Category: Flourishing

Pursuing a Ph.D. is a demanding, tiring, and long mission, but one that many who undertake it welcome. In most cases, Ph.D. students are passionate about their line of work and willingly make sacrifices to achieve that level of scholarship. Finding time to work outside their research programs can be difficult, if not impossible, so doctoral students often count on stipends and a combination of funding programs to help make the journey possible.

Jesus Alexander Lopez, a current Ph.D. student researching impulsivity behavior, knows this well. Until this year, Lopez was thankful for a combination of programs from his university that allowed him to focus fully on his project and studies. But in September, the funding Lopez counted on was slashed by the U.S. Department of Education. 

The department announced it was canceling $350 million in federal grants it provided to minority-serving institutions (M.S.I.s), including Hispanic-serving institutions (H.S.I.s), claiming the funding was unconstitutional. The D.O.E. created the H.S.I. program in 1992 as a part of its grants programs to M.S.I.s, which also include historically Black colleges and universities (H.B.C.U.s) and Tribal colleges and universities (T.C.U.s). About 70 percent of M.S.I.s qualify as an H.S.I. Criteria dictate that 25 percent of the full-time student body identify as Latino, and 50 percent or more of the school’s students must receive federal need-based aid. Additionally, the core expenses per full-time employee must be lower than the average institutional group. 

Advocates for H.S.I.’s often center their argument around a different point: the contributions that H.S.I. graduates make to the economy. H.S.I.s enroll over 5.6 million students nationwide, including two-thirds of all Latino undergraduates in the country.  Anne Marie Nunez is the executive director of the Diana Natalicio Institute for Hispanic Student Success at the University of Texas at El Paso. “H.S.I. students are a workforce lynchpin and contribute to global economic leaderships,” she said. “Students who attend them operate at only 68 cents of a dollar, compared to non-H.S.I. schools, so they are more efficient. Seventy-seven percent of H.S.I. graduates recoup the tuition cost within five years, and their education is likely to provide them with three times the economic mobility than other students.”

Additionally, Nunez says H.S.I.s do not specifically serve Hispanic students or give them preference, nor do they limit students from other demographic groups. According to the Hispanic Association of Colleges and Universities, the cut funding is a loss for every student at these schools, not just Hispanic-identifying students. H.S.I. funding is race-conscious but not race-exclusive. The funding can be used toward new buildings, resources, and services, for instance, that help every student on campus. A 2022 report from the U.S. Government Accountability Office broke down the need for such funding. It found that many of these schools had maintenance backlogs, the need for modernization, and technology gaps that peer universities did not. In total, about 602 public and private institutions meet the qualifications for H.S.I. designation. 

About five percent of H.S.I.s are considered R1 institutions, a designation for colleges and universities that produce the most academic research and confer the most doctoral degrees — a selective set of schools. Nunez sees an enterprising student body at H.S.I.s, one that has sparked innovation and delivered a strong return on investment for the nation. “These cuts harm students who otherwise wouldn’t have access to higher education,” she said. 

The Fallout

Graduate students also benefit from H.S.I. grants. Lopez, who attends one of the nation’s top H.S.I.s, said that when the D.O.E. “reprogrammed” the money that had been helping him get through school, his experience changed dramatically.  

“In my first year, I joined my university’s research initiative for scientific advancements,” Lopez explained. “This allowed me to pay for tuition, receive a stipend, and receive a research assistant position. It was nice not to have to work outside the university and simply focus on my research.”

As Lopez advanced in his studies and began working collaboratively with a second university, his expenses began to rise. He applied for a second funding program, which allowed him to attend workshops on research ethics and personal development, as well as join a cohort group of under-represented students. “Life was getting more expensive, but I was able to spend a lot of time in the lab, attend conferences, and mentor undergrads,” Lopez said. “Many of them benefited from H.S.I. funding, as well.” 

When the federal government pulled H.S.I. grants, both the programs that were helping him afford his Ph.D. journey lost their funding. Everything changed for Lopez and his students. “Many of my students had to take out student loans or quit school altogether,” he said. “They already come from poor socioeconomic backgrounds, and when they must work full-time jobs, it becomes a stressor. You must have an immense amount of drive to manage all that.” 

For his part, Lopez also had to pivot. While he’s continuing his research, he’s now also fighting for competitive teaching assistant positions to support himself. In addition, Lopez has been picking up late-night bartending shifts to keep afloat. “When people ask me what I miss in life while working toward a Ph.D., I always say sleep,” he said. “Because it’s a hard road. But now I’m sometimes getting home from work in the middle of the night, then getting up to go to school tired. It’s a stressor I didn’t count on.” 

Manuel Del Real, the executive director of the H.S.I. Initiatives and Inclusion Program at Metropolitan State University of Denver, is also facing the reality that his school must figure out new revenue streams for its students. “We had an expectation that it might come to this, so we started preparing for that outcome,” he said. 

Since achieving H.S.I designation in 2019, M.S.U. Denver has received nearly $20 million in grants and funding from the federal government. With a 37 percent Hispanic-identifying population and 60 percent first-generation student body, the cuts to H.S.I. grants are impactful. 

“We have used the funding in a variety of ways,” Del Real said, “including scholars’ programs in science, nutrition, cybersecurity, and more.” 

The money has also allowed M.S.U. Denver students to pursue research in a variety of academic areas, including STEM, and helped faculty and staff with certificate programs to enhance their teaching. Additionally, M.S.U. Denver created a consortium of current and emerging H.S.I.s to provide collaboration between the schools to build organizational capacity to serve the state’s Latino students. M.S.U. Denver’s efforts earned it several awards, including the Seal of Excelencia and a Fulbright H.S.I. Leader designation from the State Department. 

Now, however, Del Real is doing his best to find new sources of funding for the school. “We’re working closely with our staff and faculty to support them with grant writing,” he said. “It’s about reimagining and pivoting.”

M.S.U. Denver is also conferring with its H.S.I. consortium to support collaborative efforts, look for more state grants, and tap into foundations that are willing to fill in funding gaps. Del Real said the school is mining data to support any applications for new funding. “That works well for us, allowing us to tell our story,“ he said. “We are sticking to our mission of serving our students, and we continue to communicate that to them.”

