 8 will be teaching a much more manageable 169 credit hours (5 classes of under 35 students for those teaching 3/2).

Now, while I’m talking about class size, you’ll notice that this concept isn’t actually a factor in our equation – only the total number of credit hours required to be taught.  You can divide ‘em up how you want.  Want to teach 5 courses a year?  Great.  Average class size will be 47.  Want to teach four courses?  No sweat, just take 59 students per class instead.  It’s up to you.

When you hear professors complain about increased class sizes, this is partly what’s going on.  As universities have reduced professors’ teaching loads (to support research, natch) without reducing the number of students, the average number of students per class has risen.  That has nothing to do with underfunding or perfidious administrators; it’s just straight arithmetic.

But there is a way to get around this.  Let’s say a university lowers its normal teaching load from 3/2 to 2/2, as many Canadian institutions have done in the last two decades.  As I note above, there is no necessary financial cost to this: just offer fewer, larger courses.  Problem is, no university that has gone down this path has actually reduced its course offerings by the necessary 20% to make this work.  Somehow, they’re still offering those courses.

That “somehow” is sessional lecturers, or adjuncts if you prefer.  They’ll teach a course for roughly a third of what a full-time prof will.  So their net effect on our equation is to lower the average price of academic labour.  Watch what happens when we reduce teaching loads from 3/2 to 2/2, and give that increment of classes over to adjuncts.

(.8*150,000) + (.2*50,000) = $130,000

X= 2.27($150,000)/($600+$850) = 235

X= 2.27(130,000)/($600+$850) = 195

The alert among you will probably note that the fixed cost nature of “a” means that it would likely rise somewhat as ϒ falls, so this is probably overstating the fall in teaching loads a bit.  But still, this result is pretty awesome.  If you reduce your faculty teaching load, and hand over the difference to lower-paid sessionals, not only do you get more research, but the average teaching load also falls significantly.  Everyone wins!  Well, maybe not the sessionals, but you get what I mean.

This underlines something pretty serious: the financial problems we have lay much more on the left side of the equation than on the right side.  However much you think professors deserve to be paid, there’s an iron triangle of institutional income, salaries, and credit hours that cannot be escaped.  If you can’t increase tuition, and more government money isn’t forthcoming, then you either have to accept higher teaching loads or lower average salaries.  And if wage rollbacks among full-time staff isn’t in the cards, then average costs are going to be reduced through increased casualization.  Period.

Or almost, anyway. To date we’ve focused just on ϒ – but what about “a”?  Can’t we make that coefficient smaller somehow?

Good question.  More tomorrow.

November 25

Graduate Income Data Miracle on the Rideau

My friend and colleague Ross Finnie has just published a remarkable series of papers on long-term outcomes from higher education, which everyone needs to go read, stat.

What he’s done is taken 13 years of student data from the University of Ottawa and linked it to income tax data held by Statistics Canada.  That means he can track income patterns by field of study, not over the puny 6-24 month period commonly used by provincial surveys, or the new 36-month standard the National Graduate Survey now uses, but for up to 13 years out.  And guess what?  Those results are pretty good.  After only five years out, all fields of study are averaging at least $60K per year in annual income.  Income does flatten out pretty quickly after that, but by then, of course, people are earning a pretty solid middle-class existence – even the much-maligned Arts grads.

Figure 1: Average Post-Graduation Income of Class of 1998 University of Ottawa Graduates, by Field of Study and Number of Years After Graduation, in Thousands of 2011 Constant Dollars

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One of the brilliant things about this data set is that you can not only compare across fields of study in a single cohort, but also you can compare across years for a single field of study.  Finnie’s data shows that in Math/Science, Humanities, Social Science, and Health, income pathways did not vary much between one cohort and another: a 2008 History grad had basically the same early income pathway as one from 1998.  In two other fields, though, it was a different story.  The first is Business, where the 1998 cohort clearly had it a lot better than its later counterparts; after two years out, that cohort was making $10K per year more than later ones, a lead that was then maintained for the rest of their career.  In ICT, the fate of various cohorts was even more diverse.

Figure 2: Average Post-Graduation Income, Selected Cohorts of University of Ottawa Engineering/Computer Science Graduates, by Number of Years After Graduation, in Thousands of 2011 Constant Dollars

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This is pretty stunning stuff: thanks to the dot-com bust, the first-year incomes of engineering and computer science graduates in 2004 was exactly half what it was in 2000 ($40,000 vs. $80,000).  If anyone wants to know why kids don’t flock to ICT as a career, consider uncertain returns as a fairly major reason.

