Author: Mollie Ames

Life Lessons with John Bravman

Posted on by Mollie Ames

Bucknell University President John Bravman personifies the saying “the harder you work, the luckier you are” and imparts that message to his students. With humility and humor, the career academic brings us through the key milestones in his life, from working to overcome a speech impediment as a child to being the “smart kid” in New York City public schools to his spectacular, yet uneven, success at Stanford, where he learned to be a great teacher well before he became a college president.    

Here is an excerpt from our interview:  

LW: To start, can you give a bit of background about yourself, your family, how you grew up, your education? From what I understand already, you have a very interesting story.

Bravman: Well, I doubt I do. But I grew up in New York City 67 years ago. I’m a first generation college student—second generation American but first in my family to go away to college. So my father was in World War II, and I grew up with parents from the postwar era, and I came of age in the early sixties. My earliest distinct memory is probably Kennedy being assassinated. So that’s the place in time. And everything that happened in the sixties influenced me somehow, some way. I had a love of science. My father was an accountant, but he liked science, too, and I probably picked it up from him. But things like going to the World’s Fair in ’64 and ’65 and going to the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, these were all big deals for me. And sure enough, I became a scientist.

LW: Where in the city were you educated?

Bravman: P.S. 34 Queens. Then I moved to Long Island for junior high and high school and went to public schools there, too. But it was quite a culture shock, moving from the city to the suburbs. It was just different. I’m sure there’s a lot of sociology and psychology and history and economics to explain why. We were not a wealthy family by any means, but we were never hungry. And for whatever reason, I grew up with the notion that smarter is better—that it’s good to be smart and work hard and all that kind of stuff. And probably, because I moved during those preteen-teenage years, when I went out to Long Island, it was all of a sudden, “Who’s better looking? Who has nicer clothes? Who’s more popular?” This was not a wealthy place, but just all of a sudden, it changed. I remember thinking about that but realizing, of course, that smart still mattered, and I had to do well in school and all that. But that was the first big cultural shock I experienced in my life.

LW: When you say being smart matters, and you saw that as a pathway to success, would you say your peers in the NYC public schools seemed to share that perspective more so than those in Long Island, who seemed more socially-oriented?

Bravman: Probably not. But my honest answer is that, from kindergarten through fifth grade, it felt like the extent to which you were looked up to by your peers came down to who is the smartest kid in class. And that felt very different on Long Island.

But I mean, I spent seven years on Long Island at three different schools, all public. And then I had the incredible good fortune of going to Stanford, where I ended up spending 35 continuous years. Believe it or not, I’ve often said that one of the best things that ever happened to me was a rejection. And I’ve reflected on that rejection throughout my life. I desperately wanted to go to MIT from high school because I’m a sciencey, nerdy geek. And that’s what you did if you grew up on the east coast. That’s where I could be the best of the best. Everyone knows MIT. And if you’re on the west coast, you went to Caltech.

But the story there is that a friend of mine in high school, who was also a nerdy kid, took a family vacation to California the summer after our junior year in high school. He came back with tales of these redwood trees, which I’d only seen in National Geographic, and the Pacific Ocean in Monterey Bay. I’d never been west of Pennsylvania. He told me about a school I’d never heard of called Stanford University, and he said, “We have to go there. It’s amazing.”

And of course, there was no internet back then. So I went down to the high school library, where we had a room forcollege books, and it turns out the Stanford Viewbook was missing. So I didn’t even see pictures of Stanford. All they had was their course catalog, which back then was just text. I illegally took that book home for the night because you’re supposed to leave them there. And I went through it, and I was so entranced by this book with no pictures that I designed my whole curriculum only to find out later that what I thought I was going to take were all junior-level classes, not freshman classes. Long story short, I did not get into MIT, but I got into Stanford, and my friend did not get into Stanford, where he really wanted to go. He went to MIT, was miserable, and dropped out.

I’m just saying, I’ll never, ever forget that rejection and the lesson of, “Okay, life knocks you down? You just keep going.”

LW: With that course catalogue, did you recognize the rigor of the courses right away? What attracted you to the curriculum?

Bravman: Well, I love books. Most of the books I own have nothing to do with science and engineering. I’ll have a real problem when I retire because I’ve now collected 5,000 books, and I have no place to put them. So honestly, I think I just liked this course catalog. It was words, and I had never read a course catalog. I remember sitting in my bedroom, reading page after page of these course descriptions. I thought, “This is amazing, and I want to learn all this stuff.” And then I went off to college for 20 years. 

LW: You must have been quite wowed, then, because your friend was not kidding—it is beautiful.

Bravman: Oh, yeah. I mean, it’s like 362 days a year of perfect weather. I’d never been on a plane before. And back then, Stanford had arranged charter planes from several cities on the east coast, so I was on a plane with 250 kids going to Stanford. I showed up on campus, and it was just the most amazing thing. I had a lot of financial aid. It included loans, scholarships, and a work requirement. So I was assigned to work in a kitchen. I probably picked that off a list. I liked to cook, even as a boy. But I remember we got to campus late, and within minutes of entering my dorm, someone came and told me that I was late for work because as a brand new freshman, I was supposed to work the first day on campus in the kitchen, helping make dinner. So I showed up, and Kay Malik, who was the head of the food service in Wilbur Hall at Stanford, she said, quite curtly, “You’re late for work. Don’t do it again.” So I didn’t exactly have a perfect start.