The Lawsuits

No one can say for sure the motivation behind the D.O.E.’s funding cuts, but it likely began with a federal lawsuit filed last summer by the state of Tennessee and the Students for Fair Admissions (S.F.F.A.) group — the same group that successfully sued Harvard over race-conscious admissions, taking the case to the Supreme Court in 2023, where it won. In the current suit, the S.F.F.A. asserts that all colleges serve Hispanic students and that eligibility requirements for H.S.I. grants are discriminatory to all students. Tennessee is one of several states that have no designated H.S.I.s, although all schools in the state serve some population of Hispanic students. The groups are asking that the court strike down the program’s ethnicity-based requirements.

Indeed, the H.S.I.’s are up against some formidable opponents with a very different point of view. Dan Morenoff is the executive director of the American Civil Rights Project, a nonprofit law firm that is representing the eastern district of Tennesee in the lawsuit. “This is an effort to ensure Americans aren’t treated differently because of their race,” he said. “The litigation asks the court to declare unconstitutional the discriminatory qualifications for the funds and open the doors for other schools to compete.”

In the meantime, Senator Jim Banks, Republican of Indianna, has introduced a bill that would allocate the former H.S.I. funds to any lower-income student. Morenoff supports this approach. “The federal government has many grant opportunities,” he said. “Why are some schools where students aren’t well off barred from competing for these streams of money?”

H.S.I. advocates push back on that argument, using data to support their case. While H.S.I.s represent 15 percent of all nonprofit colleges and universities, they enroll most Hispanic college students. Some H.S.I.s meet the minimum designation of 25 percent Hispanic students, others range from 60 to 100 percent. These same schools also serve larger proportions of Black and Native students than H.B.C.U.s and T.C.U.s combined. Research shows that there are an additional 300-plus institutions that rank as “emerging H.S.I.s,” indicated by growing Hispanic populations in several states. As Nunez and others point out, supporting this sector of education is critical to the nation’s educational and workforce goals. 

H.S.I.s are not eligible for Title III and Title V funding through the D.O.E. or other federal agencies, so that is not an optional avenue. Data supports the fact that H.S.I.s can use the extra support. A 2023 analysis demonstrated that Hispanic students graduate at lower rates than their white peers. 

In response to the lawsuit, LatinoJustice PRLDEF and the Hispanic Association of Colleges and Universities have filed a motion to intervene. If the court grants the intervention, the groups intend to argue that the H.S.I. program is lawful, essential, and equitable.

Moving Forward

While much has changed for the schools, students, and faculty at H.S.I.s, they recognize that for now, they must operate without the funding. In some cases, this has resulted in cutting support programs for first-generation students or “future scholars” programming that introduces students to career paths they might not otherwise learn about. 

 Some states with a high number of H.S.I.s are investigating ways to provide funding where the federal grants left a hole. California’s legislature, for instance, which is home to 167 H.S.I.s — the largest concentration of any state — has introduced a bill that would create a carve-out to state law that would allow community colleges to backfill funding. 

For Lopez, the cuts mean he’s had to fight to remain in his Ph.D. track, even when his school encouraged him to “master out” instead because the master’s program had more funding available. His work environment also looks different today. “I’ve had to use my own money to buy supplies for the lab,” he said. “I’m tired and stressed and so are my students. It slows down our motivation and our research as a consequence.” 

Despite all that, Lopez remains committed to his research and considers himself lucky to have been so far along with it when the funding cut hit. “I’m trying to frame things optimistically,” he said. “They can cut funding based on culture, language, gender, but it only makes the community stronger.”

Like Del Real, Lopez said the H.S.I. community will continue to seek funding from other sources, especially for younger undergraduate students and those who will follow them. “I see how many students are ambitious and still want to get into higher ed, and it’s my responsibility to continue to believe in them,” he said. “As long as the demand is there, I believe the universities will continue to find ways to help these students, as they’re our future.” 

Del Real is encouraged by the support M.S.U. Denver continues to give its student body considering the funding cuts. “We continue to communicate with our students, faculty, and staff that we are here, and we’ve seen this before,” he said. “We’re very proactive and intentional in our support.”

While the future is murky when it comes to any potential restoration of H.S.I. grants, the impacted institutions will continue to creatively find ways to replace lost dollars and keep their students in the fold. “In science, we love a challenge, and language is one of our strong points,” Lopez said. “We will get creative and find new ways to phrase our funding requests.”

When Jaydn Decuir was looking at colleges, her father asked her an instructive question: “What is it you need to solve the problems you wish to solve?” She thought about her own community and how she hoped she could someday lessen the burden of gentrification on those who were displaced. She decided she would become a civil engineer. Her first choice was Howard University. 

Students like Jaydn Decuir are the heart and soul of Howard. They are high-performing, civically engaged, and mindful of their positions as future Black professionals in careers where they’ve been historically underrepresented. The prestigious Research 1 university, which is also an H.B.C.U. (historically Black college and university), has graduated more African American Ph.D. recipients than any other university in the United States. Many of them serve in leadership positions focused on social justice. 

Howard University is now engaged in a campus-wide character education initiative that takes all of this into account, as it considers how to codify, promote, and integrate character work throughout the university. In 2025, the university received a substantial Institutional Impact Grant from the Educating Character Initiative (E.C.I.) at Wake Forest University. Funded by the Lilly Endowment, the program seeds and studies character education programs at colleges and universities of diverse profiles across the United States. 

“What we do here is create leaders, and you cannot have those conversations or that training without talking about character,” said Dr. Dawn Williams, the interim provost and chief academic officer at Howard. “What this initiative allows us to do is name it, and study it, and that leads to capacity building and replication.” 

The grant will help organize the formal and informal character education efforts already underway at Howard into a center. Research will inform an H.B.C.U.-based framework for character education that can be infused into the curriculum and shared with schools throughout the country. Perhaps most importantly, the work will help answer questions such as: What is different about character education at an H.B.C.U. with a rich legacy of social change? And what does character education look like for institutions that have both held it dear and been excluded from its record? 

What does character education look like for institutions that have both held it dear and been excluded from its record? 

“When you think about character, different things come to mind that may have been informed by books, experiences, or individuals,” said Dr. Jorge Burmicky, the principal investigator on the grant and faculty member at the Department of Educational Leadership and Policy Studies at Howard. “Now we get to add to that word — its meaning and traditions — from the perspective of our work here at Howard.” 

Studying the Scholars

As a higher education scholar focused on racial equity, social justice, and leadership, Burmicky said the opportunity to lead the exploration of character at the nation’s premier H.B.C.U. was “by far my wildest dream.” Through a previous capacity building grant from the E.C.I., Burmicky had participated in the Common Good Character Trust project, where he met with other scholars and thought leaders to reimagine character education through a contextually relevant lens.  

