Category: Flourishing

Maaz Shaikh spent the summer before 11^th grade at football camps, among college scouts, chasing hopes of a Division I career. Just a few weeks later, the wide receiver’s first ACL tear pushed his personal endzone, dreams of recruitment, down the field. When his senior season came and he underperformed, then tore his other ACL, he knew the clock had run out. 

Shaikh’s plans for college needed to change, or so he thought. Growing up in Cambridge, Mass., he had his eye on nearby Boston College (BC) but would have relied on an athletic scholarship to open those doors. “I really wanted to go, but we weren’t financially stable enough to afford a college with that high of a tuition,” Shaikh said.

Then his guidance counselor told him about Messina College, the two-year associate degree program at BC that would be welcoming its inaugural class in July 2024, shortly after Shaikh graduated from Cambridge Rindge and Latin School. Messina is BC’s ninth and newest college, created specifically for students like Shaikh from first-generation and low-income backgrounds. It offered him the financial aid he needed, along with the opportunity to transfer to a four-year bachelor’s program at BC afterward—no reapplying necessary—if he maintained a 3.4 GPA or higher.

As one of its first 100 students, Shaikh joins Messina in uncharted territory. While BC isn’t the first four-year university to offer an associate degree program, it is one of the most selective colleges to do so. Messina is also fully residential. With the will and the wealth, BC is able to invest in high-need students and their success in a way other low-cost, two-year undergraduate programs can’t afford. By the same token, its leaders are navigating challenges they can’t always predict with little by way of example. 

The groundwork for Messina began in 2020, when BC merged with Pine Manor, a private four-year college in Brookline, Mass. that served mostly local first-gen and low-income students. Four years later, and located on the Brookline campus, Messina is following in the tradition of Pine Manor, as well as BC, whose Jesuit founders helped educate Boston’s immigrants, most of whom were Irish Catholic. 

Fr. Erick Berrelleza, the founding Dean of Messina, said “human formation” is the mission that unites his college and BC as a whole. In the admissions process, BC recruits promising students perhaps short of qualifying for especially elite universities and standing to benefit most from Messina’s aid. All who finish the two years receive an associate degree from BC. Some will move onto a bachelor’s program. Others have the chance to get a feel for the undergraduate experience but may choose to move straight into their careers.

To fund tuition, Messina relies on federal and state aid but primarily BC’s contribution, including around $40,000 per student. (BC also put $35 million towards capital expenses to launch Messina.) This support distinguishes Messina from other associate programs, like traditional community colleges. Dr. Larry Galizio, President of the Community Colleges League of California, said there are constant funding issues within the system. Despite having the most low-income students, Galizio said, community colleges in California receive the least funding per student of any education sector in the state. “So it’s just like the United States, where the people who have the most get the most.”

Messina tries to flip that theory. Through a mix of grants, loans, and work-study opportunities, the financial aid office meets 100 percent of demonstrated need. The same goes for BC’s four-year programs, although tuition there is nearly $70,000 per year, compared to Messina’s $30,000 (not including room and board). Those at Messina with the greatest need take out a maximum $2,000 loan. Everyone receives a free laptop and coverage for textbooks. If students end up transferring into a four-year program at BC, it will continue to meet their full need. 

One condition to attend Messina is participation in summer courses. While building the residential community early on, this session gets students ahead on the 20 courses they need to take to graduate. Fewer classes during subsequent semesters help limit academic stress and offer more time for other activities amid the transition to college life.

Providing housing for all Messina students reflects BC’s core mission to teach to the whole student. “I think [formative education] happens in a residential environment,” Berrelleza said. Living on campus, students can get to know each other and staff and faculty in a way designed to identify anyone who may be struggling.  

“It’s a big family,” said Maaz Shaikh, whose high school class was five times the size of his college one. “If I need help, I can reach out to whoever, and they would obviously help me.” He mentioned relationships with not only students but the student life administrators, dining staff, and janitors. Because the class size is capped at 100 students, there is little room to fall through the cracks.  

If anything, Shaikh has had a “challenge with getting too much support,” he said, only half joking. Every time he passes the tutoring center, the director of student success checks in about how things are going for him. When Shaikh decided to change his major at the end of the first semester, he was able to set up a meeting and shift his entire schedule just days before the spring term. 

