Higher Education Strategy Associates

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November 07

Student Living Standards

Last month, a group called Meal Exchange, an inter-university student anti-hunger group, in collaboration with the Ryerson School of Social Work, published an interesting paper called Hungry for Knowledge: Assessing the Prevalence of Student Food Insecurity on Five Canadian Campuses.  People are mostly drawing the wrong conclusions from it, but it’s worth examining nonetheless.

Meal Exchange surveyed 4500 students at five campus across Canada using a battery of questions on food purchase & consumption identical to those used in Statistics Canada’s Canadian Community Health Survey.  These questions, and the percentage answering “yes” to each are shown below.


Question % Yes
I/we worried whether my/our food would run out before I got money to buy more 37.7%
The food that I/we bought just didn’t last and I didn’t have money to buy more 28.4%
I/we couldn’t afford to eat balanced meals 44.4%
I/we regularly relied on a few low-cost foods in order to avoid running out of money to buy food 58.0%
I skipped meals because there wasn’t enough money to buy food 27.4%
I/we did not eat for the whole day because there was not enough money to buy food 11.0%


On the basis of these questions, the authors ascribe each respondent a food security score.  If they answered positively to one or fewer of the six questions they are considered “food secure”, from 2-4 they are “moderately food insecure” and 5 or more means “food insecure”.  This is similar to the method Statistics Canada uses for its calculations of food security.  Based on these results, Meal Exchange determined that 61% of students were food insecure, 8.3% had severe food insecure and 30.7% had “moderate food insecurity”.

Now, the most important thing to note here is that the survey sample isn’t even vaguely scientific.  Students were recruited “via social media advertising, institutional survey committees, student associations, university health promotion departments and paper fliers distributed across Canada” – or, in simpler terms, “anyone they could find”.  Even the authors concede this may overstate the number of food insecure students. But leave that aside for a moment. Assume the numbers are right.  What do they mean?

Well, in some ways they arguably understate the issue.  Something like 40% of undergraduates live at home with their parents.  It is unlikely that very many of them are experiencing food insecurity.  The problem, such as it is, is concentrated in the 60% or so of students who live away from home.  That implies that something close to 2/3 of students living away from home are, broadly-speaking, food-insecure.

If that sounds a bit off to you, it’s probably because in fact the definition of “moderate” food insecurity is pretty expansive.  If you answer yes to the questions not eating balanced meals and relying on low-cost food (e.g. pasta, ramen), that makes you “food insecure” according to the study.  And while that might make sense for the majority of Canadians, it’s trickier for students.  For most of them simply leaving home means they have less access to nutritious food because mom and dad aren’t doing the shopping anymore.  That doesn’t actually mean they are malnourished or “can barely afford to eat” (as this quite disastrous Vice headline implied.  “Moderate food insecurity” as Statistics Canada defines it is basically just another way of measuring low-income status and doesn’t indicate hunger in a sense most people would recognize.

The fact that most students are low-income isn’t (or shouldn’t be) news. Check out the Canada Student Loans Program’s monthly living allowances:  these differ by province, but range between $968 (New Brunswick) and $1,408 (British Columbia) per month.  Now compare these amounts to the various Statscan measures of low-income status.  There’s the Low-Income Cut-Off (LICO), which is $1,420 per month in cities between 100-500K population and $1,680 for larger cities; the Low-Income Measure (LIM), which is about $1,737 per month, and the Market-based Measure (MBM) which varies by city, but tends to run between about $1,600 and $1,800.  Take any measure of student expenditure you want, there simply aren’t that many students living on their own who are spending more than that.  They’re low-income.  Period.

And Canadians for the most part are OK with that.  Our income-support programs are not designed to take people out of low-income status.  And with respect to students specifically (traditional-aged ones anyway), we don’t really believe they deserve to be particularly comfortable.  Call it “paying your dues” or whatever, but our view of how students are supposed to live is pretty ingrained.  They’re supposed to be studying so they should live simply; they’ll make money (good money, for the most part) soon enough.  And for a significant proportion of students – not all by any means, but a healthy percentage – there is a certain “Common People” aspect to their poverty: “if you called your dad he could stop it all” – J. Cocker.  Though they are living away from home, many have the option of improving their standard of living and food security simply by moving back in with their parents.  For these students, government intervention beyond what is already available is for the most part simply not required.

Now, predictably, the usual suspects are pushing the idea that 39% of students are “food insecure” (that is, they are combining the “severe” and “moderately” categories and calling them all “insecure”).  But that’s just the usual chicanery one expects from lobby groups: saying 40% are food insecure makes it sound like there’s some kind of major public health crisis rather than the same old story about students having low incomes.  And that’s a shame because the real story isn’t the re-packaging of low-income as food insecure – it’s the 8% of respondents who have severe food insecurity.