Burmicky said the first part of the project, which is housed within the provost’s office, aims to study and potentially transfer exemplars of character education that exist within the university. In seeking a baseline, he immediately consulted Ron Smith, the executive director of the Karsh STEM Scholars and the Humanities and Social Sciences Scholars programs at the university. Smith had been running these highly selective learning communities since 2016. 

The Karsh program is modeled after the Meyerhoff Scholars program at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County, with the expressed intention of addressing the underrepresentation of African Americans in STEM professions. Its unique capacity to nurture leaders of good character made it the ideal subject by which to assess and organize character education at Howard.  

“Our programs are anchored by a set of values that can easily be discussed as building character within students,” Smith said. “We have expectations for our students on how to build community and to connect ourselves to what has always been central at Howard: our motto — Truth and Service — which runs deep through our veins.” 

The signature component of these initiatives is the Summer Bridge Program (S.B.P.), a six-week curricular and co-curricular living-learning community for emerging leaders that is capped by a two-week study abroad component. While sharpening skills within their disciplines, the S.B.P. challenges student to think more critically about virtues such as justice, courage, empathy, self-awareness, and humility. It upholds eleven core values, including “be honest and earn the trust of others” and “be open to new ideas and different perspectives.” 

As a Karsh Scholar, Jaydn Decuir became part of that community. She met her roommate and best friend on the first day of the S.B.P. and said her experience that summer will stay with her the rest of her life. 

“I imagined the Summer Bridge Program to be technically-heavy, but it was so much more than that,” Decuir said. “We had so many discussions about what was happening around us, around the world, and what our viewpoints were on different issues. I am forever grateful for it.” 

This holistic preparation is meant to equip students with skills beyond their disciplines, as they navigate graduate schools and professions that have unique challenges for students of color. In this way, the S.B.P. reflects what Burmicky outlined as some of the larger goals of the character initiative. “Our approach focuses on how students develop character by seeking truth, engaging diverse perspectives, and making ethical decisions, all while navigating their racial and ethnic identities,” he said. 

Other reasons the S.B.P. became the organizing element for character work at Howard include the fact that it enjoys broad support throughout the university, with partnerships across departments; and it provides a robust laboratory for assessment. 

“Since Karsh and the Summer Bridge Program have already been doing this work, the research allows us to learn from these experiences and transfer that learning to other areas of campus,” said Tatianna Duperier, a doctoral student at Howard who was hired through a partnership with the ASCEND (Alliance for Scholarship, Collaboration, Engagement, Networking and Development) initiative at Yale University to assist in the research. 

This summer, Duperier will begin a series of student surveys and qualitative interviews that will be used to make improvements to the program while ideally serving as proof of concept for expanded character education throughout the university. Both Interim Provost Williams, and Burmicky believe the empirical evidence they will gather will inspire others on campus, particularly faculty. 

“With this data, we can say to others within the university: ‘Look at what we’ve done at Karsh and the Summer Bridge Program,’” Burmicky said. “‘What are you doing that is similar in the engineering department, in the professional schools? How is our medical school preparing physicians for their careers though this lens?’”

Unpacking a Complex History 

It was Martin Luther King Jr. who famously dreamed of a day when people would be judged not “by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” Indeed, the history of character — and character education — within the Black community is pervasive but also complicated by slavery and structures and policies that were not designed with communities of color in mind. 

It was Martin Luther King Jr. who famously dreamed of a day when people would be judged not “by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

As part of the Howard initiative, Burmicky and his team are developing an H.B.C.U.-based theoretical model for character education and studying existing models and strategies for character education in higher education. In this work, they are looking at key considerations of character education through an H.B.C.U. lens, including the legacy of character within Black education and the paucity of Black-centric character education within the literature. 

As Burmicky points out in the E.C.I. proposal, Black scholars refer to character education as the “raison d’etre” of H.B.C.U.s (Shaw, 2006), but little has been studied or written about it. While many higher education institutions in the United States have implemented character education, much of the documented empirical evidence has taken place at predominantly white institutions or from white or ethnocentric lenses. “The absence of Black students and culturally and racially responsive methods and epistemologies in these processes has been documented in the literature” (Burmicky et al., 2025, p. 5).

Carol Moye serves as the E.C.I. grant’s director of assessment and program learning. She believes the exclusion of Black voices has had major implications for character in Black education and for the field of character education. 

“One of the things we have to look at is the perception of character education — but from whose culture and whose viewpoint,” she said. “We have always had character in the Black community, but it did not present in the way people wanted us to be perceived. There was this sense that we would impose character on these people with the assumption they did not already have it. We need to turn this narrative around for our students and urge them to find the character they have and utilize it in the work that they do.” 

The character imposition notion contrasts starkly with the undeniably rich commitment H.B.C.U.s have to social justice and public service. Most definitions of character education include a beyond-the-self element and a desire to serve one’s community. At Howard, as in other H.B.C.U.s, this concept is foundational. 

“Leadership for us has largely been about communal responsibility,” said Williams, who believes the most visible evidence of Howard’s commitment to service is the students themselves. “We don’t have to talk our students into being change-makers. That’s who we attract.” 

Building a Unique Contribution 

Given these strong traditions, the question may not be so much how to expand character education to include H.B.C.U.s as what the legacy of character work within H.B.C.U.s can add to the field of character education.

This is something that Michael Lamb, the senior executive director of the Program for Leadership and Character at Wake Forest University, will no doubt consider as they work to understand how character education is contextualized in diverse educational settings. 

“As we like to say, character is for all but not one-size-fits-all,” Lamb said. “Different institutions have different ways of understanding and educating character. At the E.C.I., we’re especially committed to helping institutions develop programs that fit their own institutional context and culture and to learning from them in the process.H.B.C.U.s have been educating character for generations, so they have much to teach us about how character can be developed in different contexts.” 

The final deliverables for Howard’s three-year grant include: the launch of the H.B.C.U. Character and Leadership Education Initiative at The Center for H.B.C.U. Research, Leadership, and Policy at Howard; and the development of a H.B.C.U.-based framework for character education that will be launched at a national convening, in conjunction with ASCEND, in 2028 at Yale University. The team hopes that, by then, the organizing effort they conducted at Howard, and the learning they will have shared, will benefit the university, the H.B.C.U. community, and all those who work to support character and social justice — what Howard calls Truth and Service. 

