STUDENT CONTROL OF FACULTY SALARIES
Few consumers have as little control over what they buy as students. Initial tuition payments purchase largely requirements; even past the freshman year, the few choices permitted – such as that of major – immediately entail additional restrictions and demands. A student has no say over the selection of subject-matter in his or her courses, the requirements they impose on him or her, the criteria by which he or she is evaluated or the instructional techniques practiced on him or her. Most importantly, the student has to endure whatever quality of teacher and teaching fortune and the tenure system might visit upon him.
This
last point is particularly important.
For some might argue that students should have no control over
what they are taught and how their performance is judged. But no one would want to say that they
should be taught poorly. And some might
even think that, given the human condition, education must be forced and
perhaps painful. But no one would
seriously maintain that this is done best by boring entire generations or when
students snore in the lecture hall. Yet
many of the structures and processes of higher education promote just this
result.
If
one listened to the rhetoric instead of looking at the facts, one would of
course never suppose that this is so.
For deans and presidents maintain that they are thoroughly committed to
the improvement of teaching at their institutions. Yet students incessantly complain that favored teachers are
denied tenure while those who spend their time in the lab or in their study
reap the benefits of employment in perpetuity.
During
the student unrest of the 1960’s, several programs were conceived to improve
the quality of teaching. None had a
broad or lasting influence. More
recently, the growth of vocationalism has removed much of the pressure for
teaching reform. Students survive bad
teaching in the hope of better jobs; since there are fewer complaints, teachers
suppose that they teach well enough.
Outside agencies, even the Danforth Foundation, appear to have lost
interest in teaching improvement efforts.
The National Endowment for the Humanities has put large sums into
curriculum improvement and faculty renewal but, remarkably enough, it has
undertaken no significant initiative toward improving the quality of
teaching. Officials seem to have
overlooked that growing professional orientation among students is only a part
of the reason for the national decline in humanities enrollments. Staid approach to subject-matter and stale
teaching constitute the rest.
How
can the quality of teaching be improved?
Student evaluations help only if they are taken seriously by all the
parties involved and especially by those who allocate rewards within the
university. Workshops and faculty
training session cannot hurt. But the
only ultimately effective way is to make teachers directly responsive to
student perceptions and needs. There is
a way to accomplish this which would at once enhance student interest and
participation in the educational process.
I
propose that, within limits, students should determine faculty salaries. Of course, students already finance faculty
salaries through their tuition payments.
But this money finds its way to the faculty in a roundabout way and, in
the process, all student control over the funds is eliminated. If we allowed students the freedom to reward
good teaching directly and substantially, the operation of the marketplace
would attract better instructors, weed out poor performers and tend generally
to improve the performance of all who stayed.
Obviously,
I do not have in mind an informal system which would have students waiting
outside the lecture hall with $10 bills after a happy hour. If contributions were to be made voluntary,
everyone would have a financial interest in claiming that his education was not
worth much. My proposal is to make the allocation
of tuition a matter of choice, not its amount.
Nor do I think it would be desirable to make the entirety of the
student’s tuition available for such differential reward; tuition buys, after
all, not only instruction but facilities and facilitators (which is how we
should think of administrators), as well.
Perhaps
only a quarter, certainly no more than a half, of tuition should be devoted to
the direct reward, and hence the enhancement of teaching. Each student should be required to spend the
entire sum designated for this purpose each semester, but each would be free to
allocate it to his instructors on the basis of his judgment of how well they
taught and how much he learned from them.
To be sure that there is no undue correlation between contributions and
grades, the two activities should be carried out simultaneously and
independently of each other. Students
would learn of their grades only after they made their irrevocable allocations;
professors would never see a breakdown of who gave how much.
In
order to eliminate undue anxiety and reduce the viciousness of competition, the
university could use a part of the institutional portion of tuition to provide
a base salary for all faculty members.