Even if that number is on the high side (and my guess based on our previous research on this subject we’ve conducted at HESA  is that it’s not wildly out of line), it’s still very worrying.  There really are students – mostly older, many with families – who don’t eat for 24 hours at a time, who really do have to choose between spending on food and spending on medicine or shelter, and don’t have other family resources to fall back on.  We don’t do a good job of identifying these students, and we clearly don’t do a very good job of supporting them.  These are the ones we really need to help, and urgently so.

Bref, ignore the sensational headlines suggesting widespread hunger.  Focus on the smaller but more important numbers which really do indicate that we have a problem.

November 04

Offshore Medical Schools

One of the most interesting (to me, anyways) facets of international higher education is the phenomenon of international medical schools.

In North America, we associate these exclusively with medical schools in the Caribbean.  These mainly for-profit institutions have little research capacity and mainly teach students who are unable to get into mainstream domestic institution (they were most famously satirized in Doonesbury, when the famously dissolute Duke went to Port-au-Prince to open the Baby Doc School of Offshore Medicine in Port-au-Prince).  There’s St. George’s University in Grenada (whose residents famously needed rescuing by Marines in 1983), the Medical University of the Americas in Nevis, Caribbean Medical University in Curacao.  The one which advertises most aggressively in Canada, is Ross University, located in Dominica, which is owned by DeVry.

Most people get sniffy when they hear about this.  Typical American neo-liberal set-up, they say.  But the thing is this kind of offshore arrangement is increasingly common around the world.  For instance, Germans have a whole range of offshore medical school options.  It’s just that they are located in Hungary rather than the Caribbean.  Seeing the excess demand for medical school places in Germany, a clutch of Hungarian universities – public universities, mind – began offering medical programs in German and English to some success.

(On the whole, of course, German students prefer doing their studies in a German-speaking country.  For quite some years their favorite tactic was to enroll at the University of Vienna, which like all universities in Austria is open access, and places were awarded in a first-come first-serve rather than a competitive basis.  This would result in line-up outside the registrar’s office starting a week to ten days before registration day.  Many of the locals found this quite irritating, as they not unreasonably thought the University should mostly be educating Austrians rather than Germans, and they tried to close access to medicine to non-nationals. However, because of EU rules on freedom of movement and national treatment, the European Commission told the Austrians that first-come-first-serve for Austrians meant first-come-first-serve for all EU nationals.  Last I heard this has gone to the European Court.  Meanwhile, Hungarian schools are cashing in.)

There are other examples of this.  In Malaysia, for instance, public medical schools tend to cater mainly to ethnic Malays.  The Chinese community has organized itself in such a way as to create local alternatives (e.g. Taylor’s University School of Medicine), but the Tamil community has tended to go the offshore route, heading in the thousands towards medical schools in Ukraine and Western Russia (e.g. Kursk State Medical University).

You can deny people admission to expensive higher education programs.  But helping students denied entry to a program is the very definition of a market opportunity.  Some institution, somewhere, is going to try to meet that need.  It just isn’t always going to be in the paces you think.  But in medicine at least, it creates some of the world’s more unlikely international student flows.

November 03

The European Way of Student Services

One of the delights of working in international higher education is that while higher education is pretty much isomorphic the world over, it’s not entirely so. There’s not so much variation that expertise isn’t transferable, but not so little that you can’t be learn something new by appreciating another country’s system.  One are of particular interest is student accommodations and student services.

In North America we take it for granted that student services and residence are a responsibility of institutions – who else would do it?  But there are at least two answers to that the private sector could do it, or a public corporation not associated with a particular institution could do it.

If you hang out near universities for any length of time in Australia, for instance, you’ll see plenty of private-sector solutions for student housing. Companies build cheap, small-ish dorms (50-100 occupants) near universities, and rent them to students.  Which university?  Doesn’t matter.  So long as you’re a student, they’ll rent you a small single apartment.  It’s nothing special – IKEA to the max – but for someone looking for something cheap and full of fellow students, it makes a lot of sense.

(Some – but by no means all – of the companies building and operating student residences seem to be international in scope.  I met and chatted with representatives of one such company at NAFSA in Denver earlier this year and for the life of me I cannot figure out how this makes sense.  Every country has its own laws and building codes so where would economies of scale accrue? Still, apparently someone thinks there’s money to be made in this business.)