I loved Stanford. But the fact of the matter is I almost flunked out my sophomore year because I was not prepared for the rigor of the academic work. I quite honestly never really studied in high school because I didn’t have to. I had one B in ninth grade art. So I did not graduate with a perfect 4.0. So I graduated second in my class. My friend, who went to MIT, was one of six people with a 4.0. So I was technically ranked number seven, but I’ve always liked to say number two.

LW: What was it like to have been close to the smartest in your class in high school and then become average, or maybe even struggling to be average, in college?

Bravman: Well, I’d never met kids who went to private schools before. So I was dealing with that and people who went to Beverly Hills High, which is a public school but a very, very good one, resourced differently than my schools were. I don’t remember too much about that, but I remember being scared and disappointed in myself. I thought, “What am I going to do and what am I going to tell my parents?” And I’m sure kids today feel the same way. And they probably also experience certain emotions I didn’t. So I’ve tried to be a better and more sensitive advisor academically, but also as a boss, understanding that people have a variety of experiences. But I think that near failure was a really important learning lesson for me. And part of that is, “If you’re the smartest person in the room, you’re in the wrong room.” 

That’s also where I learned about advising. My advisor was an almost brand new professor at Stanford from Great Britain. He went to Cambridge. And so I learned a lot along the way, too, about England as a result of that relationship. But he was helpful and supportive, and I’ve never forgotten that. So obviously I didn’t flunk out, and I did well enough, and I ended up getting into the doctoral program there in engineering. 

When I started the doctoral program, my undergraduate advisor remained my advisor, but I also got a second advisor in electrical engineering, a different department. My department, material science, announced a new faculty search. And I remember saying to my advisor in electrical engineering, “Hey, look, did you see my department’s going to be hiring someone else? I wonder who they’re going to get.” And he looked at me and said, “I want you to apply for it.” I said, “That’s ridiculous. I’m not going to be a Stanford professor. Give me a break. I almost flunked out.” He said, “No, I want you to apply for it.” And he was an older professor. He’s still with us. He’s 85 and a giant in his field. He was a giant in his field then, and he said, “I want you to stay.”

So that advice and encouragement from two different advisors changed the course of my life. That whole advising experience has meant so much to me ever since because I know what it did for me. I ended up staying there for a total of 35 years before coming here to Bucknell in 2010. I lived off campus one year in graduate school and three years as a young professor. So 31 of 35 years, I lived on campus. And for 14 of those years, I think it is, I lived in an undergraduate dorm as what we call a “resident fellow.” So most of my life, I’ve lived on a college campus. So I went to college 50 years ago next September.

When I say it made my life, I mean, I’m not kidding. And obviously it took a lot of hard work—first to not get kicked out, secondly to get a position in the graduate program, and then to pass my Ph.D. qualifying exam, which I failed the first time and you only can take twice by policy. So I worked my butt off and passed the second time. And then I had to get on faculty, and then I had to earn tenure. And that is not trivial at university, let me tell you. Stanford’s policy is that you have to be one of the two best people in the world at your age in your field. And that’s not possible, really, but that’s the written standard. And of course, Stanford School of Engineering is incredibly famous in my area because of Silicon Valley. So I had the combination of thrills and chills every single day, and getting tenure was probably the achievement of my life until I became president here.

And I just reflect on that—to have gotten there as a first generation college kid, who almost flunked out and then didn’t pass his Ph.D. qualifying exam the first time. And I’m no genius, not even remotely close, but I know the value of working really hard and keeping a dream ahead of you and sacrificing. In my experience, working really hard is no guarantee, but it can make a difference. I’ve tried to be very sensitive to students who are struggling. Maybe they wouldn’t believe a college president almost flunked out of school. But it’s the God’s honest truth, and I want them to know that. And being an advisor doesn’t mean you have to be a pushover. You can be direct and strong without being strident, and you can be understanding of someone’s needs and foibles and weaknesses. And I can’t believe in September, I will have literally been in college for 50 years.

“[As an advisor] you can be direct and strong without being strident, and you can be understanding of someone’s needs and foibles and weaknesses.”

LW: That’s a great milestone. So when you almost failed, who was it that believed in you enough to keep you going?

Bravman: That’s a great question. It’s hard to answer. Obviously, my advisor’s support and some other faculty were important. But I did realize that I’d have to get my stuff together, or my life’s going to be very different.

LW: So you had a strong sense of agency.