You can reach LearningWell Editor Marjorie Malpiede at mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org with comments, ideas, or tips.

Ethan Barden spent most of his life striving to be a person of good character without thinking about it in those exact terms. He grew up the youngest of four children, with a mother who often reminded him he didn’t need to be older to lead by example. He’s also an army brat, whose frequent moves across the country and overseas acquainted him with the world as well as service and sacrifice. After high school, he imagined participating in the Reserve Officers Training Corps program in college and, one day, becoming a physician in the army.

At the University of Dubuque in Dubuque, Iowa, good character became something Barden could pursue with new intention. Not only did he join the R.O.T.C. program but he got involved at the Presbyterian university’s Wendt Center for Character and Leadership, which offers students a formal opportunity to reflect on and develop their character. While the Wendt Center launched more than 20 years ago, Barden, now a junior, arrived at a time when the program was turning a page. With a change in leadership has come added avenues for young people, like Barden, to begin realizing who they want to be long after they graduate. 

More colleges and universities have recently begun launching character education initiatives, but far fewer are dedicating entire centers to the work. That U.D. carved out this focus decades ago means it now occupies a well-known space not only on the physical grounds but in the spirit of the school. The Wendt Center’s location on campus right next to the president’s office indeed reflects its support from the highest levels of the university. From the top down, U.D. is cultivating a culture of holistic education with character at its core.

Multiple members of the faculty and staff said they chose to work at U.D. because of a distinct sense that the school invests in its students and employees as people, not just academics. That’s what drew in Liza Johnson, who is now in her second year as the director of the Wendt Center. “What makes us so unique is that it’s not just a mission,” she said of U.D.’s emphasis on whole-person education. “We actually live that out.” 15 years ago, Johnson arrived to work in career services before taking on a role of her own design as the director for personal empowerment. She created this position and program after participating in a professional development workshop that focused on emotional intelligence, living purposefully, and modeling those capacities for students. Over the next decade, she crafted similar opportunities for U.D. faculty and staff as well as a course for students, which can now fulfill a general education requirement. 

For Johnson, taking the reins at the Wendt Center has been an opportunity to pull from her expertise in personal empowerment to deepen the impact of character education. She’s pinpointed four primary “pursuits,” or outcomes, that emphasize both individual and communal growth to serve as the Wendt Center’s new pillars. They are: seeking knowledge and insight, supporting wellbeing, strengthening community, and serving others. “Those four things have to be part of the culture — have to be part of what we are doing as a community to be able to cultivate good character,” she said.

Essentially, the plan is to imbue character work into every element of the college experience.

Johnson is also taking a fresh approach to implementation. She doesn’t just want students to know in their heads that it’s important to exhibit good character. She wants to empower them to feel it in their hearts — for the lessons to take root in ways of thinking and belief systems that last far beyond graduation. She’s betting this kind of resonance will only be possible through programming that is particularly relational and experiential. “We’re not just having them sit and listen,” she said. “We’re actually creating experiences for them so that they can really feel and live what we’re trying to inspire them to do.”

Essentially, the plan is to imbue character work into every element of the college experience. On the academic side, Johnson and her team have ramped up work with faculty to assess and support infusing character into coursework. One example is the inclusion of character-focused curriculum in the World View Seminar series, which is also a general education requirement. Meanwhile, professors like Rafic Sinno, who heads U.D.’s business and accounting department, have led efforts to bring character topics relevant to their field — emotional intelligence or ethical behavior — into their classes. “That’s been an intentional development across the whole curriculum,” Sinno said, “where we really emphasize some of those soft skills that make all the difference in the business world.”

Outside the classroom, the long-standing Character Scholar program selects 11 to 12 students from each class and engages them in in-depth character development work, including weekly activities, mentorship, and service work. These scholars also receive an annual stipend of $3,500. For all other interested students, Johnson will be launching a co-curricular program called Pathways to Purpose. Additional offerings include faculty and staff-focused character discussions, programming, and training; cross-campus awards for upstanding character; and lectures on character for the U.D. campus and wider Dubuque community. 

“It’s all sorts of different little activities,” Barden said of his work in the Character Scholar program. “But at the end of the day, it’s always about inward reflection and how we can change our mindset, perception, or our actions in hopes to grow our character and evolve, I guess, as humans.” In their weekly Monday meetings, the scholars might practice mindfulness, discuss a book they read, or hear from guest speakers. Barden’s been especially focused on embodying compassion and leadership, as those are the capacities he sees himself needing not only now — as a student, friend, and, most recently, husband — but in his future career in the military. He doesn’t take that responsibility lightly. 

Another major part of the scholar program — and Johnson’s relational approach — is mentorship. Nathan Hough, an associate professor of psychology, serves as a mentor for close to a dozen scholars, including Barden. Once a month, he hosts his students in his home for dinner, as do the other mentors. The personal setting, he’s found, is more conducive to deeper conversations among the scholars about their lives and struggles. “I think it’s vital when you’re looking at character development that you have someone who can mentor you and help you process and talk about it. ‘These are the parts of me that I need to work on and to improve on so that my character is where I want it to be.’” 

Indeed, character work isn’t easy, and students and faculty alike may need some handholding to get their footing. In certain academic departments, the connection to character education can be less clear. That doesn’t mean it’s not there. “If you look at someone in a math class, they still have to look at things like tenacity and work ethic and honesty and openness,” Hough said. He is a member of the Wendt Center’s advisory board designed to steer the way forward and galvanize support from all corners of campus. 

For Barden, who has been learning about character for more than a year now, the process has never been easy, but it has been worth it. “I think character is probably the hardest thing to teach — definitely one of the hardest — because it’s a lot of judgment and individuality that comes into character,” he said. “But to me, it’s a journey of self-discovery.”

You can reach LearningWell Reporter Mollie Ames at mames@learningwellmag.org with comments, ideas, or tips.

In their book, “The Real World of College,” Harvard Graduate School of Education researchers Wendy Fischman and Howard Gardner discovered something concerning about how today’s students view the world. After interviews with over a thousand students at 10 diverse campuses, they found that students had said the word “I” eleven times as frequently as they said “we.”  The researchers took that to mean that students had a preoccupation with themselves and less of an interest in, well, “us.”  

“As a result of that research, we became very concerned that students were so focused on themselves — their grades, their resumes, their getting that first job — they had little interest or time to think about any campus problems, local challenges, or world-wide issues,” Fischman said.  