In Europe, however, there is a different approach: national student services companies.  In Germany, Deutsches Studentenwerk (DSW), a government-funded non-profit, is responsible for a network of student residences scattered across the country an addition to canteens and counseling services at a number of universities.  In France, a similarly-organized CNOUS is responsible for residences alongside things like student exchanges. DSW also provides certain other services for students like Legal Aid and assistance in obtaining student financial assistance (DSW in some ways seems to think of itself at least partially as a protector/champion of student rights somewhat in opposition to the universities and government).  The important thing here is that residence is not tied to enrollment in a particular university.  At a given residence in Munich or Berlin you might find students from one of a number of local institutions.

Now, you can see some real advantages to this.  First, an organization which specializes in student services might be more effective in performing it than one that sometimes views it as tangential to the “main” mission (say, at your average research university).  Second, it might be cheaper and more efficient. In Montreal, why duplicate housing services across UQAM, McGill and Concordia, all of which are within five stops of each other on the city’s Green Line?  Why not stick them all together?

But what’s possible in Europe isn’t always possible in North America.  Until fairly recently in Europe, universities were much more creatures of government than North American ones ever were – having a different state agency take over part of the system was no big deal (hell, Max Planck and CNRS took over most of the research mission so why not student services?) In North America, institutions (some of them, anyway) think of student services as part of their value proposition, an element on which they compete with other institutions.  Until very recently, that notion of inter-institutional “competition” was mostly absent from the European way of thinking.

In truth, the real reason most universities in North America wold be loath to take a European route is that residences matter for alumni donations. Research on this is pretty clear: the shine people take to their university is closely related to the strength of the attachments they form while there.  And though residences aren’t the only place students form attachments, they’re high up the list.  Take residences away from the institutional experiences, and your appeal to alumni is going to be a lot weaker.

But it’s an interesting model to ponder nonetheless.  Makes you think about what the true “boundaries” of a university really are.

November 02

Shifts in Credentialling

As Colin Mathews, President of the technology company Merit, remarked in an excellent little article in Inside Higher Ed a few weeks ago, credentials are a language.  One with limited vocabulary, sure, but a language nonetheless.  Specifically, it is a form of communication from educational institutions to (primarily) the labour market to convey information about their possessors.  There has been a lot of talk in the last couple of years, however, to the effect that the current vocabulary of credentials is inadequate and that change is needed to promote better labour market outcomes for both firms and graduates.  What to make of this?

The complaints about credentials basically come in two categories.  The first has to do with what I call the “chunking” of credentials.  At the moment, we essentially have two sets of building blocks: “Credits” (or “courses”) and degrees.  One is very short, the other often quite long.  Why not something in-between, which indicates mastery over a body of material which might be of interest to employers but is less than a full degree?  These shorter, more focused credentials like Coursera’s “specializations”, or Udacity’s “nanodegrees” are meant to supply labour market skills more quickly than traditional degrees.

Then there is the issue of how to interpret the information conferred by a credential.  A bachelor’s degree mainly tells an employer that the bearer has to stick-to-it-iveness to complete a four-year project (commitment means a lot to employers).  If the employer has hired graduates from a particular university or program before, then they might have a sense of an individual’s technical capabilities, too.   But beyond that, it’s blank.  A transcript might tell an employer what courses a student has taken, but unless the employer is going to take an inordinate amount of time to scrutinize the curriculum, that doesn’t really help them understand what they’ve been exposed to.  Marks help in the sense that an employer can get a sense of what a student has achieved at school, but increasingly, employers are finding that this is irrelevant.  What matters in many fields are the “soft skills” or “fuzzy skills”: on these nearly all credentials are silent.

Enter the idea of “badges”, digital or otherwise.  A solution half-inspired by competency-based education principles and half by Girl Guides/Boy Scouts.  The idea here is to give learners certificates based on particular skills they have demonstrated just as the Guides and Scouts do.  The problems with this are manifold.  First of all, unless a particular skill can be demonstrated through standardized testing, certifying skills is actually a fairly time-consuming and therefore costly activity.  This is why many of the emerging badging systems actually measure achievements and activities rather than skills (one badging system recently profiled in Inside Higher Education, for instance, hands out badges for attending certain types of meetings.  Your typical employer could not care less).

But even if you buy the Guide/Scout analogy, badges quickly run into the same problem as transcripts.  Say you have a knot-tying badge.  Unless an employer is intimately familiar with the Guide/Scout curriculum, s/he will have no actual idea what the knot badge actually signifies in terms of practical skills.  Can they do Zeppelin Bends? Constrictor Knots?  Do they understand ambient isotopy?  Or can they just do a slip knot?  And badges for soft skills are still pretty sketchy, so that part of the equation is still a blank.