He’s also been attending a weekly mentoring group and a similar forum called “Soul Circle,” run by his resident minister. In both settings, students share their issues, whether they are school-related or not. “I would say coming into college, I didn’t really believe in that—that talking about my problems will make them ease off. But I would say I was completely wrong about it,” Shaikh said.

“In some ways, the least important part is the academic stuff,” Berrelleza said. “Even though they’re doing that, and there’s a tutoring center here… the most important work is just making sure we’re responding to them and their needs as people.” 

Yet the shared identity that bonds students at Messina’s Brookline campus can also be the barrier to feeling connected to BC’s main campus, a few miles away in Chestnut Hill, Mass. “It’s a really good thing that all of us are first-gen because we all share the same goal of—I think of it as creating a legacy—of trying something new and helping out our families,” Shaikh said. “I would say that is the number one thing that motivates us all and brings us all together. Whereas if I go to Boston College and I just see a bunch of white people around me, it’s different. It’s not the same.”

“It’s a really good thing that all of us are first-gen because we all share the same goal of—I think of it as creating a legacy—of trying something new and helping out our families.”

Students interested in transferring into a four-year bachelor’s at BC take a course on the Chestnut Hill campus during their second year. On the pre-med track, Shaikh is already attending class there. “It is very different when I go there. But I would say I don’t get treated differently,” Shaikh said, adding that he’s “not a very picky person.” He also participates in a number of clubs in Chestnut Hill, including as Messina representative for the Undergraduate Government of Boston College and first-year representative for the Muslim Student Association. 

All Messina students can engage in the spaces and extracurriculars in Chestnut Hill, except Division I sports, but some are more hesitant than Shaikh to do so. “For me, it’s easy to say, ‘Oh, we’re the same.’ But I know some people on our campus usually either go home or stay at Messina [as opposed to visiting Chestnut Hill].” Because of his position in student government, Shaikh finds his fellow students approach him with their concerns about, in his words, “being this standalone campus that’s mostly students of color.” 

Other issues at Messina have been more logistical and easier to address. Early on, when Shaikh and his Muslim peers found they needed more room for prayer, Messina allocated a space. For next year, there are plans to address the lack of air conditioning during summer classes and add another shuttle to Chestnut Hill to accommodate the second and incoming class. 

At this point, Berrelleza is focused on improving the existing Messina program, not growing it. Meanwhile, he’s taking calls from universities interested in implementing their own Messina-like work. Berrelleza encourages the effort but stresses the importance of replicating the residential element. “It’s an investment. It’s added resources to house and feed the students here, but I think it makes a world of difference for the type of education you can provide them.”

“It’s an investment. It’s added resources to house and feed the students here, but I think it makes a world of difference for the type of education you can provide them.”

As for Shaikh, who’s already started building a foundation in Chestnut Hill, his potential transfer to BC still presents questions. He wonders how his community at Messina, and the even smaller subset of students within it who want to pursue a bachelor’s at BC, will change, merge, or perhaps dissolve into a much larger campus. “Will I still be friends with the people that I’m not too close to over here? Or will I become closer friends with them because I know them more than everyone else?” he asked aloud. 

“We’ll see.”

Higher education has long debated its role in character development. Religious schools, secure in their subjectivity, have made producing people of good character part of their core mission. But for public universities serving diverse populations, the entire concept can be fraught, starting with the language itself. How are we defining character? And should values and principles be part of a student’s education? 

Arizona State University appears to have threaded the needle on character education with an initiative called “Principled Innovation” – a framework for ethical decision-making that can be used by individuals or in community settings. It is based on “pro-social” values that lead to defendable outcomes like “what’s good for humanity” without being overly prescriptive. Under the leadership of President Michael Crow, ASU has added Principled Innovation to the list of design aspirations that drive the university, calling it “the ability to create change guided by values and ethical understanding.”

Ted Cross is ASU’s Executive Director of University Affairs and Crow’s point person for the roll-out of Principled Innovation. He says character education is best understood as a reflective process that enables students to flourish – in a way that is flexible and individualized.

“We want people to improve themselves,” said Cross. “Positive psychology has a take on that; philosophy has its own angle. We packaged all of that into an inter-disciplinary approach that helps faculty, staff, and students ground decisions and actions in values and character.”

Informed by the Jubilee Centre’s Framework for Character Education in Schools at the University of Birmingham, Principled Innovation includes four domains of practice – Moral, Civic, Performance, and Intellectual – each of which encompass certain character “assets” or virtues meant to guide one’s ability to create positive change in the world. ASU’s institutional commitment is expressed through Principled Innovation as a guiding principle, while the practice of Principled Innovation is supported through a pedagogical approach, engaging tools and resources, communities of practice, and curricular and co-curricular activities. 

