Photo by Lilah Raptopoulos
For the supposedly “apathetic” college students we are, my friends certainly “like” a lot: Facebook has recently showed me that about fifteen of them in the Connecticut College network have “liked” a recent report by the Chronicle of Higher Education, published by CNNMoney.com. This report lists the United States’ “Most Expensive Colleges,” with our school coming in first place, and while I imagine that most of these friends didn’t necessarily like the report, they certainly found it worth a thumbs up.
This is one of the few things in which we are Number One. Should we be proud? College tuitions across the country have increased by over 400% since 1982, according to Money Magazine. The apparent cause of this exorbitant increase is supply and demand. More students are demanding higher education (Conn’s Office of Admission received 5,301 applications for the Class of 2014, a 71% increase from 20 years ago), and in turn have developed a mildly irrational national perception that correlates a higher tuition with a better education. By this logic, we should be the best, and most valuable, school around.
Right?
But we’re not—we’re a confused little liberal arts school. Are we the artsy college that boasts its close proximity and free admission to the Lyman Allyn? Because despite my two complete years here and my tour guide spiel about how beautiful the art is, I’ve never been, and will make an educated guess that I’m of the majority. Are we the athletic school, building a gorgeous—although debatably unnecessary—new fitness center that set us back eight million dollars in donated gifts, money that could’ve been reappropriated to SGA club funding or Smith Dining Friday hours? Are we a science powerhouse, with four current science-designated buildings and plans to build a fifth? Or are we just the College that can show off its really nice, recently renovated bathrooms?
I know that I am an inartistic Government major blessed with a metabolism that doesn’t necessitate a gym routine. I know that I don’t represent the opinions of the entire student body. But I am a student here, and my opinion still counts.
Our college is constantly cited as a tuition-based school, meaning financially dependent on student tuition (the remainder of our school’s money comes through the Annual Fund and other alumni donations), compared to similar institutions that are endowment-driven. In his State of the College address, an email he sent to me, and practically any conversation involving the financial state of the College, our president Leo Higdon continues to stress our relative economic health. “Connecticut College’s conservative financial practices have allowed us to maintain our financial strength during one of the worst recessions in American history. Many of our peer institutions that have larger endowments to draw from still charge a comparable tuition, and they have had to institute hiring freezes for faculty, lay off staff, cancel building projects and cut budgets.”
And this is true. Maybe we’re being spoiled, protected from the realities that other colleges face, focusing instead on what our college is able to accomplish—the new Harkness hangout, potential digital signage, more seating in Harris—and criticizing that. But we’re likely to complain if we don’t understand—and the question on our mind continues to be, “Where is our money going?”
First, a lot of money goes into maintaining a school, and I applaud our school’s ability to stay afloat. Things could be much worse—the New York Times recently revealed that some larger universities, such as the University of Florida, struggle with making classes available to those who need them while providing a viable way for every student to learn. In an example cited by the Times, UFlorida has begun streaming some classes online to combat the issue of having over 1,500 students—practically Conn’s entire student body—signing up for the same class. The article, entitled “Online Learning is Growing on Campus,” compares the 4.6 million students who have completed an online college course (in addition to taking “face-to-face” courses) to the (infinitely?) smaller number of students in private colleges that take online courses. “Very few attend private colleges,” quoted the article. “[F]amilies paying $53,000 a year demand low student-faculty ratios.” Our student-faculty ratio is nine-to-one, a fact not a single prospective student leaves this campus without knowing.
We can assume that our tuition does pay for these benefits, benefits that offer a broader definition of “value” in education: professors know our names, various interdisciplinary centers and CELS open their arms to us – we’re getting an intimate learning environment, close student quarters and college-sponsored playtime. But it’s hard to remember that when Harris serves primarily mussels for an entire month and I lose power in KB at least once a week. Every student has handfuls of complaints about their standard of living or learning, punctuated by our favorite old adage, “…and I pay $50,000 dollars a year for this?”
Conn costs, roughly, $53,100 dollars per year—this year. The sticker shock wears off after a few months, but it leads to bigger questions: is our costly education as valuable as we think? What is value? Is it CELS or the Centers, is it about having a casual email correspondence with your college president, or joining the SGA Dining Services Committee and telling Harris to stop serving mussels? Or is it attending a public university like UCONN, well-known and well-ranked, costing just over $21000 a year in-state? Is it that? Graduating after spending half of the money—and assumedly with half of the debt—of four years at Conn? Presented with a scenario like this, you have to wonder if our school is worth the price.
We, as students, need to develop our own answers this question. The administration—or whomever has this information—cannot sway our opinion, but they can certainly better inform it. I admit that’s a complicated one, and it’s more than just a financial issue—value encompasses far more than money. I don’t suggest we pack our bags and go to our local state school, but rather that we evaluate our perceptions of worth and value. We need information to back it up. For a school that advocates transparency in every outlet of participation, be it going to a professor’s Office Hours to understand a course, attending SGA’s Open Forum or chatting with President Higdon in Harris, it’s important that the administration practice it more often. If the College wants everyone to be as happy as we seem in our glossy brochures, the lines of communication need to be opened wider: why does our school cost so much, and where is that money going?
This doesn’t have to be hard—there are 525 emails from the Office of College Relations in my inbox, and if they sent one detailing where everything goes, it’d be the only one I might read thoroughly. If the information is readily accessible, hold your angry Letter to the Editor and ask yourself why we don’t already know how to find it. Our website’s information on tuition and fees explains little: “[The comprehensive fee] covers tuition and room and board as well as lab fees, studio fees and other course expenses.” We’re liberal arts students—we know a bit about everything, from abnormal psychology to Indian history. We should be trusted to know what happens with the money we pay to our school.
– Jazmine Hughes
News Editor
What I’ve realized at work in the last several months will, I hope, serve as some validation of the high costs (in ways other than financial, as well) of attending Conn: there are vast differences between post-grads with liberal arts backgrounds and those without.
Among my coworkers, my peers, my agemates, the other young starry-eyed nonprofit toilers who put their idealism into their daily grind, many gregarious by nature, are SO QUIET in meetings. Insanely quiet. Preternaturally quiet. They, I suspect, are sliding back into student mode- and, judgmental and generalizing a statement as this is, I suspect that their studenthood consisted largely of trying to stay awake during lectures to hundreds of other teenagers. They nod their heads, or sit staring at the people taking turns to speak. While I can comfortably have a back-and-forth with anyone from the office manager to the CFO, my peers’ opinions are sought out in these meetings, but never voiced.
Long story short: the incredible student-faculty ratios, the proximity and availability of professors, the congenial atmosphere and hard wrought blurring of academic and fun time with college staff- these factors really do make a difference. Much more than I could have predicted while I was a student.
If I could do it all again, I would choose Conn. There is no doubt in my mind. I’d fall in love all over again with the arboretum, with the thoughtful, quirky teachers, and even the with undeniable power of a good, hot, cashless meal at Harris.
I hope this will encourage those of you who may be doubting the worth-it-ness of the Conn experience. At the risk of sounding like higher ed. promotional material or a make-up advertisement, the college is absolutely worth it- and so are you.
(permission granted to print as a letter to the Eds./response.)