Tag: Events

For the last five years, infinite digital ink has been spilled over how Generation Z is reshaping commerce, the workforce and even politics. But in higher education, institutional leaders are in the thick of experiencing how Gen Z is transforming their colleges and universities.

Every coming-of-age cohort brings experiences that shape their expectations for education. Not every cohort, however, enters college following a global pandemic. Not every incoming class has dealt with long-term high school shutdowns and a health-care crisis.

Today’s students are navigating college life after years of remote learning and limited in-person socialization. They’re also doing it against the backdrop of racial justice movements, the Ukraine war, conflict in the Middle East and a tense U.S. election year.

On one hand, this has exacerbated the student mental health crisis—to a point where all institutional leaders must acknowledge the need for new and better resources, not just pay lip service to wellness. But it has also created a student body that is more vocal than its predecessors, more willing to take a stand and advocate for each other.

The biggest challenge leaders face today: tapping into these voices in a way that’s productive and transforms campus life for the better.

Active, Informed and Yearning to Be Heard

One of the most telling signs that today’s generation of college students expects more is their inclination to act.

Students are requesting meetings with campus leaders and reporting instances of misconduct at a higher clip—and with a broader scope. Beyond flagging long-standing issues like hazing or bullying, they’re calling out problematic behavior across the classroom and in all corners of student life. Today’s generation puts even greater stock in standing up for what they believe is right as a means of not just expression but taking care of each other.

As leaders from William Smith College in New York recently pointed out, they’ve seen an undeniable uptick in application essays focusing on students’ personal mental health and that of their peers. One 2024 survey indicates that more than 80 percent of college students are struggling emotionally to some extent. For young adults who spent a portion of their formative years in a pandemic, it’s no wonder they place so much value on protecting each other.

Today’s students are also an incredibly informed population. Many have done their homework when it comes to understanding campus policies (particularly around freedom of expression), which shapes the conversations they’re willing to have with faculty and staff.

In some ways, this presents new obstacles. How can leaders effectively communicate and clarify policies to a student body that has grown up with access to information a click away? Especially during tense global or political moments, what are the best channels for creating productive campus dialogue and sharing information clearly?

Because students are so informed, it is even more imperative for administrators and staff to be prepared for these conversations. The days of winging it are in the past. The way we address these issues will shape student life for years to come.

Rethinking the Scope of Student Support

Whether it’s a health crisis, war or economic instability, there will always be larger forces at play that shape a student’s college experience. Addressing each individual issue in isolation is not sustainable. Higher education leaders have to think bigger and pursue more holistic changes to support today’s and tomorrow’s students.

A few options worth considering:

• Audit your organizational structure. Four years out from the start of the pandemic, it has become obvious that some facets of higher education will simply never go back to the way they were. As we move into this next chapter, institutional leaders must evaluate whether student-facing staff and resources are organized in a way that reflects this new reality. For example, in the spring of 2022, Texas Tech realigned its Office of the Provost, bringing the student services and student life functions together while integrating all academics-focused support teams. This alignment emphasizes function, ultimately creating more dedicated resources for focusing on the daily student experience, in and outside the classroom. The more stewards we have for student success, the more we can support their physical, mental and emotional wellness. 
• Assess your reporting mechanisms. It’s impossible to diagnose—let alone mitigate—issues on campus unless you know they’re happening in the first place. Do your current reporting tools live in different places depending on the issue at hand? Look for ways to consolidate and remove the guesswork that prevents many students from sharing information or finding the specific help they seek.  
• Invest in relationship-building. Aligning your teams and shoring up your reporting processes are critical. But when it comes to supporting current and future generations of students, nothing is as potent as solid relationships. It is essential for student services administrators to identify and build bridges with student leaders across campus. Introduce yourself as early as possible to cultivate trust over the course of their college careers. And don’t hesitate to maintain and transition those relationships as new administrators and student leaders come on board. Nurturing these connections proactively will make it easier to navigate future conflicts, at the individual and group level.  

Student Success Isn’t Something to Set and Forget

Certain variables will always be true, regardless of students’ generation or the status of world affairs. Confronting new academic challenges, building social lives away from family, considering future career paths—these are timeless higher education milestones that institutions need to guide students through.