While there are many in higher education, indeed in the country, who share that concern, Fischman and Gardner are exploring how college experiences might address it. Their new research initiative is aimed at understanding what it takes to broaden students’ perspective so they might consider how their actions influence those “beyond the self” — from the student down the hall to the wider world.  

All of this work is part of Project Zero, a research center at Harvard dedicated to understanding and nurturing human potentials, such as learning, thinking, ethics, intelligence, and creativity. Characterized as a study of “character education,” this latest research involves rigorous interviews with students and alumni from schools that make character a priority, particularly through efforts that encourage caring for others. These may span strong missions and first-year seminars to service-learning capstones and reflective courses. Fischman and Gardner’s goal is to understand if any are having an impact — both for students over the course of college and for alums beyond college — in moving the needle from “I” to “we.” 

Fischman believes the research fills both a need and a void. “There are a lot of resources and efforts ostensibly focused on character education, but we don’t know what actually works, what endures over time,” she said. “What we are trying to do is to understand what students and alums take away from these messages, initiatives, and missions, so we can begin to understand which are most effective. More importantly, with empirical data, we may be able to show that higher education makes a difference in how individuals think about, act toward, and possibly make a difference in the lives of others.”

Evaluating how well colleges produce good citizens might seems like an “off-trend” effort in a world seemingly obsessed with financial and employment metrics. But given that this easier-to-get hard data has dominated the debate over the value of a college degree, the researchers believe that providing strong evidence of higher education’s more enduring outcomes, including awareness of and empathy for others, is more important than ever.  Without this pursuit, Gardner asks, “What is the point?” 

“If universities and colleges simply have as their goal helping students to get jobs, they will either become vocational institutions or will cede their whole raison d’etre to the private sector, which can train more quickly and less expensively,” Gardner said. “Institutions of higher education should have a broader goal. And especially in the U.S. at the present time, helping others in the community and in the broader society as well as helping oneself would seem highly desirable on all counts.”

Beyond the Self

The Harvard team’s “I” to “we” work is closely aligned with another related finding reported in “The Real World of College.” In their analysis, Fischman and Gardner discerned mental models among students that included a transactional view of college (do what is required to get the degree) and a transformational view of college (question and reflect about one’s own values and beliefs with the possibility and aspiration of being changed, hopefully in constructive ways.)

The researchers identified a measure called HEDCAP (Higher Education Capital), defined as intellectual capacities that students gain as a result of going to college — skills they use to analyze, reflect, connect, and communicate about issues, ideas, and perspectives. For many like Fischman and Gardner, HEDCAP is the ultimate metric on which to gauge the value of a college degree, but currently, it is very difficult to demonstrate. 

“With empirical data, we may be able to show that higher education makes a difference in how individuals think about, act toward, and possibly make a difference in the lives of others.”

Shortly after the release of “The Real World of College,” Fischman, Gardner, and their team embarked on a project called “Beyond the Self,” aimed at understanding how a more transformational college experience, involving engagement with community, might move the “I” to “we” student needle. With 150 students on three different college campuses, they piloted the program aimed at “nudging” students to become more sensitive to campus problems and ethical dilemmas, recognizing that their responses, behaviors, and actions meant something. 

The students were asked to keep portfolios of different dilemmas and problems they had heard about, learned about, read about, or observed and to document their thinking about them through writing, illustrations, or news clippings about them. The researchers talked with the students four times a year about their reflections and were pleased with the results they gathered after the first year.

“We were able to demonstrate that this approach made a difference. We were able to move students from just thinking about themselves to also thinking about others,” Fischman said. 

With evidence of their intervention, Fischman, Gardner, and their team were poised to implement the program at other schools, but a number of factors led them to change course. There were already a myriad of character-based programs and messages in schools throughout the country. Adding another, albeit a promising  one, seemed redundant. Instead, the team focused on what was missing: a larger assessment effort that could show the efficacy, or lack thereof, of these efforts.  

“When we began to ask people how they knew their programs and missions were working, we’d be met with blank stares,” Fischman said. “To our knowledge no one was evaluating or assessing the longer-term impact of efforts that focused on helping student think beyond themselves.” 

With continuous support from the Kern Family Foundation, the team’s new research initiative aims to examine character programs that have a specific outward perspective, not just those that develop individual dispositions such as humility, intellectual curiosity, or honesty, though there is a fair amount of overlap. The researchers are now working with about 30 schools — some with a religious orientation, some with strong public service programs, most with a well-defined mission about doing good in the world.  

The launch-pad question is always the same: For those institutions that make character and ethics a priority, what is the value-add? This exploration leads into three follow-up questions: “Does an institution’s mission, programs, and/or courses on character, ethics, and leadership deepen students’ and alums’ understanding of their role as workers and citizens? Do these initiatives shape students’ perspectives and development over the course of college — and, if so, how? Can we find evidence that these efforts have a lasting impact on students’ and alums’ professional and civic lives?” 

This is not the kind of information one can get from surveys, and it’s certainly more difficult to obtain than economic data like first-year earnings. To meet this challenge, Fischman, Gardner, and their team employ a qualitative method that brings deep, iterative reflection to the analysis, something that has become their signature contribution to the field.   

“We meet with students for 45 minutes to an hour in in-depth, semi-structured qualitative interviews,” said Sophie Blumert, one of the lead researchers on the project. “We never tell students what we are looking for. We ask them a wide range of open-ended questions, so it feels like having a good conversation with another person but someone who isn’t connected to your school. So students feel more free to open up.”  

Fischman said the approach involves listening carefully to what students say and what they don’t say. “When we ask people about their college experience, what they are getting out of it, and what they want from it, if they don’t mention these efforts, those are data.” 

The third-party nature of research means that they are able to go beyond just “self-reporting” to make sense of what the students are telling them. For example, they ask questions about the news as an unobtrusive way to understand students’ and alums’ interest in others beyond themselves. The prompt might be: “Do you stay informed about current issues in the news?” And then: “If so, how? If not, why not?”

The team also asks about mission with open-ended questions such as: “From your perspective, do you think that your school has any particular goals for its students? How do you think your school makes these goals known?”  

Understanding how well students comprehend their school’s mission is a reflection of an existing theory on the negative effects of what Fischman and Gardner coined “mission mishmash.” 

“Schools have so many priorities and so many aspirations for students that mission becomes all over the map,” she said. “And in the wake of that, students are forced to make assumptions about what is most important themselves. When all they hear about is jobs and resume building, then that’s what they focus on.” 

