The University of Pennsylvania Faculty: A Study in American Higher Education [Reprint 2016 ed.] 9781512807097

Table of contents :
Introduction
Contents
1. American Higher Education: Problems and Policies
2. Principles of a Faculty Program
3. Reputation and Morale of the Pennsylvania Faculties
4. Recruitment
5. Rank and Tenure
6. Faculty Distribution
7. Appointments and Promotions
8. Suspensions and Dismissals
9. Salaries and Fringe Benefits
10. The Teaching Function
11. Research and Other Creative Activities
12. Retirement
13. What of the Future?

Citation preview

The University of Pennsylvania Faculty Λ Study in American Higher Education

Titles included in the Reports of THE EDUCATIONAL SURVEY Joseph H. Willits, Director Malcolm G. Preston, Co-Director Julia Μ. H. Carson, Assistant Director

The University of Pennsylvania Faculty: A Study in American Higher Education by Richard H. Shryock

Humanistic Teaching and the Place of Ethical and Religious Values in Higher Education b Edwin E. Aubrey

Graduate Study and Research in the Arts and Sciences at the University of Pennsylvania b Hayward Keniston

The University of Pennsylvania Faculty A Study in American Higher Education by

RICHARD H. SHRYOCK Director, Institute of the History of Medicine The Johns Hopkins University

Philadelphia University of Pennsylvania Press

© 1959 by the Trustees of the University of Pennsylvania Published in Great Britain, India, and Pakistan by the Oxford University Press London, Bombay, and Karachi Library of Congress Catalogue Card Number: 58-13164

Printed in the United States of America

Introduction Excellence in the University of Pennsylvania, as in other universities, exists or can be attained only by virtue of excellence in its faculties. Policies and procedures which improve the quality of the faculties are therefore vital to the well-being of the institution; and this conclusion—though a seeming truism—must be central to all thinking about the University's future. The present study deals with this essential theme, which for the sake of brevity may be termed the faculty program. The subject relates to all the major purposes of the University, since these must be carried out—ultimately—by the academic staff. Moreover, it transcends the interests of particular schools or areas of learning, and cuts across the resulting boundaries of institutional structures and functions. Under these circumstances, a faculty program may seem so all-embracing as to be almost the equivalent of university policy as a whole. Yet faculties must admit, with becoming modesty, that they alone do not constitute the University of Pennsylvania. Studies of other essential elements in this or any similar institution—as of administrators or of students—will also ramify in all directions. Delimitation of themes here is a matter of focus and emphasis. The present study concentrates on the academic staff and considers other categories only in so far as they enter the resulting picture. Problems and policies relating to university faculties are complex; indeed, they display a disconcerting tendency to appear more so the more one studies them. This complexity must be broken down into certain topics for purposes of 5

analysis, even though these interrelate at many points. The order of presentation need not be entirely arbitrary, since it may correspond in some degree to the several stages of an academic career. Such a career begins with appointment and ends in retirement; while in midstream, so to speak, it involves important matters which have simultaneous pertinence. Among the latter are such items—speaking of faculties as a whole—as ranks and tenure, salaries and budgets, and teaching, research, and other functions. All these, as well as certain extraneous factors, bear upon that elusive something known as "faculty morale"—the state of which is the final test of a faculty program. One must do more, of course, than simply to discuss each of these matters in relation to the University of Pennsylvania. What exists or occurs here can be interpreted only against the background of what goes on in other American universities—with particular reference to those of a comparable nature. No claim is made that other institutions have been thoroughly looked into, and the variations among them are such that many pertinent comparisons have doubtless escaped us. Yet interviews and correspondence with administrators and faculty members at a number of outstanding universities, combined with the use of a growing literature on higher education, have probably brought to our attention most of the major problems and many proposed solutions which are current on the American scene. It will also be well to compare the universities of this country—including Pennsylvania—with those abroad. Our awareness of this larger background is less complete than is our knowledge of the national setting; yet to ignore the former completely would be to share the provincialism which has characterized much of the literature on higher education in this country. Serious problems arise from cer6

tain peculiarities in the structures and functions—in the anatomy and physiology—of American universities. Whether these variations are pathologic or not is a matter of opinion. But they must, in any case, be brought into the open and this can be done only by viewing them from an international perspective. No detailed knowledge of foreign universities is needed for this purpose, since reference to their more general features will bring out meaningful contrasts. In order to refresh our impressions, however, we indulged in limited correspondence with European professors, and interviewed a number of university men in London and in Paris. Discussion of contrasts between European and American universities brings one close to the central problems encountered in this country and will provide opportunity for arriving at general principles. Lacking such principles, we should have before us only a series of more or less disparate topics to be considered in and of themselves. In so far as principles can be formulated, on the other hand, we will have attained what may be loosely called the philosophy of a faculty program. No doubt some will not accept this "philosophy," but in that case it may at least provide a point of departure. In view of these considerations, it seems best to begin the report with a general discussion of the American scene —with particular reference to the problems and role of faculties in higher education. Such principles as can be accepted will then be applicable, subsequently, to each aspect of the faculty program at Pennsylvania. The outline of the report— and it is surely orthodox to present an outline—will therefore take the form given in the table of contents. Brief explanations may be added here concerning the 7

procedures and forms which have been employed. Time was not available for an intensive study of the faculties of each of the nineteen colleges of the University; and in any case, such a study would have involved needless duplication of the separate reports made on these colleges—or on subjectmatter areas—for the Educational Survey. Materials in other reports re faculties were grist to our mill. We are particularly indebted to certain of the studies, such as that of Professor Keniston on the Humanities and that of Professor Fisher on the Wharton School. Other University documents were also helpful and were made readily available by administrative officers. In order to supplement formal information, we conducted personal interviews with some twenty-five percent of the Arts College faculty—selected on a basis of random sampling with due regard to ranks. This provided some sense of the attitudes of that staff, and like information was available on the faculty of another large undergraduate college in the Wharton School reports. The cooperation accorded us by busy faculty members, some of whom had been bedeviled by more than one Survey inquiry, was remarkable. In only one instance was an interview refused, and the great majority welcomed us or gave every appearance of so doing. We regret that time did not permit of similar studies in all the colleges, but it seems likely that in the matter of attitudes, such further investigation would have brought diminishing returns. The possibility that striking differences might obtain within particular colleges was guarded against by interviewing selected individuals therein. A report on faculty policies necessarily involves matters on which there are marked differences of opinion. Theoretically, one might picture these policies without reference to their merits or limitations. Such detachment would be diffi8

cult in practice, however, for the very selection of data is influenced by subjective viewpoints. And even if complete objectivity were possible, it would probably be pointless. Those who assemble the data also have their reactions thereto, and those who read will wish to know what these reactions are. Hence we shall often employ such normative terms as "ought" or "should," but this usage simply implies that a given policy is desirable "in our opinion." A final word is in order, concerning terminology. As in any inexact subject, the words employed in the literature on higher education are at times ambiguous. Certain of these ambiguities—such as the different meanings of "college," "undergraduate" or "professor"—are innocent enough, since distinct connotations are well understood in distinct settings. More serious is the appearance of divergent meanings within the same context. The term "scholar," for example, is applied both to the "productive" professor and to one who seeks recognition sans productivity. Confusion may be worse confounded if, in die second case, it is held that teaching really is "publication" and should be viewed as such. No fixed or final definitions are offered here. For the sake of consistency, however, certain usages will be arbitrarily adopted. We shall employ "colleges" as synonymous with "schools" on the level of higher education (law, medicine, etc.)—of which the arts college is only one. We may then speak of "university" arts or medical colleges and of "independent" arts or medical colleges, depending on whether or not such units are parts of larger organizations. By "universities" we mean institutions which not only include a number of colleges, but which are also devoted to creative functions (research, etc.) as well as to the transmission of knowledge. The importance of the first of these functions is obscured, in recent educational literature, by references to 9

university faculties simply as "college teachers." The latter term will therefore be used only with due qualifications, and the same holds true for such a vague appellation as "scholars." Such words as "professor" or "instructor" will designate only ranks. "Faculties" or "academic staff" will refer to those whose primary functions are teaching and/or research, in distinction to those whose primary functions are administrative in nature. The word "research" itself, incidentally, is used in the scientific sense, but will be frequently coupled here with other creative activities in such fields as law, literature, and the fine arts. In spite of these usages, some ambiguities may creep in, but a conscious effort will be made to keep the meanings clear. The writer wishes to acknowledge, finally, his indebtedness to Professor Otto Pollak for valuable aid in preparing certain of the materials essential to this study. Dr. Pollak compiled the data and charts concerning salaries, and also planned and participated in the interviews conducted with members of the Arts College faculty. RICHARD H . SHRYOCK

Baltimore, March, 1958

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Contents Introduction

5

1. American Higher Education: Problems and Policies 2. Principles of a Faculty Program

15 52

3. Reputation and Morale of the Pennsylvania Faculties

105

4. Recruitment

119

5. Rank and Tenure

131

β. Faculty Distribution

141

7. Appointments and Promotions

154

8. Suspensions and Dismissals

179

9. Salaries and Fringe Benefits

190

10. The Teaching Function

216

11. Research and Other Creative Activities

237

12. Retirement

251

13. What of the Future?

255

The University of Pennsylvania Faculty A Study in American Higher Education

1 American Higher Education: Problems and Policies Undergraduate Colleges. The University of Pennsylvania was once unique in this country in respect to its secular status, and it was also the first American institution which —beginning as an arts college—added a second college in the form of a medical school. Like its counterparts, however, it did not become a university until late in the nineteenth century. Since then, it has developed along lines similar to those followed elsewhere. Although no one institution is just like another and variations may be significant, Pennsylvania is fairly typical of our large, secular universities. The stimulus which inspired universities in this country was of German origin, but the resulting programs were taken on by institutions whose forms derivedfrompre-existing arts colleges. Without going into the history of these colleges or of their English antecedents,1 one may note that their cultural environment, their levels of instruction, and their administrative structures were quite different from those obtaining in the German institutions. A working combination, within American universities, of these two distinct traditions—of native forms and of foreign functions—was not easy to achieve. Some analysis of the problems involved is essential to an understanding of the present scene. 1 See especially, Richard Hofstadter and W. P. Metzger, The Development of American Academic Freedom, New York, 1955.

15

The American arts college was originally little more than a secondary school and was so viewed abroad. Its students subsequently became older and its studies more advanced, but it still exhibits some of the characteristics of the secondary level—particularly during the first two of its four years. Such colleges, for example, are still expected to act in loco parentis. When American universities set up "graduate" or advanced professional schools, the arts college found itself midway in the educational pyramid between these upper colleges and the strictly secondary level (high schools). Whether or not a university originated in an arts college, it always included one and termed the students therein "undergraduates." Matters were further complicated by the establishment of professional or vocational colleges (business, engineering, home economics) on this same undergraduate level. In Continental Europe, in contrast, students attend secondary schools until 18 or 19 years of age and then enter directly into professional training in universities. Although European lycees or gymnasia may be criticized for their rigidity, they have the reputation of giving a more disciplined academic education than do American secondary schools. Hence American students who go directly from high schools into university colleges of business or engineering may be less well grounded than are their European counterparts. If it were desired, the American system could be made similar to the European in either of two ways. Students could add the first two years of arts college to their high school training and then be admitted directly to any university college—provided they did not wish to complete four 16

years in arts. Certain advanced professional schools (medical) now approve this sequence, which promises to save their students both time and money. And undergraduate professional schools (business, engineering) which wish to become graduate, might find the transition easier if they required for admission only two years of arts college rather than the traditional four. If the first two arts years are organized into a "junior college," moreover, this can provide a respectable end-point for the education of those who are unable or unwilling to go further. Such a sequence, however, threatens the place of the four-year arts college and so may meet with resistance if adopted on a large scale. As an alternative, time-saving may be effected on the elementary and/or secondary levels. Students might be advanced more rapidly through the early grades, or they could be admitted to a four-year arts college after only two years of high school. From the viewpoint of the arts college, such arrangements would have two advantages. If college standards are higher than those of high schools, the proposed sequence would bring students up to these standards at an earlier age. And, in any case, the four-year college is preserved intact. The arrangement has been tried successfully only with gifted students and is probably not applicable to others. Resistance to the elimination of four-year arts colleges is based on more than vested interests. Just to the extent that high schools provide less effective academic training than do gymnasia, it may be held that Americans need two more years of such training (at ages 19-21) than do Europeans. Other observers, without necessarily admitting this, believe that "liberal" education is so valuable that Europeans as well 17

as Americans should continue it through the ages mentioned.2 Somewhat distinct from the claims of liberal education, is the appeal which the arts college makes in terms of "college life." Such life is compounded of various activities which are hard to disentangle. There can be real self-education within student groups, but there is also a very human and widespread desire to have a good time. Significant here is the contrast between the old literary societies and the presentday fraternities. In effect, many American colleges have become institutions whose appeal is as much or more social than it is educational in the traditional sense. Other societies cannot afford and probably have never desired to indulge large numbers of young people to this degree, and it is doubtful if American society can really afford it much longer.3 One encounters, in this connection, the usual difficulty which faces those dealing with American undergraduates; namely, student indifference to learning. Woodrow Wilson once applied a stronger term here in referring to actual "resistance." Such attitudes may be ascribed to various circumstances : to poor standards in lower schools, to lax admission requirements, to competition between academic and social values; or—more generally—to the whole nature of American society and culture. But the arts and similarly non-technical, undergraduate colleges, where student nonchalance is most apparent, must also take some of the blame. 2 Americans, during the Occupation, sought to graft the arts college on to the German system as a "bridge" between the gymnasium and the university; see O. F. Kraushaar, "New Stirrings in German Universities," Scientific Monthly, LXXVI1I (April, 1954), 201-207. 3 "College life" had an aristocratic, English background, where it was largely restricted to a privileged few at Oxford and Cambridge. It seenns to have been taken over, in American colleges, in more widely distribmted, somewhat democratized forms.

18

General pre-professional education is given, in Europe, in schools which require learning. Those who survive such schools and go on are then free to sink or swim in a professional environment. The American arts college, in contrast, continues general education until about age 21 in an environment which lacks both the discipline of the gymnasium and the motivations of professional schools. This lack of potent pressures on students from without or from within seems to be an inherent weakness. It is sometimes claimed that the arts college, with its compromise between the rigidity of gymnasia and the freedom of European universities, at least enables students to attain "social maturity"—a view analogous to that of public school educators re the cultivation of "the whole child." Quite apart from whether this should be a primary aim of higher education, one may question whether it is in fact realized. Do the colleges advance the social or emotional maturity of their students or do they, rather, indulge them in a somewhat prolonged adolescence? Whatever the answer here, the indifference of many undergraduates to serious study is a fact.4 The phenomenon is difficult to measure and there are numerous exceptions—not only in terms of individuals but also in regard to superior colleges. But we are speaking here of rank-and-file institutions. If one doubts the generalization, let him compare the attitudes of average undergraduates with those of average students in law or in medicine. Experience with "G.I.'s" after World War II suggests that more serious attitudes might have developed if students had been "on their own" or "out in the world" before matricula4 Excepting those in such technical, undergraduate schools as engineering. Recent studies have claimed, however, that there is now a trend toward serious attitude among undergraduate personnel.