Bravman: I was probably more scared shitless than anything else. I really was, and I was afraid of disappointing my parents, for sure. So I was in the process of applying to transfer to a couple schools back east—good but lesser schools—and not even thinking about, “Are they really going to take someone who’s almost flunked out?” Thankfully, I didn’t have to find out, but I learned that you can talk yourself quickly into procrastinating, and it usually doesn’t have a good end. So I learned that lesson painfully and learned that I had to discipline myself to partition the various aspects of life—fun and work and this and that—and to sleep as little as possible to maximize everything else. That’s probably the best answer I can give you, but I was really scared.

LW: Let’s talk about when you were recommended for, and ultimately earned, that coveted teaching position. You hadsomeone who really believed in you. What did that feel like?

Bravman: You know, all the prejudices about research institutions are often true. But this advisor, he was both at the absolute top of his field and the best teacher I ever had. That was a role model for me. And honestly, a lot of getting that job was just dumb luck—right person, right time. And I, in my naivete, just thought, “Gee, I wonder who they’re going to get.” It never entered my mind that I’d be on the Stanford faculty. And he just said, “John, I want you to apply.” And I don’t remember much else, but saying some quip about, “That’s ridiculous. I’m not like you. I can’t be you.” And now I’m one of two people in Stanford’s history to have their highest award for teaching and their highest award for service.

LW: What about the teaching? What do you think, given all you’ve told me, contributed to you being a great teacher?

Bravman: Well, I’ll tell you, I have a story there, too. It’s the same answer: total, utter fear of failure. My brother is older than me. He’s very outgoing. My sister’s younger and very outgoing, and I was the introvert. And my father was a very, very smart man. It’s such a shame he couldn’t go to college. I grew up with a speech impediment, and my father, when I was in second grade, bought a reel-to-reel tape recorder—which I still have and still works—and a microphone. And he made me read into the tape, and he made me listen to myself, which is painful to this day. But he wanted me to learn to overcome my speech impediment. And I never forgot that because I grew up just incredibly fearful of speaking in front of any crowd, all through college. And in part, that’s why I failed my Ph.D. qualifying exam.Because it’s oral the first time. It’s two-and-a-half hours in front of 10 professors. So I was scared out of my mind. Andsome of my speech issues, when you’re scared, they come to the fore. 

Fast forward to teaching, having had lots of not-so-great teachers at Stanford, as well as some great ones, I knew which I wanted to be. So when I started teaching, I probably prepared 10 to 12 hours per one hour lecture. We had, early on, a video camera in our department and a VHS machine. This was pretty advanced at the time. So I remember at midnight when the building was empty, videotaping myself, giving my low-level introductory material science lectures to an empty room on videotape and then watching it until two o’clock in the morning, learning what I did wrong. I was so scared of failure, and I really wanted to be a good teacher. The fact is, I have eight teaching awards,two of them national. So I like telling people who have these issues, honestly, if you knew my fear of talking in public and now I can stand in front of arbitrarily large and loud crowds, anyone can. 

The fact is I’m still a deep introvert. I don’t actually believe in fundamental change that way. You overcome and you adapt. I’m proud of what I did in teaching, and I think I’m a reasonably good public speaker now. I’m not very good at reading a script. But I want students who are struggling, especially with public speaking, but anything really, to know that if I can do this, believe me, you can.

LW: Well, you can’t win all those teaching awards without getting a positive response from the students themselves. They really are the ultimate judges on this. Do you have a sense of what about your teaching has resonated so muchwith students?

Bravman: I became a techno geek in terms of computers, as they arose. So the Macintosh 1984 came out the same year I joined the faculty, and everyone was using IBM PC. Those were released in 1980, but I started with a Mac. I was, for the most part, a bit ahead of my time with new software, new technology, and I took that into the classroom. So I think that was noticed.

I think it helps to be friendly and approachable and tell stories, like, “Hey, here’s my story. If I can do this, you can do this.” And hopefully I gave clear lectures. My department had very few majors. The big undergraduate courses were all kind of service courses. And so people didn’t really want to be in my classroom, but they had to be. And so that’s something to think about. And then at the graduate level, I ended up teaching things that, for the most part, very few people fundamentally like. They just have to do it as a doctoral student. Like crystallography, it’s very dry and not very exciting. So I worked hard at bringing in real life examples that people could relate to that still allowed me to explicate on the subjects. And so it’s those kinds of sensitivities, but also being in my office at midnight. Students would come see me at midnight because that’s more their hours than mine.

Of course, early on, you’re younger, so you’re closer to them. But what’s the lure of academics? Every year, the freshmen are the same age. Every year, I’m exactly one year older. It’s so unfair.

LW: Did you think early on in your career that you’d ever be a college president? Was that a holy grail that you always hoped to achieve?

Bravman: No. My dream job, having grown up in New York City, was to be the president of the American Museum of Natural History on Central Park West. The woman who was the president there was president for like 25 years. And I remember thinking, “Would you please just retire?” But seriously, being a college president is a tough job. And it always has been. But I’m who I am, and I’m not who I’m not, and I can only do what I do. So I just keep building as best I can.

