Two History Departments Dealing with the Dynamics of Decline

This article appeared in Change, July/August 1984, Vol. 16, No. 5, pp. 12–17 (a publication of the Helen Dwight Reid Educa­tional Foundation).

Sharp declines in college student enroll­ments—both actual and predicted—now threaten courses, programs, ca­reers, and even entire institutions, promising a troubled future for higher education. The reduction of the college-age population cohorts, possibly by as much as 40 percent in some areas, promises increased competition for en­rollments, within and between both in­stitutions and departments. While possi­ble results of decline are most visible at the institutional level, the greatest dam­age may occur in the departmental in­frastructure of the university, the most important and most vulnerable compo­nent of higher education. It is the de­partment that engenders and perpetu­ates respect for the discipline, nurtures research and scholarship, and sets stan­dards for both academician and student.

What impact will increased enroll­ment competition have upon the colle­gial relationships and academic stan­dards of colleges and universities? Will departments disintegrate and academic standards collapse under enrollment pressure, or will colleagues unite in ef­forts to attract students by improving instructional quality? What are the dynamics of  departmental  adjustment to dramatically lowered levels of student demand?

The liberal arts have faced the reality of empty seats in the classroom since the 1970s, when increasing numbers of anx­ious undergraduates began turning their backs on the traditional liberal arts disciplines and enrolled in courses which seemed more likely to ensure employment directly after graduation.

History has perhaps been the discipline hardest hit by this unprecedented wave of student vocationalism. This article looks at the ways historians at two small northeastern colleges have reacted to reduced student enrollments. Al­though one college was public and the other private, in many other respects the two were closely matched. But the reactions of the two history departments have been very different.

 

State College/Private College

The histories of “State College” and “Private College” are strikingly similar. Both colleges were founded as special purpose institutions in the same city during the mid-nineteenth century. Pri­vate College began as a business school. State College was originally devoted to teacher training. During the boom dec­ades of the 1950s and 1960s, both expanded their curricular offerings and attracted increased numbers of  stu­dents.  By 1970, both institutions had been transformed into  four-year multi­-purpose colleges and had been relo­cated on spacious and attractive subur­ban campuses.

The parallels continue to the present. In recent years administrators at both colleges have attempted to upgrade their faculties by emphasizing the im­portance of PhD degrees, research, and scholarly productivity in decisions regarding faculty appointments and promotions. At both schools. the faculty unionized in reaction to those adminis­trative initiatives as well as to the pros­pect of retrenchment. The faculty unions have utilized the full range of collective bargaining tactics, including strikes, to protect jobs and improve wages and working conditions.

Both colleges are currently feeling the effects of sharp enrollment declines within tl1eir liberal arts divisions. In­ creasing numbers of students are choos­ing to major in professional, business, or technical fields. Consequently, upper-division liberal arts courses are often in danger of cancellation due to underen­rollment. The history departments in both colleges have been among the hardest hit by student vocationalism. In quantitative terms the impact was almost identical at both colleges. Between 1970 and 1980, the number of history students declined by approximately one-half, and the number of history professors by approximately one-third.

The Private College and State College history departments were similar in terms of size, social composition, and professional interests. When the re­search for this paper was conducted during 1981 and 1982, all eleven his­torians at Private College and all ten historians at State College were white males. Most members of both depart­ments were professionally active, even though their primary interest was in teaching, not research. One important difference should be noted. All the Private College historians had their PhD degrees while only one-half the State College historians had received their doctorates.

Private College

There were rarely many st:1dents or professors in the Private College history department when interviews were con­ducted. Usually the halls were empty and office doors were shut. It was a cheerless work environment. The physical environment seemed to reflect the mood and morale of most of the history faculty.

Although Private College historians were split by ideological, political, age, and professional differences, they did share a common negative definition of their work situation. According to one administrator, this was part of a “collec­tive inferiority complex” which was es­pecially noticeable within the liberal arts division. Private College historians often compared their situation unfavorably to that of professors in nearby research-oriented public and private universities. Their counterparts in other institutions enjoyed greater career security, pres­tige, lighter teaching· loads, better stu­dents, and, in general, greater opportu­nities for the actualization of profession­al ideals. The members of the Private College history department wanted to excel in both teaching and research, but felt that their work situation did not facilitate the accomplishment of those goals.

The specter of declining enrollments created uncertainty and anxiety about the future of the (Private) college. One historian expressed the collective worst fear when he noted that the entire college could “go down like the Titanic.”