19

tion. One can even toy with the thought that undergraduate colleges could improve the quality of student work if they would require a record of previous self-support for admission.5 In regard to such previous experience, the large-scale, informal systems of education in this country (within corporation, military, and adult programs) have an advantage over the formal schools. Yet the latter must serve as the base for the nation's entire educational effort. Some faculty members combat student nonchalance, while others accept it in the course of adjusting to their environment. It could be overcome to some extent by better teaching. But in so far as this attitude persists, it pervasively undermines all schemes for making college instruction more effective. There is no easy escape from these circumstances. No one can wave a wand and transform popular attitudes toward learning or turn high schools and colleges into gymnasia overnight—even if we wished to do this. Transformations in education usually take time. The tempo of change, nevertheless, may be quickened somewhat by impending social developments. Hence one must turn aside, at this point, in order to inquire: What are the implications of extraneous trends for higher education? Mass Enrollments in Undergraduate Colleges. As everyone knows, a wave of mass enrollments has reached the high schools and is headed toward the undergraduate colleges. Since its momentum derives from a growing desire "to go to college" as well as from sheer increases in population, both higher education and secondary are about to be in5 Since this was written, Dr. Herbert Scoville, Jr., of the C.I.A., has reported that Russian students—after completing a 10-year school program —are encouraged to "do a two-year interim stint in industry" before groing on to "college" (a university); see Baltimore Sun, Nov. 2, 1957.

20

undated. It seems probable, from statistics now available, that the number of students "in colleges and universities" wiH about double between 1956 and 1970 (three million to six million).® The prophets, of course, could be mistaken: numbers may not multiply as rapidly as is anticipated. But even if predictions prove to be twenty-five percent too high, the figures will still be impressive. Some part of increased enrollments will consist of good students whose prototypes were denied a "college education." But many others will wish to attend because college life is pleasant, because graduation in itself opens the door to opportunity,7 or just because "it is the thing to do." (Have we not become a nation of conformists?) These motives are not new, but they will soon move greater numbers and are not calculated to produce serious students. It may be hoped that fears on this score are exaggerated, but the experience of high schools two generations ago gives one pause. An early wave of enrollments reached this level between 1890 and 1915, and there is some evidence that it was associated with a decline in standards—among teachers as well as among students.8 The few public high schools of 1850 were, indeed, rather similar to the colleges of that ere; and one of them, Central High in Philadelphia, still gives degrees. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they were much like gymnasia, and they suggest what might have been in American secondary education. Some of these old β

An able analysis of all factois making for increasing enrollments is provided in F. J. Brown, "A Long-Range View of Higher Education," Anruus of the Amer. Acad, of Polit. and Social Sei., vol. 301 (Sept., 1955), 1-β. 7 Seen in a Philadelphia bank window: "College graduates make $75,000 morel" 8 This may not be conclusive, since one should presumably check comparative performance tests for high school students, say, of 1850 and 1915. Our assumption about the standards of the older high schools is based on the qualifications of their faculties and on their curricula.

21

schools survived but, after 1915, they were increasingly lost among the innumerable high schools of the now-common type. If it is true that high school standards declined with mass enrollments, the danger that similar results will follow similar expansion on the college level cannot be ignored. No one, of course, wants that. A national committee which welcomes expansion declares, nevertheless, that "to masquerade mass production of mediocrity under the guise of higher education" would be disastrous.® But in practice, two views emerge about the whole prospect. Some point with pride, emphasizing the values of widening opportunity and minimizing the dangers to standards. Others view with alarm and reverse the emphasis. Most Americans probably agree that the percentage increase of those of college age who attend college (4 percent in the early 1900*5, to 28 percent in 1950) has been "a spectacular achievement."10 They may exaggerate the distinctiveness of this trend, since many other nations are extending secondary schooling and increasing university enrollments. But until recently, at least, certain factors which permitted exacting standards in European secondary schools —class distinctions and selectivity—were barriers to mass education in the upper grades and also limited entree to universities.11 American high schools, in contrast, provide a single high road to undergraduate colleges. Students in this country may thus postpone career decisions until they are 17 or (if they attend arts colleges) 21 years of age. In addittion 9 President's Committee on Education Beyond the High School, Second Report, July, 1957, 4. 1 0 J. F. Wellemeyer, Jr., in School and Society, Nov. 14, 1953, 145-152. 1 1 For current European discussions of this problem, see, e.g., ГО. C. Doty's report on France in the New York Times, July 25, 1957.

22

to its democratic implications, such a sequence has obvious advantages for the Tate bloomers." As far as pre-college, academic requirements are concerned, therefore, the American system makes it easier for students to keep career lines open until they are relatively mature. But one must recall that other circumstances influence the sum total of opportunity. There is evidence, for example, that higher-education costs are greater for American students than for the British or German. Whether this difference is fully counterbalanced by higher family incomes in the United States we do not know. It is usually said, of course, that the greater percentage of college-age population enrolled in American colleges—as compared with university enrollment abroad—is final evidence of superior opportunity in this country. Yet even here one must raise questions. Can we be sure that the figures are comparable? Is the same age-group (18-21) used in both cases? If so, are data for the last two years of 1усёеβ or gymnasia (18-19) included in the total of European enrollments? And does the latter figure also include those attending certain types of vocational schools which are outside universities in Europe but inside them in the United States? But let us assume that, even with allowance for such variations, the balance indicates a higher ratio of enrollments and a correspondingly higher index of opportunity in this country. Those who emphasize this opportunity usually assume that a large proportion of future high school graduates should "go to college." The national committee just quoted states that "at least 50 percent" of them will benefit from formal education beyond secondary school.12 Whether this relatively moderate estimate can be held to will probably 12

President's Committee, Second Report, 9.

23

depend, later, on the manner in which economic circumstances increase or diminish admission pressures. But any attempt to set lower percentages in principle is viewed by the committee as "unrealistic," and it stoutly declares that this country will "never tolerate" an intellectual elite.13 There are critics, nevertheless, who take a dim view of the American achievement. Mass education, they agree, has widened opportunity, has tended to unify peoples of many origins, and has benefited society by improving the training of the rank and file. But it has also, they hold, frustrated the gifted while catering to the majority. And does not present society need, more than did any preceding order, wellplanned training for excellence? 14 More serious is the view that mass education, if brought up to the college level, will carry many young people beyond the point at which they are able or willing to benefit. Or, if they benefit at all, this will be accomplished only at a disproportionate cost to standards and hence to the interests of competent students. Joseph Wood Krutch, for example, indicts mass education for discouraging non-conforming excellence, and remarks that "we are more inclined to boast how many Americans go to college than to ask how much the average college education amounts to." 15 John A. Perkins, President of the University of Delaware, refers to the "alarming idea" that nearly all high school graduates should go to college, regardless of motivation or aptitude. He adds that colleges should take warning from the experience of high schools, which now 13 President's Committee, First Interim Report, 1956, 4ff. 1 4 Here a standard study is Dael Wolfle, American Resources of Specialized Talent, New York, 1954. See also Μ. H. Trytten, "Meeting Manpower Needs," Annals, vol. 301 (Sept. 1955), 19 ff. IB "Is Our Common Man Too Common?", Saturday Review Reader, No. 3,1954, 47-59.

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struggle with those who "should have gone to work."18 And a faculty committee of the University of California protests "against the current, unfortunate belief that university education is a 'must' for everybody."1T In the opinion of faculties, mediocrity as well as indifference already characterizes many undergraduates. In the Wharton School at Pennsylvania, for example, three-fourths of the faculty declare that most students are incompetent or competent only "to a moderate degree" in meeting the School's objectives.18 Where this is true in present colleges, rapid future expansion could easily make matters worse. If so, not only will the better students be frustrated: faculties also will suffer the consequences. The dangers are greatest, of course, in the weaker, independent colleges or in state units which must accept all high school graduates. Private institutions may protect themselves from mediocrity by maintaining or raising entrance requirements, or by requiring high standards after admission. Yet even such measures cannot prevent the number of qualified applicants from rapidly increasing, and further complications mil then ensue. Private colleges and universities have semi-public responsibilities and will feel some moral obligation to accept as many qualified students as possible. Fears have already been aroused among high school youngsters about prospects for admission to college (particularly to a "good" college) and pressures will mount There will be a temptation to overcrowd facilities and to overburden faculties—all in a good cause. Even if funds can be found for expansion, can the faculties themselves be found? 1 6 Quoted in What the Colleges Are Doing, Ginn and Co, Spring, 1957, 3. 1 7 Study Committee No. 1, Fifth All-University Faculty Conference, 1950, 7. 1 8 Μ. E. Wolfgang, Wharton Faculty Attitude Survey, 1957, 8β.

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At some point, traditional qualifications will have to be modified if sufficient academic personnel are to be secured; even if, meantime, the ratio of students to faculty has been increased. And a modification of appointment standards may either improve or lower those standards. The danger of the latter outcome will be greatest in real universities, which have other objects beside teaching in view. More must be said on this theme under the headings of "Recruitment" and of "Appointments." Faced by these perplexities, some university presidents have hinted or even said out loud that they will "hold the line" against increased enrollments. Others state their intention to maintain standards but imply some hope of finding resources which will permit of expansion. Thus, President Griswold states that Yale "should not rush into bigness" but adds that "perhaps society will find means of supporting its increased demand for a Yale education." 19 At Pennsylvania, meantime, President Harnwell notes the seeming incompatibility of quantity and quality but believes that these can be reconciled. "We cannot ignore the rising demands of students for a Pennsylvania education," he states, "nor can we acquiesce in any lessened impact of Pennsylvania on the world of education. . . . At the same time, we must maintain and improve the educational tradition . . . which we cherish." With adequate funds, he concludes, some fraction of additional, qualified applicants may therefore be admitted in conjunction with an actual improvement in student standards.20 There is no doubt that an expansion of universities will be in the public interest, if they can secure the necessary funds and the qualified faculties. Although the chances for secur19 20

Report of the President to the Alumni, Yale University, 1954-55, 15-19. President's Report, 1956, 8ff.

26

ing funds are fairly good, the prospect of finding greater numbers of scholars who merit university appointments is said to be dim indeed. Even if salaries are so raised as to make academic careers more attractive, universities will meet increasing competition for expert personnel from business, government, and the professions. It is a nice question whether society is not headed toward a point where its latent "pool of brains" no longer will be sufficient to meet increasing demands. In any case, a private university which aspires to excellence will presumably not increase its enrollments beyond a point which is consistent with the highest standards concerning students, facilities and staffs. This was the almost unanimous opinion of faculty members whom we interviewed at Pennsylvania. Thus to limit enrollments, in some institutions, is not only consistent with democracy but is actually in its best interest. Education for intellectual leadership is at least as essential in a democracy as in any other type of society. It would be unfortunate if only private universities in this country could maintain such standards; but this will not necessarily occur, since certain state universities also may be enabled to control the size of student bodies. The country clearly needs a limited number of institutions —let us say, twenty-five—which are universities in the best sense of the word. We are convinced that the University of Pennsylvania, in terms of tradition, resources, and present intent, belongs within this group. Mass Opportunity and Training for Excellence. We cannot consider here, in any detail, the problems of mass education which parallel those of training for excellence. But neither can the former be dismissed outright, since what is 27

done about mass education in and beyond high schools has some bearing on what will occur within university colleges. By the same token, these outside trends will be of concern to university faculties. One may therefore conclude this discussion with illustrations of how mass opportunity may be reconciled with training for excellence. Various efforts are being made, at present, to improve the work of high schools and of undergraduate colleges. But the value of most such proposals is limited by the fact that they relate to only one stage in a long sequence. Improvement of colleges does not overcome the inadequacy of high schools, nor does a reorganization of the latter have much bearing on what happens in elementary grades. Each level blames its troubles on the preceding one, and a good time is had by all except those who teach in the beginning years. Even if each level is improved in itself, problems of correlation will remain—since the whole of the educational sequence is more than the sum of its parts. Something may be accomplished, as far as undergraduate colleges are concerned, by discussions of the "transition" between high school and college,21 but this matter does not reach to the heart of the problem. What seems to be needed is a reorientation concerning formal education as a whole. Education should be envisaged as a continuing process, in which what occurs on one level affects all those which follow. And the clue to reorientation is provided in the point noted above; namely, that American schools have provided opportunity for the masses at the expense of the gifted. Why not face up at all school levels to the psychological realities, by providing continuing programs for the better students as well as for the rank and file? 2 1 The very attention given to this matter highlights the fact that the first college years represent a continuation of secondary schooling; hence the difficulty of distinguishing, "in transition," between the upper high school and the lower college years.

28

Once this view is accepted, various means for implementing it can be envisaged. The most sweeping proposal, made recently by Paul Woodring,22 is that we should admit bright youngsters into a four-year high school at age 11 instead of age 14; and on into a four-year undergraduate college at 15 instead of at 17 or 18. They would then be ready for graduate or professional school at 19 instead of 21. Meantime, average students could proceed somewhat more slowly, terminating their formal schooling by graduating from junior or community colleges at about 18. The third group (of slow learners) could go through early grades at a retarded pace, and could be set happily free upon completing high school at 17—or even before graduating on this level. Some differences in curricula, as well as distinct time schedules, would probably be desirable in these three programs. Until about sixty years ago, most high schools cultivated only traditional subjects which prepared students for college. Emphasis was placed on training in the disciplines as such. But when these schools expanded by enrolling many who did not go on to college, secondary education was proudly envisaged as an end in itself. And it then appeared, to educators, that most students needed something more than—or at least something different from—the old concern about "training the mind." Objectives were broadened to include personal, social, and vocational goals, so that children could adjust to life as a whole. All this promised to serve the majority more effectively than the earlier program could have done.28 Meantime, however, these trends lent themselves to the 22 Paul Woodring, "Reform Plan for Schools," Life, Sept. 2, 1957, 123 ff. Cf. A. S. Hopstock, "Gifted Children . . . Ed. Digest, XXIII, Oct, 1957, 4-6. 2 8 See, e.g., Will French and Associates, Behavioral Coals in General Education in High School, New York, 1957, 21-24.

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natural inclination of youngsters to "take things easy" and have a good time. No such effort was involved in discussing personal health or civic responsibilities, as had earlier been required for some understanding of Latin or of mathematics. Discipline in learning, moreover, was intentionally relaxed in terms of "progressive education." Most handicapped in consequence, as already stated, were those students who were potentially qualified for higher education. Hence, in recent years, academic critics have urged that high schools return to old-type curricula and standards.24 The ensuing controversy results, in our opinion, from the inability or unwillingness of either side to distinguish between the needs of average and of gifted students. Many educators desire the same "life adjustment" curriculum for all students, while academic critics demand an equally undiscriminating discipline for all young minds. The controversy can be resolved if here, again, there is a facing of facts. The old disciplinary program will not meet the full needs of the majority of students, and probably transcends the ability of some of them. Conversely, such programs are just what future university students do need in their secondary years. Why not strive to give each element what will best serve its own interest? Curiously enough, however, one of the few points on which many professional educators agree with their academic critics is in viewing separate programs for the gifted as "undemocratic." The former are inclined to distrust "segregation" of this sort as socially undesirable—as making for an έΐίίβ. Meantime, academic critics ("neo-conservatives") insist that all children can profit from disciplined learning in 2 4 See, e.g., the C.B.E. Bull. (Council for Basic Education), 1956, 1937. Cf. R. A. Skaife, "Neo-Conservatives Are on the March . . . ," Ed. Digest, XXIII, Sept. 1957, 8-10.