Innovation and Financial Well-Being at CUNY

Posted on by Mollie Ames

The spring semester at the City University of New York (CUNY) brings a fresh approach to a perennial problem. CUNY’s new Transfer Initiative enables students currently transferring for Fall 2025 to move anywhere within the system without sacrificing credits towards their major. The key is an automated process that shows them how their existing credits transfer immediately upon acceptance. 

The new initiative helps students avoid losing credit, time, and money when moving from associate’s to bachelor’s degree programs within the 25-college system. It is a culmination of a number of strategies at CUNY aimed directly at benefiting students, the majority of whom are low-income and/or first-generation. The person driving much of this innovation is Alicia M. Alvero, CUNY’s Interim Executive Vice Chancellor and University Provost. A first-generation American trained in Organizational Behavior Management, Alvero has the heart and the head to make systemic change at the country’s largest urban university. 

From streamlining advising to harnessing generative AI, Alvero is helping the colleges strengthen how they support students, particularly with factors such as time-to-degree and career alignment, which affect their financial well-being. In this interview with LearningWell, she discusses her own trajectory in higher ed, how those experiences helped guide her work in CUNY’s central office, and how organizational change can benefit the people who need it the most.  

LW: You wear a number of hats at CUNY. Tell me a little bit about your trajectory there and, in your own words, what the job entails.

Alvero: So I started in CUNY at Queens College as a faculty member of Organizational Behavior Management in 2003. And during that time, I was doing a lot of consulting work for organizations on both leadership training and improving workflow and efficiencies within businesses. And as with all faculty, once you get tenured, you get administrative responsibilities. And so sure enough, I ended up with administrative responsibilities and started to realize that all of these skills I was teaching to outside organizations, I could apply in-house to the psychology department, which at the time was the largest department. 

We would have a lot of students who would get denied graduation because they took a wrong course. And I thought, that’s a crazy time to find that out, when you’re applying for graduation. And so I started to think, how do we improve our advisement system within the department to eliminate that? That is, how do we get that information to students right away? How do we create work or course schedules that really meet the needs of our students? 

We’d get complaints from students saying, “I took this course, but it’s only offered Tuesday/Thursday, and it conflicts with another course that I need to graduate.” So I started really looking at how we were doing the work and then meeting the needs of the students. How do I ensure the right faculty, especially the part-time faculty, get assigned to courses for which they’re experts? We’d create a schedule and then try to fill all the adjuncts, but sometimes at the day and time of the course that aligned with their expertise, they were unavailable. And I thought that was a silly reason to lose this wonderful person.

And so I started making some changes in the department. I guess it started getting recognized by the college and the president and the provost. And they started saying, “Can you do this for the entire college?” And that was really my introduction to what it could be like to be an administrator for college. Then I became the Associate Provost for Academic and Faculty Affairs. Then our provost was retiring, and so it was announced that I’d be the interim. But before stepping into the role, our now former Executive Vice Chancellor University Provost, Wendy Hensel, was coming from Georgia State, and she reached out to me and said, “I really need somebody on my team who understands CUNY faculty, understands the system, because I’m an outsider.” And that’s how I came to the central office. I said I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to do what I love at a much larger scale. So I became a Vice Chancellor of Academic and Faculty Affairs for two-and-a-half years, and now I’m the Interim University Provost and Executive Vice Chancellor. 

LW: If you could identify one main priority of your work, is that to better facilitate a supportive, or student-friendly, way for students to get from entrance to success throughout their degrees?

Alvero: Yes, but it’s also about taking a holistic approach. It’s not just about making the process student-friendly. It’s about ensuring that our technologies, platforms, and policies are truly designed to support student success. Are our systems integrated in a way that makes life easier for students? For example, when a student transfers, does their information seamlessly transfer with them, or are they required to fill out unnecessary paperwork, even within CUNY?

We examine every step of the student experience—from entry to graduation—including the technologies we use, the policies in place, and the human factors like academic advisement. Gaps in policy can hinder student success, and some existing policies may not be functioning as intended. Additionally, students often receive contradictory information when moving between institutions, and we need to eliminate that confusion.

Our goal is to streamline information—through technology, well-designed policies, and well-trained advisors—so that students can make informed academic decisions and receive the right support at the right time. We shouldn’t wait until a student drops out to intervene. Instead, we should leverage predictive analytics and artificial intelligence to identify and support struggling students early on. It’s about a comprehensive, proactive approach, rather than a single initiative.

LW: And why would you say this support is particularly important at CUNY, which primarily serves first-gen and low-income students?

Alvero: The majority of our students don’t have the benefit of an expert in their home to guide them through the college process. When someone in a family has gone to college, they often understand—at least to some degree—what it takes to be successful. Most of our students don’t have that resource. And while attending college doesn’t automatically make someone an expert, any level of insight or support from someone who has navigated the system can make a significant difference.

Without that guidance, many of our students are left to advocate for themselves. But how can they effectively do that if they don’t even know the steps? That’s why it’s so critical for us, as a system, to proactively remove obstacles and provide the support they need, rather than expecting them to figure it out on their own.

LW: Could you give me an example of what some of those specific measures or supports look like? 