All these moves towards what might be termed “microcredentials” are well-meaning.  Degrees are a pretty blunt and opaque way to express achievement and ability; it would be better if we could find ways of making these more transparent.  But the problem here is that all these solutions are being tested largely without talking to employers.  Badges, or whatever new microcredential solution we are talking about here, are all new languages.  Employers understand the language of degrees.  They do not understand the language of badges and see little benefit in learning new languages which seem to bring little additional benefit. For most, the old language of degrees is good enough – for now.  And so the spread of badges and various types of skill-based certification is so far pretty limited.

But it’s early days yet.  My guess is we’re in the first stages of what will likely be a 20- to 30-year shift in credentialing.  As Sean Gallagher notes in his excellent new book The Future of University Credentials, the general trend is going to be towards demanding that individuals be able to demonstrate mastery of particular skills and competencies.  Partly, that can be done through changes to assessment and reporting within existing degree systems; but it may also come through the regularization of certain new credentials, some of which may be issued by existing institutions and others from new providers.  I don’t think the final form of these credentials are going to look anything like the current fashion of badges; they are frankly too clumsy to be up to much.  But the push in this direction is too strong to ignore.  Expect a lot of very interesting experimentation in this field over the next few years.

November 01

Scientific Journal Prices & Library Purchasing Power

Last week’s pieces on libraries generated a fair bit of comment (I get the impression librarians don’t get attention that often).  So I thought I would come back for another pass on the subject.

First a couple of clarifications.  First, apparently CARL’s data for UNB includes expenditures at both campuses while the student data relates only to the Fredericton campus.  So all those per-student expenditure figures for UNB?  They need to be cut by about 20%.  Also, I think I need to underline that institutional spending varies so much because some libraries simply have much larger responsibilities than others.  It’s not simply a matter of having greater student support buried in the Library, or doing more or less on open access repositories and the like.  Some universities embed their archives in the Library, some take care of copyright issues, etc etc.  So don’t treat all those comparisons from last Wednesday as full apples-to-apples; treat them as a starting point for discussions about cost, efficiency, etc.

But one discussion that kept cropping in the various replies to my piece last week had to do with journal prices.  Everyone was happy to find that real expenditures on materials had climbed, but noted that this was nothing compared to the increase in journal costs, and might it be possible to show something a little more on that score?

As always on this blog: ask and ye shall receive.

The first challenge in keeping track of journal prices is that the manner of purchasing journals has changed considerably in the last 20 years.  Universities used to buy individual journals; now they buy publisher-packaged bundles of journals.  In theory, that brings average journal prices down (though not in a manner which is easy to track), but it keeps aggregate library expenditures high and rising.  The second problem is that even to the extent one can track journal prices, one needs a stable basket of journals to use as an index and as far as I can tell there isn’t one.  Library Journal has been doing a price survey for years, but it keeps widening the base of journals included in the index, so it’s not a perfect comparison over a long period of time.  Still, it’s the best I could find and I took the data from its most detailed cost comparisons (the ones broken down by Library of Congress subject) since the year 2000. The result is shown below in Figure 1.

Figure 1: Average Journal Prices across all Library of Congress Fields of Study 2000-2016, (in 2016 USD)


Between 2000 and 2016, average journal prices in $USD rose by 107% after (US) inflation, or at roughly 5% per year.  But this growth was not distributed equally across all fields of study.  In recreation, the average increase was 417% (albeit from a pretty low base); in Anthropology it was a mere 64%. So an individual university’s lived inflation rate might vary quite a bit depending on the distribution of journal holdings across fields of study.  The base level of expenditures will be quite different as well: as figure 2 shows, there are some quite significant differences in average journal prices by academic field.

 Figure 2: Average Journal Prices for Top Ten Fields of Study by Journal Numbers 2016, (in USD)


Anyways, back to the issue of purchasing power.  Obviously, journal costs are rising.  But so too are universities serials budgets.  Across all 31 Canadian Association of Research Libraries (CARL) members, which include 29 universities plus the Library and Archives Canada and the National Science Library, serials budgets rose 22% after inflation over the period 2004-5 to 2014-5.  That’s more than the overall 9% increase in the materials budget, which implies that there has been a shift in purchasing from single titles to serials.

But since very few journals are published in Canada, overwhelmingly the most important number is not the serials budget in Canadian dollars, but the serials budget in American dollars.  And here we lucked out, thanks to the resources-driven rise in the value of the dollar.  In inflation-adjusted US terms, CARL members’ budgets increased collectively by 36% – which is exactly the same amount by which average journal prices increased over the same period.  Meaning that, broadly speaking, Canadian universities were more or less able to keep pace over that period.

 Figure 3: Changes in Journal Prices vs. Canadian Research Libraries’ Serials Budgets, 2004/5 to 2014/5, indexed to 2004/5


The problem of course is that since 2014, the dollar has sunk quite a bit – from 88 cents to 72 cents, or about 18%.   And though we have no CARL statistics past 2014-15, I think it’s fair to say that serials budgets have not risen concomitantly.  And so even without pressures like a 24% cut in provincial spending (as MUN has experienced), all institutions are likely to see some significant cuts in the few months if they have not already.

