Higher Education Strategy Associates

Category Archives: salaries

April 01

“Slow Professors”

I read with interest this piece in University Affairs about “The Slow Professor”, which is the name of a book by Maggie Berg and Barbara Seeber – English professors from Brock and Queen’s, respectively – who think that professors need to push back against the hecticness of the modern academy.  To wit:

“The authors offer insights on how to manage teaching, research and collegiality in an era when more professors feel ‘beleaguered, managed, frantic, stressed and demoralized’ as they juggle the increasingly complex expectations of students, the administration, colleagues – and themselves. ‘Distractedness and fragmentation characterize contemporary academic life,’ they write. Today’s professors, they argue, need to slow down, devote more time to ‘doing nothing,’ and enjoy more pleasure in their research and teaching. It’s time, they say, ‘to take back the intellectual life of the university.’”

Hmm.  Hmmmmm.

I don’t doubt that the majority of Canadian professors work hard – very hard indeed, actually.  Not all, of course; but on the whole, absolutely.  In fact, some data from the 2007-08 Changing Academic Profession Survey suggested that Canadian professors might actually work the longest hours of any professors in the world.  And that’s OK, given that the Canadian professoriate is also the best-paid in the world.   Maybe the two are linked.  Not directly of course; nobody actually correlates pay to effort in Canadian higher education.  But overall, maybe we’re getting a good deal: high-paid, hard-working professors. Nothing wrong with that.

So, how to interpret a demand for less work such as that contained in the Berg-Seeber piece?

The most cynical answer I suppose, would be: hey, look, two profs who want to work less for the same pay?  But this is perhaps too churlish.  The authors do after all make a less-is-more argument – that they will be better academics if they have more downtime.  One could imagine a deal that trades time for performance.  That is, say we could come up with a performance metric for professors that lets them reduce their hours, provided they hit particular targets.  But of course the metricization of higher education is something else the authors rail against, so that’s probably not an option, either.

This leaves a third possibility: why not let professors trade salary for time?  If you want to be on a 40-hour/week track instead of a 55-hour/week track, do it – but take a pay cut.  Sounds fair to me.  Of course, the only way to implement this is to have a system in which management actually pays attention to workload in a systematic way.  We don’t have that here in Canada – but other places do (notably Australia).  Maybe it’s time we moved in that direction?

One final point.  The authors locate the source of stress in the academy as the university’s “corporatization”.  This is a hard claim to evaluate without knowing which of the myriad definitions of “corporatization” they are using, but let me simply suggest an alternative explanation. Maybe, just maybe, the academic rat-race is a product of really bright, driven people pushing themselves even harder when they are surrounded by other bright, driven people.  That is, it’s an emergent property of academia itself, rather than something imposed from without by mean old administrators.

February 29

House-Buying Power of Academic Salaries

A couple of weeks ago, the Times Higher Education put together a cute infographic showing how many square metres an academic salary bought in different parts of the world (the full article is here).  I thought I would try the same thing for here in Canada.

So, here’s what I did.  I took median academic salaries for major universities in Canada for the 2010-11 year, the last year for which comparable data is available (yes, it’s a travesty.  But the travesty isn’t just that Statscan no longer collects the data; it’s also a travesty because, four years on from Statscan throwing in the towel, Canadian universities still haven’t gotten their act together enough to publish this stuff nationally, even though they all collect the data in the same format.  Yeesh).  The data includes Deans’ salaries, but excludes salaries in medical faculties (you can see the version published by Maclean’s, here).

To look at housing costs, I went to Numbeo.com, which is a database dedicated to providing comparative cost of living data for cities around the world.  For each of the 20 cities in Canada, I queried the “cost per square metre to buy an apartment in the city centre”, which appears to be how the THE got its statistics.  I am a bit dubious about this one.  It’s not quite apples-to-apples since the quality of a downtown condo differs somewhat for place to place, and in some of the smaller cities the numbers look suspiciously low (I have a hard time believing the price per square metre in Kingston is a third of what it is in Toronto, but whatever).

Dividing one figure by the other gives you the number of square metres of housing an academic salary can buy at 29 Canadian universities.














Across Canada, Waterloo and Dalhousie are the median cases, where average salaries purchase about 30 sq metres of housing a year.   But the spread here is quite unbelievable.  At the high end are universities in very small, inexpensive cities like Windsor and Sherbrooke (though it’s debatable how fair the latter figure is, given how many Sherbrooke profs actually commute from Montreal); at the low end, all five of the bottom spots are taken by universities in Toronto and Vancouver.  It’s the city housing costs, not the variation in salaries, which really causes the difference here.