Alvero: For example, when a student transfers from one school to another, they often have to make a decision about which school they should go to. And there’s this misconception that, “Well, all 60 credits from my associate’s degree will transfer.” That is true. All 60 credits will transfer, but it’s how they transfer that makes the difference. Even if you’re transferring from accounting to accounting, credits that you thought would count towards the accounting degree could end up transferring as electives. That’s not useful. And so I bring this up because as a student, if I apply and get accepted to two schools, I should be going where the majority of my major credits are going to apply towards that major. But students often have to make this decision completely in the dark. 

We just automated that entire process. So now, say a student applies to three schools and gets accepted to two of them. They log into their account and see how each school will accept every one of their credits. That’s very powerful information. And the moment they’re admitted, it’s triggered, before they even commit to a school. Oftentimes, students used to accept admission and still not know this information because there was a delay in somebody getting it to them. So this is one example of support through information that helps make a well-informed decision.

LW: I imagine many students, from a financial perspective, may not have the luxury of saying, “Oh, well that course won’t add to my degree from a credential perspective, but it was fun.” They have to be really focused, right?

Alvero: Absolutely. And for students on financial aid, they lose their aid because aid is based off of a certain number of credits. So if you’re spending time taking credits that aren’t going to count, you already used the aid for those courses. And so whether it’s wasted dollars out of pocket or wasted financial aid dollars, what happens when you run out of aid and you can’t afford to pay out-of-pocket and now you can’t complete your degree because you took too many courses that wouldn’t apply?

We estimated that we’ll be saving students $1,220 with the new transfer initiative because of the average number of wasted credits for our students, which is in line with the national average.

“What happens when you run out of aid and you can’t afford to pay out-of-pocket and now you can’t complete your degree because you took too many courses that wouldn’t apply?”

LW: How about teaching and learning innovations? What are you working on inside the classroom?

Alvero: I’ll give a very obvious answer, but it is a priority, and it’s artificial intelligence. There’s just so much potential and so much that we’re exploring, and faculty are really very excited about ways in which they can use artificial intelligence to help their teaching, help students learn, but also teach students how to use AI, a skillset they’re going to need in the workforce. 

We recently asked faculty to submit proposals for creative ways of embedding artificial intelligence within their general education courses. And we received well over, I think, 40 applicant requests. We received more requests than we could grant because we provide faculty with a stipend. We want them to report back after the semester about how it went. Did they see a change in student learning outcomes? We want to know if we should be working with faculty to embed these strategies throughout, whether it’s within our math courses or English courses, where we see students struggle. We’ve not recovered since the pandemic with the learning loss, and students are really struggling in those gateway courses. And so not surprisingly, a lot of faculty are trying creative solutions in the classroom to try to improve student learning outcomes.

LW: There is evidence that avoiding remedial classes and going straight into regular classwork tends to have better outcomes for students. Do you think AI could be a tool to help students get up to speed? 

Alvero: CUNY actually moved away from traditional remedial classes for the very reason you mentioned. Instead, we now use a co-requisite model, where students who need extra support are placed in regular classes but with additional hours of support built in. So for example, if a course is usually three hours a week, this one might be five or six hours. In those extra hours, there are opportunities to use generative AI. Let me give you an example: A professor might provide slides to the students, and since CUNY has a license with Microsoft, students can access a tool called Microsoft Co-Pilot, which is a secure AI chatbot that requires a CUNY login. A student could use the tool to say, “Take these slides and create a 10-question multiple-choice quiz for me.” The goal is to help students use these tools to master the material. Of course, we also need to teach students critical thinking skills so they can spot errors, including those that might come from AI. But by using Co-Pilot and other tools we have secure university licenses, we minimize issues like AI hallucinations because the information is based on the class slides, not something random from a public AI platform. That’s just one example of how AI can be used in the co-requisite model to help students learn.

LW:. How are you guys thinking about student well-being? Do you see people, particularly from your seat in the central office, focusing on or investing in these issues?

Alvero: Absolutely, it is definitely at the forefront of most all of our conversations. We work closely with the university student senate so that we have a direct line of communication and they can express student concerns, but it’s about creating a really supportive and safe environment for our students. And how that’s defined—what those needs are—will vary from student to student. For financial well-being, it’s not just about ensuring that they have their basic needs met. It’s also, how do we provide them with financial literacy? Because getting a degree is great, but if they don’t come out with that degree understanding finances and how to manage them to help break that cycle, that’s on us, in my opinion. So we think about it in every single aspect—ensuring basic needs are met, ensuring if anything should happen to a student where they don’t feel safe that they have resources when they need them.

Of course, mental health is really important, but so is academic support, financial assistance, and access to basic needs. We have a program called CUNY Cares, which is based in the Bronx. It’s a one-stop shop where students can go to see all the benefits they qualify for in New York City, instead of having to go from agency to agency. It’s been incredibly impactful for our students because they have someone there to help them navigate this complicated process. They get guidance on things like, “Do I qualify? How do I get all of these services I might be eligible for?” The truth is, many of our students are eligible for far more services than they actually receive.