But that doesn’t mean the strategies and resources that sufficed five or 10 years ago will work now, let alone in the future. Today’s students come into colleges and universities with distinct shared experiences and worldviews. They bring a new set of priorities and expectations to campus. It’s up to us to find new ways to meet them where they are.

I am a staff member with a Ph.D. who has taken an alternative academic career path from a contingent faculty member to an instructional designer position. My professional journey in higher education never exposed me to the broad scope of roles and responsibilities that staff members play to support a college. After all, my activities throughout graduate school, teaching as a lecturer and then supporting faculty members always centered on the academic endeavors of teaching and research. I was oblivious to the many ways that staff members support the operational and financial aspects of higher education, not to mention the functioning of student services, athletics programs, advancement and communications. Of course, I knew those offices existed, but I didn’t really see or understand what they did.

My eyes were finally opened to the importance of staff members in higher education when I became involved in the creation of a new staff affairs council at Colgate University. This initiative emerged in response to a collegewide survey that sought feedback about ways to recruit and support high-quality staff members. The survey found that many staff members desired more representation and voice in university decision-making. Campus leadership called for volunteer working groups to develop detailed recommendations to address this issue and others that emerged in the survey. I volunteered for the staff representation and voice working group.

Our working group explored the—often minimal—history of staff participation in decision-making at our institution, and it researched the participation of staff members in shared governance at other institutions and consulted with representatives from staff councils at neighboring colleges and universities. And we found that, across higher education, “compared to faculty members and students, staff members often find themselves unprivileged and invisible,” as a previous Inside Higher Ed article put it, and they have a limited role in shared university governance, as another report said.

The working group ultimately called for the creation of a structured council of elected staff representatives from divisions and affinity groups from across the college, which our administration approved in April 2021. Elections for the inaugural council were held that summer, and the Staff Affairs Council officially launched in September 2021. I was elected as an at-large representative and then elected by the representatives as co-chair, a role I’ve held ever since.

The challenges of burnout and the great resignation of staff members during the pandemic shaped the early work of the council. As the first group of council representatives collaborated on ways to respond to issues of staff retention and morale, my personal sense of professional purpose was renewed. Although, to be clear, the council was not and is not part of the institution’s formal shared governance structure, it was meaningful to be part of this new effort, knowing that our campus leadership was interested in our ideas at a challenging time for staff members. Moreover, surprisingly to me, my involvement with the council significantly broadened my awareness of the diverse and essential roles that staff members play. Collaborating with those beyond my division revealed the depth of staff expertise in supporting not just faculty members and students but also students’ families and alumni, other staff and the institution’s senior leadership.

In reflecting on my service to the council (my term ends this month), I believe my insights from this experience can offer concrete actions and tangible steps for campus leaders to achieve similar outcomes at other colleges and universities, even without such a representative staff council in place.

Catalyze staff collaboration for institutional improvement. Bring staff members together to identify ways to improve their working lives on your campus. My engagement with staff colleagues from across the institution revealed uneven experiences with the same issues. For example, one of the first issues the council addressed was extending the pandemic’s remote and flexible work arrangements following the return to in-person classes. Sharing our experiences revealed the complexity of the issue across the diversity of staff roles and that various departments were approaching it differently. Our efforts to draft a recommendation concerning it greatly benefited from the diverse perspectives of the group.

Another issue we addressed was expanding the paid holiday calendar to provide flexibility for staff members who observe non-Christian holidays. Some members of the council were Jewish and Muslim, and, again, bringing together staff members who came from different divisions and represented diverse identities enabled the council to surface the complexities of the staff experience and suggest ways to improve the work environment.

Leverage staff expertise for a stronger campus community. I encourage university leaders to tap into staff expertise as a source of institutional knowledge and a catalyst for professional community cohesion. The dynamics of the council created a way for staff members to share their lived experiences working in different parts of the institution, as well as the distinct challenges their offices faced. For me, those interactions enhanced not just my own institutional knowledge but also my appreciation for the work that other staff members do. I hadn’t realized that other offices have crunch times that don’t align with the academic calendar. I now, for example, have empathy for those offices toward the end of the fiscal year, which I had previously lacked. I’ve realized how new institutionalized efforts can foster appreciation and empathy—and ultimately enhance greater community cohesion.

