A Facebook friend posted this article
It describes changes in the British higher education system, and in them I recognised my experience of the Australian one.
I wrote about it in 1995. It seems relevant today, so I am copying it below.
PANELIST’S RESPONSE TO PROFESSOR IAN LOWE
by Robin Ford, November 1995
“Social aspects of humanity have somehow disappeared.” So said Eva Cox in her first Boyer lecture. I heard this on Radio National on Tuesday as I prepared this reply.
* * * * *
The instrumentalist, managerialist view of universities which Ian Lowe describes clashes with my own world view too. So how can I respond?
How might we sustain Ian Lowe’s Utopian ideal, even in the face of a possible “decline into corporatist factories”. I suggest a version of “Think globally; act locally” Or in the words of my first boss in industry:
“Robin, there are no prizes for being beaten by a system.”
* * * * *
Once upon a time we spoke of collegiality. A high minded concept.
“We’re all in this together fellows! I’m the VC, you’re a tutor, but we’re all the same really. Just at different points along the journey”.
And our students were in it with us too. Part of the college. Separated by seniority of course. But all part of it. If students couldn’t, or wouldn’t, meet the master’s requirements (and it usually was a master) and failed, well that was all part of the scheme. “Not everyone is cut out for this are they?”
Of course, what we actually had might have been a travesty of the ideal. In the past, as Ian Lowe said, “some universities have shown an attitude to their students bordering on the contemptuous”. I know the sort of thing: “This place would be ok if it wasn’t for the students!” Nowadays this is not acceptable – and nor should it be. “Student as customer (or client)” is a great deal better than “student as nuisance” or “student as product”.
So now, instead, we work in The Australian Higher Education Industry. With its industry association on the one hand and its union on the other. A new binary divide.
And students are no longer junior colleagues or academic apprentices. They are customers. To be satisfied. And wooed. For proof, just look at the Uni advertisements in newspapers when it’s time for UAC forms to be filled in.
If students are my customers, then what are (to use Ian Lowe’s words) those “managers with expensive suits, university cars and mobile phones?”
Management and administration. Vital and honourable activities. But nevertheless overheads on what customers actually pay for. So I think they should be supporting those of us who provide the goods. Does it feel like it? Well frankly, yes, much of the time. But increasingly, Schools are told to do for themselves what previously was done elsewhere. In some circumstances I feel about as much of a customer as I do when negotiating with my bank. And it’s all a distraction from the wider educational view.
These have been confusing times. My idealism is squashed between the expectations of students as customers and the requirements of administration.
So how do I see myself within my new surroundings? And how can I respond? Here’s part of a poem from my childhood:
There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
And all the day long he’d a wonderful view
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).
Unfortunately for A A Milne’s Dormouse, a Doctor arrived, unrequested it seems, and prescribed a change of surroundings. He ripped out the flowers the Dormouse loved:
And they planted chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
“And now,” said the Doctor, “we’ll soon have you right.”
Just like DEET fixing up the Universities really.
Now quite possibly the Doctor and DEET are correct. Chrysanthemums might be more suitable; as might a more focussed education system. But the Dormouse still wanted his delphiniums and geraniums; and I still want a collegial, wider vision. Both of us are in situations apparently beyond our control.
So what can I do?
Well, what did the Dormouse do?
The Dormouse lay there with his paws to his eyes,
And imagined himself such a pleasant surprise:
“I’ll pretend the chrysanthemums turn to a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)!”
And so, I imagine delphiniums and geraniums on our campuses, instead of DEET’s chrysanthemums. I just assume the wider view anyway. And I thank goodness that I am not alone in my aspirations. On and off campus are academics and students, as colleagues and friends – common humanity among “rational economic man”.
But can this idealism survive in a post-Dawkins regime?
Yes. Precisely because this ideal is in our imagination, we can carry it around the corporatist chrysanthemum campuses that concern Ian Lowe. It is a virtual university, within a university system. Members of the virtual university can use the same buildings that DEET funds, drink the same cappuccinos, work with the same staff, enjoy the company of the same students, get the same friendly help from Planning Services.
So, I can have my wider view in “The Virtual University of Delphiniums and Geraniums”. And for it I offer this statement of hope – known in other circles as a mission statement:
Our virtual university is a learning environment where students and staff blossom.
RhymeAndReason 