LW: CUNY is a very pluralistic environment. How do you make people feel welcome wherever they come from, particularly in today’s political climate? 

Alvero: CUNY offers a number of resources to support students from all backgrounds. For example, we have an office specifically for undocumented immigrant students, where they can get help with finding relevant support, both within CUNY and externally. Every campus has a dedicated contact to guide them through the process.

We also have a college language immersion program that’s open to anyone in the community interested in learning English. It not only helps with language skills but also provides college readiness, acting as a pipeline for students to move forward. This approach is really woven into the fabric of who we are as an institution.

LW: How about your focus on helping students connect with careers? Are you thinking, in addition to salary and similar benefits, about the importance of students finding purpose and meaning in their profession?

Alvero: Oh, absolutely. And this is another example of the holistic view. The way I see this, it’s not just about connecting them to the right career. It’s helping them from the beginning figure out the right career choice for them. And so in my dream, which is something I am planning to bring to fruition, students could have one place to really explore CUNY from A to Z. For career exploration, they could figure out what appeals to them, what might they do, and then be connected to what programs exist within CUNY. Because if I enroll at one CUNY school, they’re not going to have every single major. Maybe I realize that for what I’m aspiring to, I’m in the wrong CUNY school. Maybe I should have started somewhere else. How can we help students navigate that? 

And as I’m navigating what programs exist within CUNY academically, what internships opportunities are there? How can we connect students directly to our career partner industries? We’re doing a lot of work with that and integrating career milestones into academic degree maps. Currently, most degree maps are just, “Take these courses in this order if you want to graduate in X amount of time.” But what are the career milestones at different points in time? So it’s this holistic view of exploring careers, academic programs, and career milestones all within one place.

LW: Clearly advising takes a number of different forms at CUNY. How important is that? 

Alvero: CUNY now officially has a Senior University Director of Academic Advisement Initiatives that can help. The colleges are craving this. They’re all trying to do their very best, but until now, we haven’t shared best practices. How can we connect all of the advisors? We have an Academic Advisement Council. Every college has their Director of Academic Advisement, so they are at the forefront of these discussions.

The schools all have their own culture, their own things that their academic advisors must learn and navigate, but there’s also a level of consistency, especially with really critical information: the general education curriculum, appeals processes, how transfer works. These are things that are universal to all the colleges. So rather than having them spend time designing training, how can we serve in that capacity to provide really robust training and provide resources that are universal to all of them, so everybody’s on the same page with some of the foundational, critical information? 

LW: You seem to me like a very humble person, but that sounds like something you made happen?

Alvero: I don’t want credit. It’s a team effort. 

Formative Education at Boston College 

Posted on by Mollie Ames

At a Boston College retreat, sophomores are asked three questions: What are you good at? What brings you joy? Who does the world need you to be? The exercise is part of a program called “Half-time” meant to help students begin a lifelong process of vocational discernment. For Jesuit universities such as BC, this type of formative education, defined as “educating whole persons for lives of meaning and purpose,” is part of the fabric. It is now the focus of a new academic department at BC called the Department of Formative Education (DFE). 

The department extends BC’s leadership in formative education, expanding the focus from the practice of undergraduate education to research on “life-wide and lifelong” formative education. Housed within the Lynch School of Education and Human Development, DFE features an undergraduate major (Transformative Educational Studies), a master’s program (Learning, Design, and Technology), and the first ever Ph.D. program in Formative Education.

“Our programs tackle big formative issues,” said Chris Higgins, the Department’s founding chair. “How can we nurture vision and values? What are the dispositions that sustain democracy? How do we co-evolve with technological tools? How can we cultivate a sustainable relationship to the earth? What does it mean to flourish as a human being?” 

Such questions, Higgins explained, demand an interdisciplinarity approach, spanning anthropology, design thinking, history, the learning sciences, philosophy, and the psychological humanities.

Stanton Wortham is the inaugural Charles F. Donovan, S.J., Dean of the Lynch School. An anthropologist by training, Wortham spent several years at the University of Pennsylvania, where he worked with scholars of varying disciplines within the liberal arts on how their expertise applied to education. When he arrived at BC, he was able to continue this work of integrating the liberal arts into scholarly inquiry on education, with the blessing of BC President Father Leahy. In creating the new department within the Lynch school at BC, Wortham was inspired by the Jesuit reverence for the liberal arts and its emphasis on formative education.  

“Most of our education ignores the multi-dimensional nature of how people learn,” he said. “Formative education is this notion that people have several different types of development—social, emotional, ethical, spiritual—and all of those things are going on in a young person’s life at the same time.”  

“Most of our education ignores the multi-dimensional nature of how people learn.”

Wortham believes the optimum form of human development is when all these dimensions are aligned—a state he refers to as “wholeness.” The other two pillars of formative education are purpose, which helps young people explore what will bring them both meaning and a living; and community, the recognition that this discernment about life’s purpose happens together with others. Character and ethics are naturally woven in.  