Building the Framework

The design lab for Principled Innovation was ASU’s Mary Lou Fulton Teachers College. In 2017, the dean of the college, Carol Basile, was concerned by the state of K-12 education systems and decided to change things from the inside out – through addressing the education workforce and teacher and leader preparation. She came to the conclusion that to do so, character education needed to be included. To understand how, she enlisted Cristy Guleserian, a colleague at the college who is now its Executive Director of Principled Innovation. 

“We asked ourselves, ‘What could it mean for a college of education at a public university to integrate a character education framework into the systems of teacher and leader preparation?’ said Guleserian. “In having these conversations, we realized it couldn’t just be integrated into a curriculum to teach future educators about character. It had to be our approach to everything we do and something that we embraced as a college community.” 

With this as their north star, Guleserian and her team worked intentionally with faculty, staff, students, and community partners and eventually incorporated the practices and assets of what would become Principled Innovation into everything they did, from fostering culture and environments to teaching, advising, and student services. But getting to an agreed-upon understanding of what all this would look like involved cultivating authentic relationships through a series of one-on-one discussions and all-college design sessions – a process Guleserian described as equal parts invigorating and challenging.  

“There was a lot of skepticism at first – a lot of questions about whose character, whose values, and whose virtues we were talking about. I remember spending about an hour going back and forth about one word,” she said.

In one of the sessions, a participant offered what would be a break-through in the log jam. “We need to ‘ASU-ize’ this,” he said. The group understood him to mean “co-create” a concept that more explicitly reflected ASU’s diverse community and well-publicized mission.  

“We recognized that innovation is at the core of what we do here at ASU and our charter holds us responsible for being inclusive for the well-being of the communities we serve. So the framing of Principled Innovation was born from that shared purpose,” said Guleserian.

The framework is intentionally flexible. In an essay for the book The Necessity of Character, ASU President Michael Crow and Ted Cross write, “By refusing to adhere to a single philosophical or religious worldview, ASU has made room for students to draw on their different backgrounds as they engage with our character education initiatives. Only by remaining flexible in this way have we been able to secure ‘buy-in’ across the university.”

At a research university known for outside the box thinking, Crow has made innovation part of ASU’s nomenclature. But the decision to include it in the title was more than just good branding. Principled Innovation proposes the notion that “just because you can innovate, doesn’t mean you should,” reflecting a growing national movement to infuse character into the critical actions of scientists and others in the innovation community.    

When asked if there could be “Unprincipled Innovation,” Cross said “definitely.” 

“It’s not enough to be innovative if you don’t innovate with purpose and principle. It’s not enough to help people learn how to make a good living if we’re not helping them learn how to live good lives, whatever that means to them,” he said. 

“It’s not enough to be innovative if you don’t innovate with purpose and principle. It’s not enough to help people learn how to make a good living if we’re not helping them learn how to live good lives.”

Principled Innovation in Practice

Building on the work of Mary Lou Fulton Teachers College (now called College for Teaching and Learning Innovation), Principled Innovation is currently practiced in ten colleges at ASU, including the W. P. Carey School of Business and the Watts College of Public Service and Community Solutions, as well as the Office of the Provost and Educational Outreach and Student Services. All of this work uses the framework and assets for reflective practices and community practice that lead to positive change.  

“The framework asks, ‘What are some of the possible intended or unintended outcomes of the decisions we make and how can we mitigate some of the possible negative consequences before we take action?’” said Guleserian.

A good indication of how the framework may influence ASU’s pedagogy is the launch of the Principled Innovation Academy, which is housed in University College. The curricular program involving human-centered problem-solving methods and team pitch competitions has already engaged with 750 students.  

Cross calls the program “shark tank meets design thinking meets character education,” where students create and pitch ideas using the Principled Innovation framework. Last year’s winner was a career recommendation engine for students that works by asking them questions like, “What are your work values? What are your personal values? And how would that map to your career?” 

It is clear that the careful work that went into developing Principled Innovation at ASU helped propel it from a concept within one school to a major design principle for the entire university. But for advocates like Cross and Guleserian, the buy-in it has received at the country’s largest public university says something about the times we are in. 