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traditional subjects, and hold that any doubt on this score reveals a lack of confidence in the common man. Each group suspects the other of betraying democracy and claims—for quite different reasons—that it alone maintains the faith of the fathers.26 Our own view, as implied, is that democracy will be better served by adapting education to the capabilities of the children. We see nothing dangerous in restricting enrollment in certain programs to students with superior records—provided all had the same opportunity and that provision is made for the "late bloomers." Or, to put the matter in traditional American terms, we would maintain here the principles of Jeffersonian rather than of Jacksonian democracy. It should be added, however, that the education of distinct groups need not be totally different. All children could be taught together during the early, formative years. Broad goals need not be entirely overlooked in the subsequent training of the gifted, nor need standards be entirely relaxed in the education of the majority. Some competitive processes, for example, should be maintained or re-established among this latter group, if we are to take seriously the claim that education is to prepare for life—or is to offer a normal segment of life itself.2« If distinct programs were developed for the three student groups mentioned, mass opportunity would be preserved and the gifted would not be delayed. The four-year undergraduate college would be maintained, not for sentimental reasons, but because it has a definite place in the whole * C f „ e.g., A. S. Hoppock, "Gifted Children . . . " Ed. Digest, XXIII, Oct, 1957, pp. 4-6; and Arthur Bestor, "Progressive Education: A Debate," N. Y. Times Mag., Sept 8, 1957, 25 ff. 2 8 Here, as so often, American schools seem the antithesis of European. In some of the latter, competition has apparently been carried to unhealthy extremes.

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scheme. And in so far as this college received the better, preprofessional students, something would be done to improve undergraduate attitudes and faculty morale. Difficulties there would be. How to overcome sentimental claims that such arrangements would be undemocratic? How and when to select the three groups and to preserve crossover opportunities at older ages? (The latter point is vital, since an irrevocable decision at so early an age as 11 would be unfair to some children.) And how, finally, to provide for three programs within the same or in distinct schools? All such questions, moreover, must be asked within an educational environment which resists major innovations, both because it is inherently conservative and because it is subject to no centralized control. Yet the questions are not necessarily unanswerable, and education does change. Plans to restrict enrollment in universities and the expansion of junior colleges, on the one hand, and efforts to do more for gifted students in lower schools on the other, already point in the directions suggested. Whether by intent or not, the sort of program just noted approaches the European system. The proposal that bright youngsters should go through high school and college during ages 11 to 19 offers a sequence which approximates that of the gymnasium—which was always intended for the gifted. And the arrangements suggested for average and for slow learners also have their counterparts in European schools. At first glance, then, these "revolutionary" proposals for American education seem only to return to the European tradition. But there is at least one important distinction. Selection within an American program would be based on ability, rather than on this quality in combination with social distinctions. In a word, both European and American education have 32

something to offer here, in a common effort to reconcile opportunity with training for leadership. The two purposes must be distinguished, yet are not incompatible. But it will require far more intelligent planning to pursue them simultaneously than it ever did to seek only one or the other. It would seem that both European nations and this country are converging on this dual objective; the first from a tradition which long limited opportunity, and the second from a background in which excellence was often lost from view. University Faculties and Undergraduate University Colleges. The existence of undergraduate colleges within American universities imposes problems unknown to most European institutions. If the faculties of these colleges serve primarily as teachers, the situation is similar to that obtaining in most independent colleges. This had once been the case, in some measure, even in European faculties. But during the late eighteenth or nineteenth centuries, the teacherprofessor had been gradually replaced by the research man; and research (or analogous creative activities) came to be recognized as the distinctive function of a university.27 Faculty members continued to lecture but gave their time primarily to original work. This pattern was well-established by the time it was taken over in the United States after 1875, when it became the basis for the new graduate schools and was also adopted in varying degrees within professional colleges. Universities could, theoretically, have set up separate graduate faculties; but because of considerations relating to finances or personnel, they appointed staffs who were expected to teach on 27 This transition varied with fields, as well as in time and place. In German medicine, e.g., it occurred between about 1850 and 1870; see, e.g., Ε. T. Nauck, "Die Ersten Jahrzehnte des neurologischen Unterrichts in Freiburg i. Br.," Ber. Naturf. Ges. Freiburg, vol. 46 (1956), 73.

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both the undergraduate and graduate levels. In connection with the latter, professors also devoted themselves to research. Their two functions may therefore be defined as those of undergraduate-teaching and of graduate-teaching— research. The words "teacher" or "teaching" will hereafter be used only for the first of these, and "research" for the second, unless otherwise stated. This dichotomy most clearly obtains within the combined arts college-graduate school faculty, but it also appears within any undergraduate college—or even within any department—in the degree to which such a unit pursues both aims. The first procedure would be viewed, abroad, as of an advanced, secondary nature; the second as a university function. Out of this situation, almost inevitably, have arisen certain difficult questions. To which function should a faculty give chief attention, for which should it be primarily trained, and what may be done with those who do not conform to prevailing emphases? Or should each function receive its due, in which case will they not compete for the greater share of staff time? Since some university men feel strongly about these matters, they may summarize them under the heading, "Teaching versus Research," though this phrase seems a bit on the provocative side. The old arts faculties, even within so-called universities, devoted themselves primarily to teaching, combined with such reading as they thought necessary thereto. In reaction against this after 1875, institutions which wished to become "real universities" emphasized research and gave little attention to teaching—appointing and promoting staffs accordingly. The Ph.D., with its research-training, became a requirement for appointment,28 and research-based publica28

Except in certain professional schools.

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tions were equally essential for promotion thereafter. At Pennsylvania, an apparently official pamphlet advised faculty members who were absorbed in teaching to go elsewhere. This state of affairs, established as early as about 1900, was not often challenged prior to the 1940's. But since then, it has come increasingly under attack, both from college authorities and from professors of education who had long cast critical eyes at college teaching.29 The reaction may be viewed in part as the usual swing of the pendulum, but it also picked up momentum in response to the enrollment pressures already mentioned. If undergraduate colleges are to be swamped with students, is it not necessary to re-examine all aspects of their teaching obligations? A strong case may be made for this view, both on pragmatic grounds and on principle. Pragmatically, "college teachers" must be recruited and trained, and there will never be enough of them if they must all "take" Ph.D.'s. May their training not actually be improved by preparation which is not so lengthy, but which envisages the teaching function for which most of them will be employed? And since personnel shortages are feared, methods must be sought for making the most of this "scarce resource." Meantime, in principle, there is a moral obligation to provide undergraduates with the most effective teaching possible. All these points seem applicable to independent, undergraduate colleges; but, unfortunately, those who present them rarely consider the peculiar needs of university col28 See, e.g., C. P. Smith, "Sins of Higher Education," Jour, of Higher Education, vol. 26, 1955, 31 ff. The Asso. of Am er. Colleges maintain»! a committee on teaching, 1922-1936, but the Chairman thought the results dubious. Not until the late 1940's did this Asso., the U. S. Office of Education, the Amer. Council on Education, and the Fund for the Advancement of Education become active in this field; C. G. Dobbins (Ed.), Expanding Resources for College Teaching, Wash., Amer. Council on Ed., 1956, 4.

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leges. Moreover, present enthusiasm for the teaching role carries some critics to the extreme of deprecating or even ridiculing research. They accord the latter some lip service, but have more to say about the sins committed in its name. Much research, as judged by resulting publications, is indicted as dull, repetitive and trivial. Not only is it "pointless" in itself, but the pressure to publish results early "is a main cause of uninspired, ineffective and . . . unscholarly teaching" 30 Such comments certainly raise the spectre of "teaching versus research," as far as conventional publications are concerned, though it rarely occurs to the critics that this argument cuts both ways. Will not the pressures of routine teaching, within a university, make for uninspired or trivial research? At any rate, we are assured that there is no natural conflict here—no real dichotomy. Some academic men are said to "do research" and "publish" the results by teaching; while others do it and publish through printed materials. Some are "teaching scholars," the others "writing scholars." And of the two, it is claimed that non-writers communicate scholarship "more widely—even perhaps more fully and intelligibly" than do those who rely "on the uncertain device of distributing reprints." Indeed, "our confidence in the magic of print" might be shaken if we knew "how soon, how well, and how widely the contents of those 'little articles' are known . . ." 81 In a word, many research-based publications (in the usual sense) are not only considered trivial: they are said to reach a smaller audience than does research-based teaching. Here comparison is made between minor or inferior publications, 80 F. W. Strotbman (ed.), The Graduate School Today and Tomorrow ("Committee of Fifteen"), N. Y., Fund for the Advancement of Education,

1955, 19.

8» Ibid., 17.

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on the one hand, and good teaching on the other. Imagine the reverse, if one compared inferior teaching with the better publications! Meantime, the dichotomy is still there under new names: "teaching scholars" and "writing scholars." This terminology has the merit of implying that the first type may be as worthy of respect as the second. There is a qualitative distinction even here, however, since the "scholarship" of writers is exposed more directly to outside, professional criticism than is that of teachers. The latter may be scholarly and effective or they may not, but even in the latter case they usually "get, by"; whereas the writer must meet at least minimal standards of industry and intelligence. Laziness is not unknown among college teachers but can hardly be ascribed to prolific writers. A more serious distinction relates to the respective audiences of the two groups; the first reaching immature students, the second the world of learning. The first function is shared by all undergraduate faculties, the second is the distinctive function of university (that is, "graduate") faculties. If it were not for this second activity, universities would lose their chief raison d'etre. Thus it is quite proper and desirable that university staff members should be known first for their publications or the equivalents in creative work. Discussions which lump all "college teachers" together ignore this peculiar responsibility of university-college faculties.32 And pleas that such faculties should give as much (or more) attention to undergraduate teaching as to original work, may undermine the research tradition so painfully built up in this country a half-century ago. 3 2 There are, of course, a number of superior, independent colleges whose faculties do considerable writing and guide some graduate work. To the extent that this is done, such institutions are taking over the university function.

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The policy which a real university should follow, in confronting the respective claims of teaching and of research, can be stated quite simply. Every effort should be made to improve teaching within the limits set by the primary obligation to research. By the same token, any program to improve teaching which will inhibit research—for example, staffing a department largely with "scholar-teachers" rather than with "scholar-writers"—should be suspect. The implementation of this policy, of course, is far from simple, and this will be discussed below under "Teaching" and "Research." Some critics may conclude that, if such a policy is followed, university undergraduate teaching will become inferior to that in independent colleges.33 This point remains a matter of opinion, however. Some are confident that the able research man is almost automatically a good teacher; and, what is more, that teachers gradually become ineffective if they do not "do research." If so, university teaching has an advantage. But others are equally convinced that some research men make dull teachers, and claim further that good teachers can "stay alive" without bothering with publications. Most faculty members interviewed at Pennsylvania took the first of these views, but a minority upheld the second. The truth is, we have no objective data by which to compare them: each observer is apparently swayed by instances which he recalls—one way or the other. But note that in a university which has rewarded only research, good, nonwriting teachers have not often survived and so do not come within the view of colleagues. Majority opinion in independent colleges might be more favorable toward such men. 34 The great majority of the latter report that they give primary heed to teaching; as, for example, in promotion policies.

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One may hold, nevertheless, that there is no clear case against university teaching as compared to that in independent colleges. In thefirstplace, much can and should be done to improve the former, within the limits of the policy stated above. In the second place, although in our opinion there are some dull "scholar-writers," there are many others whose originality is stimulating to good students. Hence it is not surprising that certain outstanding arts colleges are located within universities. There remains the question whether, in the interest of research faculties, it would be better to disassociate them altogether from undergraduate teaching." This could be done in either of two ways. The first would be to assign some faculty members to only undergraduate teaching, thus relieving others for exclusively graduate instruction. The line between the two groups could be drawn within departments, or it could separate entirely distinct college and graduate school facilities. A separation of faculties would be difficult in the case of a university whose staff had long been accustomed to operating on both levels. Some tensions might result if professors in arts college departments were pulled out and organized into a graduate school staff, while their colleagues were assigned to a separate, undergraduate faculty. There would tiien be two departments in each field, one having greater prestige than the other. The most feasible procedure here, therefore, is gradually to assign a few department members to an exclusively gradS 4 Some scholars may wish to avoid, temporarily or permanently, all teaching responsibilities—even with graduate students. Such men, if not free-lances, may find refuge in research institutes; but a university, as such, is committed by tradition to some sort of teaching function. In so far as a university sets up exclusively research chairs, it is becoming another type of institution and such chairs should therefore be viewed as exceptional.

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uate function. As a corollary, the non-writing but able teacher (who occasionally appears within a university college) could be assigned entirely to undergraduate teaching. This could be done without formal distinctions and within existing departments. Such an arrangement is approached now in departments in which certain men, usually senior in rank and age, work primarily on the graduate level. Moreover, room could be made, in any large department, for men who are qualified to do both undergraduate and graduate teaching. The senior man who is able and willing to teach a general course is an asset to any department. A more drastic means for relieving research faculties from teaching would be to abandon university undergraduate colleges altogether. Professional or vocational colleges which have been undergraduate could survive by moving up to the graduate level—a step already taken by schools of business and of education in certain universities. This process would be made easier, as mentioned, if such schools accepted the graduates of junior as well as of four-year arts colleges. If, meantime, the university arts college were closed, the university would then operate only on a graduate-professional level in the European manner. Logically, such a program is appealing. There would be no further straddling of secondary and advanced educational levels, fewer worries about "teaching versus research," and less concern about the attitudes of immature students. About seventy-five years ago, several American institutions—Catholic University, Johns Hopkins, Clark—seem to have had this ideal in mind, but it did not materialize in the American setting. The great obstacle to so drastic a reorganization is, of course, the arts college itself. Unlike undergraduate professional schools, this unit by definition could not move up to 40

graduate status: its functions could only be abandoned to independent colleges. Yet, to abolish the university arts college would involve a multitude of difficulties. Most obvious would be that of unscrambling the faculty, many of whom would no longer be needed. Moreover, the alumni—with their memories of "college days"—would be alienated, and their reactions might dry up sources for university funds. Even the general public would be disturbed if it saw universities taking such action just when mass enrollments demand all the arts colleges which can be maintained. The university arts college, despite its inherent weaknesses and the complications which its existence imposes, seems too thoroughly implanted to be uprooted in the near future. Whether its hold will eventually be loosened by the growth of junior colleges or whether it will survive in a sort of gymnasium-sequence for gifted students is a problem which is not peculiar to university colleges. Meantime, in most institutions, it is more feasible to distinguish graduate and undergraduate functions within the present university framework than it would be to disrupt that framework altogether. The Government of Universities. American universities differ from the foreign not only in their relations to lower schools and to levels of instruction, but also in terms of administration or management. Since most European universities are state institutions and derive funds from ministries of education, the latter have exercised—to a degree varying with different times and places —considerable influence over university conditions and policies. The development of research in German universities after 1850, however, was paralleled by increasing Lehrfreiheit and quasi-independence from the ministries. Moreover, even if the minister of education was an influential figure, his 41

post was external to the universities and he could hardly wield the control which might have been exercised by a local official. There were, indeed, no intramural administrative officers other than honorary rectors and secretarial aides. Policy decisions, including appointments, were largely in the hands of professors who acted through some sort of council or senate. This German pattern was similar to that established in other European states, for example, in Italy. Some variations on it existed in particular countries, however, as in England and in The Netherlands. The old English universities were private institutions, and some municipal universities developed in that country and elsewhere. In England and in The Netherlands, moreover, superior councils (made up wholly or in part by laymen) were given ultimate, legal authority over universities. In the former country, local administrative officers appeared—vice chancellors, registrars, and principals. But the latter exercised influence through bodies which also represented faculties, instead of acting independently of the staffs. As for the superior councils or "courts," these bodies simply approved faculty recommendations except in rare instances when public or national policy seemed to be involved. As the rector of Belfast University recently put it, power in British universities moves up from below.35 When one speaks of faculties in this context, it should be remembered that only professors are indicated. Lower ranks, such as English lecturers or German privat dozenten, rarely had any share in institutional government. This situation was not particularly undemocratic in times and places where 35 Sir Eric Ashby, "Self Government in Modern British Universities," Science and Freedom, No. 7, Dec., 1956, 3-5. A reading list on higher education, chiefly in Europe and the U.S.A., is available at the International Universities Bureau, 19 Ave. Kleber, Paris, XVIе. For current developments, see Bull, of this Bureau.