The specter of declining enrollments created uncertainty and anxiety about the future of the college. One historian expressed the collective worst fear when he noted that the entire college could “go down like the Titanic.” Even if the college survived, there was serious con­cern about the fate of their department and the liberal arts division. If the de­partment continued to lose lines through attrition or retrenchment, gaps would develop in the curriculum and specialized courses would be taught by faculty who lacked the necessary enthu­siasm and expertise. If the integrity of the curriculum were undermined, the department would assume at best a de­ pendent support role vis-a-vis more popular vocational courses of study.

In fact, some faculty feared that the whole liberal arts division might share this fate of dependency. Several upper-division courses were threatened by waning student demand. Although when interviews for this paper were conducted, the administration had not generally enforced enrollment mini­mums, the faculty felt that many cancellations were inevitable in the near fu­ture. As one professor put it, “Our preregistration figures are known as the Nielsen ratings. They tell you whether you’re going to be cancelled or whether you can have another run at it.”

Virtually all the historians were skep­tical and at least somewhat hostile to the college administration. They told us that the administration was obsessed with enrollments. Some doubted that the top administrators were really com­mitted to a strong liberal arts division and accused them of trying hardest to recruit business students. Furthermore, administrative exhortations to maintain rigorous standards and reverse grade inflation were considered either naive or hypocritical. The professors believed that admissions standards had been all but abandoned and requirements for student retention had been relaxed, thus causing a severe drop in student quality. Although faculty were quick to point out that they had a few students who were top-notch, most students were seen as mindless hedonists: poorly pre­pared, unmotivated, and in search of enjoyment, not intellectual challenge. As student advisors, the historians had often observed students selecting courses on the basis of convenient scheduling and easy grading. They be­came convinced the most students avoid challenging courses at all costs.

Thus, while Private College adminis­trators apparently felt that academic ex­cellence and increased enrollments were compatible goals, the history faculty, by and large, disagreed. In fact, most his­torians believed that if they taught ac­cording to the highest standards of their profession, they would lose students, and, perhaps ultimately, their jobs.

Adjustments to Declining Enrollments

Enrollment economics and the twin problems of declining quality and quan­tity of students have brought a number of adjustments at Private College, both formal and informal.

Curricular revision was one method of formal, collective adaptation. Prereq­uisites for some electives were dropped. Course descriptions and titles were re­written in order to attract students. Some new courses were introduced spe­cifically to bolster enrollments. Al­though at least two historians character­ized these as intellectually weak or “schlock” courses, they were accepted as appropriate compromises to pressures generated by the enrollment economy. The development of a team-taught in­troductory course was another depart­mental strategy. The professors in­volved in that course critiqued one an­ other’s presentations in an effort to develop polished and appealing mass lectures. This chore was disliked, but the effort was valued as an attempt to recruit majors.

Informal adaptations to declining en­rollments were also evident. There were intermittent, but largely unorganized, efforts to recruit students for the de­partment. In the recent past, junior members united in rather desperate at­tempts to recruit students by handing out leaflets describing course offerings to students standing in registration lines. Both junior and senior historians attempted to court promising students in lower-division classes. A better stu­dent, for example, might be invited to lunch or encouraged to undertake a personally tailored, individual project rather than doing regular assignments. By establishing relatively close relation­ships with a few outstanding students, professors could receive psychic re­wards which were lacking in relation­ships with the mass of disinterested students. Furthermore, the “personal ap­proach” was related to the enrollment economy.

“I think in a school like this . . . a psychological impact is important, so that they will remember Private College as a place where they had four good years and where they met good, decent people—and you get a kind of loyalty. It’s very much in our interest that our students feel that they’ve had a good experience. Public relations is impor­tant,” said one faculty member.

It is noteworthy that recruitment ef­forts were undertaken by isolated indi­viduals or small cliques, and not depart­mental efforts. Several historians voiced mild resentment about having to spend their time trying to drum up business for the department. However, these kinds of activities were grudgingly ac­cepted as appropriate adaptations to enrollment declines.

But enrollment pressures also gener­ated some adaptations which the histori­ans felt represented compromises of professional standards. They were ashamed that a general relaxation of course requirements and grading stan­dards had occurred at the same time that the quality of students was declin­ing noticeably. The amount of required reading and writing decreased and the amount of what they termed “spoon feeding” increased. The historians might have attempted to justify the re­laxation of standards as an appropriate response to deterioration in the quality of students, but the majority did not do so. They simply accepted the fact that they had compromised their ideals, and, as one put it, “Desperation is the justifi­cation!”