For example, colleges and universities should organize events in which staff share what they do in a “day in the life” of their role or their office. They should dedicate time for staff members to attend talks, workshops or panels in which they share the initiatives they are working on and the challenges they are facing. Such events can foster new collaborations among staff members in addition to strengthening the institutional community.

Listen to and genuinely engage with staff members. At many institutions, they often aren’t heard from in the same way as faculty members. At our university, the council was created in response to an identified institutional need, and so far, it has been able to elevate staff voices to the administration.

For example, the council has now conducted its own all-staff survey to identify the issues that are important to staff. We submitted the results of that survey to the senior leadership and met with them to discuss the implications of the feedback for both the council and the institution. Knowing that we have an audience of campus leadership who will openly listen to such staff perspectives has been crucial, because we trust we will be heard—even if our recommendations are not always accepted.

I have seen firsthand that leadership listening to staff members and engaging with their perspectives can lead to real changes to improve the institution as a workplace for staff. For example, the inclusive religious holidays recommendation we submitted was revised by senior leadership into a floating holidays policy granted to all staff members. Building on that progress, our president suggested the council take charge of the biannual all-staff meetings, which presidents have historically hosted. The council now sets the agenda for those meetings and also collaborates with the president to suggest topics for him to cover. Last fall, we advised the president to address the results from the council’s most recent all-staff survey during his speech. It was a significant moment in which the president, on behalf of senior leadership, acknowledged the staff’s feedback and affirmed the institution’s commitment to working with the council to address the issues highlighted in the survey.

As I prepare to conclude my involvement with the council this month, my newfound appreciation, respect and admiration for staff in higher education will continue. The profound professional growth I’ve gained through my experience suggests to me that staff voices are untapped sources of expertise. I call on college and university leaders to harness this potential by finding ways for staff members to share their perspectives and experiences with senior leadership as well as with others throughout our campuses.

A decision by Congress to restore Pell Grants to incarcerated students took effect last summer, a win for students and their advocates after imprisoned people attending college were barred from the federal financial aid for almost three decades.

A year later, colleges and corrections agencies have made significant strides toward launching new Pell-eligible programs and expanding existing programs under new federal regulations. But current programs still have work to do to better serve incarcerated students, according to a recent report by the Vera Institute of Justice, a research and policy organization focused on criminal justice issues.

The report offers a “snapshot” of colleges’ progress toward creating new Pell-eligible programs and evaluates the “quality, equity and scale” of current college-in-prison programs at a time when they’re poised to grow. It finds that many programs meet important quality benchmarks, such as employing qualified professors, but fall short on other key measures—including some required by new federal regulations—like access to academic advising.

“This is, to our knowledge, really the first report of its kind,” said Ruth Delaney, director of Vera’s Unlocking Potential initiative, which supports the development of college-in-prison programs. “There’s almost no national data on college in prison” and “even less research attempting to measure performance of those programs.”

The report is based on surveys conducted at corrections agencies and 140 higher ed institutions operating academic programs in 47 state, territory and federal Bureau of Prisons facilities, collected between November 2023 and March 2024. In total, 153 colleges and universities offered programs during that period under Second Chance Pell, a pilot program launched in 2015 to allow incarcerated students to access Pell Grants in select programs. The report scored each jurisdiction, or system of prisons, as “adequate,” “inadequate” or “developing” on 15 different metrics, including how easily credits transfer between higher ed institutions and the availability of library and research resources.

“We’re trying to establish a floor” for what it means to be a quality program in prison, said Delaney. “What we really want to be thinking about in the future is what the ceiling could be.” Programs should be “really worth the investment of incarcerated students’ limited Pell funds.”

Progress Toward Pell Eligibility

New proposals for Pell-eligible programs are currently making their way through a multilevel approval process. Under recent federal regulations for Pell eligibility, college-in-prison programs have to be approved by state corrections agencies, the federal Bureau of Prisons or a sheriff, as well as an accreditor and the U.S. Department of Education.