In short, a 5% per year real increase in journal fees can be dealt with by slimming monograph purchases if currency movements are in your favour.  But if currency values are heading in the wrong direction, there’s almost nothing that can forestall serials cuts.

October 31

Towards a Theory of Strategic Plans in Higher Education

I had an interesting discussion on twitter a few days ago about the nature of University strategic plans, and specifically, why they are rarely written in a manner that feels meaningful to faculty.  Having pondered it for a few days, I thought it would be worth jotting down some ideas.

  1. The university is, in most cases, a loosely-coupled organization.  For the most part, people in Fine Arts could not care less what is going on in the Faculty of Agriculture (and vice-versa).  Even within individual departments, teamwork is to some degree optional (you have your classes and research agenda, and I have mine).  This is not surprising because the real rewards system in higher education lies within the structure of each discipline.  The famous and somewhat unfair  question “is your allegiance to your university or your discipline” matters here.
  2. Issues of discipline vs. university aside, to a significant degree professors behave as if they are independent contractors who nevertheless get a steady pay check from some place called “the university” which far from being a common enterprise, is rather a set of services one uses selectively and sometimes even reluctantly.  That’s not to say everyone behave or feels this way, but a sufficiently large proportion does, making the notion of common enterprise problematic.
  3. Or, to put it another way: “The Faculty exists to protect the department from the University.  The Department exists to protect me from the Faculty.  And the Department can go jump in the lake.”  Many professors believe at least two if not all three of those sentences. This makes universities platforms for independent teaching and research rather than an organization with a coherent value proposition of its own.
  4. But while the university looks like a particularly anarchistic jazz band from the inside, from the outside (i.e. from the POV of governments, students and parents), it’s an orchestra.  That is, someone is in charge, and everyone has a part to play in a common purpose.  In fact, they’d probably be pretty annoyed to find out no one is in charge.  And so the people nominally managing the university (the Board, the administration) are obliged to make out as if the organization does have some common purpose beyond everybody doing their own worthy thing.
  5. One of the ways they assert that there actually is a university, and not just a group of departments connected by a steam plant, is to make strategic plans.
  6. Strategic planning as performed in universities is borrowed from strategic planning in the corporate sector, with a few differences:
    • Companies have unique value propositions.  With very few exceptions, universities do not.
    • Under no circumstances are strategic plans allowed to make fundamental trade-offs between constituent different parts of the university.  All boats must rise.
    • Prestige, not profit, is the measure of success (as indeed it is for individual professors within their own disciplines).
  7. The only strategic plans that actually meet all three criteria are strategic plans which focus on increasing net revenues to the university.  Co-incidentally, senior administrators have also noticed that funneling money to faculty does generally keep them happy.  Not unreasonably, this leads senior administrators to believe that as long as the money keeps flowing, the faculty will be happy.
  8. Strategic Plans are therefore written primarily with the governments and major philanthropists in mind.  Keep them happy, and money will keep flowing, and faculty will be happy, and new projects can be started, and prestige will rise.
  9. Corollary: strategic plans are usually written in ways which require faculty to do as little as possible.  They are agendas for administrators, not faculty.

Now, for those faculty members that are happy simply puttering along on their own – that is, those who most senior admins believe are the median professors – this whole thing works out just fine.   But not everyone feels that way.  And for people who want a stick with which to beat admins over the head, one of the easiest things in the world is to pick up a strategic document phrased in language designed to speak to governments, businesses and philanthropists and say “this document is too corporate, it doesn’t speak the language of science and academia”.

No kidding.  That’s a feature, not a bug.

Are there other, more inclusive, ways of doing strategic planning?  Sure.  But they require much tougher discussions about actual academic priorities, discussions that might involve campuses being more than just platforms for individual research agendas, or which might involve sacrificing some activities for the good of others.  And though we might wish it were otherwise, there aren’t a lot of examples of shared governance bodies being up to having those kinds of discussions.

I invite feedback.

October 28


Next week, everyone’s favourite Federation of Students is going to have a “Day of Action” to demand “Free Education for All”.  A few months ago I explained why some student groups think it’s a good idea to be protesting right now even while governments are quite sympathetic to them  (tl:dr: it’s because Sticking It To The Man is more important that achieving practical results).