Eight of the eleven history professors acknowledged grade inflation, either on their own part or throughout the cam­pus. Those who admitted being grade inflators said that their students now receive letter grades one-half to a full level higher than a decade ago. Al­though a small subgroup of history pro­fessors agreed among themselves that compromising professional ideals about grading is necessary, they managed to limit the practice by holding the line on top grades, maintaining the integrity of their A’s.

The historians interviewed attributed grade inflation to enrollment economics and competition between divisions and departments for students. Professors in the business school were envied because they could be demanding and rigorous. As one put it, with a surplus of students, “They can afford to be bastards.” Sever­al historians were vexed about what they considered to be unfair competition for students on the part of other depart­ments within the liberal arts division. And one historian pointed out that this type of competition is hardly the model of natural selection: “Ease up, I think, is the best way to say we’ve dealt with the enrollment problems. And it’s a disease, because one eases up and the other department says—Oh-oh, they are get­ting enrollment. Now we’ll ease up a little bit. . . .”

For the most part, we have described the impact of declining enrollments on faculty-student relationships. But this problem has also affected relationships among faculty as well. Nowhere was this more apparent than in the history de­partment’s attitude toward what they termed ”charlatans.” Eight of the eleven historians acknowledged that charla­tans—teachers who are popular but in­tellectually incompetent—existed not only within the college as a whole, but even within their department.

Some historians clearly wished that they could expel the charlatans. But that is not an easy task within a collegiate context, for a number of reasons. Facul­ty and administrators seldom directly observe colleagues during the perform­ance of professional duties, so reputa­tions are typically based on hearsay. Devotion to academic freedom engen­ders a laissez-faire orientation—live and let live. Tenure protections are so exten­sive that it is considered futile to try to document incompetence. Also, Private College historians felt it would be de­structive both to the individuals accused and the department as a whole if charla­tans were confronted. Given the ab­sence of employment opportunities at other institutions, the department be­comes the professor’s permanent work­ing family. Thus, they were understand­ably reluctant to take any action which might start a long-simmering feud.

Moreover, some faculty were ambivalent toward charlatans in their midst because such individuals do contribute to the department by attracting large numbers of students. One historian criticized a colleague who he had dubbed a charlatan, yet he noted  that, “In  other ways, he’s not a weak sister. He gets enrollments in here.” Another profes­sor—a research-oriented, liberal, union man—was even more explicit. He de­scribed another historian as being popular, but academically feeble. He went on to comment, “But I don’t know that we’ve ever done anything about it or ever intend to do anything about it, because he does draw fairly decent enrollments, and we just can’t afford, given the nature of the economic situation, to do anything about it. It’s disturbing . . . but we don’t make the rules. If you’re going to play the numbers game, that’s one of the inevitable by-products.”

Although the focus here has been upon the department and subgroups within it, it is important to note that many Private College historians were union activists and leaders. The union was a more meaningful and effective collegial group for them than the de­partment. In anticipation of retrench­ment, the union negotiated strong job security provisions. In case of a real crunch, professors might have to be retrained so they could teach in expanding  fields, but they would retain their jobs. Of course, to those who are truly dedicated to their discipline, such a prospect is not very comforting. Never­theless, the union was more of a source of strength and solidarity for Private College historians than was their de­partment. Within the department, per­sonal animosities poisoned the atmo­sphere and  undermined the potential for leadership and strong collective action in support of the highest academic standards.

State College

Following a visit to Private College, a visitor to the State College history de­partment is immediately struck by radi­cal differences between the learning environment and the one encountered at Private College. When they were not actually teaching a class, State College historians could generally be found in the departmental office suite talking with one another or with students. Fac­ulty, students, and staff interacted freely in a relaxed, congenial manner.

Yet the State College history depart­ment had experienced  reductions in student enrollments and faculty lines virtually identical to those at the Private College department—enrollments were halved and the number of full-time fac­ulty reduced by one-third during the 1970s. Although enrollments were holding steady when this research was being done, the surviving historians re­ membered the last disastrous decade and were anxious about the upcoming decade. They were seriously concerned with maintaining and, if possible, in­ creasing enrollments.

State College historians, like their Pri­vate College counterparts, had widely divergent political and ideological views. However, they set those differences aside and united in efforts to make the best of a threatening situation. State College historians proudly proclaimed themselves true defenders of rigorous academic standards.

