Encouraging Diversity in Higher Education

Supporting student success

Kate Hughes

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• Print ISBN: 9781138899728
• eBook ISBN: 9781317480556
• Topic: Education
• Subtopic: Education General

Encouraging Diversity in Higher Education: Supporting Student Success provides an overview of the widening participation movement in Higher Education in the United Kingdom, United States, Australia and New Zealand. It argues that universities should revitalise their learning and teaching practices to better meet the diverse learning needs of contemporary undergraduate students.

Approachable in execution, this book provides an evidence-based set of classroom practices, which readers will readily be able to relate to and use successfully. Answering questions such as:

• How can I enrich my undergraduate teaching?

• How can I help undergraduate students engage fully with their learning?

• How can help undergraduate students to quickly acclimatise to Higher Education?

• How can I help undergraduate students from diverse backgrounds excel at university?

This book discusses economic and discursive drivers used to increase the numbers of undergraduate students who were the first in their families to enter university, and some of the ways in which universities responded to the growing percentage of such students. In so doing, it considers the learning needs of diverse students, and discusses the views of academic teaching staff who have used transparent pedagogies in their classrooms.

Including forty five teaching strategies designed to generate highly engaged, socially inclusive classrooms, this is the first book to offer both a theoretical background of the need to approach learning and teaching in contemporary universities in innovative ways, and a practical, step by step guide to using a suite of transparent pedagogies. These focus on building inclusive classroom communities, generating academic literacies, developing collaborative learning skills, and encouraging students to think critically.

This book will be a useful companion for both early career academics and those with experience but dealing with a new student cohort. It will also be of great interest to those teaching or studying the many professional qualifications in tertiary education.

Kate Hughes is the President of the Australian Sociological Association (TASA) and Senior Consultant of Teaching and Learning at the Australian Catholic University. She is the co-author of Australian Sociology: A Changing Society, the market leading undergraduate text in Australia, now in its fourth edition.

Chapter 1

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The inclusive university?

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Introduction

Beginning with the ways in which higher education in the United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand and the United States has been transformed in recent times, and the arguments used by government for that transformation, this chapter sets out the argument for the use of transparent pedagogies. It explores the economic causes of international massification in the West, which arose partly in response to the huge growth of higher education in non-OECD countries. It then examines the ways in which diversity and social inclusion, more generally, have been discussed in policy terms and in terms of the positioning of people deemed to be socially excluded.

The impact of massification on universities is then explored – in terms of both their relative positioning on league tables, and their various responses to widening the participation of first-in-family students. Which universities provide access? Are they evenly spread?

The chapter concludes with a discussion of neoliberalism’s impact on the practices and protocols of universities, and more particularly, the ways in which universities can intercede to create the conditions whereby all students can experience a critical, transformative education which equips them with the skills to both ‘read the world’ but also act within it (Freire 2000; Tapp 2014).

Why massify?

Over the past ten years, there has been a growing international push, across almost every jurisdiction, for an increase in the proportion of people with a tertiary education in every population. The reasons for this are manifold. Its origins can perhaps be found in the global need for more educated citizens, most notably to meet the needs of changing economies, sometimes called ‘knowledge’ economies. These are economies which are increasingly reliant on technology, on the generation of knowledge and on the use of such knowledge for progress and growth. In this context, there is a growing need for employees with a range of both intellectual and practical skills found only through engagement in higher education (Bradley et al. 2008; Gorard et al. 2006; OECD 2012b; Teese 2000; Tight 2012). Considered from an individual’s point of view, there seems little doubt that possessing an undergraduate degree substantially raises one’s lifetime income and, conversely, not having a degree leaves one currently unable to join a growing number of professions – and this figure is increasing (Pew Research Center 2015).

But there is also data emerging from the OECD which highlights the ways in which the international market in higher education is changing – with higher education becoming increasingly established in non-OECD countries and the concomitant reduction of the numbers of international students travelling to study:

In 2000, there were 51 million 25–34 year olds with higher education (tertiary) degrees in OECD countries, and 39 million in non-OECD G20 countries. Over the past decade, however, this gap has nearly closed, in large part because of the remarkable expansion of higher education in this latter group of countries. For example, in 2010 there were an estimated 66 million 25–34 year-olds with a tertiary degree in OECD countries, compared to 64 million in non-OECD countries. If this trend continues, the number of 25–34 year-olds from Argentina, Brazil, China, India, Indonesia, the Russian Federation, Saudi Arabia and South Africa with a higher education degree will be almost 40% higher than the number from all OECD countries by 2020.