Now to anyone who’s read this blog for more than once, it’s probably clear that I take a pretty dim view on the Free Education for All line.  I do believe there’s an argument for free education at the college level; however, beyond that, the case is pretty weak.  Low-income students already have net zero tuition in most of the country.  For students from families making $40,000, subsidies (that is, grants, loan remission and tax credits) are already larger than college fees in eight provinces – all ten if we include Manitoba’s and Saskatchewan’s graduate rebate programs.  They’re also larger than university fees in five provinces: Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Quebec, Ontario and Manitoba.  Put that altogether and it’s clear that over 90% of all low-income students are already paying net zero tuition and will gain little from eliminating tuition.  The big wins, therefore, are for richer students.

Free tuition does not reduce intergenerational disparities.  It cannot produce greater equity in enrolments without a massive and seriously unlikely displacement of upper-income students from universities.   And even Karl Marx understood that it was regressive.

But let’s put all that aside.  Let’s assume for a moment that we all agree that any regressivity which occurs in completely subsidizing education for students from wealthier backgrounds is offset by the inherent benefits of universal programs.  Or, let’s assume we agree with American scholar/author and free-tuition advocate Sara Goldrick-Rab (whose new book Paying the Price is very good by the way) that the only way to really ensure that the poor get the money they need is to subsidise the rich, too.  Programs for the poor are poor programs, she says, so only universality can save the poor. (I don’t think this is true in Canada – the Trudeau government has just shown how to do targeting with its changing tax credits into grants – but I grant the possibility it may be the case in the US, so let’s go with it for now).

But even if we assume all that, we still need to assume that there is money available.  And in one sense there clearly is:  governments can make anything happen if they want to.   They just have to decide to do it.  It is a political question more than a financial one.  But politics, as they say, is about choices.  And the issue is: what would we choose not to pay for in order to ensure that kids from above-median income families don’t have to pay tuition?

Peace-keeping?  Should we say no to a mission to Mali to keep wealthier kids from paying tuition?  Childcare?  Do we choose to invest less in childcare to make university free for those who can clearly afford it?  Or what about clean drinking water on First Nations’ territories?  More investments in mental health?

Because of entrenched interests and programs, it’s very difficult for democratic governments to move money from program to program.  When incremental money arrives, they have to assign it to whatever priorities they think most important.  It could go back to taxpayers via a tax cut, or it could go to pay down debt, or it could go into a priority spending area.  When someone says “government should eliminate post-secondary fees”, in practical terms what they are implicitly arguing is that “students from wealthier backgrounds (because those are the primary beneficiaries) deserve this money more than families with childcare needs, or First Nations families living in communities with boil water advisories.  I know they would explicitly deny this, but from the perspective of the government, which has to choose between competing priorities, this is exactly what is being advocated.  That’s how lobbying works.

To recap:  Free fees would help the rich most, would not reduce intergenerational inequality, will not work to reduce inequality of access, and to boot would take money away from other important policy priorities, many of which (e.g. First Nations’ health and sanitation) are transparently of higher importance.

Remember all that on November 2nd.

October 27

Fun With Library Statistics (Part 2)

Is there any part of the university that has been more transformed over the past decade than libraries?  One of the fascinating things about looking through old Canadian Association of Research Libraries (CARL) statistical reports is how many things weren’t counted, say ten years ago.  Expenditures on databases?  Not counted.  Logins to databases?  Searches or article requests?  Nope, nope.  Not that those things didn’t exist back then – they just weren’t central enough to university missions to be thought worth counting.

One thing which was counted back then (and is still counted today) is loans.  And if you want to get a sense of how libraries have changed in the past decade or so, check out this graph of changes in initial loans between 2004-05 and 2014-15, by institution.

Figure 1: Change in Numbers of Initial Loans, Canadian Research University Libraries, 2004-5 to 2014-5


Nationally, initial loans are down 58% across 27 CARL universities over the past decade (Brock and Ryerson are not shown because they did not provide statistics in 2004-05), from 11 million per year to just 5 million per year.  Simon Fraser has experienced the lowest drop – just 24%.  At Concordia, the fall was 81%.  And these figures do not account for growth in student numbers: add those in and figures would drop another 20% or so.

In other words, libraries are decreasingly about books but increasingly about electronic resources.  And this has had impacts on employment.  Across all 27 institutions, FTE employment is down 11%, with the biggest falls at some of the most research intensive universities: Alberta down 35%, McGill down 33%, Queen’s down 26%.  Toronto bucked that trend with a fall of just 5%, and four institutions (Calgary, Carleton, SFU and Ottawa) actually saw increases in employment.  But overall we are seeing a decline in numbers.

But, as with professorial staff (with whom they are often grouped in the same collective agreements), librarians have seen a considerable upward drift in pay.  So while FTE employment is down, nationally, aggregate staff compensation is still up 3% in inflation-adjusted dollars (for comparison, aggregate professorial salaries are up about 39% over the same period).  But here again the variation at the institutional level is absolutely enormous, from +50% at Regina, to -22% at McGill.