Their toughness was most evident in the required and very demanding intro­ductory classes. It was not uncommon for an instructor to fail one-quarter or more of his students. The departmental tradition of posting the grade distribu­tions for every professor’s classes facili­tated the process of informal social con­trol. Everyone looked at the posted grades: hard-nosed professors were congratulated by their colleagues and any softhearted ones were criticized. The department chairman once wrote “Santa Claus” on the roster of a col­league whom he thought had been too lenient in grading. Thus, a form of public ridicule was used as a sanction for excessive deviation from the depart­mental norm.

State College historians could generally be found in the departmental office suite talking with one another or with students. Faculty, students, and staff interacted freely in a relaxed, congenial manner.

The faculty knew that the state legis­lature supported State College’s goals of raising admissions standards. Thus, these historians shared the belief that their students were basically capable of good work. However, like their Private College counterparts, they believed that the students were poorly prepared and lazy. They believed that the students needed to be challenged, rather than coddled or spoon-fed. Thus, their shared conception of the student body served to legitimate their policy of toughness.

The department provided a warm and stimulating environment for those students who survived the introductory course and desired to pursue serious study of history. A friendly camaraderie existed not only among faculty but also between faculty and students. Depart­ment members were judged partly in terms of their contribution to this pat­tern of interaction: “Do you laugh? Do you have fun?”

One department member remained aloof from this pattern of interaction. He disdainfully referred to it as being like that of a “men’s club.” Not surpris­ingly that individual appeared to be isolated from other department mem­bers.

State College historians shared a fo­cused definition of professionalism, in contrast to the comprehensive defini­tion prevalent among Private College historians. This focused view stressed the unity of scholarship and undergrad­uate teaching. Virtually all department members rejected the idea  that  one must have a PhD and be an active publisher to deserve recognition as a true professional. Even the younger his­torians, who received doctoral degrees from prestigious universities and were generally more research oriented, un­derstood that State College was a teach­ing institution and took their instruc­tional duties quite seriously.

Adjustments in Declining Enrollments

The State College history department employed a variety of tactics to recruit good students. One junior faculty mem­ber made personal phone calls to prom­ising students on the college admissions list. He invited them to visit the depart­ment and meet the professors. He also tried to persuade them to enroll in his freshman seminar specifically designed for prospective majors. A senior faculty member maintained contact with de­partmental alumni. He asked them not only for constructive feedback on courses but also for their cooperation in identifying and recruiting new history majors. But the conscious attempts of individual professors to establish per­sonal relationships with good students within their own classes may have been the most effective technique. As one historian put it, “I find myself always hustling students.” Herc, as at Private College, historians used a personal ap­proach and singled out promising indi­viduals. However, “We don’t suck up to them,” the chairman insisted. “No, what we do is simply sit down and talk with them. That’s all. I’ll spend time with them pointing out what I think are the advantages of an education in the liberal art ,in general, and in history in particu­lar.”

The historians indicated that during the 1970s, the quality as well as quantity of students decreased. In response to this perception, they increased their traditionally high accessibility even more. They also worked with non-departmental staff in order to meet the needs of under-prepared students. Not only did they refer students for remedial assistance, but they even consulted reading specialists to ensure that the introductory textbooks were not beyond the stu­dents’ comprehension. These adjust­ments to under-prepared students were considered appropriate and professionally correct responses to a changing student body, not as compromises of pro­fessional standards as they might have been seen by Private College historians.

State College historians did not “ease up” on student assignments and grades in hope of attracting larger enrollments in upper-division classes. Then asked about the temptation to relax standards, the chairman responded, “You know, to tell the truth, we’ve never even thought of it . . . there are certain things  on which we all agree. We are committed to our discipline. We have a deep respect for it, and it just never occurred to us. . . . I mean, hell, it’s just unthink­able.”

Strong leadership and departmental cohesion undoubtedly contributed to the success which these historians had in maintaining a tradition of excellence in undergraduate teaching. To date, the chairman has had extraordinary success in protecting under-enrolled classes from cancellation. The department’s reputation for rigorous and committed teaching put it in strong bargaining po­sition with the administration. The fact that this politically and ideologically diverse department united behind the chairman also strengthened his hand.

The department’s collegiality did not preclude conflict. In fact, there had been considerably more open conflict among historians at State College than among their counterparts within the de­moralized Private College department. The difference appeared to be that at Private College the norm was to avoid or deny conflict, while at State College conflicts were brought into the open and discussed frankly. In fact, the State College department took pride in its con­frontational style. As one member noted, it was not a department for a “milquetoast.” Disagreements and re­sentments did not accumulate. Instead, they were aired quickly, negotiated, and resolved, either informally or in a department meeting. The chairman was an acknowledged master at conflict management who used humor effec­tively to prevent destructive feuds.