Also examined is the question of income by gender:

Figure 3: Average Post-Graduation Income of Class of 1998 University of Ottawa Graduates, by Gender and Number of Years After Graduation, in Thousands of 2011 Constant Dollars

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Two interesting things are at work with respect to gender.  The initial income gap of $10,000 in the first year after graduation gap is almost entirely a field-of-study effect: take out Engineering/Computer Science, and earnings are almost the same.  But after that, the gap widens at a pretty continuous pace for all fields of study.  It’s most pronounced in Business, where top-quartile male incomes really blow the averages out, but the pattern is the same everywhere.  Because of the way the data is collected, it’s impossible to say how much of this reflects differences in labour-market participation and hours worked, and how much of this is differences in hourly pay, but the final result – a gender gap of $20,000 to $25,000 in average earnings, regardless of field of study – is pretty striking.

Are there caveats to this data?  Sure.  It’s just one university, located in a town heavy on government and ICT work.  My guess is that elsewhere, things might not look so good in Humanities and Social Science, and ICT outcomes may be less boom-and-bust-y.  But fortunately, Ross is on this one: he is currently building a consortium of institutions across the country to replicate this process, and build a more comprehensive national picture.

Let me press this point a bit on Ross’ behalf: there is no good reason why every institution in the country should not be part of this consortium.  If your institution is not part of it, ask yourself why.  This is the most important new source of data on education Canada has had in over a decade.  Everyone should contribute to it.

 

 

Nb. One tiny quibble about the papers is that they present everything in monochrome graphic form – no tabular data.  To make the above figures, I’ve had to eyeball the data and re-enter it myself.  Apologies for any deviations from the original.

October 27

The Way Forward on Collective Bargaining

So, last week (here, here, and here) I noted that in most parts of the country, total compensation levels have been running more or less in line with changes to total operating grants.  But this is not a reason to become complacent about university finances and future collective bargaining agreements, for two reasons.

First, what I’ve been showing is that salary mass has been increasing in line with operating income.  But salary mass and salaries are two different things.  If I give very high salary increases, I can keep salary mass down by reducing total staff complement.  That is very clearly starting to happen at some universities, and it’s not necessarily positive.  So there’s that.

Second, all the projections I’ve made have assumed that growth in tuition revenue is going to continue at present rates.  But there are some good reasons to suspect that this won’t be the case.  On one hand, domestic student numbers are already falling in Ontario and the Maritimes, due to demographics.  But more importantly, there’s simply no guarantee we’ll continue to increase tuition revenues from international students the way we have for the last seven or eight years.  And yet, every time another campus signs a big-money salary deal with staff, this is implicitly what the system is banking on.

What most people on Canadian campuses haven’t yet realized is the extent to which the 4.5% annual real increases in total operating budgets have been funded by international students (actually, a lot people don’t even believe that operating budgets have been increasing, but that’s another story).  And to keep those increases going into the future requires that institutions not only to keep the students they have, but also that they maintain a constant rate of growth.

So here’s the deal.  With institutional income increasingly coming from volatile market-based sources, sensitive to changes in demand, and quite possibly headed in the wrong direction, we are ill-served by a collective bargaining culture based on keeping-up with what profs at (insert comparator institution here) got 12 months ago.  That way lies an inflationary spiral.  What really matters is how total operating income is going to grow, and how to ensure salary mass increases don’t crowd out other important educational expenditures.

There is a simple way to do this, and, as I suggested back here, it involves linking pay to institutional income.  Institutions need to start saying publicly, at the outset of negotiations, what their likely income increases are going to be over the next 3-4 years, and make it clear that no settlement will be signed in which salary mass increases are more than this.  If an institution’s total net income is expected to increase by 10%, make it clear that 10% is the most that can be offered to staff.  Within that 10%, many things can be negotiated, of course.  But the bottom line has to link pay to income.

What if income increases more than 10%?  Staff should get their share of any incremental increase, of course.  That way, everyone has an incentive to see total revenues increase – which currently means giving everyone an incentive to be more foreign-student-minded.

Unions might not like this.  And that’s their right.  But then it would also be their responsibility to explain what universities should be cutting if growing paycheques can’t keep up with faltering revenue – publicly, and before the start of any contract negotiations.

September 24

The Math at Windsor

Not only is there strike talk at Laurentian, but there is also a strike in the air at Windsor (a one-day strike was held last week, but a full strike is promised for October 1st if no deal is reached).  Bargaining there began earlier this year, but for whatever reason, no progress was made in negotiations over the spring.  After a conciliator was unable to nudge the two sides closer together, the university was in the legal position to impose its offer on the faculty, which it did in early July. This was a canny piece of timing: by doing this in the summer, the university deprived the union of an immediate strike threat (because who cares if profs go on strike in summer?).

This was a rare case of a university playing hardball on timing; and though this may have wrong-footed the union, they’ve responded by making great rhetorical hay out of having a contract imposed on them.  Now, the strike is no longer about petty monetary demands, it’s about the right to collective bargaining.  Yay, righteousness!  And that’s a big bonus for the union, because if the strike was just about financial proposals, their position would be almost indefensible.