“Too often at an institution, we tell young people that if they just learn a lot of stuff and get a good job, then everything is going to be fine. And it’s just not true if you’re not connected to something that has bigger meaning,” said Wortham. “We can’t tell students what to believe, but it is our job to help them ask questions about what is ultimately important to them.”

Wortham envisioned a department known both for its research and its teaching. He wanted to convene a group of liberal arts faculty that would bring diverse disciplinary perspectives to the study of formative experience, practice, and aims. This research on holistic development then enriches courses aiming to inspire students to think about education in this formative way.  

To lead the department, Wortham recruited Higgins, a philosopher, who had been leading the Transformative Education Studies program (TES). Now part of the Department of Formative Education, TES is growing with 95 majors to date. “‘Transformative education’ names both what we study and how we study,” Higgins explained.

“Our courses explore questions about personal and social transformation. Questions such as, what does it mean to be an educated person? And what kind of schools do we need in a democratic society? At the same time, we want these classes themselves to be transformative experiences, spaces where our students can reflect on their own efforts to form themselves into somebody who can lead a flourishing life.” 

Higgins shares Wortham’s perspective that education has grown too narrow and instrumental. His recent book, Undeclared, calls out the contemporary university, with its “credentialing mindset,” for paying only lip service to the idea of general education. Far from being encouraged to explore, students get the message that they had better “pick a lane and step on the gas!” Instead, he offers a vision for an educational renaissance in which “soulcraft,” described as “the quest to understand, cultivate, and enact ourselves in lives worth living,” is the primary focus.  

Higgins’ creative energy is reflected in the department itself, down to its name which he said is intentionally ambiguous. “Formative education is open for interpretation,” he said. “I don’t want to determine the kinds of questions that my colleagues want to explore.” 

Those questions are wide-ranging and include topics one might not immediately think of. Professor Marina Bers studies how children can develop ethically and interpersonally through engagement with coding and robotics. Caity Bolton, a cultural anthropologist, is studying what holistic human and social development looks like through Islamic education in East Africa and the Arab World. DFE affiliate faculty member Belle Liang has developed a “purpose app” for college students.  

Just in its second year, the DFE doctoral program is already producing notable research. For example, Ph.D. student Harrison Mullen has received a grant from the N.C.A.A. to study the experience of athletes forced to retire from the sport that has been so central to them. Framing the issue in formative terms, Mullen considers how practices such as sports help us make sense of what it means to lead a worthwhile life. In interviews with retired athletes, he explores the deep sense of loss that accompanies this life transition.

At the Department of Formative Education, as at BC overall, personal reflection is fundamental. “It’s the Jesuit thing,” said Higgins. “We are devoted to careful study of the ‘what’ and the ‘how’—but we also never forget the ‘why’ and the ‘who.’ Why does this matter? And how does this help you understand who you are and what you stand for? 

Higgins offered examples of TES courses and their activities. “In ‘The Educational Conversation,’ we invite students to reflect on their key formative influences through an educational autobiography. In ‘Spiritual Exercises,’ we introduce students to a range of spiritual practices, starting with the exercises devised by the founder of the Jesuits, Ignatius of Loyola.”

For Wortham and Higgins, the time is ripe to reconsider the hyperfocus on academic achievement. They believe educators in a variety of settings are looking for a richer, formative language to describe their practices and aims. To this end, the Lynch School is launching the Transformative Education Lab, which will share research and best practices around whole-person education. Wortham and Higgins hope that the lab will extend Boston College’s leadership in formative education to new audiences, helping to recenter questions of meaning and value in educational debates. 

“Academic achievement is critical. Subject matter knowledge is critical,” said Wortham. “But these students we are teaching and testing are people. We need to consider their mental health, how they will build relationships with others—all the things that make them thrive as human beings.”

BC’s Messina College

Posted on by Mollie Ames

Maaz Shaikh spent the summer before 11th 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.”

“Woven In”

Posted on by Mollie Ames

New research out of Vassar College links institutional efforts to address student mental health with higher graduation rates. 

The article, “‘Woven in’: Mental Health and College Graduation Rates,” published in The Journal of College Student Retention, pinpoints four mental health interventions common among colleges with “higher-than-expected” graduation rates—that is, rates higher than predicted based on factors like endowment per student, instructional expenses per student, and more.

For other schools interested in improving retention, the authors, who include Vassar President Elizabeth Bradley, suggest implementing these practices may be a step in the right direction.

Retention at four-year colleges is an ongoing concern, as less than half of students are graduating within six years of matriculating. Still, the number of students applying to these programs has risen, along with the price tag to attend.

Previous research shows mental health issues, along with a range of financial, social, and academic factors, can stand in the way of students’ graduating on time or at all. What mental health strategies colleges should use to curb these negative outcomes, however, has been less clear. 

The researchers behind “‘Woven in’” set out to determine these strategies by conducting case studies of five colleges with model graduation rates. The schools selected remain anonymous throughout the paper but reflect diversity in terms of student body size, geography, and “ownership type” (public, nonprofit, or for-profit).