“The U.S. is so deeply divided that we are talking past each other,” said Cross. “There’s a lot of anger and aggression and mistrust. But if we can engage multiple perspectives in the way we design and create things, the way we teach and collaborate, it helps us to develop environments of trust and belonging.”

When Guillermo Creamer got an unpaid internship in the office of the DC mayor a decade ago, he was thrilled. He found a live-in nanny position that would provide housing and took babysitting gigs on the weekend to pay for food and metro fares.

There was just one problem: the job had a dress code, and Creamer only had one suit – a tannish-green number that was neutral enough, but stood out among the blacks and blues. He had the suit dry cleaned often – at no small expense – but eventually a colleague took notice and called him out for wearing it every day.

“That was such an embarrassing day,” recalled Creamer, who now works as director of residential programs at a nonprofit in Worcester, Massachusetts, where he grew up, the son of South American immigrants.

The experience, and a subsequent unpaid internship in the US House of Representatives, led Creamer to co-found Pay Our Interns, a nonprofit with a mission to end unpaid internships, and the tagline “Experience Doesn’t Pay the bills.”

For Creamer, the work was personal. He has a younger sister and never wanted her to go through what he went through – to be ridiculed for not having proper business attire, he said.

But his opposition to unpaid internships is also philosophical. Requiring interns to work for free puts poorer college students, who often have to work to pay for college, at a disadvantage over wealthier ones, who tend to have family resources to fall back on, Creamer and other critics of the practice argue. Those who can’t forgo a paycheck (or cobble together side gigs, like Creamer) can miss out an internship that could set them on a path to financial stability.

“We want to create an equitable workforce pipeline, and internships are the beginning of that pipeline,” Creamer said.

Pay Our Interns decided to start with the Congressional internship program, arguing that a program that prepares future political leaders should be accessible to all students. It tailored its messaging to each political party, telling Democratic lawmakers that paying interns would help them diversity their workforce, and Republican ones that it would provide opportunity to members of the working class.  

“We want to create an equitable workforce pipeline, and internships are the beginning of that pipeline.”

The group had some success, convincing Congress and the White House to allocate money to pay their interns. It hoped that other employers would follow Washington’s lead.

Is Unpaid Unfair to Students?

Yet ten years after Creamer was shamed over his single suit, roughly one third of internships remain unpaid, with roughly one million students working for free each year, studies suggest. Millions more say they want an internship, but don’t get one, due to barriers such as insufficient supply, inadequate pay or the competing demands of work and school.

These statistics matter because participating in an internship – especially a paid one – has been shown to lead to stronger labor-market outcomes. Students who have an internship in college are less likely to be unemployed or underemployed five years after graduation than students who don’t, studies show. Both paid and unpaid interns receive more job offers, but paid interns get more, and have higher starting salaries, too.

Given the exclusionary nature of unpaid internships, some colleges have refused to include them in their job listings. Some have endorsed a recent campaign by the National Association of Colleges and Employers, dubbed “Unpaid is Unfair,” that calls on Congress to pass legislation requiring that internships be paid.

“It’s a way to democratize access to internships,” said Mary Gatta, the association’s director of research and public policy.

But not everyone is convinced that unpaid internships should be abolished. Those who argue for preserving them say that students are “paid in experience,” and that interns should be willing to exchange their labor for training and professional connections. They point out that some employers can’t afford to pay their interns and warn that ordering them to do so will cause some to cancel their internships altogether, deepening the existing shortage.

“It’s a terrible idea,” said Bryan Caplan, a professor of economics at George Mason University. “You’re cutting out one of the main ways people get training.”

Caplan sees great hypocrisy in colleges’ charging students for classes he considers pointless, while condemning companies for providing training for free.       “There’s a massive double standard,” he said. “Here at least students learn real stuff and they don’t even have to pay for it.”

Even some proponents of paying interns say it would be a mistake to outlaw unpaid internships as long as accreditors and licensing agencies require students in certain professional programs – like psychology and social work – to complete practicum training to graduate.

“While ethically on the right track, we shouldn’t even consider banning them until we figure out how to replace those unpaid positions,” said Matthew T. Hora, a professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and founding director of the Center for Research on College-Workforce Transitions.

Hora, who has conducted extensive research on unpaid internships, says he’s long been frustrated by colleges’ “unbridled embrace” of internships, and wishes they’d stop pushing them so hard.

“There just aren’t enough positions available and they’re out of reach of the vast majority of students,” he said.

