Are We the Problem?
8 Ways Higher Ed Is Getting in Its Own Way
I was listening to a podcast recently when a story caught me off guard and stuck with me for days.
It was about a condition that killed countless women in the 1800s, often just days after giving birth, called childbed fever. At the time, no one could explain the high mortality rates in hospitals. Eventually, a physician noticed a pattern. Doctors were performing autopsies in the morning and then assisting with childbirth in the afternoon without washing their hands. His solution was simple—- wash your hands with a chlorinated solution to drop the death rates.
But no one accepted it. The idea that doctors, the very people trained to save lives, could be the cause of so much harm was too difficult to face. His discovery wasn’t just ignored; it was actively rejected. His peers refused to accept that they might be the cause of the problem. They rejected the evidence. They rejected the change. And women kept dying.
I haven’t stopped thinking about this story. Because if I’m honest, it feels familiar.
Here’s the haunting reminder:
You can be trying to help and still be the one doing harm. You can be following the rules, checking all the boxes, working with good intentions, and still be part of the system that’s killing people.
In higher education, we’re not facing childbed fever. But we are watching students struggle. They are dropping out, disengaging, failing, and disappearing from a system we keep trying to improve. And like those doctors, we often respond with what we’ve been trained to do. We build new programs, launch initiatives, and revise policies. We believe we’re helping.
But what if we are perpetuating the problem?
This isn’t about blame. It’s about responsibility. Because the longer we avoid asking those hard questions, the more we risk becoming part of the very issue we say we’re trying to fix.
Here are eight ways higher ed continues to get in its own way and how we might begin to do things differently.
1. Launching new programs before fixing what’s broken
When enrollment dips or revenue slows, many institutions respond by creating something new, like a new degree, certificate, or micro-pathway. New programs feel like progress. They’re exciting to announce, offer marketing potential, and signal that an institution is adapting to a changing world. But when you peel back the layers, many new programs are being built on top of old problems. And those problems won’t disappear in a new program. They’ll just be replicated.
Too often, energy is funneled into launching something new while existing students remain stuck in broken processes. What’s worse, the new programs rarely come with new resources. Instead, they stretch already thin support teams even further and shift focus away from the current struggling learners. There’s also a kind of organizational avoidance at play. It can feel easier to build something fresh than to go back and untangle what’s not working. But starting over without fixing the root issues isn’t innovation. It’s just an expansion of the problem.
Try this instead: Before greenlighting a new program, take a hard look at the student experience in your current ones. Where are students withdrawing? Where are complaints piling up? Where is the data showing risk? Fixing those pain points is rarely glamorous, but it’s almost always more impactful than launching something new.
2. We enforce policies that punish more than support
Academic policies are designed to create structure and accountability. But too often, they reflect an institutional logic that prioritizes order over compassion. A student struggling with grades, for example, might find themselves placed on academic probation with little context or support, given a deadline to improve or face dismissal. It may be framed as a second chance, but without intervention, it’s just a countdown clock.
The intent behind these policies may be sound, but their application often lacks empathy. They tend to assume that students are underperforming out of laziness or apathy, rather than considering the complex life events, mental health struggles, or structural barriers that may be at play.
Try this instead: Revisit your academic policies through a student support lens. Ask whether your systems are designed to help students get back on track or just show them the door. A policy can uphold standards and offer support. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.
3. We collect data—but don’t act on it
Most institutions are drowning in data. Student surveys, retention dashboards, course evaluations, feedback forms. We collect it all. And yet, much of it goes unused. It’s reported, archived, and maybe shown in a PowerPoint… but rarely does it drive change.
When students tell us what isn’t working and nothing changes, it creates a cycle of distrust. Eventually, they stop giving feedback. And the system that once claimed to value student voice becomes a machine for confirming what we already think we know.
Try this instead: Identify one or two recurring themes in student feedback each year and take action in public way. Share what you heard, what’s changing, and when students can expect results. Don’t promise transformation. Promise responsiveness.