State College historians did not deal with the problem of declining enroll­ments as isolated individuals or as members of departmental splinter groups. Instead, they stood together as a cohe­sive and united collegial group. Despite their political and ideological differ­ences, they were able to cooperate in efforts to resolve common and recur­rent work problems. The process of defining acceptable adaptations was fa­cilitated by a strong department chair­man. The chairman was respected be­cause he personified department mem­bers’ conception of academic professionalism: being a tough-minded scholar and a good and demanding teacher.

A Question of Survival?

The obvious question is, why did stan­dards fall in one case and not the other? Although this study design does not allow the question to be answered conclusively, it does provide the basis for informed speculation. Enrollment de­clines seem more likely to force compro­mises in academic standards under some social circumstances than under others.

The question of survival is para­mount. If professors come to believe that the viability of their department, division, or institution is open to serious question, they may be willing to com­promise their professional standards in order to maintain their careers. Institu­tional survival was not in question at State College, but it was at Private Col­lege. State College historians were con­cerned, but Private College historians were desperate.

Clearly defined goals are also impor­tant. Private College historians felt that they were being asked to do two incom­patible things: uphold standards and compete successfully against other de­partments for enrollments. They were confused and angered by the mixed messages they got from various admin­istrative officials. Given the long-stand­ing antagonism between the Private Col­lege administration and the faculty union, most historians simply were not willing to follow administrative exhorta­tions to shore up academic standards. On the other hand, State College his­torians defined their own goals—in­structional excellence and rigor—and received administrative support. State College administrators were concerned with enrollments, but they were not reoccupied with them. Furthermore, State College administrators were clear­ly working to improve the quality of the student body-a goal which the faculty fully supported.

Within teaching-oriented colleges at least, focused rather than comprehen­sive, definitions of professionalism are more likely to be compromised. All Pri­vate College historians had earned their PhD degrees and virtually all had in­ternalized commitments to research as well as to teaching. Their research goals were frustrated by heavy teaching loads, scarce support services, and weak stu­dents. Furthermore, enrollment shifts and economics frustrated their teaching goals. State College historians (only half of whom had their PhD degrees) de­veloped solidarity and esprit de corps on the basis of achieving more limited goals. Although the junior faculty were more concerned with research produc­tivity than their senior colleagues, they did not use publication as the criterion for respect. They accepted the depart­ment’s emphasis on good teaching and rigorous grading. Rather than feeling miserable that they were not employed by a research-oriented university, they were grateful to have found employ­ment. If standards are realistic and  at­tainable, they are more likely to be maintained.

Where professors interact regularly and deal effectively with inevitable internal conflicts, they are capable of dealing with the enrollment problem in a collective, mutually supportive manner.

Collegial relationships among depart­mental members also seem critically im­portant. Where professors interact reg­ularly and deal effectively with inevita­ble internal conflicts, they are capable of dealing with the enrollment problem  in a collective, mutually supportive man­ner. But, when a department is frag­mented, professors are unlikely to dis­cuss their common problems and arrive at mutually acceptable solutions. They are also less likely to deal effectively with their insecurities and fears. When pro­fessors are anxious and isolated, demor­alizing com promises are more likely to be made.

Finally, leadership can play an impor­tant role in assuring that declining en­rollments do not bring declining stan­dards. The chairman of State College’s history department played a key role in defining work norms and controlling deviance from them. Unfortunately, there was not much evidence of similar­ly effective leadership on the part of union or administrative officials at either college. Union leaders are understand­ ably reluctant to get involved in disputes over requirements, grading practices, and “unfair competition” for students—the issues are simply too divisive. Nor are these easy issues for administrators. They want to stop grade inflation, but they do not want to be accused of invad­ing academic freedom. They want to maintain high standards, yet they need to fill entering classes and retain present students. Some may want to confront the danger of eroding standards, but none wants to generate negative publici­ty for their institution. When manage­ment/labor relations deteriorate and be­come antagonistic as they did at Private College, it becomes infinitely more diffi­cult to provide the administrative lead­ership necessary to preserve the quality of undergraduate teaching when enroll­ments decline. Still, the issues are im­portant and pressing: developing effec­tive administrative strategies to main­tain quality while student numbers decline is imperative. Otherwise, faculty morale suffers, further complicating an already difficult situation.