(Sidebar: remember how Windsor faculty actually wanted to go on strike 18 months ago, in part because of pay issues?  Think back to that, while keeping in mind that housing costs in Windsor, as a function of salary, are 5 to 6 times lower than they are in Vancouver.  Just think about it and wonder.)

You can’t quite make a comparison between this data and that used by the Times Higher Ed; if I understand their data correctly, their numerator is the figure for full professors only, not all full-time academic staff.   But, very roughly, our profs in Toronto and Vancouver are not nearly in so difficult a position as professors in big Asian metropolises, London, or Paris, but they are still in a situation similar to academics in Sydney or Oxford, which is pretty tight. And elsewhere?  Things are still better in most Canadian universities than they are in Boston, Milan, and Berlin.  Which, you know – not too shabby.  This is Canada after all: apart from Toronto and Vancouver, there’s plenty of space, which keeps housing costs down.  It’s the main reason our quality of life stays high even though our productivity levels remain stagnant.

But still: these differences within the country are quite significant.  You’d think that they might actually play some role, say, in salary negotiations or arbitrators’ decisions. Just sayin’.

October 22

Amusing Footnotes on Global Academic Pay

A few months back, I finished reading The Global Future of Higher Education and the Academic Profession: The BRICs and the United States (edited by – among others – Phil Altbach and Liz Reisberg). It’s a good book for two reasons: first, it contains pretty good thumbnail sketches of the four BRIC countries’ higher ed systems, and second, it shows how crazy and fragile academics lives are in most of the world.

(An aside here: one thing I really like about this book is that it just treats the four BRIC countries as entirely separate case studies, rather than four aspects of a similar phenomenon.  This is important because although BRIC was a handy acronym to encompass “big economies getting rich quickly in the mid-00s”, their vastly differing fates this decade shows that their economic similarities were pretty ephemeral.  And what goes for their economies goes double for their higher education systems, which are basically chalk and cheese.  The result is a much better product than the much more detailed, but conceptually muddled book by Martin Carnoy et al., University Expansion in a Changing Global Economy: Triumph of the BRICs.)

One of the highly amusing (to me, anyway) parts of this book was the way it underlined how academics get paid.  In all four countries, junior academic pay is substantially below average urban wages.  That sounds surprising – aren’t these people extremely well-educated?  Can’t they command big salaries elsewhere?  To which the answer is: yes, they can, which is why recruiting talented people to the academic profession is very difficult in some places (especially Russia and India).  But it’s worth noting also that with the exception of Russia, relatively few junior academics in any of these countries possess a PhD.  In most cases, they come with Master’s degrees (in Brazil, Bachelor’s degrees are still pretty common), and many never progress beyond that.  If they do get a doctorate, they often get it while receiving paid leave from their university, which is not a bad deal.

So one of the book’s themes are the various ways that academics make money outside of formal academia – either by moonlighting at other (usually private) universities, or by teaching in a test-prep or cram school.  Interestingly, in some countries, universities open their own test-prep schools specifically so as to provide moonlighting opportunities for their own profs, which sounds only just this side of crazy, but makes sense when you realize many of these places live with weird, bifurcated budgeting rules that put them in a straightjacket with respect to public money, but let them go hog-wild with self-generated income.

The rules on money from public sources play out in some very weird ways in China and India.  In these countries, base pay is centrally regulated.  But over the years, political compromises have allowed profs access to all sorts of pools of money outside their base pay.  In China, on top of base pay, there are separate allowances for housing, food, telephone, transportation and laundry.  India also has housing and transportation allowances, in addition to a “dearness allowance” (not a term of affection, but rather a cost of living adjustments), but also – and this is my absolute favourite – provides academics with a salary increment if they agree to a vasectomy or hysterectomy (conditions apply with respect to age, age of spouse, and number of children).

Basically, all these countries have highly centralized bureaucratic systems regulating institutional spending and pay, and all of them have a hard time treating money as fungible.  This creates all sorts of situations that look pretty inane on the outside, but if you block out the details it’s still just a story of institutions maximizing revenue wherever possible (which usually means meeting market demand), and paying professors whatever they can to retain talent (which can mean all sorts of things).

Still, it makes the American practice of paying profs for nine months and letting them make up the difference on research grants seem pretty simple by comparison.