The union position is that the university’s offer – 0%, 0%, and 3% over three years – is inadequate because staff can’t be expected to accept wage increases below inflation.  While that’s one way of framing the institution’s offer, it glosses over the stonking amount of money the university is offering faculty through its Progression Through the Ranks (PTR) system (for a refresher course on PTR, see here).  Under the university’s offer, every single professor (other than those with over 30 years experience) gets an annual pay rise of $2,550.  This isn’t based on merit or anything, the way it is at Alberta or UBC or Waterloo, it’s just for sticking around another year.  On top of that, they get 0%, 0%, 3%.

Now that doesn’t translate easily into a percentage figure because $2,550 represents a different percentage for each professor, depending on their current pay. But let’s take a stab at it based on known average pay by rank.  Current pay figures are unavailable (thanks for cutting the UCASS faculty salary survey, StatsCan!), but I do have them from 4 years ago – they’ve probably gone up slightly since then, but for giggles let’s use them to take a look at what the university offer means if the PTR is included.

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On top of that, there’s something called the “Windsor Salary Scale” – a Windsor-only deal, in place for decades, which means that the Windsor salary scale always rises at the Ontario median.  Based on the past few years’ deals, this would mean average pay rises of another 4% or so (15.4% now for assistant profs, if you’re counting) – though it’s hard to predict exactly, since we don’t know what future salary settlements across Ontario will look like.  On the other hand, professors will also be asked to pay more into their pensions, what with returns being so meagre in our low-interest rate environment.  So let’s call these two a wash and stick with the figures in the table above.

To summarize, this deal – which, recall, had to be imposed – will see nearly all faculty salaries rise by rates well above inflation (in the case of assistant professors, by a factor of two).  The only ones who will not see a rise equal to inflation are that tiny minority (the 30+ years crew) already at the top of the pay grid, and who in most circumstances will be earning over $150,000.

Remember, this is at a university in a region where first-year enrolment fell by 10% this year, and where the regional youth cohort (Windsor-Essex-Chatham-Kent) is set to shrink by 15% or so over the next six years – meaning the institution will receive even fewer tuition dollars, and will receive a declining share of total government grants budget, which, if we’re lucky, will decline by only 3% in real terms over the next three years.

And still the union said no.

September 23

Another Reason to Get Serious About Measuring Workloads

So I see the Laurentian faculty union is threatening to strike.  The main issues are “workload” (they’d like to have lower undergraduate teaching loads to deal with an influx of graduate students) and pay (they’d like to “close the gap” with the rest of Ontario).

This is where the entire system would be well served by having some understanding of what, exactly, everybody is getting paid for.  Obviously, if you’re doing the same amount and type of work as someone else, you’ve got a pretty good claim to parity.  The problem is that what professors do – that is, their expected workload and outputs – can vary significantly from one place to another.

Lets’s take the issue of graduate supervision.  Laurentian profs are doing more of it than they used to – overall, 6% of full-time enrolments at Laurentian were at the graduate level in 2012, up from 4% five years earlier.  But if we’re going to use “the Ontario average” as a goal, it’s worth noting that across the province, 12% of full-time students are graduate students.  So on average, Laurentian professors do only about half as much graduate supervision as other professors across the province – and probably less if we were to weight doctoral supervision more highly.

Well, what about undergraduate teaching – maybe they do more of it that others?  On paper, they teach 3/2 (except in Science and Engineering, where its 2/2).  That’s the same as at most smaller Ontario institutions, and somewhat more than you’d see at larger institutions where 2/2 or even 2/1 is the norm.  But that’s not the whole story: class sizes are smaller at Laurentian.  Sixty-seven per cent of all undergraduate classes at Laurentian are under 30 students, compared to just 51% at York (though, surprisingly, the figure at Queen’s is almost the same as Laurentian – 65%).  But ask yourself: which takes more work, a 2/1 with average class sizes of 60, or a 3/2 with an average class size of 30?  Hard to tell.  But how can you make arguments about “equal pay for equal work” unless you know?

Then there’s research output.  If you use tri-council funding as a metric, and normalize for field of study, Laurentian profs in Science and Engineering are winning about 55% of the national average – higher than Ryerson, but less than half of what Carleton gets.  That’s not too bad.  In humanities and social sciences, however, Laurentian wins only 21% of the national average – about a fifth of what they get at Ottawa, and a third of what they get at Laurier (all data from our Measuring Academic Research in Canada paper, available here.  I could go on with data about publications and citations, but you get the idea: Laurentian professors’ research output isn’t all that close to the provincial average.

To recap: Laurentian is a school where (on average) professors have lower graduate teaching responsibilities and research output than the Ontario average, and an undergraduate teaching load that is higher than average in terms of number of classes, but is arguably lower in terms of total students taught.  So where should their pay be, relative to the provincial average?  Probably somewhere below the average, which indeed is where it is.

But the question for this dispute is: how far below?  Better comparative data, combined with some agreement about the relative weight of different parts of the professorial job, would take a lot of heat out of this debate.

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