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most of the faculties were of senior rank; that is, within universities which recruited professors from lycies or gymnasia and so had few junior-rank men of their own. The latter arrangement, parenthetically, implied a quality in secondary school faculties which can rarely be obtained when—as in the United States—there is almost no transfer of personnel from secondary to higher education. Wherever a body of lower-rank men grew up within a university, however, "faculty rule" of the sort described meant a rule of all the staff by professors. At best, this provided an enlightened oligarchy; at worst, a sort of gerentocracy. Senior men, of course, tend to dominate any institution. But in order to check this, conscious attempts have been made in England to bring lower university ranks into the administrative pattern and these efforts seem to have been moderately successful.36 At first glance, nevertheless, European universities seem less democratic than American in this matter of lower-rank participation in faculty affairs. The latter, for example, commonly admit all or nearly all ranks to department meetings, college faculties, and even to university senates. How far junior ranks really participate in determining faculty policies in this country is another matter. Practice varies widely from college to college and from department to department. Americans were quite aware of European patterns when they set about creating universities after 1875. But little heed was given to these forms because a homemade plan for higher education was already at hand in the arts college—an institution governed by a lay board. Now, the early American college had been a small, relatively simple institution, easily 36

"Representation of Teaching Staffs on University Governing Bodies," The Universities Review, vol. 16, Nov., 1943, 2.

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understood by resident trustees. And as long as this was the case, trustees exercised direct oversight—the president being little more than the chief (and sometimes, only) professor. But as a college became larger and more complicated, the governing board could no longer follow all operations and depended more and more on the president's guidance. Meantime, in the stronger colleges, secular trends reduced the proportion of clergy (who had known much about the earlier education) on the boards, and increased the proportion of business men and lawyers (who knew relatively less about the new education). This shift further encouraged trustee dependence on presidents. The net result was a delegation of much trustee authority to the chief administrative officer. This type of government was familiar to those who founded American universities, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to adopt it in the new institutions. Even "state universities" modeled themselves on the older arts colleges, although their presidents had to deal with legislatures as well as with trustees. Since presidents, in effect, held final power over appointments and policies, they could dominate colleges or universities in a manner quite unknown abroad. German critics, astonished by this phenomenon, referred to the American university president as an autoritativer Führer,37 But the situation seemed normal enough to American trustees, many of whom looked upon a university as analogous to a business corporation. In due time, as universities expanded, presidents delegated some of their powers in turn to administrative associates. A hierarchy of vice-presidents, provosts, deans, and other of3 7 Prof. Brandl of the Univ. of Berlin, writing in Deutsche Rundschau, April, 1907; quoted in J. McK. Cattell (Ed.), University Control, N. Y., 1933, 398.

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ficials appeared, some members of which dealt with business affairs, others with the educational. These officers, who might or might not be academic men, usually received higher salaries and possessed greater public prestige than did the professors. In any case, they became a distinct group, and a dichotomy appeared in terms of "administration and faculty." Some presidents consulted more frequently with a "cabinet" of associates than they did with professors.38 On the lowest rung of the administrative ladder were the departmental "heads" or "chairmen." These men had responsibilities for their respective units and worked with deans in this connection, but they also served as professors among their peers. They functioned, to use a military analogy, as the "non-coms" of the university hierarchy, and provided the most direct contact between administrative officers and the faculty rank and file. Running counter to other administrative trends, meantime, was a tendency to grant certain powers to faculties—particularly to those in the stronger institutions. The attainment of considerable faculty control resulted, in some instances, from the relatively independent position of certain academic groups. This situation was most obvious in strong professional schools where staff members were not necessarily dependent on colleges for income or professional standing. Professor Lon Fuller of Harvard University observes, in this connection, that law schools in general "rank high among university departments in their capacity for self-government"; and he adds that "among the leading law schools of the United States it is unlikely that any would be found to 8 8 It was this aspect of American university government which often surprised foreign observers. See, e.g., M. Callery, Let Unicersitis . . . Aux Etat» Unis, Paris, 1917, 43 ff.; Ε. R. Holme, The American University: An Australian View, Sydney, 1920, 34 ff.

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equal the Law School at the University of Pennsylvania in that capacity." 39 Professor Fuller believes that legal training in itself makes for autonomy in law school faculties and this may well be true. But the analogous position of some medical faculties suggests that there are other factors making for relative independence. "Self-government," it is true, is a more complex matter in large medical colleges than in small law schools. In the latter, as at Pennsylvania, the staff is often limited in number and is made up largely from upper ranks, so that they can determine policies in a democratic manner. In a medical faculty, in contrast, control is usually centered in a more or less select council of senior men. Even so, the central group in a medical faculty is apt to be more autonomous than are similar bodies in other colleges. The School of Medicine at Johns Hopkins, for example, is largely governed by the board of professors (permanent department heads) whose recommendations are transmitted to and practically always approved by the trustees. Authority in this situation moves up from below, as in the British universities. That such arrangements are conducive to—or at least consistent with—the highest standards, has been evident in the reputation of medical schools of this character. In most university or independent colleges, however, power was granted from above; as when trustees extended to faculties control over such matters as teaching methods, curricula, and degrees in course. It was also customary for recommendations on appointments or promotions to origi38 Report on the Law School, Univ. of Penna. Educational Survey, 1957, p. 3. Because of this relative autonomy, the Law School must be considered an exception to some of the comments on administration at Pennsylvania which will be made in ensuing chapters.

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nate within departments, although presidents or deans reserved a right to veto or to initiate such recommendations in some instances. The administrative view seemed to be that obviously educational matters should be left to the faculties,40 but that larger issues—and especially those involving funds—belonged in the hands of officers and trustees. This was considered a reasonable position because of the financial responsibilities assumed by officials and also in view of the traditional impracticality of professors. There was, nevertheless, some ambiguity in these assumptions. If faculties were to participate in decisions on educational policy, where did one draw the line between items which involved such policy and those which did not? Significant educational issues can lurk behind non-educational fafades—in such areas, for example, as athletics, budgets, and new buildings. Hence, a faculty whose influence is limited to strictly pedagogical matters may be excluded from what—in the long run—are vital educational decisions. Faculty influence was further limited by their lack of access, in most institutions, to the final source of authority in the trustees. Alumni were often represented on boards but not the professors, although the latter obviously knew far more about institutional problems. Alumni were welcomed for their outside moral and financial support, while the disinclination to appoint professors—or even to work directly with them—probably can be explained by the persistence of the business corporation analogy. Would it not be embarrassing to have "employees" present at directors' meetings, 4 0 This, in itself, was a gain for the faculties since there had been a day when presidents and even trustees dealt directly with curricula, text books, and the like.

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even as it would embarrass professors if students41 sat in on their conclaves? 42 Actual practice varied somewhat, for faculties were represented on the board of one large university, and, in a few others, trustee committees set up direct contacts with faculties in circumscribed areas. In still other cases, committees of trustees and faculties worked together on particular problems. But in many institutions, the president was the chief or even sole point of contact between faculties and the board. Since trustees were usually laymen, they depended much on the president's opinion in educational affairs, and the latter might or might not fully present faculty opinions to his board. This was difficult to accomplish, even if there was every intention of doing so. The president thus occupied a unique and commanding position. As the chief agent and symbol of administrative power, indeed, his status provides a clue to both the virtues and the limitations of the American type of university government. These two aspects of the situation merit, in conclusion, some brief consideration. The American system of university government has, in our opinion, certain distinct merits. It may relieve the academic staff from routine burdens and responsibilities. More important, it sets up officials whose main concern is to plan for the university—or for a college or a department—as a whole. If a college or a department is weak, there is someone —either inside or out—who can do something about it. Moreover, as in any complex body, decisions can be made and implemented more promptly if responsibility is centered in designated hands. These circumstances make possible a dyThere is such student representation in a few foreign universities. R. H. Shryock, "The Academic Profession in the United States," Büß., Amer. Asso. Univ. Professors, vol. 38, (1952), 43-54. 41

42

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шише type of leadership, the value of which is amply attested by what able presidents, deans, and chairmen have been able to do for their respective universities, colleges, and departments. The American system also occasions difficulties. The boundaries between administrative and faculty authority are often ill-defined and faculties may fear to tread in this no man's land. If so, there may be frustration which leads, in turn, to a sense of grievance. A wise administrator, of course, consults the staff widely and avoids head-on collisions with faculty opinion. There is nothing in the system as such, however, which prevents a president who is so disposed from largely ignoring faculty opinion or from directly opposing it. In such cases, serious tensions may develop which—either openly or insidiously—undermine the morale of an institution.43 Such rifts between administrators and faculties do not, fortunately, represent the normal course of university affairs. But the danger of them is inherent in the system, since faculties usually have no control over the appointment of administrative officers on the upper levels. A president for whom a faculty has great respect may be replaced at any time by one with whom they cannot work in harmony. Even when administrators consult faculties, they may reserve major policy decisions to themselves. In this case, if general relations are harmonious and adequate salaries and working conditions prevail, most faculty members will feel no grievance. A few will prefer it this way, not wishing to 4 8 For a current example of open conflict, see Statement by the President to the Faculty and Staff of Emory University, 1Θ57. This refers to actions of some faculty members as "reprehensible and intolerable," and as involving "sabotage and a desire to become "dictators." It concludes with the statement that " w e " do not have to submit to being "pushed around . . . , lmifed in the back and falsely . . . accused—by anybody."

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spare time from appointed tasks for college or university affairs.44 Yet, even the latter may object if they are expected to give time to the forms of faculty participation without the substance—which is what sometimes occurs. This situation, though it produces no open tensions, does deny to the university whatever cumulative wisdom the faculties could muster in actually sharing in the decisionmaking process. The more a decision involves educational policy, directly or indirectly, the more serious this denial appears to be. Within any faculty which finds itself in this position, moreover, certain minor but annoying phenomena are apt to appear. Pro- and anti-administration groups may emerge on one or more administrative levels. Within the former will be those who aspire themselves to administrative posts.45 Such aspiration is normal enough under the circumstances and is, indeed, to be encouraged within limits. It is highly desirable that administrators dealing with educational matters should be academic men. Yet this sort of thing may complicate "faculty politics," and administrators may find it difficult to distinguish between friends and sycophants. The lack of faculty participation in major decisions, on many campuses, is projected large onto the national scene. The most striking aspect of national planning for higher education is the absence of college or university professors from the deliberations. The personnel of the many committees, commissions, or conferences which have been organized over the last decade in this field—whether by government, educa** Several of the arts college faculty whom we interviewed at Pennsylvania expressed this viewpoint. 4 8 It is often taken for granted that American professors are constantly "competing for advancement" to administrative posts; see, e.g., C. Bowman, The College Professor in America, unpublished thesis, Univ. of Penna., 1938, 102.

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tional bodies, or foundations—consists almost entirely of administrators or laymen. One gathers that there is no felt need, in planning higher education at a critical juncture, for hearing from the ablest scholars and scientists in the land. Such an attitude is hardly conceivable in other Western nations. One may sum up by saying that university government in the United States has gained something of the efficiency of corporation management and that this stands it in good stead in a day of complex operations. In the process, however, something of the faculty guild tradition has been lost. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to state that American universities have never realized, to the degree attained abroad, the traditional ideal of a university as a community of scholars. Other learned professions in this country, notably law and medicine, largely control their own policies and activities; but the academic profession—which trains all the otherspossesses such influence in only a very limited degree. The situation may be ascribed, no doubt, to the circumstance that academic men serve within institutions and are not selfemployed. Lawyers and physicians who work for large organizations also lose much of their independence. But the fact remains that European faculties maintain a greater degree of autonomy within universities than do the American.48 49 This is occasionally denied; e.g., W. H. Cowley, professor of higher education at Stanford, asserted recently that European universities have "in some instances" much stricter control· (over faculties) than have American; and added that the American professor "is infinitely more free" to operate than are young men "teaching in any university in England." The evidence for this was not stated at the time; see Expanding Resources for College Teaching, Am er. Council on Education Studies No. XX, 1956, 73.

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2 Principles of a Faculty Program In the preceding chapter, current university problems were presented against the background of American and European developments. The view was taken that formal education, in this country and in others, may provide both mass opportunities and superior training for the gifted. The latter goal implies a selective process which can be first undertaken in the lower schools, but culminates in a university program devoted primarily to professional teaching and creative activities. Society may desire other contributions from higher education, such as the provision of mass opportunities or of community services, and these may well be emphasized by other institutions. But they should be provided by Pennsylvania only in so far as they do not interfere with the distinctive functions of a university. The implications of this view, for varied aspects of a faculty program at Pennsylvania, will be discussed below within appropriate chapters. But before entering into such matters, it were well to consider further the general position of the University faculty and to make suggestions for its possible improvement. Specific suggestions, on such matters as appointments, teaching, and research, are contingent upon the formulation of more definite principles than have been presented up to this point. Pertinent, in this connection, are the relationships of the faculty to (1) the public and the community, (2) the trustees, (3) the administrators, and (4) 52

students and alumni. Last, but not least significant, are (5) the relations obtaining within the faculty itself. The Faculty and the Public. The relations of the faculty to the public lie largely outside the area of the University's control. In a general way, the quality of men or women who seek a university career is influenced by the status of the academic profession in American society. This has been rated low in the past by both faculty members and outside critics. Andr6 Siegfried once remarked that "a certain amount of irony is attached in English" to the title of "professor."1 And H. L. Mencken referred to those who held it as "yokels," "boors," and "peasants in frock coats," who ranked socially somewhere between Methodist ministers and brickyard owners.2 Public opinion polls of the last decade, however, have given "professors" high ratings within the professions and even among occupations as a whole. This is surprising in view of the uncertain status of teaching at large and of the tendency to look upon university professors simply as "college teachers." Hence, despite the polls, doubts are still expressed about the general standing of academic people. Mr. Folsom, Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare, recently declared (Nov. 3, 1957) that low salaries for college teachers reflect "the lack of respect accorded to teaching by the public." Abroad, in contrast, "professors" make up a small and select group. They have possessed, in some countries, official status and aristocratic connections. High standing seems to have both advantages and disadvantages. It may isolate intellectuals from the rest of society with disturbing consequences. Yet, national instances can America Comet of Age, N. Y., 1925, 95. 2 Prejudices: Third Series, N. Y„ 1922, 249 ff. 1

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be cited in which high status for professors (including high salaries) has been combined with superior intellectual achievements.3 Conversely, in American experience, popular disregard for pure scholarship and science (and for those who "professed" them) was long associated with a mediocre record in these areas.4 The American problem is a difficult one. How can we reconcile the prestige which is needed (if universities are to enlist the best talent) with the national aversion to an intellectual elite? The aversion is not purely social: there are also anti-intellectual traditions in the background. It is usually said that Americans esteem men of action above men of thought. And if there has been some improvement in the reputation of professors, this does not necessarily indicate any change in attitude. The public may simply have the impression that more professors now qualify as men of action. All that a university can do in the present situation, apart from improving salaries, is to insist upon the dignity of its faculties. This end is not served by such trustees as still view academic men as "employees," nor is it advanced by the somewhat casual attitudes of some students and alumni. There are, no doubt, a few academic men who do not serve their own interests in this connection. No one wishes the American university professor to be a "stuffed shirt" or even a Geheimrat ® But he should be conscious of his own worth, 8 Vaimevar Bush has reminded us (Oct. 15, 1957) that American professors receive 250 percent of laborer's salaries, while Russian counterparts are paid 800 percent. 4 For general discussion, see M. Curti, "Intellectuals and Other People," Amer. Hist. Reo., LX (Jan., 1955), 259 в.; Η. W. Dodds, On the Place of the Intellectual in America, Princeton, 1957, 17; R. H. Shryock, "American Indifference to Basic Science . . . Archives Internationales cFHistoire des Sciences, No. 5, 1948, 50-65. 5 American professors may be held inconsistent if they uphold equalitarian principles in general and yet desire superior status for themselves.