Figure 2: Change in Real Expenditures on Library Staffing, Canadian Research University Libraries, 2004-5 to 2014-5


So much for staffing: what about acquisitions (or, more broadly, materials)?  Good news here, these grew by 9% between 2004-05 and 2014-15, though again, there’s really not that many institutions which are close to the national mean.  Of particular interest here are the identities of the two institutions who saw the biggest increase in spending: namely, Memorial and Ottawa.  Probably not coincidentally, these are the two institutions currently engaged in the biggest rows about cutting back on periodicals (see here and here).

Figure 3: Change in Real Expenditures on Library Materials, Canadian Research University Libraries, 2004-5 to 2014-5


These last two graphs raise the question: do institutions have consistent strategies with respect to allocating their budgets between staffing and acquisitions?  Are both budgets being raised (or lowered) in tandem or are schools cutting in one so as to invest more in the other?

Figure 4: Change in Staffing Budgets v. Change in Materials Budget (in real dollars), Canadian University Research Libraries 2004-05 to 2014-15


Here’s the way to understand figure 4.  In the upper left quadrant, you have institutions which are increasing their staffing budgets, but decreasing their materials budget (at the very top left is Regina, which is +50% and -15%).  In the top right quadrant you see institutions which have increased both staffing and materials (the most notable example here is Ottawa, at +56% and +24%).  Moving on clockwise to the bottom right, you see institutions which have cut staffing budgets and increased their materials budgets, and here you have both McGill and Alberta cutting the former by about 20% and increasing the latter by 12%.  And finally, in the lower left quadrant, you have three institutions (Queen’s, Montreal and Windsor) which have seen real decreases in both staffing and materials.

Nationally, there seems to be very little correlation – positive or negative – between changes in one kind of spending and change in the other.  To the extent that library expenditures are strategic, institutions seem to be pursuing a wide variety of strategies in this area.  It would be interesting to correlate this data with user satisfaction surveys to see if any of them are more likelier than others to produce satisfactory outcomes.

October 26

Fun With Library Statistics (Part 1)

The Canadian Association of Research Libraries (CARL) recently issued its annual statistical report.  I thought I’d take the opportunity over the next couple of days to take a look at a few interesting patterns in library practices and expenditures.  They shed some interesting light on the pressures Canadian academic libraries face right now.

Some methodology here: CARL has 29 university members, from the very large U of T (almost 74,000 FTE students) to UNB (under 8,000 FTE students).  As a result, expressing figures in terms of “average per institution) (as CARL does) is kind of weird.  So I have chosen to display all institutional values on a “per student” basis.  This has some problems of its own (libraries don’t just service students, not all students use libraries with same intensity, etc.) but they are less severe than doing it on a per-institution basis.

Let’s start with Library expenditures. A little over half (55%) of library expenditures go towards salaries and benefits.  On average, across all institutions, CARL universities spend $432/student per year on this, but the range is enormous.  At the top end Memorial and Calgary were spending over $700/student, but at Sherbrooke, Brock and Ryerson the amount was under $300 per student.

Figure 1: Per Student Expenditures on Salary & Benefits, Canadian Research University Libraries, 2014-15


Most of the rest of the library budget goes on “materials”, which is predominantly the acquisition of titles and periodicals.  Across CARL institutions, the average expenditure on this item is $365/student per year, but again there is huge variation around the mean. McGill and Memorial both spend over $600/student; Saskatchewan spends over $700/student.  At the other end, Ryerson, UQAM and Brock are all under $200 per student.

Figure 2: Per Student Expenditures on Library Materials, Canadian Research University Libraries, 2014-15


As you can see, some universities end up towards the top of both lists (mainly those in provinces with a lot of natural resource revenues), and some end up towards the bottom (mainly those universities which aren’t actually all that research-intensive).  But the interesting thing to me is the relationship between those two graphs: what’s the ratio of spending on staff to spending on materials?  Well, nationally, CARL members spend just under 85 cents on materials for every $ spent on salaries.  Again, there’s quite a bit of variation.

Figure 3: Ratio of Expenditures on Library Materials to Library Staffing Costs, Canadian Research University Libraries, 2014-15



At one end, you have McGill, which spends $1.38 in materials for every dollar they spend on staffing, which suggests either that they are a lean machine or that their collection specializes in some ludicrously expensive journals (it’s probably not a coincidence that all the institutions at the left hand side of the graph have medical schools).  At the other end, curiously, you have the two francophone Quebec universities where the spending ratio is extremely low: 50 cents on materials for every dollar in staffing at Université de Montréal and 48 cents at UQAM.