The report notes that all states, Puerto Rico and the Bureau of Prisons have now set up processes to review Pell-eligible program proposals, which wasn’t the case a year ago. At least 50 colleges new to such programs have received approval from corrections agencies this year, Delaney noted. So far, only one new program has been reviewed and received final approval from the Department of Education, a communications bachelor’s degree program through California State Polytechnic University, Humboldt, at Pelican Bay State Prison.

Delaney said that while such bureaucratic processes move slowly, the numbers are encouraging and show “a lot of enthusiasm” among colleges and corrections agencies to expand academic offerings in prisons at a time when “there’s still so much interest among students and unmet need.”

The report emphasizes that at least 45,000 incarcerated students have enrolled in college through Second Chance Pell, and those students earned upward of 18,000 credentials. Yet they make up only a fraction of the estimated 750,000 people in prison eligible to enroll, according to the report. And the majority of those people, about 70 percent, indicate in surveys that they’re interested in pursuing higher education. Prison populations are also disproportionately people of color; about 32 percent of prisoners are Black and 23 percent are Latino or Hispanic, even though less than 14 percent of the U.S. population is Black and only 19 percent is Latino or Hispanic, the report noted.

Erin L. Castro, associate dean for prison education pathways for undergraduate education and director of the Research Collaborative on Higher Education in Prison at the University of Utah, said she expects to see “sharp rises in both the numbers of colleges and universities deciding to serve incarcerated students and the numbers of incarcerated students who enroll.” At the same time, she said, “there are a lot of questions that remain unanswered” regarding how best to serve them.

Castro, who is also an associate professor of higher education, said the report starts to answer some of those questions and addresses long-standing calls among researchers and advocates for “some kind of framework for quality and for equity and for parity of outcomes.”

Room for Growth

The report finds cause for both celebration and concern when it comes to the quality, equity and scalability of existing college-in-prison programs.

On a positive note, most jurisdictions have established policies to ease credit transfer between higher ed institutions, according to the report. Almost all provided instructors with the same range of credentials as those who teach in college programs outside prisons and gave students opportunities to interact with professors face-to-face, as opposed to only remotely.

However, many of the colleges surveyed couldn’t ensure that students could continue their education after release. In addition, 11 of the jurisdictions offered programs in men’s prisons without a counterpart in women’s prisons. Most jurisdictions also gave students less than “adequate” access to library and research materials, academic and career advising, and technology to improve their education and build digital literacy skills.

Castro noted that limited technology access, while common for incarcerated students, can have far-reaching impact on their futures after release. Learning skills like how to run a Zoom call or use a learning management system such as Canvas are critical for helping them secure jobs or continue their studies outside of prison.

“It’s absolutely an equity issue,” she said.

Stanley Andrisse, executive director of From Prison Cells to PhD, an organization that helps people who have been to prison start careers, said it’s critical that the programs establish plans to help students with re-entry. That can include connecting them with local community organizations to assist with housing and job-readiness skills and making sure not only that their credits transfer to a college’s other campus but also that they can finish their current programs after their release.

Andrisse, formerly incarcerated and now an assistant professor and endocrinologist at Howard University’s College of Medicine, noted that universities aren’t used to providing re-entry support as a part of student services.

“This is not what they generally think of, and that’s not a bad thing,” he said. But “they should be partnering and looking for outside sources to help them think about doing this better”—particularly formerly incarcerated people.

The report also finds that programs aren’t reaching enough of the incarcerated population. In 24 jurisdictions, current college-in-prison programs enrolled fewer than 5 percent of people eligible and interested in higher education, while another 16 jurisdictions only enrolled between 5 and 9 percent of those people.

Andrisse added that it’s important to remember some prisons don’t have Pell-eligible offerings at all.

“There’s still work to be done in this idea of Pell for all,” he said.

The findings suggest that programs may need to make changes to stay in compliance with federal regulations. After two years of operation, each Pell-eligible program will have to undergo a “best interest determination,” a quality assessment by corrections agencies. They’ll be judged on four metrics, including how credit transfer, instructor credentials and academic and career advising compare to what’s available on colleges’ other campuses, and whether students can easily continue their studies upon release.