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in a multitude of dealings with others—both on and off the campus. The relations of academic men to the smaller public, known as the community, are more tangible than are those to society at large. One has in mind here what the community may offer faculties, rather than what they may do in turn for the community. Such matters as the campus environment, living conditions, transportation, and social opportunities all influence the staff member's mind—directly, or indirectly through his family. Here Pennsylvania, like any large institution in an urban setting, faces certain disadvantages. It cannot provide the dramatic setting of an Ithaca or the idyllic surroundings of some "college towns." Even the neighborhood in which the University is located leaves much to be desired. On the other hand, the present program for enclosing and improving the campus is the most promising one since removal was made to West Philadelphia, and this will doubtless provide as attractive a setting as can be secured within the city. If Pennsylvania were a non-residential institution, as are most European universities, a campus might be superfluous. But the University has many resident as well as non-resident students, and must plan accordingly. What, in this connection, about the faculties? Should they also have opportunities to live on the campus? At present, the staff is widely distributed. Some live in the campus neighborhood, others have migrated to scattered suburbs. The latter must contend with what is called progress in modern transport, and may have few colleagues (See S. M. Upset, "The Egghead Looks at Himself," N. Y. Times Mag., Nov. 17, 1Θ57, 22 ff.) But a desire to be taken seriously is not necessarily a demand for special privileges.

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within reach. Most of them cannot enjoy the faculty social life which can be so pleasant in a small community. It is unlikely that this pattern can be basically altered. Many faculty families prefer the suburbs for their schools and for other advantages. Incidental aid, such as the provision of adequate parking spaces, could be extended to them. Meantime, however, there are three elements in the faculty, among whom are some who would desire to live in apartments on or near the campus. These are individuals living alone, married couples without children, and those older couples whose children have moved out from under. The University might well consider, therefore, the construction of faculty apartments—particularly if federal aid were available in this connection. The groups mentioned would probably find these both convenient and congenial. Such buildings might also provide rooms for visitors who had a more or less official status. The campus center which would do most for the staffs personal and professional life is already promised; namely, a faculty club. Here we are in the presence of an old friend, "the long-felt need." Such units exist in various forms and combinations throughout the country. At Minnesota, for example, the club is housed in the general "Union" and serves faculty only; while at Hopkins it has its own building and provides dinners for faculty, alumni, and their families. Luncheons, however, are reserved for the faculty, at which time the main dining room is sacred to men. In a day when domestic service is rare in faculty circles, there is a real advantage in a club which welcomes families in the evenings. But these and other possibilities will occur to administrators and staff who plan the Club at Pennsylvania. It need hardly be added that the Philadelphia environment, in compensation for the disadvantages noted, offers 56

university men many advantages. The city is a great cultural center, and its numerous libraries, museums, clubs and other institutions are assets to university personnel· So, also, is the location of the city on the Atlantic seaboard axis. These circumstances have played a part in attracting men to or in holding them at Pennsylvania. The University may well call attention to such advantages, provided it does not depend upon them as substitutes for other values. And it will presumably continue to cultivate good relations with sister institutions to which its faculties have access. The relationship of the faculty to the city as a whole, or to the state and to national affairs, is difficult to evaluate. Certainly, some professors are leaders in local and in nationwide professional circles. Others have done notable work for state or federal bodies, or have directed University agencies which provide community services. Such activities presumably enhance the reputation of the faculties "in town" or with the public at large. Least effective here, one would think, is the pedant, the cloistered scholar, or the intellectual snob; most effective, the professor who gives the impression of being a "good fellow" or a "practical" man. By and large, however, the academic staff at Pennsylvania does not seem to enjoy a good "local press." Indifference can be explained, in part, by the size of the city and by the attitude of the newspapers. The fact remains that the appointment of a professor is news in Baltimore, but not in Philadelphia.® Ibis matter may merit consideration in connection with the public relations of the University. The Faculty and Trustees. Few studies have been made of the history or present role of college and university trus6 The Baltimore press also supports academic men in public affairs. See, e.g., editorial in Baltimore Sun, Nov. 5 , 1 9 5 7 .

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tees,T and the same is true of private boards in general. In Continental Europe, most universities, hospitals and other welfare bodies are under the ultimate control of Church or State and are in the hands of persons with some claim to expertness. But in England since the Reformation, and subsequently in this country, many such institutions have been placed under lay boards. Implicit in the arrangement is the concept of stewardship, which is said to be peculiar to Western society. One may surmise that these boards filled the vacuum created when neither the English Church nor Government would take over; or they may, conceivably, have been deliberately set up to forestall official controls. Some person or persons must have final legal authority, provide funds, and maintain the administration of welfare organizations; and English-speaking peoples have often preferred that these persons should operate in a private capacity. They were able, in this way, to provide relative freedom for the institutions concerned. Freedom from control by Church or State also could be achieved by placing institutions in the hands of their own experts—in those of the medical staffs of hospitals, for example, or in those of professors in universities. The latter arrangement actually took form, in considerable measure, at Oxford and Cambridge. But such professional autonomy also has its dangers. Even "private" universities have ultimate, public responsibilities; and it is well known that the British Government eventually felt it necessary to intervene in the affairs of the old universities. In the long run, there are valuable safeguards in requiring that experts justify—or at least explain—their stewardship to intelligent laymen. Herein lies the merit of the usual American board of trustees. 7

The Educational Survey study is not available as this is written.

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Like most human institutions, however, the lay board also has its limitations. Most obvious is the apparent paradox involved in having an institution govern«! by men, most of whom know relatively little about it "from the inside." As noted, this situation is avoided in most countries by placing universities under the oversight of ministries of education— an arrangement which also meets the need for some degree of public responsibility. But usually, abroad, the State appropriates funds for universities and also accords them public prestige; whereas, in the United States, it is often the trustees who are needed to provide financial and/or moral support. The seeming incongruity of lay control over universities has been recognized by American critics for well over a century, though early attacks on the system had little effect and have usually been forgotten.8 Some of the criticisms were directed against lay government in principle, but one senses that many were really motivated by a dislike for its administrative consequences. As noted before, lay authority almost automatically produces a powerful president, since trustees are too busy to deal with faculties on details and yet must have guidance from someone. Trusting in the president for advice, trustees naturally delegate to him—in effect—much of their own authority. This arrangement means, in turn, that most trustees have little part in the actual initiation or direction of university policies. The limitations of lay government therefore point up the issue of the pros and cons of control by administrators. Here, again, one faces both advantages and disadvantages—as dis8 See, e.g., Jasper Adams, "On the Relations Existing Between the Board of Trustees and the Faculty of a University . . . Introductory Discourse . . . Amer. Institute of Instruction, Boston, 1838, 141 ff.; also J. F. Jackson, in the Knickerbocker Mag., XXVIII, July, 1846; and W. P. Rogers, Andrew D. White, Ithaca, 1942, 145.

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cussed in the preceding chapter. Our opinion is that power in the hands of a president who is able, liberal and devoted can be most effective; but, in the hands of a man who lacks any one of these qualities, can be most unfortunate. In a word, we think the outcome is too vital to be entrusted to any single person. If so, then authority should be distributed more than it now usually is by any or all of the following procedures: 1) promoting better understanding of intra-university problems by trustees 2 ) providing more effective contacts between trustees and faculties 3) permitting faculties to share with administrators the powers delegated by trustees 4 ) placing a few experts (professors) among the trustees. So much for general principles. A discussion of actual relations between American faculties and trustees is difficult because such relations are often non-existent.® At Pennsylvania, trustee "boards" or committees are concerned with areas of instruction and may discuss the state of a field with certain professors therein. But this involves no mutual responsibility: procedures are entirely in the hands of the trustees. As far as we are aware, no faculty committees report directly to trustees, as at Princeton, nor are there joint committees of 9 The national picture of faculty-trustee relations was reported from 291 local, A.A.U.P. chapters for 1953; see A.A.U.P. Вий., vol. 39 (Summer, 1953), 62 6. Summarized results indicated that: Faculty members served on Boards in 10 institutions. Trustees sat in Senates in 3. President reported faculty opinion, when different from his own, in 9. There were special, or standing joint committees in 35. Faculty went to board on own initiative in 44. There were only social contacts, or none in 185.

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the two groups which work together on particular problems, as at Coucher and other colleges.10 By and large, unless the situation has changed recently, the Pennsylvania trustees have seemed remote from the staff. On certain occasions in the past, trustees decided major issues in University policy without so much as hearing from the faculties. One possible explanation of trustee remoteness—the partial survival of the employer-employee outlook—has been mentioned, and doubtless other factors bear on the situation. One of these factors may be the size of the University. It is easier for a relatively small institution to provide direct contacts between individual trustees and professors, as is done at Wesleyan University. Another is the size and make-up of the Board of Trustees. On any large board, there will be members who lack the background, the interest, or the time to participate actively in specific discussions with faculty groups. Some of them, moreover, live at too great a distance for this sort of thing. A final objection to faculty-trustee contacts may he in a fear that such contacts would short-circuit the authority and influence of the president. There is little reason, in our opinion, to believe that the operation of joint trustee-faculty committees, dealing with specific questions, would weaken the president's general position. Ibis has not been the experience of institutions which use such groups. But if these are to be really "joint" committees, the faculty members should represent a body such as the senate and should not be selected by the trustees themselves. Whether more ambitious contacts should be established, 1 0 Except possibly the committee on honorary degrees. See Charles P. Dennison, Faculty Rights and Obligations in Eight Independent Liberal Arts Colleges, 1955, 56 ff.

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as by the election of faculty members to the Board, is a matter of opinion. In the experience of Cornell University, this does not seem to have embarrassed the trustees, but if it does, some of the advantages of faculty representation may be secured by electing trustees who are professors at other universities. Such men would have no local, vested interest in decisions and could make known such viewpoints as are common to faculty members at large. Our own view is that the experiment of faculty representation on the Board is worth a trial. The arrangement would add to the dignity of the faculty by bringing it into formal decisions on the highest level and by eliminating all vestiges of employee status. And it would enable American professors to approach the position, within their own institution, which is taken for granted in universities in other parts of the world. Faculty representatives on the Board could be appointed by the trustees or president from a faculty-elected panel. Their number need not be large, and the presence of three or four of them—under these circumstances—would neither threaten the president's authority nor change the complexion of the Board. Nor would the presence of this small number imply that the faculty shared responsibility for board actions. Such responsibility could be assumed only if a much larger ratio of professors were elected—an unwieldy arrangement unless lay membership were correspondingly reduced. And probably no American university would undertake so radical a change at the present time. The important point, however, is not faculty representation as such. It is, rather, the desirability of making faculty viewpoints known to trustees as well as to administrators.11 1 1 For this same reason, the trustees might be invited to send several representatives to the Senate, or—less formally—to appoint several members to "sit in" on Senate meetings.

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If, for any reason, the trustees will not admit faculty members, much may be accomplished by such other formal contacts as have been suggested. The ultimate goal is to instill in all groups concerned, from trustees to instructors, a sense of team work—of common associations and purpose in the service of the University. The Faculty and Administrators: Within Departments. The most vital relationships of faculty bodies, as such, are usually those obtaining with administrators. This is true on all levels; as in the relations of department members to chairmen, of college faculties to deans, provosts or vice presidents; and of the all-university Senate to the President. The faculties at Pennsylvania, as in other private universities, look to administrators and/or trustees for adequate salaries and facilities. Such dependence is taken for granted as part of the American scheme of things. But faculties desire more than these essentials. They cherish a sense of freedom in their own work; and many of them, at least, also wish to participate in the life and work of the University. The central problem in faculty-administrative relations is how to attain these values without, at the same time, losing those of effective, administrative leadership. It would be relatively easy to seek one set of values in the absence of the other. Procedures can be relatively simple, for example, in a university placed almost entirely in the hands of its faculty or, conversely, in those of administrators. The reconciliation of these alternatives is more difficult but also more promising. In some respects, the most significant level of faculty-administrative relationships is the lowest. Practices and policies within a department, concerning appointments, promotions, course offerings and the like, have the most direct impact 63

upon its members. It is within the department that the staff member is most aware of freedom in his own work and of participation with others in a common program—or the reverse.12 Here, moreover, the division between administration and faculty is least marked, since the chairman combines the roles of administrator and of professor. And here, finally, one sees—in microcosm, as it were—the essential problem of reconciling leadership with joint participation and with freedom. Freedom, of course, is relative. American faculties rarely expect the almost complete Lehrfreiheit which obtains in some European universities. They expect, for example, to assume a certain "teaching load," which, at Pennsylvania and most similar institutions, is more or less standardized by college or departmental practice. They also assume that course offerings are to be approved by departments; and that younger men, at least, may be assigned to certain teaching obligations. These expectations relate largely to the undergraduate work of departments. On the graduate level, requirements are apt to be less formal. Here, then, is another illustration of complications inherent in the combined graduate-undergraduate function of American universities. At least minor annoyances may be experienced in graduate activities, in so far as they are subjected to requirements (as on credits or teaching hours) which are more appropriate to undergraduate programs. And the latter, conversely, may be denied as much control as is desirable, because university professors resent more than a minimum of regulation. Under the heading 1 2 Departmentalization of American faculties has been a phenomenon of only the last 75 years. Critical studies on why and how this came about, together with comparative observation of foreign faculties, might provide a perspective on current structure and practice.

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"Teaching," for example, we shall later inquire whether there should not be more supervision of undergraduate teaching than is now commonly practiced at Pennsylvania. Within the broad limits noted, however, university staffs expect to teach as they wish and to pursue such research as they desire. And in this accepted sense of the term, the faculties at Pennsylvania do enjoy a large degree of freedom. The great majority assert this unequivocally, and view such freedom as one of the chief attractions of the University for the academic staff.1® One should recall, in this connection, that the University's regulations concerning tenure and dismissal apparently assure "academic freedom" as well. For this happy state of things, the faculties are indebted to prevailing attitudes among chairmen, administrators, and trustees. The degree to which the faculty enjoys a corresponding sense of participation is difficult to measure. This is especially the case on the departmental level, since departments enjoy some autonomy and practices vary accordingly—even within the same college. Chairmen are appointed by administrators; but whether this involves initial action or simply approval of departmental nominees, depends on the unit concerned. And a departmental decision, on this or other matters, may express the view of a chairman, of an executive committee or group of senior men, or of the membership as a whole. Although the election of chairmen is not unknown in this country,14 our opinion is that appointment by administrators 1 8 There were few exceptions to this view among the staff who were interviewed. 1 4 The 1953 reports (citation, No. 9, above) indicated that chairmen were: Elected by departments in 22 institutions. Appointed by administrators, without consultations with departments, in 114. So appointed, after consultations, in 136.