Might these differences in some ways be related to utilization rates?  One crude way of looking at usage is to look at turnstile counts, which are tracked at 23 of the CARL institutions.  Measured on a per-student basis, one again sees massive differences, the average across the country is 70 turns per student per year, but it ranges at the top end with Saskatchewan recording 100 turns per student per year to Laval, which only gets 24.  One might expect that universities with higher turnstile counts might need a slightly higher staffing count to deal with more users.  But in fact the relationship between the two is essentially non-existent.

Figure 4: Turnstile Counts vs. Materials:Staff Ratio, Canadian Research University Libraries, 2014-15


That leaves us with a bit of a puzzle as far as why we see such different cost patterns at different universities.  There are presumably some relevant structural and historical reasons why you get this kind of spread: different universities need of different library services, costs may be elevated because of specialized holdings; for instance, MUN manages a Centre for the Study of Newfoundland which is undoubtedly costly and would likely elevate staff costs considerably).  So, one shouldn’t leap to conclusions about the efficiency of any particular library based on this kind of comparison; but at the same time this kind of data does allow us to ask much better questions about why each university’s library cost structure looks the way it does.

Not that Libraries have that much to answer for in this respect. As we’ll see tomorrow when we look at trends over time, libraries have been able to contain their costs far better than the universities to which they belong.

October 25

What could a new private university in Canada look like?

Yesterday I outlined why a major private university has never emerged in Canada.  But I also suggested that it wasn’t impossible one might pop up in the future if it were backed by someone with sufficiently deep pockets and an eye for strategy.  Here is what I mean by this:

For a private university to be a success, it needs to be getting thousands of students.  Say 4,000 or so.  It’s not impossible to operate below that level, but it’s precarious.  Ask Bishop’s.

And that’s tough.  Getting people to commit to a university before it has any visible sign of success (such as well-employed graduates) is extremely difficult when there are quite prestigious institutions available nearby, as is the case nearly everywhere in Canada.  Ask Quest.

Any new university is likely to take a few years to catch on; and yet it must be able to put out a quality product during that time.  Hence the need for deep pockets.  But there also needs to be a real value proposition for a new institution: a reason to go there rather than a regular university.  England’s Buckingham University and Australia’s Bond University (both private universities which have managed to clear the 4,000 student mark) did this by offering accelerated degrees that allowed a student to graduate more quickly.  That might also work here, but let me suggest a couple of other ways that might work too.

The first possibility is to create a university which can compete with big public universities on price.  There are a couple of ways of doing this, but basically it means re-thinking the structure of an institution.  One popular route these days is to do away with departments (which are an utter cost sink and the source of pretty much any cost-inflating idea a university can come up with) and leave faculties as the only level of administration.  Combine this structure with a human-resource strategy which combines a few well-rewarded big names with a mostly casual staff, and there’s the possibility of creating an institution which is cost-effective while still carrying enough prestige to attract students.  In the United States, two new universities have been built along more or less this model in the past decade (Harrisburg University of Science and Technology and University of Minnesota Rochester), although neither has gone quite as far as Professor Vance Fried and his prescriptions in a well-known 2008 paper which purported to offer “Ivy-like” education for below $7,500 per student.  In Ontario, back a few years ago when for some reason the government thought it was going to build three new universities, a similar idea was proposed by Centennial College plus Maureen Mancuso and Alastair Summerlee of Guelph University.  The proposal was technically ineligible and the competition for new campuses never happened anyway because (whoops) the number of 18 year-olds started declining in 2013 (and who could possibly have foreseen that at any time since 1995?).  But nevertheless I think it shows there’s at least some appetite to head down this route, and that it would be possible to go down this route for at least Arts, Sciences and Business.

The second possibility would take the opposite route.  If Canada has an available niche, it’s in luxurious, prestigious liberal arts colleges (yes, there is the U4 League, but none of them could be described as luxurious – indeed provincial funding models leave these kinds of universities pretty stretched).  So why not try to charge top dollar for a Liberal Arts school with big names?  This has been the approach of AC Grayling’s New College of the Humanities (NCH) in London for the past four years and – regulatory niggles aside – it seems to be doing reasonably well.   Now I know what you’re thinking: who wants to pay for Liberal Arts degrees, unemployment, baristas, etc.  But the fact is, as institutions like Middlebury, Bryn Mawr and indeed NCH show, provided the level of instruction is good and the student-teacher ratio small, there are lots of people prepared to pay for that kind of education.  Maybe not 4,000 people for year, but if the fees are high enough, a university can survive at somewhat smaller numbers.

So yes, the potential for a private university is there.  What’s missing so far is ambition and money.  One day, someone will fill that gap.  It’s just a question of when.

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