But colleges should aim to surpass those standards, Castro said, and use research like Vera’s to do so.

“If we want students to have high-impact experiences, if we want students to have high levels of student engagement, if we want students to have transformational undergraduate experiences and if we want them to get well-paying jobs with dignity and respect, we on the higher ed side, we have research to tell us what kinds of experiences students need,” she said.

Delaney said one of the main takeaways of the report is that college-in-prison programs need not just high-caliber academic offerings but more robust student support services.

“We’ve learned through Second Chance Pell how to provide college courses in prison,” she said. “And the next step we need to take is to figure out how to deliver all of the experiences of college.”

Mastering the art of writing is not just a desirable skill—it is, in fact, an absolute necessity, especially for trainees navigating the complex landscape of STEM disciplines. Proficiency in writing is not merely about stringing words together; it is about wielding a powerful tool that can shape careers, amplify research impact and unlock countless professional opportunities. From articulating groundbreaking discoveries to securing crucial funding and forging impactful connections, the ability to convey ideas with clarity and precision is indispensable. Thus, it is imperative that, as a STEM trainee, you understand the importance of writing and that you work to develop your own set of best practices to succeed.

Cultivating strong writing skills involves setting clear timelines, actively seeking feedback and utilizing available resources. To help avoid being overwhelmed, you should first consider breaking down one large writing project into manageable segments and allocating time for research, drafting, revision and editing. Mabel, one of the co-authors of this piece, has experience guiding graduate students in writing research grants by creating a timeline for writing tasks and distributing them effectively. This approach has helped them manage their writing workload and ensured timely project completion. Her students have avoided procrastination and maintained steady progress toward their writing goals.

In addition, seeking feedback on writing from faculty mentors, peers, institutional writing centers and other specialized offices, and field experts is essential for enhancing the quality and effectiveness of your written communication. In her current role directing a research office for medical students, Mabel can recognize the specific writing demands of trainees. Although they are different trainee populations of medical students, graduate students and postdoctoral fellows, all are engaged in research, and the same ideas apply. Thus, preparing statements, abstracts and manuscripts is a common component of their writing skill sets that could benefit from institutional support, such as the resources we will describe in this essay.

Elizabeth, the other co-author, established a writing studio in 2022 at the University of Texas Medical Branch, where she mentored predoctoral and postdoctoral trainees in best practices for writing grants, manuscripts, biosketches, dissertations and CVs/résumés. She became a key resource on the campus by developing workshops to support trainees and building a recognized brand that students, postdocs and junior faculty sought out for writing assistance. In her current role as manager for technical writing and publications at MD Anderson Cancer Center, she continues to mentor the next generation of scientists, including helping them to hone their writing skills in a variety of contexts.

Together, we briefly discuss below the diverse types of writing that you and many other trainees will encounter, as well as where to find resources to help develop this fundamental skill.

Resources Available

The selection of resources depends heavily on the specific writing task at hand. For example, if you are preparing a grant application for federal support—from, say, the National Institutes of Health or the National Science Foundation—or other philanthropic funding, initial resources may include faculty mentors and peers who have undergone a similar application process. If available, a writing studio or center at your institution or the campus library likely has staff members who can provide editorial feedback and offer suggestions for improvement. These resources can also be valuable for crafting abstracts for scientific conference submissions. In addition, the development office is an excellent resource when pursuing philanthropic funding, as their staff members can help frame your research question or proposal to align more closely with donors’ interests and plans for their contributions.

Medical writing projects—for example, clinical trial protocols, patient information and safety narratives, health-care policy documents, and other regulatory documents—require specialized guidance and instruction. This type of writing demands accuracy, clarity and adherence to regulatory standards, as it usually impacts patient care. Outside of the immediate guidance of faculty mentors, resources such as the institutional review board, office of research administration, clinical research office and research office for medical students are great places to obtain the proper training and guidance for such specialized writing projects.

