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Prison has long been recognized as a racialized institution in America, where race determines myriad aspects of life—from where individuals sleep to those with whom they live, eat, and socialize during incarceration. However, there is little evidence on how to effectively remediate prisons’ deep racial divisions—a question that is imperative given that interracial animus in prisons can be both a result and a determinant of racial conflict and violence. In this study, we argue that higher education in prison has significant potential to improve racial attitudes and foster racial integration by providing a “contrasting context” for interracial interaction in the classroom within an otherwise racially segregated institution. Using administrative data on college-level course completion, an original longitudinal survey of prison college students, and in-depth qualitative interviews with prison college alumni, we show evidence of shifts in racial attitudes and self-reported behavior as students move through their college career. Our results demonstrate the potential for prison higher education to shift race-based norms and offer a framework through which to analyze prison education that prioritizes outcomes of interest beyond recidivism.
This article examines the impact of generative artificial intelligence (GAI) on higher education, emphasizing its effects in the broader educational contexts. As AI continues to reshape the landscape of teaching and learning, it is imperative for higher education institutions to adapt rapidly to equip graduates for the challenges of a progressively automated global workforce. However, a critical question emerges: will GAI lead to a more inclusive future of learning, or will it deepen existing divides and create a future where educational access and success are increasingly unequal? This study employs both theoretical and empirical approaches to explore the transformative potential of GAI. Drawing upon the literature on AI and education, we establish a framework that categorizes the essential knowledge and skills needed by graduates in the GAI era. This framework includes four key capability sets: AI ethics, AI literacy (focusing on human-replacement technologies), human–AI collaboration (emphasizing human augmentation), and human-distinctive capacities (highlighting unique human intelligence). Our empirical analysis involves scrutinizing GAI policy documents and the core curricula mandated for all graduates across leading Asian universities. Contrary to expectations of a uniform AI-driven educational transformation, our findings expose significant disparities in AI readiness and implementation among these institutions. These disparities, shaped by national and institutional specifics, are likely to exacerbate existing inequalities in educational outcomes, leading to divergent futures for individuals and universities alike in the age of GAI. Thus, this article not only maps the current landscape but also forecasts the widening educational gaps that GAI might engender.
Chapter 5 identifies disability-based educational inequality, which occurs in teacher bias, social stigma, classroom access, disability diagnosis, and school discipline. It attends to the education policy demands of disability justice activists and identifies dis/ability critical race studies (“DisCrit”) and critical race spatial analysis (CRSA) as two emerging intersectional research methods that can contribute to the intergroup analysis of stratification economics. Chapter 5 considers proposals for a federal baby bonds program and identifies program mandates and antidiscrimination requirements that would be necessary to guarantee equitable designation of eligible funds for college and university tuition.
The conventional three-stage model of human life – from childhood to adulthood to old age – is being upended by social and economic changes that the 100-year life will likely amplify. If law does not adapt to new life patterns, it will worsen existing inequalities. Higher education, family and inheritance, and retirement illustrate how lives are already diverging from assumptions embedded in law about the life cycle while suggesting needed reforms.
The history of student activism during the twentieth century in both K-12 and higher education contexts has a robust literature base; however, Native American student activism has largely been overlooked by historians of education. Predating the well-known American Indian Movement (AIM) by nearly a decade, the National Indian Youth Council (NIYC) successfully created an organizing base during the 1960s from which other Indigenous activist movements emerged, many of which still operate today. By focusing their efforts on student-run publications, direct action, and community-run education, the Indigenous college students and young adult activists constituting the NIYC contributed significantly to a larger social movement opposing and ultimately upending the federal policies of termination imposed on American Indian tribes that lasted from 1953 to 1970.
Interventions to foster inclusive learning environments may benefit college STEMM instructors (NASEM, 2019). We investigated the impact of a social inclusion intervention (SII) on scientific self-efficacy, identity, community values, and persistence intentions in a large and diverse sample of biomedical college instructors (n = 116) in the USA. The results indicated that the SII group developed stronger scientific community values than the control group, and the effect was the strongest for instructors who had initially expressed lower values. From a mentoring perspective, the intervention helps boost feelings of community values, which is linked to increased persistence in STEMM careers.
This chapter examines the redefinition of “youth” that occurred during World War II as a result of young men’s conscription and the rise of the United States as the global superpower, as well as its consequences for young Americans. It specifically looks at the creation and implementation of federal educational programs for soldiers, such as the Army Specialized Training Program and the educational provisions of the 1944 G. I. Bill of Rights. The chapter also demonstrates how these programs built upon the framework that had been developed in earlier decades, which categorized youth according to their value for national security and established military service as a “democratic” educational opportunity.