4. We let governance stall meaningful change
Shared governance is meant to ensure thoughtful, collaborative decision-making. But in practice, it can become a bottleneck. Curriculum changes that could benefit students immediately are often delayed by months, or even years, due to layers of review, approval, and revisions.
By the time a solution reaches implementation, the urgency has passed, or the context has shifted. The students who needed the fix are already gone. We tell ourselves that slow change is responsible change, but sometimes it’s just institutional inertia wearing a procedural disguise.
Try this instead: Create clear pathways for low-risk, student-centered innovation to move faster. Pilot solutions with a defined scope and evaluation plan. If governance is a value, let it support action instead of just delaying it.
5. We critique students instead of adapting to them
It’s easy to fall into the narrative that students aren’t what they used to be. We hear that they’re disengaged, unprepared, or too dependent on technology. But that framing ignores the reality that today’s students are navigating a very different world that is shaped by economic uncertainty, digital overload, and rising mental health challenges.
When we focus on what students “lack,” we overlook what they bring. And when we center our frustration, we stop being curious about what they actually need.
Try this instead: Design your teaching and support services around the realities students face now, not the ones you wish they were living in. Stop comparing them to past cohorts. Start asking what it means to serve this one well. Spoiler alert: this is going to continue to change. The student has changed and will continue to change.
6. We use accreditation as an excuse to avoid risk
When innovation feels risky, it’s convenient to point to accreditation as the reason we can’t try something new. But in most cases, that’s not entirely true. Accreditors care about quality, consistency, and student outcomes.
Using accreditation as a scapegoat often masks a deeper discomfort with change. It allows institutions to say “no” without admitting that fear, not regulation, is the real barrier.
Try this instead: Talk to your accreditor early and often. Most want to support innovation when it’s done thoughtfully and transparently. Treat them as a partner in the work, not a roadblock to it.
7. We assume academic leaders know what the workforce needs
Faculty and program directors are experts in their disciplines, but that doesn’t always translate into real-time insight about workforce needs. What students needed five years ago may not be what they need today. And yet, we often rely on internal expertise alone to drive curriculum decisions.
When a program leader hasn’t worked in the field recently (or never has) it creates a risk of misalignment. Employers shift expectations quickly. Technologies evolve. Entire industries change direction. Without active partnerships outside the institution, programs risk becoming outdated, even when designed with care.
Try this instead: Make employer and alumni feedback a regular part of the curriculum design process. If your programs are meant to lead to jobs, the people doing the hiring should have a seat at the table. Work backwards. Identify what employers need first and then align your curriculum to those needs.
8. We design solutions before validating the problem
There’s a growing tendency in higher ed to launch new tools or pathways based on trends rather than needs. Micro-credentials, AI tutors, stackable pathways. All of these sound promising, but are they solving the problems students and employers are actually facing? Or are we building what we want to build and hoping it sticks?
When we skip validation, we risk creating elegant solutions to problems no one has.
Try this instead: Before launching something new, ask students, employers, and advisors what’s actually getting in the way. Validate the problem first. If the need is real, the solution will be worth building.
We aren’t careless, and we aren’t indifferent. Like those doctors, we believe we’re helping. We act with purpose. We implement solutions. We respond to challenges. But good intentions aren’t the same as good outcomes. And when we fail to question the systems we’re working within, we risk reinforcing the very harm we set out to fix.
This is our handwashing moment.
It’s the opportunity to pause and ask: What if the things we’ve always done are no longer the things students need? What if the routines we’re proud of are the very things getting in the way?
We don't need more noise. We need more courage. The courage to look inward. The courage to slow down and ask better questions. The courage to let go of what's familiar in service of what’s effective. The courage to admit that we play a bigger role in this than we would like to admit.
The system won’t change just because we care. It will change when we’re willing to confront how we’ve contributed to keeping it the same.
This space is for educators, administrators, and anyone who believes higher ed can, and should, do better for its students. If you’re thinking about these things too, subscribe and join the conversation.