In addition to the technical writing examples above, a well-written CV or résumé and cover letter are essential for landing a great job. As with all types of writing, it is important to know and understand your audience before starting the writing process.

Typically, academic positions require a CV, while industry positions prefer a résumé tailored to the specific job. Tapping into resources such as career development offices and campus writing centers is usually an excellent starting point, as they can offer advice, steer you toward any other job-seeking help and potentially provide edits to your CV or résumé. If no specific office exists on your campus, always talk to your mentors, professors, peers, friends and family who might be able to offer helpful feedback. It’s also a good idea to also take advantage of the many online resources that can help guide you on how to start crafting your CV or résumé.

Support From Artificial Intelligence

Integration of artificial intelligence, exemplified by ChatGPT, offers a powerful tool for enhancing creativity and expanding vocabulary, particularly on platforms like social media and LinkedIn. Of course, all original ideas should stem from you, the writer, but the AI tools online today can help you brainstorm and refine those ideas. AI can serve as a valuable assistant in the writing process, providing inspiration, suggesting alternative phrasing and even offering insights into diverse perspectives.

To reiterate, while AI can suggest various approaches and generate content, it is essential for that you maintain authorship and authenticity in your work. The responsibility for crafting meaningful and original content ultimately rests with the you. However, by leveraging AI tools responsibly, you can harness your potential to enhance creativity and productivity while retaining your distinct voice and perspective.

In conclusion, the significance of writing proficiency in the dynamic landscape of academia and beyond cannot be overstated. A well-developed skill set will lead you toward paths to recognition, innovation and career advancement. It can be an invaluable asset when seeking professional achievement. By leveraging available resources—both locally on the campus and online—and recognizing the importance of this art, you can set yourself apart from the crowd.

The apparent silencing of pro-Palestinian activism at New York University Abu Dhabi has “shattered the perception” that the institution can provide real academic freedom within its United Arab Emirates campus, according to critics.

Leaders of NYU Abu Dhabi (NYUAD) have been accused of failing to protect students and staff, with reports that a number have been detained, interrogated and even deported for expressing solidarity with Palestine.

Ahead of a commencement ceremony in May, students were banned from wearing keffiyehs—a scarf perceived to be a symbol of solidarity—or any other decorations on their outfits, with many refusing to shake hands with outgoing NYUAD vice chancellor Mariet Westerman or NYU president Linda Mills as a result.

Speaking anonymously, one student told Times Higher Education that this showed “widespread student dissatisfaction with the censorship and excessive policing of the event” and was evidence of the administration’s “hostile” attitude toward expressions of solidarity with Palestine since Hamas’s Oct. 7 attack on Israel.

“The atmosphere among students has been one of extreme frustration and fear, since students have been facing very harsh consequences from the administration for even small expressions of solidarity,” they added.

Paula Chakravartty, professor of media, culture and communications at NYU, said the U.S. campus has also been repressive toward its students, but at least they have access to lawyers and have rights outside the university—unlike in the UAE. As a result, she said, there was an “intense” level of fear at the branch campus, because the large international student body is at risk of deportation.

Chakravartty, who is also vice president of the NYU chapter of the American Association of University Professors, said academics were most concerned that NYU leaders were using the threat of sanctions from the UAE government to “create a chill when it comes to any speech on Palestine and essentially intimidate and shut down” conversation.

“What worries us is that NYUAD is doing the dirty work for the UAE administration, claiming that this is because of them … when in fact they are doing it proactively. That’s worrisome because NYU is a university and is meant to foster academic freedom and its principles.”

NYUAD has also restricted pro-Palestine vigils and teach-ins and the hanging of banners and social media posts, and it has disciplined students who have expressed their discontent, according to the AAUP.

Mohamad Bazzi, associate professor of journalism at NYU, said the original promises that the Abu Dhabi campus would maintain the same level of academic freedom as NYU had been proved false—and now so too is the idea that NYUAD operates “in an academic bubble.”

“They actively tried to sell this idea of an academic bubble, and I think with the latest crackdown that’s been shattered as well,” he said.

“The idea that somehow they can keep the campus separate from UAE’s foreign policy and security policy is absurd.”