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should be retained at Pennsylvania.1® Otherwise, the University will lose the best available leverage on units which need reorganization.16 Ordinarily, however, officers may be expected to receive and approve nominations originating within departments. The question then arises: How should nominations be made within departments? Generally speaking, these units should determine their own procedures. But our view is that the entire department should share in such decisions, and a dean and college faculty might well require this. In a word, each department should be requested to decide (at a general meeting) how it wished to nominate a chairman. The dean, if he desired, could ask for a panel of two or three names, from which he would select one for recommendation to the President. Certain departments may adopt, in this connection, what amounts to a "revolving chairmanship." The merit of this system is that it prevents any one professor from assuming a dominating position. (The phenomenon of the chairman as petty dictator is not unknown in American institutions.) On the other hand, unless a fairly long term is required, a revolving chairmanship does not provide continuity in leadership. Professors are apt to view the post as a chore which they give up gladly as soon as possible. In any case, the system usually brings all men of a certain rank into the chairmanship without regard for their qualifications. For these reasons, we suggest that chairmen be proposed and approved on the basis of individual merit. This arrange15 Formally, at Pennsylvania, deans pass their recommendations up the administrative ladder to the president. The college committee on appointments and promotions is consulted in the process (Manual of Policies and Procedures, Art. VII, No. β). 1 8 In theory, a college faculty—instead of the dean—could pressure a member department, but it will rarely do this in practice.

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ment, also, could be required by the dean and the college faculty. In order to prevent domination by any one person, however, the term of office should be definitely limited. Duration could be, say, three or five years, with the possibility of reappointment for a second, consecutive term. It would then be possible to retain an effective chairman for a period of from six to ten years. The chairman, as chief officer of a department, represents it in all formal communications—both on and off the campus. He deals with administrators primarily through the dean; and administrators, in turn, deal with the department through him. It is easy to ridicule "red tape" and "channels," yet a minimum formality in such matters is essential. Nothing will demoralize a department more rapidly than a situation in which president or dean deals directly with a staff member on salaries, promotions, or programs and so "shortcircuits" the chairman and the department as a whole. The temptation to do this may be great, but it should be resisted as inconsistent with good administration." The same thing may be said of a situation in which an administrator deals with the chairman of only one department, when the question involved concerns another department as well. When a chairman conducts official communications with men in other institutions, the degree of his authority should be clearly understood by all concerned. Invitations to accept appointment, with stipulations concerning rank, sal1 7 No attempt is made here to discuss principles at administration as such. A large literature exists in this field in terms of "public administration," "human engineering," and the older "efficiency expert" materials. Most of this literature relates to government, industry, labor relations, etc., or to public school administration, but there are points where it is applicable to university administration also. See, e.g., Robot H. Roy, The Administrative Process, Baltimore, 1958, passim.

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ary, tenure, etc. are usually extended by presidents or deans; but lesser matters—teaching load, office facilities, future prospects, and so on—are often left in the hands of the chairman. The latter should know just what he may offer, so that there will be no danger of later administrative disclaimers. What, meantime, of the relations of the chairman to the department? The principles here accepted imply that he would share decisions with other members. This is already done, but in varying degrees within different departments. One chairman talks only to individuals immediately concerned, another consults all professors, while a third may bring matters before all members above the rank of instructor. In our opinion, procedures should be systemized to the point of requiring that chairmen share decisions with colleagues. Admittedly, it is not feasible to bring all matters before an entire department. The simplest device which is applicable here is that of a small executive committee, which would sit with the chairman in reaching decisions on such matters as appointments, promotions, budgets, and course programs or assignments. In most cases, agreement could be expected between the chairman and other members. But in the rare instances in which there were disagreements, the chairman would present both his own view and that of committee colleagues.18 The make-up of an executive committee and the method of selecting it had also best be left to the full department. Our preference would be to set up a committee of three (in addition to the chairman), one of whom would be an assistant professor who would sit in on all matters except those involving ranks above his own. Terms of office could be the 1 8 To the dean те appointments, salaries, etc., and to the department in strictly intra-departmental matters.

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same as those of the chairman. Such a committee, if the group desired, could be appointed by the chairman from a panel elected by all members. We would also hope that the chairman would bring before the entire department all items which could possibly be handled in that way, and that there would be full freedom of discussion in such meetings. The motive here is to assure the junior ranks of a sense of participation, since both interviews and questionnaires indicate that this feeling is most lacking on that level.19 In very small departments, of course, an executive committee is unnecessary. At the other extreme, large departments may need even more machinery than this committee provides. They may wish to relieve the chairman of various burdens; for instance, from direction of "lab" programs or contract research, supervision of teaching assistants, special direction of either graduate or undergraduate studies, and preparation of routine paper work.80 It is therefore common, when circumstances warrant it, to appoint such officers as an assistant chairman or "executive officer" and a director of graduate work. Here terms of three or five years would be appropriate. Most such personnel can be made responsible to the chairman and executive committee and can be chosen by them; but a director of either graduate or undergraduate studies may be made a co-chairman of the department if the members so desire and the dean approves. A department can, of course, carry out some of the functions mentioned through standing committees rather than through single individuals, and experience will indicate 1 9 See, especially, Μ. E. Wolfgang, Wharton Faculty Attitude Survey, passim, concerning attitudes of assistant professors. 2 0 If the burdens of a chairman are too heavy despite such arrangements, he can be relieved of part of his teaching load, presumably with the approval of the dean and of the department executive committee.

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which is the more effective procedure. Members will have to give some time to these matters, one way or the other. The number of ad hoc committees, meantime, should be kept to the minimum clearly necessary. Indeed, all departmental structure should remain as simple as is consistent with good administration. At one extreme, a group of two or three may operate as a unit in nearly all matters: at the other, functions may be so complex as to call for written by-laws which are approved by the members and are consistent with college regulations.21 Faculty Relations with Administrators: On the College and University Levels. The relatively sharp distinction made between staff and administrators, above the departmental level, has already been mentioned. The distinction seems to have increased almost automatically with the growing size and complexity of universities. In the old arts colleges, presidents were the sole officials and served as professors as well. Today, they and their associates must abandon all or the greater part of professorial functions, and this sets them apart. Meantime, as noted, the growth of an administrative hierarchy made the division between officials and facility more marked. The most divisive factor, however, was simply the fact that authority was vested to a greater degree in one group than in the other. Institutional complexity, some of it related only indirectly to academic matters, seemed to justify the proliferation of administrative offices. The existence of undergraduate programs, for example, called for directors of admissions, of student affairs, and so on.22 Again, the raising and spending of 2 1 An example of these is found in the regulations of the Department of Psychology. 2 2 Though why the old, academic title of dean was applied to personnel officers like "deans of women" or "of men" is not clear.

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large funds had to be directed by responsible officials. And as more officials appeared on operating levels, the more was it necessary to increase the "top" administrative staff. Otherwise, presidents would have become responsible for an impossible "span of control." Perhaps it is symptomatic of the division here discussed, however, that some professors took a dim view of the hierarchy. They believed that university administration imitated that of "big business" and was made more elaborate than was necessary. Suspicions were expressed that administration was organized for the sake of organizing, or to put up an impressive front. Particularly disturbing, to such men, was the influence sometimes exerted by non-academic officials at high levels.23 Whatever the interpretation of origins, the division between administrators and faculties was reflected in campus attitudes as well as in formal relationships. One-time professors who accepted high academic posts seemed to enter a new order or profession. And it was said that some of them, hitherto critical of administrators themselves, rapidly acquired an authoritarian outlook.24 The greater the authority exerted by administrators as a sharply distinct group, the more the campus attitudes mentioned are apt to prevail. Such attitudes will, at best, involve difficulties, and at worst are clearly unwholesome. Matters 2 3 A university president recently announced that a new vice-president for fund raising possessed "a deep understanding of higher education," in consequence of a career in "management and personnel administration" of businetf corporations. See also remarks of L. C. Petry (prof, em er., Cornell), in Conference (note below), 10 if. 2 4 See, e.g., remarks of W. M. Wise, Teachers College, Columbia Univ., in Conference on Faculty-Administration Relations, Amer. Council on Education, May 5-7, 1957, 24 S. This change of outlook has implications far faculty-administration relations if Dr. Paul Buck's statement is sound; i.e., that die wise administrator "thinks and acts like a professor," B. A. Cronkheit (Ed.), Handbook for College Teachers, 1950,170.

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are made worse, of course, if administrators are inept or lack candor, or if the faculties contain more than their normal quota of misfits, exhibitionists, and generally maladjusted persons.25 Our own view, already stated, is that these difficulties may be minimized if the sharp distinction between administrators and faculties can be overcome. Authority and the opportunity for decisive action must reside in some person or group, but the group in this case may include professors as well as administrators. Before suggesting specific means for implementing this suggestion at Pennsylvania, however, it were well to anticipate possible objections to such a program. There is real fear that an attempt to bring faculties more fully into decision-making will confuse an already complex administration. Visions arise of more and more committees, conferences, and overlapping jurisdictions, with resulting delays or indecision. Would it not provide more effective management if, as in a business corporation, power were frankly concentrated in administrative hands along clearly defined lines of authority? All that would be needed, in addition, would be mutual good will and an inclination on the part of administrators to take seriously such advice as they requested of college faculties. There is no question that good will is essential, but—given the academic tradition—it is not likely to be fostered by completely one-sided authority. There is also no question but that concentration of power in a few hands expedites de2 6 Remarks of President Logan Wilson, Univ. of Texas, Conference (note 24), 2-4. Cynicism about the academic profession sometimes appears within its own ranks as a reaction to administrative control; e.g., Prof. Μ. B. Visscher, Univ. Minnesota, declared in 1947 that faculties "constitute an amorphous mass of complaining, often confused employees . . . they are not in a position to demand anything . . . within the ranks of no profession are to be found so many disgruntled repenters-at-leisure as in the academic profession." (A.A.U.P. Вий., voL 33, 496).

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cisions—but gives no assurance that these will be wise decisions. The view of an administrator may indeed be more sound, at times, than that of the majority of the staff; but the reverse can also be true. Why not, therefore, bring them both into the picture? Increased faculty participation may already have complicated administration at certain points. But administration will remain complex in any case, since the time is past when institutions can be run simply on the basis of unstructured amity among all concerned. Moreover, if faculty actions involve difficulties at some points, the program can include simplification at others. And while faculty participation may at times delay decisions, it can on other occasions exert pressure for action. As a matter of fact, there are already indications at "Penn" that an intimate merging of administrative and faculty thought will stir things up and produce chain reactions in the policy field. During two earlier periods, those of Provost Smith at the beginning and of Provost Pepper in the late nineteenth century, Pennsylvania provided national leadership in higher education. During most of the present century, however, its record was rather neutral. Long-run policy seemed to be to "play safe." There were few serious mistakes and few original contributions, and the University's general reputation neither rose nor declined. Within the last few years, in contrast, a spirit of intellectual adventure has begun to pervade the campus—a willingness to take some risks in order to break out of the "dead center" of the past. Perhaps the most serious obstacle to greater faculty participation relates to the attitudes of this group itself. One of the University's trustees, Dr. Katharine McBride, has pointed out the innate contradiction here. Faculty members, many of them, wish to share in determining policies but also de73

sire "tranquillity"—freedom of time for teaching and research.26 A few will emphasize only one or the other of these values, but the majority desire both in a diffuse sort of way. They wish to take a real part in decisions but are irked by the thought of more time spent in committees or other administrative settings. How can they have their cake and the penny too? The answer is, presumably, that they can compromise on a bit of both. Professors who give much time to college or university affairs may have their teaching loads reduced. But faculties must face the fact that responsibilities will demand time and effort. If they are unwilling to give, there is no reason why they should receive. The outcome of this issue is by no means assured. In some institutions, as in certain of the women's colleges, faculties apparently take part earnestly in such policy decisions as are within their reach. In other institutions which grant professors considerable influence, there have been signs of faculty indifference.27 It is well to recall, however, that at least some supposed faculty aversion to committees is unreal: there are those who rather enjoy service on these bodies. Moreover, when the aversion is real, it may be directed against the time spent on trivia or routine rather than against administrative servϊ β Remarks, Expanding Resources for College Teaching, Amer. Council on Education, Studies No. XX, 1956, 62. 2 7 See H. Seymour, "Are Colleges Democratic?", Jour. Higher Ed., vol. 22 (1951), 195 ff. Ralph Fuchs, Gen. Sec. A.A.U.P., notes that it is difficult "to focus the attention of faculty members in large colleges and universities on over-all professional problems," Council Letter No. 11, March β, 1957. Opinion varies widely re facility attitudes even within one institution. At Pennsylvania, e.g., faculty concern is noted in the U. of P. Med. ВиП., II, No. 2 (Feb., 1954), 3; but questions are raised about possible "apathy and caution" (on the faculty's part) in the Univ. of Penna. Almanac, III, No. 7 (March, 1957), 3.

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ice as stich.28 To the extent that professors deal with significant issues, there seems a reasonable likelihood that most of them will rise to the occasion. The suggestions which follow are frankly based on this prospect. The Consultative Program. Granting that faculties are to share in policy decisions, there are two ways of bringing this about. These are not mutually exclusive, but one is more farreaching than the other. The first procedure involves what may be called a consultative program, in which administrators ask the advice of faculty bodies in a more or less systematic manner. Such advice usually relates to appointments, general policies, and budgets—in about that order of frequency. Consultative programs are commonly associated with faculty control of pedagogical matters. The Pennsylvania Statutes grant college faculties authority over admissions, teaching, and degrees in course—subject to the approval of the Trustees' "Executive Board." The admissions clause, however, refers only to "subject requirements," and there is no reference to the control of admissions in practice.89 The college faculty should be represented on any body which makes and enforces rules in this area.80 One may assume that faculty control over intra-college educational procedures, has long involved much exchange of 2 8 Two-thirds of the Wharton School faculty are entirely satisfied with their committee obligations, and only 5 percent expressed definite dissatisfaction with committee work (Faculty-Attitude Study, 83). Efforts should be made, nevertheless, to lessen the burden of committees by reducing their size and (wherever possible) their number. 2» Statutes of the Corporation, 1955, 13 ff. 8 0 The 1952 version of the Statutes provided for a Dean of Admissions, with authority over the same exccpt in certain professional schools. He sat in a committee with other members appointed by the president, and this body had power to form and enforce rules.

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opinion between the dean and the related staff.31 It is on the University level that what is here called a consultative program assumes its most distinct features. Almost necessary, in such a program, is the existence of an all-university senate which can speak for the faculties as a whole. The Senate at Pennsylvania, as set up in 1952, deals only with general university affairs. At some institutions, notably at the University of California, the senate exercises some oversight of individual colleges (e.g., of their admissions, curricula, etc.); but our own view is that each college faculty is the best judge in such matters. Conceivably, a senate with wide jurisdiction can do something to maintain standards throughout a university. But a weak college can also be checked on through upper administrative offices without—at the same time—limiting the autonomy of all member colleges. The Senate at Pennsylvania enjoys complete freedom of discussion and similar freedom to make recommendations simultaneously to the President and to the Trustees. The President and other officers, meantime, are authorized to consult the Senate on any appropriate matters.32 The Manual of Policies and Procedures,33 recently prepared in the President's office, makes the manner in which the Senate is to be consulted more specific. The Executive Board, for example, consults the Senate as well as other bodies in seeking nominations for the presidency.34 The Advisory Committee of the Senate, moreover, shares in nominating ad 8 1 There have been deans who dominated their faculties, but this phenomenon has been rare at Pennsylvania in recent decades. 32 Ibid., 11. 3 3 The status of this Manual—whether it has Trustee as well as administrative approval—is not yet clear. Presumably, it describes how things are, or will be, done. 3« Manual, Art. II, No. 4.