This final chapter summarizes the key points discussed in the previous chapters. It illuminates how diverse adults in the United States helped to build the link between youth, education, and national security from World War I to World War II. The chapter also discusses how this connection both changed and influenced developments in the second half of the twentieth century, when the Cold War changed American ideas about who should serve militarily. Nonetheless, the relationship between youth, education, and national security has remained powerful and continues to influence young Americans today.
This chapter provides readers with an overview of the book, as well as its major argument. It argues that, while historians have traditionally treated war and military issues as temporary issues that affected American society only during wartime and had little impact on society during peacetime, the issues were, in fact, fundamental to political and cultural changes in American society during the first half of the twentieth century. The chapter also outlines how the remainder of the book will support this argument by focusing on how the relationship formed during this time between national security, education, and the cultural conception of “youth” strongly influenced young people’s educational experiences and had significant social consequences that still exist today.
Although military issues are not often included in accounts of American society in the 1920s and 1930s, this chapter shows how they influenced young Americans’ access to education by examining debates surrounding mandatory military training that male students in certain secondary schools and colleges that were part of the Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (ROTC) program had to undergo. These debates illuminate the tensions that existed and grew between access to education and national security throughout these years, as well as the strengthening of the relationship between educational institutions and the military. The ultimate defeat of ROTC’s opponents by the end of the 1930s demonstrates that American society had come to accept the teaching of military subjects in civilian educational institutions.
This chapter examines the debates in American society surrounding the conscription of young men, particularly those under the age of majority (age twenty-one), for World War I. Before the war, men under the age of twenty-one had served in the U.S. armed services, but mainly as volunteers. The necessity to establish a selective draft system in 1917 sparked an intense debate in American society about whether minors should be drafted into the military. This chapter also explores how military training programs for soldiers were established on civilian college campuses during the war, most notably the Student Army Training Corps, and how the educational elite played an active role in doing so and established educational institutions as military training sites during wartime.
The specificity of acts of reference emerges from their indexical nature, not from any fixed denotation inherent in referring expressions. Referential indeterminacy is generally not an issue or is easily corrected. But it can be taken advantage of when hierarchic relations are in play: people can deploy the semiotic potential of indeterminacy in ways that covertly index advantageous alignments based on shared values, while seeming to make the same acts of reference as participants in (apparently) the same discourse who are not angling for such alignments. The indexicality of such alignments provides ethnographic insight into the importance of these fields of discourse for those involved, how social actors exercise control or authority, for whose benefit, toward what desired outcome. To this end, I have coined strategically deployable shifter (SDS) as an analytic term for such discursive action, examining its use in higher education as linked to the financial and corporate spheres. I further explore how SDSs can figure into the processes of indexicality and rhematization (as proposed by Gal and Irvine) that are central to the modeling of those status-driven worlds.
Food insecurity (FI) in the higher education setting is a pressing social justice and public health nutrition issue. Persistent FI rates among students suggest that the current programmes and institutional policies are inadequate. Engaging the community in co-design practices can enhance research and decision-making, leading to more targeted advocacy and solutions. This review describes and evaluates evidence of co-design approaches and identifies strategies for addressing FI in higher education settings.
Design:
A review was conducted using the Preferred Reporting Items for Systematic Reviews and Meta-Analyses extension for Scoping Reviews. Literature was searched in three electronic databases (Scopus, Ovid MEDLINE and Web of Science) and two search engines (Google and Google Scholar).
Setting:
Only studies based in higher education settings were included.
Participants:
Higher education students.
Results:
The search identified 814 studies, of which twenty-eight met the inclusion criteria. Studies involving co-design and participatory research frameworks had higher participation, leading to increased student awareness of FI, student leadership and the development of campaigns and collaborative organisational structures. A content analysis approach identified seven categories for strategies targeting student FI: (1) policy and institutional support; (2) strategic partnerships (3) advocacy and awareness; (4) initiatives for student engagement; (5) student skills and knowledge development; (6) programme development and (7) campus food environment.
Conclusions:
Co-designed research methodologies are important for addressing student FI, enhancing advocacy and understanding stakeholder needs. Future studies should prioritise collaborative approaches when exploring solutions to FI and similar social justice issues affecting students.
