This is the question posed yesterday in a column over at Inside Higher Ed by contributor John Warner. What if, all of sudden, those countless college classes that are usually filled by part-time faculty were left teacherless? What if adjuncts just stopped accepting those positions? Warner examines a few likely consequences, such as the complete cancellation of those courses, or perhaps load adjustments by full-timers. But he also wonders why colleges can't simply pay adjuncts a "living wage."
To my delight, Warner employs an all-too-common technique here that I spend hours each semester trying to drill out of my students in composition classes. He never defines his terms. What exactly is a "living wage?" Is a living wage the same for a 28-year-old, single male as it is for a 45-year-old, married woman with three children? Is it the same for a teacher living in San Diego as it is for one living in Des Moines? Is it the same for someone who cobbles together seven courses for an equivalent to a full-time schedule as it is for someone who already has a full-time job elsewhere and chooses to teach a night class for enjoyment? And who gets to determine this magical number of a "living wage?" He simply uses a phrase we are all supposed to agree with rather than taking the time to truly explore what his message means.
I like Warner's premise, that if suddenly there were no adjuncts then universities would finally have to acknowledge the terrible situation they have created. But pandering to the economically ignorant by using self-righteous phrases like "living wage" isn't the answer.
My solution is simple, yet probably more principled, which is why it will never happen. Until we reduce salaries for administrators, schools will never have the budgetary flexibility to hire more faculty (or reduce student tuition, for that matter). Universities need to get back to placing the focus on students first, followed by those that have the most direct contact and influence over students' education, teachers.
At many small institutions across the country, college presidents make in excess of $200,000 per year, with larger universities often paying nearly one million dollars. Vice presidents, provosts, and anyone else with fancy titles also earn in the hundreds of thousands. I'm not saying such employees are not valuable; everyone on a campus has an important job to do. But think of how many teachers could be hired if administrators took salaries in the $50,000 range, like most standard faculty do. If a college has a leadership staff of four that collectively earns $600,000 per year, and they reduced that total to $200,000 by making $50,000 each, a school could hire ten general education faculty at $40k apiece, which would cover many of the typical adjunct courses. TEN. Ten new leaders to help students stay committed to their majors. Ten new advisers to help students prepare for the workforce. Ten new voices on campus to start academic clubs and host events. Ten new scholars to guide engaging classes and develop exciting research. Ten new employees now earning Mr. Warner's "living wage."
As I said, this would require universities to return to student-first principles, and I won't hold my breath. So here's the lesson of the day, dear students. When deciding on a college to attend, look into how much the administrators make to see where the school's priorities are. And always define your terms in your essays.
To my delight, Warner employs an all-too-common technique here that I spend hours each semester trying to drill out of my students in composition classes. He never defines his terms. What exactly is a "living wage?" Is a living wage the same for a 28-year-old, single male as it is for a 45-year-old, married woman with three children? Is it the same for a teacher living in San Diego as it is for one living in Des Moines? Is it the same for someone who cobbles together seven courses for an equivalent to a full-time schedule as it is for someone who already has a full-time job elsewhere and chooses to teach a night class for enjoyment? And who gets to determine this magical number of a "living wage?" He simply uses a phrase we are all supposed to agree with rather than taking the time to truly explore what his message means.
I like Warner's premise, that if suddenly there were no adjuncts then universities would finally have to acknowledge the terrible situation they have created. But pandering to the economically ignorant by using self-righteous phrases like "living wage" isn't the answer.
My solution is simple, yet probably more principled, which is why it will never happen. Until we reduce salaries for administrators, schools will never have the budgetary flexibility to hire more faculty (or reduce student tuition, for that matter). Universities need to get back to placing the focus on students first, followed by those that have the most direct contact and influence over students' education, teachers.
At many small institutions across the country, college presidents make in excess of $200,000 per year, with larger universities often paying nearly one million dollars. Vice presidents, provosts, and anyone else with fancy titles also earn in the hundreds of thousands. I'm not saying such employees are not valuable; everyone on a campus has an important job to do. But think of how many teachers could be hired if administrators took salaries in the $50,000 range, like most standard faculty do. If a college has a leadership staff of four that collectively earns $600,000 per year, and they reduced that total to $200,000 by making $50,000 each, a school could hire ten general education faculty at $40k apiece, which would cover many of the typical adjunct courses. TEN. Ten new leaders to help students stay committed to their majors. Ten new advisers to help students prepare for the workforce. Ten new voices on campus to start academic clubs and host events. Ten new scholars to guide engaging classes and develop exciting research. Ten new employees now earning Mr. Warner's "living wage."
As I said, this would require universities to return to student-first principles, and I won't hold my breath. So here's the lesson of the day, dear students. When deciding on a college to attend, look into how much the administrators make to see where the school's priorities are. And always define your terms in your essays.