September 03

One Lens for Viewing “Administrative Bloat”

The Globe’s Gary Mason wrote an interesting article yesterday about the Gupta resignation.  Actually, let me qualify: he wrote a very odd article, which ignored basically everything his Globe colleagues Simona Chiose and Frances Bula had reported the previous week, in order to peddle a tale in which the UBC Board fired Gupta for wanting to reduce administrative costs. This, frankly, sounds insane.  But Mason’s article did include some very eye-opening statistics on the increase of administrative staff at UBC over the past few years – such as the fact that, between 2009-10 and 2014-15, professional administrative staff numbers increased by 737, while academic staff numbers increased by only 28.  Eye-opening stuff.

And so, this seems as good a time as any to start sharing some of the institution-by-institution statistics on administrative & support (A&S) staff I’ve been putting together, which I think you will find kind of interesting.  But before I do that, I want to show you some national-level data that is of interest.  Not on actual staff numbers, mind you – that data doesn’t exist nationally.  However, through the annual CAUBO/Statscan Financial Information of Universities and Colleges (FIUC) survey, we can track how much we pay staff in various university functions.  And that gives us a way to look at where, within the university, administrative growth is occurring.

FIUC tracks both “academic” salaries and “other” (i.e. A&S) salaries across seven categories: “Instruction & Non-Sponsored Research” (i.e. at the faculty level); “Non-Credit Instruction” (i.e. cont. ed); “Library, Computing, and Communications”; “Physical Plant”; “Student Services”; “External Relations” (i.e. Government Relations plus Advancement); and, “Administration” (i.e. central administration).  Figure 1 shows the distribution of A&S salary expenditures across these different categories for 2013-14.  A little over 32% of total money is spent on faculty, while another 23% is spent in central administration.  Physical plant and student services account for about 11% apiece, while the remaining three areas account for 18% combined.

Figure 1: Distribution of A&S Salaries by Function, in 000s of Dollars, Canada, 2013-14














A zoom-in on the figures for central administration is warranted, as there has been some definitional change over time, which makes time-series analyses a bit tricky.  Back in 1998, the reporting rules were changed in a way that increased reported costs by about 30%.  Then, in 2003, about 15% of this category was hacked-off to create a new category: “external relations” – presumably because institutions wanted to draw a distinction between bits of central administration that increased revenues, and those that consumed them.  Figure 2 shows how that looks, over time.

Figure 2: Expenditure on Administrative & Support Salaries in Central Administration, in 000s of 2014 Real Dollars, Canada














Long story short: from the 80s through to the mid-90s, administrative & support salaries in central administration rose by a little over 3% per year in real terms.  Then, briefly, they fell for a couple of years, before resuming an upward trend.  Ignoring the one-time upward re-adjustment, aggregate A&S salaries in these two areas combined have been rising at 5.3%, after inflation, since 1999.  Which is, you know, a lot.

Now, let’s look at what’s been going on across the university as a whole.  Figure 3 shows changes in total A&S salary paid over time, relative to a 1979 base.  For this graph, I dropped the “non-credit” category (because it’s trivial); for central admin, I’ve both combined it with “external relations”, and corrected for the 1998 definitional change.  Also, for reference, I’ve included two dotted lines, which represent change in student numbers (in red), and change in total academic salary mass (in yellow).

Figure 3: Change in Real Total Academic & Support Salary Spending (1979-80 = 100) by Function, Canada

















Since 1979, student FTEs rose 120%, while academic salary mass doubled, after inflation.  A&S spending in libraries and physical plant rose by considerably less than this, by 27% and 57%, respectively.  A&S spending on “instruction” (that is, faculty & departmental offices) rose almost exactly in tandem with student numbers.  Spending on A&S salaries in central admin and in ICT rose about twice as fast as that, ending the 35-year period at three-and-a-half times their original rate.  But the really huge increases occurred in student services, where expenditures on A&S salaries are now six times as high as they were in 1979.

Over the next couple of weeks, I’ll be able to supplement this picture with institutional data, but the key take-aways for now are as follows: i) “central administration” salaries are growing substantially faster than enrolment and academic salary mass, but they represent less than a quarter of total A&S spending; ii) the largest component of A&S spending – that is, those reporting to academic Deans – is actually growing exactly on pace with enrolment; and, iii) the fastest-growing component of A&S spending is student services.  So, there has been a shift in A&S spending, but it’s not entirely to the bad, unless you’ve got a thing against student services.

More next week.

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
















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)
















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















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














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 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














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














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














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)














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 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














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














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














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 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.

Page 1 of 41234