The inclusion of alumni in this work is particularly important. Interviewing graduates who are one year out, five years out, and ten years out about how their experiences in college influenced who they are as people can show whether these programs have any effect on the older adults who once participated in them as students.  

If Fischman knows the answer, she won’t yet reveal it, as the team is in the midst of taking on new schools, continuing to collect information, and analyze the data. She did, however, mention that in analyzing HEDCAP relative to mental models, she’s seen that students with transactional views of their college experience are more likely to have a lower score of HEDCAP, whereas students with a transformational mental model are more likely to have higher HEDCAP.  

Fischman said findings like this give her hope, and perseverance. 

“We can develop higher education capital. We can move students from a transactional mindset to a transformational one. We can get students to go beyond themselves, but we need to show that higher education can do this with empirical data, and, currently, that doesn’t exist.” 

You can reach LearningWell Editor Marjorie Malpiede at mmalpiede@learningwellmag.org with comments, ideas, or tips.

Khaleigh Reed stood onstage recently at the University of Colorado Boulder introducing an author she admired: Ibram X. Kendi, the writer of “How to Be an Antiracist.” The event was the keynote of the university’s five-day Martin Luther King Jr. celebration, and the role was an honor for the senior, president of the Black Women’s Alliance. 

It was a moment she could not have imagined just a few years earlier, beginning community college in her hometown of Colorado Springs. At the time, applying to a four-year university felt out of reach with the limited scholarships available to her. But after a few years of deliberate academic and financial planning, Reed found herself not just introducing Kendi onstage but nearing completion of a bachelor’s degree and considering jobs and graduate programs beyond.

“The transition from community college to Boulder wasn’t always easy, but this is the way it worked for me,” said Reed, a senior. “Now I’m in a great place. I’m a very different person than I was then, and I saved a lot of money.”

Reed’s journey from a local community college to a bachelor’s degree represents one of many ways to achieve career credentials. The latest figures for higher education show a small uptick in enrollment and underscore the significance of community college — as well as students’ growing awareness of their diverse options. Overall enrollment figures from fall 2025 show a 1 percent increase, according to the National Student Clearinghouse Research Center. Within that number are micro stories: The community college sector experienced a 3 percent increase, the lion’s share of growth, while public four-year colleges went up 1.4 percent. Private for-profit and nonprofit four-year colleges saw a decline of 2 percent and 1.6 percent, respectively.

The figures reflect more than the current crisis of affordability, said Martha Parham, senior vice president of public relations at the American Association of Community Colleges, though there’s that. They affirm the tactical, versatile ways community college helps students achieve their career goals — whether that involves gaining transfer credits affordably, training to join a manufacturing workforce, or testing one’s chops in the arts.

“The strategic use of community college is just a smart way when we think about the student loan crisis and excessive debt,” she said. “Community colleges are responsive to the needs of their local communities, they’re accredited, they’re affordable, and they’re accessible.” 

What appears to be fueling growing interest now is their role in the conversation about return on investment and students’ strategic appreciation of the ways they can customize offerings for their own goals.

There is a well-documented history of prominent Americans who’ve attended community colleges. Jackie Robinson attended Pasadena Junior College before transferring to the University of California, Los Angeles, where he became the first athlete to letter in four sports. Steve Jobs took classes at De Anza College after leaving Reed College. Arnold Schwarzenegger studied business at Santa Monica College after immigrating to the United States, his accessible entry point into American entrepreneurship. Designer Eileen Fisher, chef Guy Fieri, and performers Queen Latifah, Halle Berry, and Tom Hanks all credit community college with giving them their starts.

About 40 to 45 percent of all undergraduate students in the United States are enrolled in community college, a figure that swelled to its current levels dramatically in the late 20th century and has been fairly constant since. What appears to be fueling growing interest now is their role in the conversation about return on investment and students’ strategic appreciation of the ways they can customize offerings for their own goals: for dual enrollment (high school students taking courses), associate’s degree and certification programs, and affordable credit attainment en route to a bachelor’s degree. 

High Schoolers in Higher Ed

Of the added 3 percent of students who enrolled in community colleges in fall 2025, almost one third of them were 17 or younger, according to the National Student Clearinghouse Research Center — meaning, they were still in high school. This “dual enrollment” status enables students to earn transferable college credits before they graduate. What was once a niche option for advanced students has become a more mainstream pathway, a way to reduce college costs and accelerate time to degree. And in some communities where high schools are under-resourced, community college can be the only way students can take the courses they need to pursue more challenging or specialized paths.

When Emily Harmon attended high school in a rural corner of northeast New York, her small school didn’t offer many science options. A single K-12 building served about 330 students, didn’t offer any Advanced Placement or honors classes, and had limited electives. She wanted to pursue engineering and, throughout her junior and senior years, took classes at two community colleges. After graduation, she attended Cornell with a full scholarship. 

In this way, dual enrollment blurs the boundary between secondary and postsecondary education, reframing college credits as something students can work toward directly while in high school — for a cost, Harmon noted, not much more than the price would have been to take the A.P. exam toward college credit.

“In the world of underfunded rural public education, it was decent setup,” she recalled. “I think it’s always a good thing to show that you took the most advanced classes possible in your situation, and in my case, that’s how I could do it. And if I went to a New York state college or a less stringent private university, I could’ve placed out of a lot with those credits.” Cornell did not accept the credits for her science classes taken in high school. But Harmon notes that one of her classmates who took the same science classes was able to enter the State University of New York at Albany with the credits of a mid-year sophomore. 

Certifications and the Pipeline to E.M.T.s, Apple, and BMW

Two-year degrees and short-term certificate programs — many designed to be completed in months — draw students to community college seeking fast, practical routes into the workforce. These programs are often built in close partnership with regional employers and tailored to labor needs.

This workforce focus is not incidental; it is foundational. Many of the fastest-growing jobs in the U.S. economy now require education beyond high school, but not necessarily a four-year degree. Community colleges occupy that middle ground, translating employer demand into credentials that are short, targeted, and relatively affordable. They train the majority of the nation’s nurses and first responders, as well as workers in fields like advanced manufacturing, cybersecurity, and logistics — roles that keep regional economies running but rarely feature in the public’s image of higher education.

To get a sense of what’s available, prospective students need only call their local community college, which in many cases, has programs aligned with other communities and states, as well.