(OECD 2012b: 1)

This data points to two possibilities which have contributed to the drive for the massification of higher education in OECD countries: firstly, a compounding drop in the income drawn from international enrolments; secondly, a need to ensure that the OECD economies remain competitive – even dominant – in the face of rapidly expanding economies in what, previously, had been part of the developing world.

These are, very broadly, the reasons why higher education in the OECD has been massified, by which I mean that the tertiary education participation rate has purposefully been driven upwards by government policy and, as a result, universities are faced with teaching many more students than ever before (Allais 2014). The United Kingdom, for example, aimed to have educated to tertiary level 50 per cent of their population aged 18–30 by 2010 (Action on Access 2009), Australia aims to equip 40 per cent of people in the same age bracket with an undergraduate degree by 2025 (Bradley et al. 2008), the United States’ goal is 60 per cent by 2020 (up from 39.3 per cent) (U.S. Dept. of Education 2015) and New Zealand’s aspiration is to even further increase the numbers of its population having studied at university at undergraduate level by 2017 (currently almost 60 per cent) (New Zealand Ministry of Education 2014). A few industrialised nations have even raised their participation rate to above 80 per cent of their population (Collins 2013). Arguably then, higher education has shifted from being an endeavour of the elite where less than 10 per cent of the population gained tertiary qualifications to an endeavour of the masses, where many more do.

This growth began in the post-war period, for the most part, and accelerated through the 1970s. It became clear that economies were changing and needed a more educated and technically skilled workforce than before. But also, student populations needed to be expanded. This was in order not only to meet the new workforce needs, but also in response to pressure from feminism, the left and the black rights movement who saw university education as an elite, white, masculine pursuit and sought to have it democratised. This was broadly achieved both through increasing the numbers of women and people of colour who attended universities, but also through the broadening of curricula in order that the histories of subjugated people, for example, were studied alongside those of the elite (see Kelly & Slaughter 1991; Rogers 2012).

Tight (2012) points out that in the United Kingdom, for example, specific student cohorts were targeted for higher education participation at particular points in time, including working class people, women, the mature-aged and ethnic minorities (p. 212).¹ The building of these categories sits in stark contrast to the prototypical traditional student of the time for whom universities were originally designed, and who enjoyed a smooth entry into university, and then into professional careers: young, male, well-off and white.

After the war, in particular, growth in the tertiary sector addressed both the demographic shifts stemming from the fact that there were simply more young people following the post-war baby boom, and the need to differentiate and advance the newly emerging middle classes (Armstrong et al. 2011). Rather more ambitiously, higher education was – and still is – seen as a strategic means to generate firmer social cohesion through developing a more well-informed public with a shared set of democratic values. This, it was thought, would lead to stronger civic engagement (Armstrong & Cairnduff 2012).

Forty years later, such targeting continues, with New Zealand seeking to rapidly increase the numbers of Māori and Pasifika graduates (Cram et al. 2014), Australia steering people from low socioeconomic backgrounds into universities (Bradley 2008) and the United Kingdom spending £2 billion attempting to widen the participation of Black, ethnic minority and working-class students (Gorard 2008). In the United States, depending on state, they are attempting to close the currently large gap between the graduation rates of Black and Latino² students and all others (Rooks 2006). Of course, it can also be argued that through universities’ bid to grow student numbers, they have behaved like any other corporation that seeks to expand its consumer base in order to improve its market share, and thus compete more effectively with its rivals. This, in turn, can lead to improvements in its position on a range of league tables, which is very appealing to any university (Turner 2005; Usher & Savino 2007).

Discursive positioning about diversity

Alongside these broadly economic causes and effects of massification, governments have sought to explain and promote their policy approaches to the higher education sector largely through the use of discourses which foster a sense of altruism and social responsibility (Archer 2007; Armstrong et al. 2011; Hughes 2015; Mavelli 2014; Palmer et al. 2011; Sheeran et al. 2007).

Arguments about increased educational levels leading to increased civil responsibility and democracy have come from various sources but they all share the common notion that healthy economies are those which have invested in the growth of their human capital (Abbott-Chapman 2011; Action on Access 2009; Gorard et al. 2006; OECD 2012a). It is argued that economic development is fuelled as much by the improved civic participation resulting from a more educated populace, as it is by stronger, more innovative, more intelligent knowledge economies. Likewise, others have argued that on an individual level, simply having graduated from a university leads to a pronounced improvement in any individual’s sense of life satisfaction in general, their sense of meaning in life, usefulness and security, their sense of wellbeing, their health status – in addition to much higher lifetime earnings (Abbott-Chapman 2011; Marginson 1997).