NACE acknowledges that some employers aren’t in a position to pay their interns, and suggests that policy makers provide financial and other support to smaller for-profit, and nonprofit organizations. In the meantime, Gatta recommends that colleges work with community groups and chambers of commerce to identify funds that could support students with unpaid internships, such as foundation grants or federal work study dollars.

The Rewards and Challenges of Internship

The benefits of internships for both students and employers are well documented. By taking part in an internship, students gain insight into potential career paths, develop industry-specific skills, and build valuable professional networks. The practical, hands-on, experience gives them an edge in the job market – and the confidence and competencies they’ll need to succeed in it.

For employers, internships are a way to recruit and retain early-career talent. NACE’s annual survey of employers has consistently found that more than half of interns convert to full-time employees and that three quarters of those converts are still with the organization after a year, compared to just over half of non-intern employees.

Colleges confronting questions about their value can also benefit from student internships, research by the Strada Education Foundation suggests. It found that four-year college graduates who complete work-based learning are more likely to say their education helped them achieve their goals and was worth the cost.

Surveys show that students are well aware of the rewards associated with an internship. In fact, seventy percent of freshmen say they plan to take one. Yet fewer than half of students complete one by the end of senior year, and less than a quarter find a paid one, Strada’s research shows.

In 2023, an estimated 3.6 million students completed internships, but another 4.6 million wanted an internship and didn’t get one, according to the Business Higher-Education Forum.

That gap is at least partly due to the challenges employers face in creating and sustaining internships. These include not having appropriate work for interns or lacking the staff to supervise them, the Forum’s interviews with employers show.

Employers may also question whether an internship will provide a good return on their investment, said Nicole Smith, research professor and chief economist at the Center on Education and the Workforce, at Georgetown University. 

“There’s a cost in terms of the personnel and time invested, and you don’t know if the person will stay with the firm,” Smith said.

Given that uncertainty, employers may wonder “Am I training for me, or for my competitor?” Smith said.      

The available internship slots aren’t evenly distributed, either. Studies by NACE have found that women, Black, Hispanic and first-generation students are underrepresented in paid internships, while white, male and continuing generation students are overrepresented. There’s some evidence that students of color are over-represented in unpaid internships, though Hora cautions that it’s far from definitive.

The reasons for these disparities aren’t entirely understood, but there are a few prominent theories.

One popular explanation is that Black, Hispanic and first-generation students are more likely than other demographic groups to be classified as “low-income,” and can’t afford to give up a steady job for a short-term internship – even a paid one. In other words, they’re not applying in equal numbers.

 Another possibility is that first-generation students and students of color have less of the “social capital” needed to secure internships, which are frequently advertised through “whisper networks.”

And a third theory is that students of color and women are less likely to be paid because they cluster in majors associated with government and the non-profit sector, where paid internships are rarer.

Racial and gender gaps in internship participation may also reflect employers’ recruiting practices. If companies are drawing candidates from colleges that disproportionately enroll wealthier and white students, they’re less likely to end up with a racially- and socio-economically diverse applicant pool.

Yet even as students struggle to secure internships,  one in three employers say some of their slots are going unfilled.

That disconnect may be due to poor marketing on the part of employers, or to a mismatch between what companies are seeking and what students have to offer. In the Business Higher Education Forum’s interviews with employers, some companies said they couldn’t find candidates with the qualifications they wanted, according to Candace Williams, its director of regional initiatives.

Bringing the Bargaining Power         

So what can be done to broaden access to internships – and to paid internships, in particular?

Requiring employers to pay their interns, as NACE and others have proposed, could help diversify the applicant pool, making internships possible for more low-income students.

But with Trump and other business-friendly Republicans on the verge of controlling both the White House and Congress, a ban on unpaid internships isn’t likely to pass anytime soon.

Meanwhile, a growing number of colleges are setting aside funds for stipends to support students in unpaid internships. A recent survey by NACE found that more than a third of institutions now offer such stipends.

Karen Garcia, a junior at the University of Wisconsin whose family immigrated to the US from Mexico six years ago, used the $1,000 she received through her college’s “SuccessWorks” program to buy a coat and dressier shoes for her summer 2024 internship at the Department of Corrections. The money also helped cover gas for the car she used to get to the job, where she helped out on cases involving Spanish speakers. Without the grant, she said, “I would have had to lean on my parents, and they don’t earn that much money.”