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hoc committees which are consulted by the President before he recommends appointments to upper administrative posts.35 Such opportunities re the appointment of administrators, although indirect, are important to faculties.36 So, also, are opportunities to be consulted about general policies; but in the latter area the situation at the University is less clear. At the Trustee level, Advisory Boards appointed by the Chairman deal with subject matter areas or special institutions, and these Boards contain some "outside" specialists as well as Trustees. They keep in touch with their areas and may bring administrators or staff members into deliberations. The Boards are especially concerned with teaching and research, and are expected to develop "effective communication with the faculties."ST Opportunities are thus provided for expressing the views of some professors to some Trustees—and vice versa. This is highly desirable. But since initiative and choice lie with the Boards, it is doubtful if systematic "communication with faculties" is achieved. Here is one point where, if experience has been encouraging, joint Trustee-Faculty boards could be created. On the upper administrative level the University possesses an Educational Council,38 whose function is to formulate general educational policies. This is a relatively large body, made up of 33 deans or other officials appointed by the President, about 45 staff elected by various faculties, and 7 members chosen by the Senate. The officers are the Provost s® Ibid., Nos. 4, 7, 8. 8 8 Parallel opportunities exist on the college level. The President, before nominating a dean to the Trustees, consults an ad hoc committee of the faculty involved. 37 Ibid., Art. IV. 3 8 One of a number of special councils; e.g., those on Athletics and on the Mask and Wig.

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(chairman), Chairman of the Senate (v. chairman), and University Secretary (secretary). The Council may express opinions on any matters brought before it by Trustees, President, or Faculties, and may make its own proposals in return. The Council elects, by rather elaborate procedures, such committees as those on Research, on Libraries, and on Educational Policy. The latter, which is most significant here, contains both administrators and faculty members. Presumably, this Committee suggests or passes on policies to the Council, which in turn recommends to any of the groups mentioned above.39 The Council provides opportunities for the expression of staff opinion, and the principle of combined administratorfaculty membership is desirable from the present viewpoint. Consultation is worthwhile, however, only if it is taken seriously. A number of faculty members state that, prior to about 1952, actions desired by administrators were presented hurriedly and in such a manner that staff who were present could hardly oppose them. Such professors therefore wrote the Council off as a "futile" organization. To the extent that this view was justified, genuine expressions of faculty opinion were more apt to come from the Senate. The latter was set up alongside the pre-existing Educational Council, presumably because the faculties did not think that the older body adequately represented them. In recent years, however, the President has consulted seriously with staff members of the Council's Committee on Educational Policy, so that faculty opinion now reaches him from both that Committee and from the Senate. Whether this dual arrangement will be helpful or confusing remains to be seen. The Senate's advisory role re appointments and policies ' 8» Ibid. 78

has been noted. Its advisory functions, however, do no( seem to extend to the area of specific University budgets. The Senate has no such legislative powers as inhere in college faculties but its committees have been active in making recommendations on important matters; for example, on athletics, appointments, and academic freedom. It has also cooperated with the administration on specific projects; for example, on the faculty club and on the preparation of the Manual herein cited. Opinion varied, among staff members interviewed, as to the efficacy of the Senate. Some believed that, however useful at first, it had become an unwieldy body of doubtful value—despite its use of certain central committees. The majority thought, however, that the Senate had, in a general way, brought faculty opinion to bear on University problems in a new and promising manner. Our own view is that, in terms of a consultative program, the emergence of the Senate, the present role of the Council's Committee on Educational Policy, and various other arrangements noted in the Manual indicate a great improvement in the administration of the University. Pennsylvania has been moving here in line with a national trend,40 and the resulting gain in morale has been obvious in most interviews with the staff. Two qualifications of this favorable opinion, however, must be noted. The first is of a specific nature and has already been mentioned. Throughout the structure of consultative arrangements, no provision is made for the expres4 0 This trend has been irregular; i.e., in some universities faculty influence may have declined; see, e.g., Walter F. Wilcox, "Who Should Run the University?", Cornell Alumni News, vol. 59, No. 11, Mar. 1, 1957. But comprehensive A.A.U.P. studies of both colleges and universities indicate a slow, modest increase in faculty influence over the last two decades; see Paul Ward (Chairman), "Report of Committee T, 1953," A.A.U.P. Bull., vol. 41 (1955) Θ2-81.

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sion of faculty opinion on budgets. One would hardly go as far as do some British authorities, in saying that a faculty which is not consulted on budgets is denied "academic freedom." 41 But policies are often implemented, in the last analysis, in budgetary terms; and faculty members who remain ignorant on such matters are handicapped in bringing their opinion to bear on final decisions. Methods for remedying this situation readily suggest themselves. Within a department, the suggested executive committee may advise the chairman on individual salaries. Something of this sort is already done in certain departments. Above this level, faculty committees could be set up to advise on budgets for each college and perhaps even for the University as a whole. At the University of California the latter function is regularly carried on by a committee of the senate. Such arrangements should be introduced with caution, of course, since difficulties such as "log-rolling" might be encountered. But the experiment merits a trial. The second qualification relates to the limitations of a consultative program as such. The value of these arrangements turns largely on the attitudes of administrators. As long as they welcome suggestions from faculty bodies, consult them seriously, and frequently approve their nominations, the program enables faculties to exert considerable influence on educational policy. Just such happy relationships now seem to be the rule at Pennsylvania. Yet there is little in the system itself which assures such rapport. The two groups, administrators and staff, may remain separated at the points—in administrative offices or at Trustee meetings—where decisions are finally made. And a regime which takes faculty opinion seriously may be re4 1 Sir Eric Ashby (I, note 21), 5. The British concept of such freedom is ipparently broader than the American.

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placed, through trustee or presidential action, by one which does not. The only remedy then available to the staff lies in pressures implicit in the attitudes of college faculties and of the Senate. Such pressures may be potent if faculties are really aroused. But this will not occur except in extreme cases, and even then, only if administrators are inept or if staff leaders are unusually aggressive.42 Faculty Participation in Administration. In view of the limitations inherent in a consultative program, it is here proposed that faculty representatives should participate directly in decisions on policies and appointments. There is no thought here of "faculty rule," as this is practiced abroad or even as it was demanded in this country a half-century ago. Such a proposal would be unrealistic, and perhaps even undesirable for reasons already mentioned.48 But it is entirely realistic to envisage faculty representatives as sharing, with administrators, the responsibility for decisions on educational policy. This arrangement is automatic at the departmental level, in the sense that the chairman combines administrative and staff roles in his own person. The principle can be extended there, as suggested, by having the chairman work within an executive committee—chosen as desired by the whole department. Here one has a model which can be applied to upper administrative levels as well.44 42 Some observers, however, picture faculties as ready at any time for mass opposition to the administration. Thus, Beardsley RumI states: "The faculty, departmentalized though it be, will form a defensive circle and moan to high heaven at any aggressive initiative by the administrative wolf." СAtlantic Monthly, April, 1957, 49). 48 Cf., here, J. Jastrow, in J. McK. Cattell (Ed.), University Control, N. Y., 1913, 320 ff.; and A. Flexner, I Remember, N. Y., 1940, 335. 44 One or more college executive committees already exist in the University; e.g., in the School of Veterinary Medicine, where the chairmen make up the committee. Faculty election is not involved. H. J. Stafseth, The School of Veterinary Medicine. The Educational Survey, 1957, 55.

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A dean, like a chairman, may be provided with an executive committee of staff members chosen as the college faculty wishes. Assuming that the committee is elected, it would seem best if the faculty chose a panel of 10 or 12 members— of whom the Dean would appoint half the number as the committee.45 This would permit the latter to choose those with whom he thought he could work most effectively. Except in relation to routine functions, such as that of a student discipline committee, the Dean would act only in the executive committee. He would bring before it all matters pertaining to appointments, promotions,46 budgets, pedagogical questions, and policies at large. In the great majority of cases, the Dean and executive committee could be expected to agree. This has been the actual experience of such a committee, which has been operating in the arts college of the University of Michigan for some years.47 On the rare occasions when the Dean disagrees with the majority of the committee, he may make his own recommendations to the college faculty or up the administrative ladder—as the case may be. But he also will be expected to report the dissenting opinion of the group. One of the advantages of an executive committee of this sort is the experience and understanding which they will share with the Dean. This will be obtained through their familiarity with all aspects of college affairs. They may decide about promotions, for example, in the light of their knowledge of budgets and of general policies—a possibility 4 5 At the first election. Preferably, each of the major subject-matter areas —natural sciences, social sciences, and the humanities—would be represented by two members. 4 β Now assigned to a special committee. 4 7 Comments on the Michigan committee are based on discussions with the present Dean (Charles Odegaard); a former Dean (Dr. Keniston); Professor Dwight L. Dumond, who was chairman of the group which originally recommended the committee, and a number of Michigan staff members.

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which does not exist if various matters are considered by various committees. In order to assure the experience of the committee, the terms of members may be staggered and should run for three or four years. One of the criticisms made of the arrangement at Michigan is that "the faculty members of the executive committee really become administrators themselves." Yet, from the present view, this very point is one of the program's chief merits: the line between faculty and administrative status becomes less distinct.48 Professors who serve on such a committee must accept serious responsibilities and will probably cease, if they were ever so inclined, to make cynical remarks about administrators in general. For the duration of their terms, the committee will demand much time, and allowance may be made for this in a reduction of teaching schedules or of other university obligations. Some administrators may object to executive committees, lest they lose a completely free hand. But unless an official wishes to exert autocratic authority, he will be more than compensated by the sharing of his responsibility. If necessary, he may still take his own stand. Meantime, in most cases, he cannot be solely blamed for decisions which are unpopular—either with individuals or with groups.44 In concluding the discussion of a college executive committee, a final word may be said about one of the most significant functions which it could perform. This is the exercise of some oversight over departmental personnel. In the last analysis, it is the quality of such personnel which largely determines the reputation of the University. If this generaliza4 8 The same goal is reached, from the other direction, if deans or other administrators also act as professors; i.e., if they can find time to give one course or its equivalent. 4 9 It follows that much of the work of such a committee is of a strictly confidential nature.

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tion is to be implemented and not remain a mere truism, specific procedures must be provided. It has already been noted that the executive committee and Dean would receive departmental recommendations re appointments and promotions, and that, in so doing, the members would benefit from their knowledge of college policies and budgets. But more than this is involved. It would seem desirable, as is now done in certain colleges, to request chairmen to submit annual reports to the Dean and his committee. This would not only be good for the chairmen, but would also provide the Dean and his committee with material for an annual appraisal of each department —particularly of the personnel situation therein. Such appraisals could be simple in the cases of clearly strong departments, but searching in regard to those of doubtful status. In the latter situation, the Dean and his Committee—with the approval of the Provost, a vice-president, or a vice-provost —might well take the initiative in selecting a new chairman or in deciding on appointments or promotions. Such procedures are followed at Michigan and doubtless at other institutions. There are, however, certain difficulties in this program. Most obvious is the amount of time that the Dean and his committee would have to give to these problems. They should, indeed, make an annual appraisal of departments; but what if, in the case of weak units, they must take the initiative in finding new staff? This will require that the Dean orient himself in the given field, and become in effect a "talent scout" in surveying national personnel. And the only way in which a Dean can do this will be to relinquish to others some of his major educational interests. A second difficulty here relates to the role of the Dean of the Graduate School who may be as much concerned with 84

appointments and promotions as is the dean of an undergraduate college. The one might be more concerned with a candidate's research, the other with a man's teaching quality. In any case, it might be awkward for two deans and their respective committees to reach a joint decision on the same level of authority. It has therefore been suggested50 that a superior officer be made primarily responsible for overseeing personnel situations throughout the University—with the possible exception of the advanced professional schools. Such an officer could be termed a "dean of faculties" as at Princeton, or could be made a vice-provost. In our opinion, however, the services he could render so large a university as Pennsylvania would be of uncertain value. He could hardly keep in touch with some fifteen colleges, and his presence would complicate administrative processes. It were probably better to let the deans deal as best they can with the difficulties mentioned. The same reasoning which suggests the desirability of a college executive committee, also applies to the next higher administrative level—that of the Provost and of academic vice-presidents. On the latter level, however, the panel for executive committee members would be elected by the Senate or by the combined faculties of the colleges reporting to a vice-president. Whether one committee should be set up to work with the Provost or two with the two Vice-Provosts, could be left to the discretion of these officers. In any case, the purpose, nature, and procedures of these committees would be similar to those on the college level.®1 The logic which favors the creation of faculty-chosen exThis alternative suggestion is made by Dr. Keniston. Structure would be simplified if the Provost and his executive committee were responsible for educational programs throughout the University. But it is not within our province here to express opinion on the present arrangements within medicine and engineering. 50

51

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ecutive committees does not apply to the highest administrative level, that of the presidency, since this office deals with many matters with which the faculty has little direct concern. The President, moreover, plays a symbolic role for the University as a whole, and should not be hedged about in this function by many formal requirements. Despite this general rule, questions will arise about procedures when the President is expected to consult the Senate, or when that body makes formal recommendations to him. Under a consultative program, the President—if he disapproves such proposals—need take no further action concerning them. If such negative procedure is rare, consultation remains a reality. But if faculty suggestions are commonly overlooked, only the forms of consultation will survive. It would be well, therefore, to assure the faculty of participation through certain formal procedures. The President might well extend to the Senate, after consultation, some explanation of any negative response on his part. Similar explanations should be given to Deans and their committees, in those cases in which the President or provosts disapprove their recommendations. Procedure of this sort would not be burdensome, since such instances are unusual.53 The question is sometimes raised: May a university president veto any action by any faculty? Theoretically, such a problem might arise if there was strong disapproval of legislation adopted by a particular college faculty. The Statutes at Pennsylvania (and doubtless at many other institutions) are not explicit about the matter.53 In practice the issue can nearly always be avoided. But if one must imagine an unprecedented situation in which neither a faculty nor the 5 2 There were cases at the University, before 1952, when the President disapproved recommendations of faculty committees and deans and declined any explanation. 6 8 See 5 f. in the 1955 Statutes.

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President would give way, the matter might be resolved by the Trustees. Orderly procedure for this seems to be provided by the Pennsylvania Statutes, since a faculty can presumably appeal to the Senate and the latter is authorized to recommend to the Trustees as well as to the President.84 Presidents usually find it necessary to consult an immediate advisory group—often of their own choosing. This "cabinet," whether of formal or informal status, may include all Deans or it may be limited to "top" administrators. Where the latter are former professors, as is now the case at Pennsylvania, academic viewpoints will be more or less well represented. At Pennsylvania, moreover, the President now consults closely with professors on committees of the Educational Council or in special groups. There are institutions, in contrast, in which only administrators seem to have direct access to the president. Such a situation is unfortunate.66 Informal Relations Between Faculties and Administrators. In addition to the formal relations obtaining between administrators and faculties, various informal contacts exist or ought to exist. There is, for example, the obvious matter of communications. The situation is difficult if administrators are unaware of faculty thinking about University affairs; and, conversely, if the staff is "in the dark" about administrative actions and procedures. This state of things existed to a considerable degree at Pennsylvania until recent years. The problem of communications, in a large and complex institution, is not an easy one even in the presence of the и Ibid., 11. A few institutions, e.g., Princeton, Vassar, have top faculty advisory committees which report directly to the Board, or whose opinions are so reported by the President. This arrangement seems desirable if the President declines to appoint any professors among his advisors. 58

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best intentions. Authorities on the subject point out that much of the meaning of a statement is lost or misinterpreted in the hands of recipients, particularly if there is no two-way transmittal. In past practice at Pennsylvania, minimal information was passed on via group meetings, correspondence, and the Gazette; but there was no systematic exchange of viewpoints between administrators and staff. The situation has been improved under the present administration. The Senate, for example, is or can be a device for two-way communication. And such publications as News from Pennsylvania, the U. of P. Medical Bulletin, and the Almanac provide information which was hitherto rather inaccessible. The latter, moreover, affords opportunity for the expression of faculty opinion. The origins of the Almanac were significant. It was established in response to a Senate resolution in 1952, in which a desire was expressed for: 5β an effective channel of communication between the Faculty and other segments of the University, particularly those engaged in policy formation. This hope was based upon the belief that the minimal participation of the Faculty might appropriately be enlarged to the benefit of the University as a whole. In making the above statement, however, Professor J. P. Horlacher57 recently declared that the Almanac has received little news concerning policy formation. He suggested that the fault here might be the faculty's own, and viewed it as unfortunate if their silence resulted from "apathy and caution." This diagnosis, if correct, emphasizes the need for a Univ. of Penna. Almanac, III, No. 7, Mar., 1957, 3. Chairman, Senate committees on the Almanac and on Communications with the Faculty. 5e

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lively concern about such matters on the part of the faculty itself. Communications, broadly interpreted, include explanatory statements made available to faculties re standards and procedures. University policies on such matters68 should be made clear to faculties, and some institutions issue elaborate booklets for this purpose. Otherwise, there is uncertainty and danger of misunderstanding. Some information of this sort has been available in University catalogues or in special statements, and the new Manual clarifies official procedures; but it might be well to pull many of these matters together in a single publication.59 Communications also relate to a number of special situations or procedures. One of these concerns committees. When administrators request assistance from faculties, usually through committees, it is taken for granted that these groups will report in due time. The reception accorded the reports or notice of actions based thereon may or may not be communicated back to the committees. Yet such procedure is desirable in order to complete a two-way process. Even if it is impossible to act upon a committee's recommendations, some frustration will be experienced if the group puts time and effort into a report and never learns what happened to it. Still another special phase of communication relates to the recognition of individual achievements of faculty members. A few of those interviewed urged that administrators, presumably because they symbolize the University, should take note of such achievements and express commendation to the men concerned. Several staff members went further in stat5 8 E.g., on appointments, promotions, tenure, teaching loads, leaves, research, patents, fringe benefits, and retirement. 59 Or in separate publications for the larger colleges. The School of Medicine now has such a booklet (Regulations Governing the Organization and Conduct of the Faculty).