But within this discursive field of diversity or social inclusion, how are the various non-university-going groups positioned? How are they viewed by government? By policy? By universities themselves?

One answer to this series of questions is that they are perceived as inherently problematic, almost incapable of making rational decisions, and ignorant of the decisions which would be of most benefit to them (hence their non-attendance at school/university). Of course, as any sociologist will tell you, it is much more complex than this – students and potential students from non-university-going backgrounds also make sets of decisions about their education, and sometimes they perceive tertiary education as an almost hostile environment, or at the very least, one which does not place value on their lives or experiences (Abbott-Chapman 2011; Archer & Hutchings 2000; Ballantyne et al. 2009; Bowden & Doughney 2010; Christie et al. 2008; Collier & Morgan 2008; Dennis et al. 2005; Devlin 2011; Hughes 2015; Lehmann 2009; McCarron & Inkelas 2006; Morrison 2010; Murphy 2009; Pearce et al. 2008; Read et al. 2003; Schuetze & Slowey 2003; Watt et al. 2011). Within this context, ‘aspiration’ has become key and is used to explain the traditionally relatively low levels of higher education participation by particular demographic cohorts.

As Sellar et al. (2011) explain:

However, ‘raising aspiration’ is a deeply problematic trope around which to establish social justice projects. There are at least three aspects of concern here. First, dominant conceptions of aspiration imply potentially offensive and normative assumptions about the value and legitimacy of particular educational pathways, forms of employment and life projects. That is, those who don’t aspire to higher education are assumed to have lower aspirations. Second, it underestimates the potential for stratification associated with expanding education systems, which can result in less advantaged students being diverted into lower status institutions. … Third, it is by no means clear that underrepresentation in HE is caused by low aspiration, as opposed to holding aspirations for different ends or not having the capacity to realise one’s aspirations.

(p. 38)

Conversely, in the discursive field of government policy, those without a tertiary education are conceived of as being – or becoming – a cost to the taxpayer through not equipping themselves for productive professional careers or paying the accompanying taxes, not participating in civil society (in a broad sense) and in turn, not preparing their children to as fully engage in education and work as they should. North and Ferrier (2009), for example, using data from the Australian Bureau of Statistics, argue that ‘socially excluded’ people have tangible results in their lives which include:

• Being dependent on government support as their main income source

• Having multiple children

• Having a lack of access to a car and

• Being unable to access the Internet at home (p. 45)

The financial imperative to increase the numbers of student enrolments becomes even more acute when one considers that students in Australia, the United Kingdom and New Zealand are increasingly bearing more of the financial burden of their university education as students in the United States do. They become a source of revenue for governments increasingly relieved of the financial burden of universities – rather in the same way that international education has become a very significant source of income for many OECD countries, in particular (OECD 2014).

The diversity conundrum

The governments of Australia, New Zealand, the United Kingdom and the United States have shaped their higher education policies around a number of intersected strategies:

• reduced funding of universities offset by the increased financial responsibility of students for their education

• targeting specific demographic cohorts from non-university-going backgrounds for university entrance

• reduction of spending on government benefits by increasing the earning power of the socially disadvantaged and

• concomitant increases in revenue from taxation.

But what does this massification mean for the universities themselves?

Firstly, whilst these economic strategies are in place, discourses of diversity become an almost moral imperative and have been used, in part, as an explanation for the policies of widening participation and social inclusion. Louise Archer (2007), for example, has argued that the use of ‘diversity’ (now inseparably linked to the endeavour of widening participation in higher education for the reasons already outlined) acts as a compelling discourse insofar as its contestation becomes almost impossible (p. 648). In this context, the demographic groupings which are the least likely to be university-going are the most likely to be constituted as of in need of social inclusion via higher education. Here, they are perceived of as the worthy Other in need of a catalyst for transition into a tax-paying profession and all the benefits which arise from that (Allais 2014).

One of the important consequences of this discursive positioning is the way in which it neatly individualises structural, social inequalities. So, for example, the actual sources of educational drop-out (the habitus and aspirations of the secondary schools which ‘diverse’ students attend, for example, or the financial reasons why they leave education and gain premature employment) are obscured (Bourdieu & Wacquant 1992; Gale & Mills 2013; Gorard et al. 2006; Hughes 2015...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• List of figures
• List of tables
• Acknowledgement
• Introduction
• 1. The inclusive university?
• 2. Teaching the taught
• 3. Building a dialogic classroom: names matter
• 4. Improving academic literacies
• 5. Collaboration
• 6. Thinking critically
• Conclusion
• Index