“There are thousands of different programs across the country that speak to a local workforce with global computing skills, like an Arizona school with an environment to train cyber security experts mimicking real hacking scenarios,” said Parham of the A.A.C.C. “But we also have very local programs that service the local workforce with curricula that align directly with available regional jobs. South Carolina has a program for certified BMW mechanics. Tesla does in its backyard. I’ve seen slot machine repair technicians come out of programs in Nevada. Community colleges are responsive to local business needs.” 

The appeal of these programs extends beyond recent high school graduates. Community colleges enroll a disproportionate number of older students — parents, midcareer workers, and people returning to school after job disruptions — many of whom are balancing education with work and family responsibilities. For them, short-term credentials offer a quicker return on investment and a clearer link between education and employment than traditional degree programs.

Community College as On-ramp to a Bachelor’s Degree

When he was a high-performing high school junior in Massachusetts, Robert carved out a unique way to enrich both his academic path and his passions while saving money. After he graduated high school, he spent one year taking core courses at a local community college while performing gig work in a regional jazz ensemble. A year later, when he was accepted into the University of Massachusetts Amherst Commonwealth Honors College, he was able to focus exclusively on his joint degree in math and computer science. 

“Community College allowed him to knock out all prerequisite courses,” said his mother, who is a youth career coach. She praised the excellent adjuncts at her son’s community college, where teaching was grounded in real-world experience. “Financially, the cost for the year was 10 percent of a residential private or out-of-state public four-year college. And the wider age range of peers really helped younger students see how adults process a day of mixed learning and work, which was a great model for being organized and serious.”

This use of community college as a low-cost on-ramp to a bachelor’s degree is a popular one. Like Khaleigh Reed, students accrue basic credits at a local community college for a year or two, then plan to transfer to a four-year institution — maintaining a minimum G.P.A. to take advantage of transfer-guarantee and articulation agreements that allow students to move seamlessly into public four-year institutions. Programs such as California’s Associate Degree for Transfer and the New England Transfer Guarantee are designed to remove uncertainty from the process while dramatically reducing the cost of a bachelor’s degree. Currently, about 31 states have some form of transfer program to ensure and ease transition to the state’s public universities.

All of which sounds good on paper. But life has a way of being complex, particularly for students whose family, financial, and work circumstances made four-year college difficult in the first place. An estimated 80 percent of community college students begin with the intention to pursue a four-year degree, a transfer process often called the “2+2 pathway.” In actuality, about 30 percent do transfer to a four-year school within six years, and roughly half of those complete the bachelor’s degree, according to a joint report by the Community College Research Center at Teachers College, Columbia University; the Aspen Institute College Excellence Program; and the National Student Clearinghouse Research Center.  

“Priorities change. Life gets lifey. I had all the best intentions of finishing or trying something new, but fate throws you a few curve balls,” said Yvette, a single mother and social services administrator in Rhode Island. “Sometimes your workaround ends up being fine after all. What I do is rewarding.” 

Education is, after all, a course of discovery, and a lower-priced school lowers the stakes if the path ends up not being the right one. Knowing that outcomes can be mixed makes the price point especially important. What is the harm in of venturing to take a basic class in computing, or introduction to acting? 

Tom Hanks is a case in point. He took some classes at Chabot Community College, where he first began to study acting, then transferred to state college for a year before dropping out to pursue acting full-time. “That place made me what I am today,” he wrote in a New York Times opinion piece and love letter to the appetite-whetting possibilities of community college.

The experience, he wrote, was formative not because it pointed immediately to a career, but because it allowed him to experiment without the financial pressure to decide too quickly — an approach he later credited with shaping how he thinks about storytelling and creative work. 

“Classes I took at Chabot have rippled through my professional pond. I produced the HBO mini-series ‘John Adams’ with an outline format I learned from a pipe-smoking historian, James Coovelis, whose lectures were riveting,” he wrote. “High school graduates without the finances for a higher education can postpone taking on big loans and maybe luck into the class that will redefine their life’s work.”

Hanks, for one, is a big fan of free community college, some form of which is available in about 35 states. These programs, many called College Promise or Reconnect, often offer two years of free tuition for eligible in-state students who meet certain conditions, like G.P.A. requirements and income limits.

His hope, he wrote, is that free community college will lower obstacles to veterans, mothers, workers who have been out of the job market, and high school graduates without the finances for a higher education who might luck into the class that will inspire their life’s work.

“Many lives,” he wrote, “will be changed.”

On an overcast afternoon last fall, Khaleigh Reed stood with crowds at the University of Colorado Boulder football stadium. She had transferred to the school the year before and had been feeling “kind of alien.” The game ended, and she stood talking to people she’d only recently met. As the skies opened into rain, the crowd spilled out of the stands and onto the grass, and she and her new friends joined them, laughing together and running with the large gathering of students. 

For Reed, a senior journalism major who had transferred from a community college at the start of her junior year, the moment felt cinematic.

“I’d hit it off with these two people at the game, and we were all, like, excited and happy,” she recalled. “I had this sense of relief, and with the rain and friends and community all running onto the field, it was like the feel-good end of a movie. After everything I’d been through, I was able to find some happiness.”

Months later, that memory would become an actual scene, the emotional center of a three-minute digital story Reed created as part of a pilot project housed at C.U. Boulder’s Renée Crown Wellness Institute. The project invited more than a half-dozen undergraduate students to craft multimedia narratives about their own experiences of “flourishing” — a positive term the institute uses without rigid definition.

Reed’s experience became part of a prototype for a new digital storytelling initiative being designed by the Crown Institute to be shared with educators the Flourishing Academic Network, or FAN, a consortium of universities committed to advancing wellbeing in higher education. At one level, the project was intimate: nine undergraduates meeting over six sessions, workshopping drafts and learning how to shape a story that could be shared aloud. At another level, the project was taking shape as the infrastructure of something larger. What unfolded in those rooms would eventually be distilled into a physical toolkit — a carefully designed, printable and digital guide intended to help other campuses create similar spaces for student storytelling.  

“One of our aims is to elevate youth voice,” said Michelle Shedro, a researcher at the Crown Institute who helped lead the project and design the toolkit. “Not just as an outcome, but as a way of doing the work. Tapping into youth voice is both a tool and a goal of ours.”

A Container for Voice

The digital storytelling pilot grew out of a broader question the Crown Institute has been asking for years: How do students themselves understand wellbeing?