Bazzi, who was denied a visa by the UAE to teach at NYUAD in 2017, said a crackdown on academic speech and free speech will make it harder to convince academics to work there.

“This has shattered the perception that the administration can somehow manage to maintain this academic speech zone inside the campus,” he added.

Sarah McLaughlin, senior scholar on global expression at the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression, said American universities such as NYU have “aggravated this repressive environment by misrepresenting the academic freedom and free speech protections available to students at satellite campuses.”

And in a letter, the Middle East Studies Association accused NYU of being “complicit in the repression practiced by the UAE authorities, and it makes a mockery” of the institution’s purported “core values.”

In response, NYU said it has been guaranteed academic authority in Abu Dhabi and that courses that include the Israel-Palestine conflict and other related issues continue to be taught without any interference.

A spokesman said no NYU students or staff were “immune from local laws” and that NYU has no authority over a nation’s immigration or law enforcement actions or decisions.

“This reality is why we undertake substantial efforts to make sure our community members understand the culture and laws in which they pursue their studies and scholarship and advise them clearly and repeatedly about expectations, obligations and boundaries, including the protocols for the NYU Abu Dhabi graduation,” he said.

Growing concerns over the mental health of college students have overshadowed the fact that faculty members face comparable psychological strain, including serious mental illness. Indeed, faculty would be better equipped to promote student well-being if our employers supported us in prioritizing our own mental health. But professors like me must instead cope quietly, afraid that revealing our discrepant status as psychiatrically “disordered” will discredit us.

Before the global pandemic, ivory tower bells rang over rising rates of student anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation while little, if any, attention was paid to the faculty. It was as if anyone capable of earning a Ph.D. and acquiring a tenure-track position was impervious to psychological struggles. Meanwhile, the requisite work for overall excellence stretched us so thin that we sacrificed our mental health for the paltry payoffs of academic prestige.

The pandemic made matters worse for students and faculty members alike. When higher education went online in spring 2020, college and university leaders implored faculty to accommodate students so they would not fail or drop out, all the while taking our well-being for granted. Then enrollments fell and they insisted many of us return to campus, signaling that our legitimate fears of getting sick or even dying mattered less than making sure our students were happy and thriving. Being treated as dispensable was demoralizing and contributed to rising resignation rates among academic faculty.

As a faculty member still in academia, I can no longer stay silent about what it is like to work in a field surrounded by people who are highly educated yet suffocated by stigma. I was taught to hide my true self in college when an adviser crossed out all mentions of my mental illness and inpatient treatment with red ink in the essay I wrote to earn a graduate fellowship.

In 2000, five years after I earned a Ph.D., my colleagues found out about my mental health history when I needed them to cover for me during a brief hospitalization. The next year, I earned tenure and eventually was promoted to full professor.

I have long believed that I am more privileged than oppressed, despite dropping out of college as an undergraduate and spending 14 months in a mental hospital to overcome a serious mental illness. It took me 30 years to finally identify as a member of a protected class when a supervisor lost their temper and publicly shamed me for having mental health “issues.”

Although I was shocked and dismayed, I decided not to stew about it. Instead, I stood up for myself and began a study of successful working professionals diagnosed with mental illness. I have since interviewed more than 50 individuals, including academic faculty members across the United States in the humanities and social and natural sciences. Like me, they have persevered and excelled professionally while privately coping with diagnoses like borderline personality and bipolar disorders, depression, and social anxiety.

Distinguished professors with impressive publication records and federal research funding portfolios shared stories of how poorly they were treated when mental illness interrupted their careers. Emily is an example. (I’ve used pseudonyms throughout this piece whenever sharing the story of someone I’ve interviewed.) She once took a leave to recover from depression and suicidal ideation only to find that her administrative faculty position was eliminated during her absence. Convinced her colleagues were on a “campaign to undermine” her, Emily complained to her institution’s HR professionals, who advised her that “some battles are better not fought.” She let it go, went on the job market and secured a tenured position at a more prestigious university.