The base should be no more than minimally adequate and should be
adjusted only for inflation, never for merit or length of service. Since teaching is an activity completely
consumed in the doing, no one should reap continuing benefits for what he had
done long ago. This reward for past
achievement is one of the factors that contribute to reducing current
motivation to excel.
A
system in which each faculty member must earn the bulk of his salary each year
by the quality of his teaching has obvious dangers. Some course in some fields do not attract many students, no
matter how good the instructor. Yet it
may be important to retain these courses and teacher in order to proved
instruction in an adequate and balanced set of scholarly fields. This problem is best solved in conjunction
with the opposite one of huge enrollments in introductory classes, which might
invite the entrepreneur to limit himself to those, to his huge financial gain
and scholarly loss. It would be
perfectly reasonable and in accord with our sense of fairness to tax large
introductory sections to help pay for some advanced courses and the scholarly
diversity we need. But the tax should
not be so high as to discourage the effort to attract more students and to
teach them well. And the support of
instructors in small-enrollment courses should always be proportionate to the support
they receive from those they teach.
The
financing of research may be thought to present another serious problem for
this free-market approach. There is,
indeed, little doubt that in our current system teaching finances research. Since teaching has suffered as a result of
this, I am not at all ready to concede that it should be called on to maintain
the same level of support. And yet,
since we are talking primarily of the reallocation of salaries, there is no
reason to suppose that teaching loads need to increase or that research time
would be lost. Those on full-time
research assignments could no, of course, earn a salary. But they should not be supported out of tuition
anyway. And sabbaticals would have to
be funded by each faculty member out of his earnings. But those with small classes in arcane fields could, once again,
be helped by a modest tax on high-enrollment courses.
Those
who stand for the sober purity of knowledge may object that such a system would
make teaching a popularity contest.
Humorous lectures and generally easy grading could secure huge
enrollments and corresponding salaries.
If economic considerations were introduced into the process of disseminating
knowledge, professors would begin to act in a profit-maximizing way: they would give students exactly what they
want, instead of what scholarly discipline demands. Moreover, the argument might continue, the academic world would
soon be inundated with sophists prepared, for a goodly fee, to convey a facile
account of the rudiments of any field.
These developments would spell disaster for the university as an
institution devoted to the propagation of knowledge.
This
cluster of objections is altogether without merit. There is, first of all, no danger of untrained outsiders flooding
in. My proposed change would leave the
mechanics of hiring intact. Access to
teaching posts would continue to be controlled by departments employing
criteria which include (but are not restricted to) professional
qualifications. It is simply unreasonable
to suppose that qualified professionals would lose all respect for their field
in their pursuit of financial rewards.
And even if a few of them did, the well-established procedures of
control by department and dean would quickly control excesses.
That
leaves the matter of “playing to the galleries.” Here I want to stress that a certain amount of humor and
liveliness are positively desirable in a teacher. We are not disembodied spokesmen for the truth; the high
seriousness of learning need not – in fact, probably cannot – be conveyed by a
dull solemnity in courses. Animation in
class, a continued relating of abstract knowledge to daily experience help make
interest in the subject-matter contagious; when the professor yawns in class,
what he shows is that not even he himself is infected.
Finally,
I do not think so poorly of students as to suppose that they are unable to tell
a good teacher from a buffoon. In fact,
students have little patience with professors who are to chummy or who offer
fun to take the place of facts.
Successful teachers are, typically, solid professionals, as well. Students know whom to respect and who to
laugh at; a funny show without substance may gain an audience but will garner
no rewards.
A
system of incentives along the lines I have sketched would improve the quality
of teaching almost at once. No one has
yet come forward with another workable plan to accomplish this. Nevertheless, it is unlikely that my
suggestion will be implemented. The
reason is as simple as it is distressing.
Teaching has become a comfortable occupation. My plan would make teachers discard their old notes and get to
work. Students would no longer
represent a trapped audience; they would begin to act as what they have always
been – our employers.
John
Lachs
Vanderbilt
University