Founded in 2018, the Crown Institute conducts interdisciplinary, participant-based research on youth and adult wellness. Its work spans maternal mental health, K-12 education, and campus-based initiatives such as Mindful Campus, a long-running program that offers courses and programming for students, faculty, and staff. But the digital storytelling project marked a distinct turn — one that placed student voice not only at the center of the findings but at the center of the method.

Rather than asking students to respond to surveys or predefined frameworks, the institute invited them to tell stories — in their own voices, with their own images, shaped through a guided but flexible process of storytelling in multimedia form.

“Digital storytelling is very adaptable to various disciplines and topics. People have many different ways of telling their stories, and it’s really dynamic and fun,” Shedro said. “So we wanted to give young people the tools to do this, and we also wanted to be able to learn from what they create around the question: What does flourishing mean to you?”

In this way, the project is both research and invitation, said Jenna Bensko, the outreach and education project manager at the Crown Institute. “When we create the container — the opportunity — and when students feel a sense of belonging, the flourishing happens.”

To facilitate the pilot, the Crown Institute partnered with faculty from the University of Colorado Denver, including Marty Otañez, an associate professor of anthropology and a longtime practitioner of community-based digital storytelling. Otañez described the work less as teaching students how to edit video and more as helping them learn how to land a story. Over six sessions totaling 24 hours, students moved through a carefully sequenced process: journaling and free-writing, story circles, writers’ workshops, and storyboarding before ever opening editing software. 

The early sessions focused almost entirely on building trust — learning one another’s names, sharing fragments of ideas, listening without rushing to respond. “The soul of the process is community,” Otañez says. “You can’t shortcut that.”

Only later did the technical work begin: recording voiceovers, selecting images, and learning DaVinci Resolve, the editing platform used during the pilot. Even then, Otañez emphasized restraint. Images were meant to deepen meaning, not illustrate every noun. Metaphor mattered more than polish. But at the core of it all was each person’s choice of a story, which for Otanez is part of the rich process of discovery and reminder to always expect the unexpected. 

“Some of the things surprised me, and this is always the case. Some students are really quiet and maybe a little reserved, and so we never know what we’re going to get,” he said. “And then sometimes their stories are just so rich because with their introversion, they’re thinking so much and so deeply, and they come up with these beautiful pieces.” 

The Crown Institute’s framing of flourishing provided a lens, not a script. Students were encouraged to ask where flourishing appeared in their stories but not required to prove that it did.

The nine students who participated came from across campus — political science, finance, health sciences, journalism. Few had prior experience with digital storytelling. Some arrived with clear ideas, and others discovered their stories only after listening to their peers.

Reed remembered one classmate who shared a story about a serious health crisis — hospitalization, uncertainty, learning to live with a chronic condition. “You would never have known just by looking at them,” she said. “That really stayed with me.”

The story circle, where students read drafts aloud and receive guided feedback, became one of the most powerful sessions of the pilot. “It was like journaling,” Reed said, “but with a community.”

Students learned not only how to receive feedback, but how to give it — asking questions that clarified rather than corrected and noticing what lingered emotionally rather than what could be fixed mechanically.

One thing that interested both the facilitators and the Crown Institute organizers was the nuanced way the students seemed to accept that flourishing was a work in progress, found as much in small moments as in large ones. 

One student used hair-braiding as a metaphor for independence and belonging. Another traced academic growth through mountain climbing. Others spoke about illness, procrastination, loneliness, or the quiet relief of finding a place to stand. The stories that emerged resisted tidy conclusions.

What unified the stories was their honesty, and the facilitators had to respond without an agenda. “We were very careful not to force the message into the stories,” Otañez says. “Otherwise you lose the essence.” 

That tension — between institutional goals and individual truth — shaped the project throughout. The Crown Institute’s framing of flourishing provided a lens, not a script. Students were encouraged to ask where flourishing appeared in their stories but not required to prove that it did.

“In a lot of higher ed discourse, we focus on how hard things are,” Shedro said. “That’s real. But we also wanted to create space for hope, without denying complexity.”

At the end of the pilot, the group gathered for a small screening event. Friends, faculty, and family members attended. Each film played, and each student spoke briefly about the process. Audience members noticed things the facilitators had missed — small gestures, lines that echoed, moments that felt larger than intended. The narratives developed lives of their own in the eyes, ears, and minds of the audience. 

“That’s always what amazes me about storytelling,” Otañez said. “Once the story leaves you, it becomes something else.”

Beyond the Pilot

The digital storytelling pilot at C.U. Boulder was never intended to remain a one-off experience, contained within a single semester or a single group of students. From the outset, the Crown Institute team understood the pilot as a way of learning how to design a methodology that others might eventually adapt. Out of that work, a digital storytelling toolkit is emerging, one intended to be freely available as a PDF for use across the FAN consortium. The toolkit is not a script or a curriculum to be followed verbatim. Instead, it offers a flexible framework shaped by what unfolded during the pilot itself.

“We observed everything,” said Shedro, who led the writing and design of the toolkit. “What worked, what stalled, where students needed more time, where they needed less.”

The resulting document is organized into three broad units: an introduction to flourishing and digital storytelling; guided opportunities for writing, story circles, and reflection; and hands-on production work, including storyboarding and media assembly. Throughout, the emphasis is less on technical mastery than on process — listening, revising, choosing what to include and what to leave out.

There are recommended minimum hours, suggested facilitator ratios, and sample prompts, but little insistence on uniform outcomes. That was intentional by design.

“We wanted something that could live in a lot of different contexts,” Bensko said. “A semester-long course. A co-curricular program. A student organization. It needed to be adaptable.”

That adaptability reflects a central insight of the pilot: the definition of flourishing can’t be standardized any more than the stories that attempt to capture it. Some students told tightly framed narratives about specific moments. Others traced longer arcs — from illness, from isolation, from uncertainty toward something steadier but unresolved. The toolkit preserves that openness, encouraging facilitators to resist steering stories toward predetermined conclusions.

But equally important, Shedro noted, was laying the groundwork for collaboration — the time spent building trust and guiding students in the most effective ways to be active listeners and give constructive feedback.

In FAN meetings, interest in the toolkit has already begun to circulate, though the Crown Institute team has been careful not to rush its release. For the students who participated in the pilot, the toolkit is beside the point — a downstream product. What stays with them instead are the stories themselves and the experience of being trusted to tell and hear them.

For Khaleigh Reed, soon to enter the field of journalism, the potent experience with multimedia storytelling became further evidence of all you don’t know about a person unless you ask questions and listen well.  

“You never know what someone’s going through,” she said. “This project gave us a way to see that.”