Bruce, a physician and health-care scholar, took sick leave to receive treatment for depression with psychosis. When he returned to work, his employer required letters from his psychiatrist to confirm he was fit to practice, which was “really degrading.” Years later, once Bruce’s clinical skills and scholarly record were firmly established, he started sharing his story publicly. Even then, a colleague said to his face that had he known his diagnosis, he “would not hire you.”

These incidents of discrimination toward academic faculty members on the basis of mental illness preceded the pandemic, a macro-level stressor that catalyzed an epidemic of loneliness in our society. The mental health effects of social isolation became common knowledge because so many of us experienced them, yet the ongoing risk of COVID-19 infection loomed larger.

One day, during a brainstorming session of department chairs led by our dean, I jokingly asked if a pandemic-induced social anxiety disorder would qualify as cause for a remote work accommodation. Everyone laughed uproariously at my remark, which was out of context in a conversation about compromised immune systems. Perhaps I touched a nerve, because in retrospect, it was no laughing matter.

Months later, after recovering from a COVID-19 infection, I was so stricken with anxiety that I went to my dean in tears, begging for a reprieve from administrative responsibilities to restore my well-being. The time off did wonders, allowing me to unwind, settle myself and launch Borderpolars —a project about people with the seemingly improbable dual diagnosis of borderline personality and bipolar.

According to my research, people who meet criteria for both disorders tend to be economically and socially disadvantaged, with frightful histories of child abuse and trauma exposure in adulthood. Nonetheless, some have still managed to reach the upper echelons of higher education.

In 2023, I interviewed Jane, a self-identified borderpolar who, like me, was a professor and head of an academic department during the pandemic. As middle managers, we were sandwiched between the administration, who set the policies we had to enforce, and the faculty, staff and students who lived their consequences.

Unlike me, Jane had never had intensive inpatient treatment, and the pandemic was more than she could bear. When in-person learning was reintroduced at her institution, there was so much “friction and conflict” that Jane realized she just couldn’t do it anymore, so she took family and medical leave. Taking it upon herself to find the help she needed, Jane located a facility far away from the institution that employed her.

The treatment helped tremendously, and Jane felt fortunate for the “incredible” care she received from compassionate professionals who helped her address a lifetime of traumatic experiences. The concentrated time “reset” her, yet it did not restore her readiness to re-enter higher education.

Rather, Jane realized she could not have a “life worth living” in academia. “Academic life just consumes you!” she exclaimed. “I excelled at my research, I excelled at my service,” she went on, “but all I was doing was working.” Resigning her tenured full professorship, Jane took a job in which she could be “way more judicious about providing free labor” and “just do my 40 hours and be done!”

While listening to the relief in Jane’s voice, I worried about the price I pay for excelling in academia and continually having the nagging feeling that, no matter what I produce, it is never enough. I realized that I internalize mental illness stigma, devalue my own achievements and care too much about excelling in other people’s eyes—and not enough about simply being well.

These habits of mind are hard to break, especially when higher education does little to counteract them. The system still serves the prototypical heterosexual white man with presumably perfect mental health whose wife provides for all his needs outside the academy. Yet faculty members are increasingly diverse, with complex needs both in and outside work.

Institutions of higher education suffer when exemplary faculty like Jane become burned out and embittered and see no option other than to leave the ivory tower. They also benefit at our expense when faculty members like Bruce, Emily and me stick around and silently endure the hidden injuries of imposed and internalized stigma.

Instead of taking us for granted, leaders in higher education should consider calls for cultural and organizational transformation in academia that supports everyone’s well-being, including faculty with serious mental illnesses. For example, the Okanagan Charter, an international framework for health promotion in higher education, challenges colleges and universities to “embed health into all aspects of campus culture” and “lead health promotion action and collaboration locally and globally.” Furthermore, the Wellbeing in Higher Education Network, a coalition of universities and organizations from around the world, promotes the integration of inner well-being with social change education.

College and university leaders need to make more efforts along those lines for the benefit of all the people who study and work at their institutions and, ultimately, for the betterment of the institution itself. When academic faculty members feel safe to speak freely and honestly about our psychological vulnerabilities, students will see us embody the bright hope that they, too, may live up to their full potential. Then we can be whole humans in higher education together.