Each case study involved a site visit and interviews with between 28 and 41 people, including administrators, faculty, and students. The interviewees answered general questions about school culture and experience, as well as more targeted ones about retention-related programs.  

Together, the responses highlight four practices, shared among the colleges, for tackling student mental health on campus: 

1. “Recognition of the breadth and depth of mental health needs” 

At each of the five schools, researchers found a proclivity to name student mental health as an increasing problem on campus. Both staff and students recognized the issue and proposed possible reasons for it. An Associate Vice Chancellor suggested mental health concerns were more often responsible for educational leaves of absence, which can delay graduation, than academic reasons.

2. “Proactive Approaches: Early Detection and Outreach”

Another commonality between the schools was a proactive approach to mental health. Each had measures in place to reach struggling students before their problems became serious. Some ran formal programs to report concerns about students and assigned a point person to intervene. Others cultivated a strong culture of faculty referrals. 

Regarding retention strategies, one Vice Provost mentioned the value of mid-semester reports, which faculty at his school complete on behalf of their students and turn into the dean’s offices. “Sometimes we pick up care issues where a student will say, ‘You’re right. I’m not doing well.’”

3. “Diversity of Mental Health Resources and Quality Improvement”

Every school also offered a wide range of services, recognizing the diversity of needs and importance of adapting to meet new ones. “I think the myriad of mental health resources that [the college] has contributed to why people stay at [the college] and why our graduation rates are high,” a student said. “Because if you are struggling, you will get the help that you need.” 

Services included not only traditional counseling but education, recovery, and maintenance programming. They also addressed “identity-related needs,” specifically around race and ethnicity. 

4. “Embedding Mental Health in the Larger Social System”

Finally, all five schools integrated mental health services into “the larger social support and academic structures,” the authors wrote. Administrators and faculty alike expressed commitment to student wellbeing and working together to address it. By confronting these problems across offices and departments, they could foster a culture that normalized talking about mental health and asking for help. 

“Whether in the classroom or beyond, ‘[Mental health] is always kind of woven in.’”

As one administrator said, whether in the classroom or beyond, “[Mental health] is always kind of woven in.” 

Walter Mondale and me

Posted on by Mollie Ames

I started at the University of Wisconsin in the fall of 2001, just a week before 9/11. For me, and so many other first-year college students, this was a defining feature of the next four years. I was busy with work, internships, and other activities at a large public university and found that while I had many great professors, I don’t recall developing significant relationships with any of them, nor did I in graduate school, with the exception of one class. 

While attending the University of Minnesota’s Humphrey Institute of Public Affairs in 2006, I was selected for a seminar course led by former Vice President Walter Mondale and supervised by Professor Larry Jacobs. The class was featured in the documentary Fritz: The Walter Mondale Story. As part of the class, students identified different sections of Mondale’s biography and did original research based on his newly released papers at the Minnesota Historical Society. I chose to research his role as campaign manager for his friend and mentor Hubert Humphrey, who had waged an unsuccessful presidential bid in the tumultuous year of 1968. It was a fascinating experience to learn about such an important period in American history with so many epic characters like Bobby Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, and Eugene McCarthy; and to get a sense of what life was like in a year of protests, assassinations, and war. I’ve always wanted to turn my paper into a book (someday).

Mr. Mondale was an engaging professor, generous with his time and willingness to share his personal experiences. In one of my memorable email exchanges with him, I asked him what lessons he took with him from 1968 that he used in his own campaigns. Besides the need to run a disciplined campaign (Humphrey’s campaigns were an apparent study in disarray), Mr. Mondale stressed the need to be yourself, work hard, and be kind. He remembered Hubert Humphrey as one of the most gifted orators of the 20th century, a superlative he said he would emulate but never achieve. In his email, he wrote:

“Humphrey was a magnificent speaker and performer. I couldn’t match that so I tried to compensate by working carefully on my speeches, doing some of my own research and reading, and connecting with people through friendship and kindness. We were very close friends but very different personalities. I did not try to be a Humphrey clone; I tried to be myself as unimpressive as that was and is.” 

“From him, I learned that you don’t need to be gifted to do great things.”

Besides his obvious humility, I was struck by his comment about “connecting with people through friendship and kindness” and the need to be diligent and work hard. From him, I learned that you don’t need to be gifted to do great things. As a fellow small-town Midwesterner interested in a career in public service, I was really inspired by him and could relate to his approach. I found him to be the ideal of what I thought of a public servant to be—honest, grounded, generous, smart, and always focused on improving people’s lives. He also had a great sense of humor that most people didn’t know. The class was a defining experience of my time in higher education. 

LearningWell Radio

Posted on by Mollie Ames

In this episode of LearningWell Radio, Kelly Field discusses her new report: “The Neurodivergent Campus, Supporting Students, Faculty and Staff” for the Chronicle of Higher Education. The interview provides evidence and information about neurodiversity (students with autism, ADHD, and certain learning disorders) and explores the needs and assets of this growing category of college students.

Principled Innovation 

Posted on by Mollie Ames

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.”