This article explores the formation of the University of California amidst widespread populist agitation against university leaders in the 1870s. These complaints were rooted in corruption by the Board of Regents as well as their failure to honor the requirement of the 1862 Morrill Act to offer practical training in “agriculture and the mechanic arts.” It argues that Yosemite served as a vehicle through which representatives of the University of California countered charges of elitism and fostered a reputation for trustworthy stewardship of public land. These efforts were visible to the public through literary texts, newspapers, public lectures, nature writings, and other forms of popular literature. By positioning Yosemite as a site of middlebrow intellectual exchange and an alternative to the demonstration farms established at other land grant institutions, professors such as Joseph LeConte helped quell populist critiques and strengthen affective ties to the university. The resulting shift in popular sentiment helped secure public trust in the university for the remainder of the Gilded Age and Progressive Era.
Wild pedagogies invites educators to engage with more-than-humans as co-teachers and co-researchers. In collaborating with city grass, this paper blends rhizomatic thinking, literary ecocriticism, and the rewilding of pedagogy within severely constrained circumstances. Citing cognitive, emotional, and physical benefits of engaging with free and flourishing nature, this research asks: How can the severe constraints of particular sociopolitical circumstances and disciplines, such as postsecondary literature courses, be creatively encountered to support engagement with flourishing more-than-human kin? It also asks: What would grass do? This paper walks readers through many barriers faced by city college humanities courses and suggests practical, creative work-arounds that, while focused on college literature classes, can be adapted to educators in diverse disciplines and contexts. Because we need playful thinking to think creatively — even on the brink of catastrophes — this paper is written as a choose-your-own adventure game. Educators will be invited to consider the institutional, geographic, academic, political, personal, and social barriers impacting their pedagogical choices. Ecologically concerned educators need pragmatic, creative, and compassionate support to envision how wild pedagogies pathways can be applied to their course loads. Here, these explorations are designed to be experiential and experimental, open-ended, and ultimately mutually liberating.
This essay examines academic freedom in Chile under the 1980s Pinochet military dictatorship. While much has been written on the topic, the literature is fragmented and difficult to access owing to the diverse range of stakeholders involved. Historians have tended to explore single cases, actors, and institutions to highlight struggles with the Chilean dictatorship. Bringing their stories together and assessing them collectively, however, sheds new light on this episode of academic freedom. It captures collaboration among students, faculty, and the public across multiple settings that has not yet been adequately explored by existing literature. Through an analysis of secondary and primary sources—including monographs, journal articles, government reports, newspaper articles, and Spanish-language publications—this essay traces a collaborative turn during the dictatorship that occurred separately among students, faculty, and the public as well as between those groups. It thus offers insight into the Chilean experience during the 1980s and the cooperative efforts to protect academic freedom.
Nothing is known about the effectiveness of defaults when moving the target outcomes requires substantial effort. We conduct two field experiments to investigate how defaults fare in such situations: we change the university exam sign-up procedure in two study programs to “opt-out” (a) for a single exam, and (b) for many exams. Both interventions increase task uptake (exam sign-up). Concerning the outcomes which require effort, we find no effects for many exams. For a single exam, the opt-out increases task completion (exam participation) in the study program where the default arguably entails stronger endorsement. Within this program, the effects on successful task completion (exam passing) are heterogeneous: treated students who in the past were willing to communicate with the university (responsive individuals) invest more effort into exam preparation and are more likely to pass the exam than their control counterparts.For non-responsive individuals, we find increased sign-ups but no effects on the target outcomes. Defaults can thus be effective and may be an attractive policy option even when the target outcome requires substantial effort provision. It is, however crucial that the interventions target the appropriate individuals.
This chapter describes the thirty-seven autistic academics who share their stories in this book. In a different world they would be introduced to the reader by name, with their unique personalities, interests, and gifts described. However, we live in a world where autism is still very much stigmatised and where disclosure comes with significant risks to career progression and social inclusion. Thus, many of the participants have asked to remain anonymous, and their combined stories are shared in a way that gives the reader a sense of their diversity while maintaining their anonymity.
The academic stereotype of the absent-minded professor who is valued for their in-depth subject knowledge and whose quirks and eccentricities are accepted by their peers is as faulty as the stereotype of the autistic as a white, adolescent, male maths wizard. Today’s academics are expected to teach, research, and engage in administrative and other activities. In this chapter thirty-two of the participants provide advice to autistic people considering a career in academia. They emphasise the importance of knowing what the role entails, both its strengths and its challenges; finding the right people to work with and to seek counsel from; knowing (and valuing) yourself; developing resilience; maintaining your well-being; and following your passion.