Yet competition for colleges’ limited funds can be fierce, and only two percent of colleges provide the aid for any or all unpaid internships, the survey found. And while subsidy programs are an efficient way to get money to students, they often aren’t sustainable, especially if they rely on grants or alumni donations.

Recognizing this, some colleges are exerting pressure on employers to pay their interns, threatening to drop their “preferred employer” status, said Laura Love, who leads the work-based learning agenda at Strada.

“Colleges may have more bargaining power and influence than they think,” Love said.

At George Mason University, Saskia Campbell, executive director of university career services, uses data to persuade employers to pay her students. She shows them how pay increases the quality and diversity of the applicant pool and points to what competitors are paying their interns. She tells them they’ll get “more dedication and focus” from their interns if they’re not juggling a paid job on the side.

While some employers seem swayed by her descriptions of the financial strain students are under, “a lot of times it requires making the business case for them,” Campbell said.

If an employer says they don’t have the budget to pay their interns, she’ll push for “something is better than nothing.”

Campbell says many employers mistakenly assume that academic credit is a reasonable alternative to pay. They don’t always register that “not only are they not getting paid – they’re actually paying for the experience.”

Still, the work of expanding paid internship can’t fall solely on colleges. Among the think tanks and advocacy groups that promote internships there’s a consensus that it will take employers, government, and colleges working together to grow the field. And achieving such collaboration won’t be easy, said Su Jin Jez, CEO of California Competes, which has conducted interviews with both colleges and employers.

Though all three parties value internships, they value it for different reasons, she said. Colleges may think that employers will respond to arguments that internships will diversify their workforce, for example, when they’re really just interested in sourcing the top entry-level talent.

That “misalignment in values,” mirrors differences in structure and culture that can make cooperation difficult, Jez said.

Moving beyond the Traditional Model

As companies and colleges navigate these challenges, they’re also experimenting with alternatives to the traditional internship model.

Among the innovations that have taken root are “micro-internships” –  short-term, paid assignments that provide many of the benefits of regular internships without the long-term commitment.

Micro-internships function as sort of speed-dating for students and employers, allowing each party to see if the other is a good match, said Jeffrey Moss, CEO of Parker Dewey, which pioneered the approach a decade ago. The company has partnerships with 800 colleges, he said.

Moss believes micro-internships level the playing field, allowing students who might not have family connections, a 4.0 GPA, or an elite-college pedigree the chance to prove themselves to a prospective employer. Their short-term nature also makes them a way for students to try out different professions, to find one that brings them a sense of purpose.

At the same time, colleges are finding ways to make on-campus work more meaningful. Under one new program, students working in on-campus jobs at The University of New Hampshire can opt into a professional development program that offers regular meetings with a supervisor and the opportunity to earn micro-credentials in skills like communication and leadership.

Gretchen Heaton, associate vice provost of career and professional success and high-impact practices, said the program teaches students to articulate the skills they’ve gained through on-campus employment.

“Students often believe that unless it’s a ‘real job,’ it shouldn’t go on the resume,” Heaton said. “This is a way for students to talk about value in a way employers will understand.”

At Clemson University, the longstanding University Professional Internship and Co-op (UPIC) program matches students with paid positions submitted by faculty and staff, then links their work to a series of career competencies.

The program not only increases students’ odds of having a job when they graduate, but also aids in retention, according to O’Neil B. Burton, executive director of Clemson’s Center for Career and Professional Development.

“Our first-gen and Pell-eligible students don’t have to take a waitressing jobs or clerk at a mini mart. They can work on campus for somebody who recognizes that their class work comes first,” Burton said. “That can make the difference between being able to stay in school and persist to graduation and having to drop out and work.”

Guillermo Creamer, for his part, never finished college. He dropped out of American University a year shy of graduating because he couldn’t manage the tuition, he said. Pay Our Interns, the organization he helped create in 2016, has been dormant since its co-founder and executive director Carlos Mark Vera stepped down a little over a year ago.

Creamer said funders have shifted their attention away from diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives as opposition to DEI continues its march on higher education. For now, he believes the best place for Pay Our Interns to be is on the sidelines, monitoring the moves of the incoming administration.

But Creamer said he and his organization haven’t given up on ending unpaid internships and will spring into action if anything threatens the gains they’ve made so far.

“You can’t pay the rent with ‘experience,’” said Creamer. “Unpaid internships are an inequitable injustice.”