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ing that administrators showed little pride in the faculty as a whole. This matter does not lend itself to easy solutions. Most men can recall occasions when a word of praise, especially from someone in authority, provided potent encouragement. One cannot, of course, expect busy administrators to take note of every minor honor which comes a professor's way. Yet the implications for faculty morale are out of proportion to the small effort which usually would be involved. Hence, if this is not already done, we would suggest that somewhat systematic attention be accorded the matter. Chairmen could be requested to relay information up to whatever administrative level is appropriate, so that letters or other forms of recognition could be prepared.80 Faculty Relations with Students and Alumni. One is confronted, in discussing faculty-student relationships, with two quite different generalizations. We are told, on the one hand, that a great merit of American colleges is the existence of relatively friendly and informal contacts between staff and students. Since American professors are sometimes less remote and awe-inspiring than their European colleagues, American students are said to benefit accordingly. On the other hand, complaints are made by undergraduates at Pennsylvania—as in other institutions—that they have little or no contact with those who instruct them. They assert that they do not "get to know" professors—that they are only "names" in large classes, if that. Both of these generalizations are more or less true. The formality of European lecturers doubtless reflects their gen6 0 Such procedure is needed especially 011 behalf of those who are modest or retiring by nature. More assertive professors will see to these things themselves.

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eral status; and, in any case, they deal only with those who are assumed to be mature persons. American undergraduates are supposed to need and do receive some personal guidance, but may declare that this is not enough. Actual practice varies, of course, from college to college and from class to class. Small, independent colleges, with a high ratio of faculty to students, can provide relatively close contacts. So, also, can universities which distribute undergraduates in "houses," or in university colleges which employ tutorial systems. Such arrangements are considered desirable in terms of "individual attention," but are too expensive for many institutions. In the absence of a tutorial program, the contacts obtaining between faculty and students are functions of (1) the size of classes, (2) the nature of classes, and (3) the attitudes of those teaching and of those taught. This is one of those truisms which needs to be kept in mind, and it will be discussed later under "Teaching." Some college authorities desire contacts between teachers and students which go further than simple guidance in a course. Teachers are encouraged to know their charges as persons and even to take an interest in "college life." Where such interests are spontaneous expressions of a man's temperament, the results may be excellent, though this sort of thing cannot be made to order. Nor should it be expected, as a rule, of older men. The professor who retains undergraduate enthusiasms may be popular, but is apt to be one who never quite grew up himself. No one doubts that adolescence is a time of stress for the individual. Most of us, without benefit of Stanley Hall, can recall such stress in our own experience. And it happens that undergraduates are going through—or have recently completed—this stage of personality development. Hence there is 91

considerable demand that colleges, in loco parentis, assist students with their personal problems. The point here is that this is not the obligation of a university staff. Spontaneous, individual associations may be helpful; but, in the main, functions of this sort belong to such extra-faculty agencies as personnel officers, chaplains, and student health services. Most faculty members have very limited contacts with the alumni, unless they are graduates of the institution in which they teach and happen to keep up their class affiliations. Such affiliations, however, are valuable. Since it is not desirable to divorce the academic profession from society as a whole, an alumni association provides opportunities for academics and former classmates to continue associations on an equal footing. Good alumni relations, moreover, are especially valuable to private institutions. Professors may be helpful here in addressing alumni groups when feasible, though the greater part of this load is usually carried by administrators. The attitudes which students and alumni, meantime, take toward faculties, are usually pleasant enough. Only twentyfive years ago, there were still vestiges at Pennsylvania of an ancient if not honorable tradition, according to which large classes would "razz" a teacher if they could "get away with it." Sessions were broken up after football victories, or upon other occasions which undergraduates felt merited such recognition; and, in extreme cases, classes were continuously demoralized. Most such behavior is now a thing of the past. But large classes, if the subject is required, still view teachers with a detachment which is more notable for its indifference than for its objectivity. The professor may convince them that he is worth hearing but the burden of proof is upon him. Observers will differ as to whether this is as it should be, or 92

whether it simply reflects the general situation in undergraduate education. On the other hand, the attitude of some staff members toward students is not all that it might be. A few of the faculty frankly view students as necessary evils, and occasionally there is extreme cynicism about them.91 How far such views are genuine, and how far they constitute a defense against indifference, is difficult to say. Our impression, however, is that most of the "Penn" faculty take at least a reasonable degree of interest in the undergraduates. It may be impossible to assay alumni attitudes toward faculties, since these vary widely. The support which alumni now extend to universities doubtless expresses, in part, a nostalgia for "college days"; but it must also indicate some respect for present institutions and their staffs. Able alumni, like the educated public at large, are certainly aware that universities are assuming a more and more important role in American society. Casual attitudes, on the part of a few alumni, may be viewed as vestigial—as reminiscent of student attitudes in "their day." This is illustrated by the use of such partlyfriendly, partly-condescending terms as "prof' or "doc." (Imagine addressing a Herr Professor Doktor as "prof!) The antics of "Professor Quagmire" in the Pennsylvania Gazette are intended as good, clean fun which the "profs" can "take," but it is difficult to imagine such ridicule of professions which deal only with mature students. Intra-FacuÜy Relationships. A discussion of this theme involves one in the sociology and psychology of academic 8 1 Most students, declares one writer, are "either athletic, stupid, or mentally sick." Robert Craves, "Diseases of Scholarship," New Republic, May β, 1957 (vol. 136, No. 18).

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personnel. To date, professors in these fields have given more attention to such professions as law and medicine than they have to their own guild; and the same comment may be made about historians. Many university histories describe institutional developments at length, but tell less of the evolution of the staff as such. "Student life" is more apt to receive a chapter than is that of the faculty. And histories of particular departments, enlightening as these could be, are rare indeed. This seeming neglect may result from a tendency among professional men to serve or examine others rather than themselves. But there is also some question as to the object in this case: the academic guild is not as clearly identified as are some others. Is it really a single group as are lawyers and physicians? Or is it, rather, a collection of professionschemists, historians, and so on—who are banded together for purposes of teaching and research? Does the clinical professor think of himself primarily as an academic man or as a physician? Guild loyalties, no doubt, can be divided; hence it may be said that most academic men display some consciousness of kind. There is usually more of this in independent colleges, where most staff think of themselves as "college teachers," and less among university men with highly specialized interests. Yet, even in the latter case, the institutional setting will make for a measure of common interests and behavior. The personality of an academic man or woman is a significant factor, not only in teaching but also in terms of relations with colleagues. Both administrators and professors are familiar with extreme types among university personnel —from the prima donnas and exhibitionists at one end of the scale, to the self-effacing at the other. The American academic environment may not encourage egotism as much as 94

does the European, but this quality is by no means unknown. Watered down a bit, it becomes the individualism which is expected in academic circles. As the Germans used to say: "Ein Professor ist ein Mann der andere Meinung ist"; which, being translated, comes out as Carl Becker's remark: "A professor is one who thinks otherwise." Such persons may know their way around but are not likely to be "organization men." In other words, the university world is more tolerant of unorthodox or variant types than is the business world, and this is as it should be. Yet individualism—a heritage of the guild tradition—must be reconciled in American universities with a measure of corporate structure. Just because faculties are departmentalized, members must be able to "get along together." Persons who are markedly eccentric may make cooperation almost impossible. More common are men who are just minor handicaps or nuisances. Nearly every large department includes one person who is withdrawn and so contributes little to the dynamics of the group; and also one of the reverse type, who is so affable and talkative that time—including that of his colleagues—means nothing to him. Hence it is justifiable, within broad limits, to consider personality in making appointments. The more able the man, the more allowances can be made; but the academic world should not encourage the notionsaid to obtain in some circles—that eccentricity is the mark of genius. Superimposed on the inter-personal difficulties which appear within any organization (rivalries, cliques, favoritism) are those more or less peculiar to academic personnel. Harmony among them must depend more upon a shared sense of values than upon directives or regulations. But faculty members do not agree fully on values; one man is most devoted to teaching, another to research, and another to "community 95

service." Still others, since they share ambitions common to society at large, become most concerned about income, prestige, and "empire building" in their own departments or fields. Those devoted to one value may take a dim view of those entranced by another; for example, "teaching versus research." Competition between academic men is apt to be less direct and overt than in many business areas. Ostensibly, everyone is cooperative, and there actually is much substance to this —between administrative units and institutions as well as between individuals. The most obvious and unavoidable competition is that between individuals in the same field—chemistry, economics, etc.—who are located in different institutions. Such tensions as may result from this do not appear within any given university. Even this extra-mural rivalry, moreover, is not acute in this country. American faculties have great geographical mobility because there are so many openings, and they therefore escape the intense competition which exists in a country which has only a limited number of posts. Intramural competition, meantime, is lessened by the variety of ways in which scholars can satisfy their inner drives. Even the man who is not particularly ambitious must achieve something which makes for self-respect. Promotions in rank and salary are one obvious means for this, and provide potent motivations. There are other and more subtle means which are not mutually exclusive. Some men derive satisfactions from serving on important committees or in minor administrative posts, and the latter may lead to major administrative appointments. Others cherish recognition by students. More common is a desire for national recognition in a field, which in turn has implications for rank or salary. Rare but not un96

known is the wealthy scholar who seeks recognition, indirectly, by judicious entertaining. And even the subdivision of academic fields is, in effect, a device by which many scholars attain prominence. The more sub-fields there are, the greater will be the number who can be authorities on one subject or another.82 In so far as scholars follow different routes to achievement, they do not get in one another's way. This is not to say that all tensions are removed. But there are better prospects of minimizing them if the circumstances mentioned are kept in mind—both by professors and by administrators. Occasionally, for example, a man who aspires to recognition in a field is blocked by the staff situation: he cannot offer the courses he wishes. The solution may be to wait or to go elsewhere; but meantime his morale may be helped by suggesting the pursuit of other values. He may find his place, at least temporarily, in effective teaching or in providing some special service to the department. Again, older men whose creative work has slowed down but who possess cumulative wisdom, may be diverted to administrative work—to their own profit and to that of the institution. This does not imply, of course, that a man should be given administrative functions simply because he proves incapable of original scholarship. Professors have special obligations, in the interest of their departments, to promising young colleagues. They should make every effort to see that their juniors are not frustrated by over-heavy teaching loads, by delayed advancement, or by lack of participation in departmental affairs. (Recognition can come from colleagues as well as from administra62 See remarks of R. W. Tyler, (Dir., Center for Advanced Studies in Behaviorial Sciences, Stanford) in Amer. Council on Ed. Conference on Vacuity-Administrative Relations, 1957, 27-29.

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tars.) Senior men are also in a position to advise juniors about professional risks and opportunities; for example, on the dangers of extra teaching and about prospects of financial aid for research. Conversely, professors have an obligation to face facts in the cases of young men who do not merit advancement. It is kinder in the long run, as well as wiser, to inform such men —as soon as a judicious decision can be made—that they will not be reappointed. Decisions on advancement will involve, however, the criteria which a particular department or college has in mind. If the local policy is to reward only one of the means by which individuals achieve self-respect—say, effectiveness in research—those who pursue other worthwhile goals will be frustrated. Hence it has already been suggested that there should be room in any large university department for occasional men who fail to live up to research promise but are unusually effective teachers. Although the most intimate relations between staff are usually those within departments, there are cases in which a man has most in common with colleagues in departments other than his own. Such relations are usually friendly and, if so, something is done to break down the extreme departmentalization of knowledge. Individuals sometimes hold appointments in two or more departments, or even in two or more colleges; and the resulting cross-fertilization is to be welcomed. It is usually unwise for such a person to straddle budgets as well as administrative units, for he may then fall between two financial stools. But there is no law against appointing a professor without assigning him to any department, if circumstances warrant this. Common interests within two departments or colleges occasionally produce friction, as when courses are duplicated. 98

When this is objectionable, cooperation will usually "iron things out"; if not, the situation must be resolved by administrative action. Tensions may also result from the attitudes which one faculty assumes toward another. The second may be viewed as over-aggressive, as not maintaining adequate standards, or as devoted to values not respected by the first. An illustration of this is the old controversy between arts and education faculties, which has had national reverberations. Arts faculties have suspected the "content" of education programs, while professional educators have taken a dim view of arts college teaching. Fortunately, this issue has not been acute at Pennsylvania—presumably because of moderation in one or both camps. Another and more subtle illustration at Pennsylvania is the disdain which some arts people are said to display toward the Wharton faculty. In so far as such disdain actually exists, it reflects a value conflict, since the arts group is devoted to "liberal education" and dislikes the other faculty's supposed pursuit of "vocational training." Tensions are not eased by the realization that the great shift in American undergraduate education over the last forty years has been from liberal" to professional or vocational programs. Nor are matters simplified if the Wharton group, teaching large numbers of students, believes that it is helping to finance the arts faculty. Such issues cannot be resolved by directives."* Each faculty is entitled to its own opinions, but one can hope for open-mindedness. Mutual understanding can sometimes be promoted by what anthropologists call cross-cultural influ6 3 Except, possibly, when colleges might be eliminated or merged. An example at Pennsylvania is that of the long-term tensions between the School of Medicine and the Graduate School of Medicine·

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ences; that is, by arrangements—formal or otherwise—which bring representatives of each faculty together on the campus. Staff members also meet off the campus in the course of ordinary personal contacts. They and their families often have much in common, and faculty social life can contribute to morale. Just because opportunities for such life are relatively limited in a metropolitan setting, special attention should be given such matters as a faculty club, organizations for wives, and so on. The latter should always include a "newcomers" unit—a Middle Western idea—so that wives will not feel lost during their husbands' first years at the University. Social relationships usually group themselves around certain foci (departments, clubs, churches) and radiate out therefrom. Superimposed on this pattern is that of age levels. Generations, like birds of a feather, tend to flock together. The habit usually reflects free choice, at least on the part of "the younger set." But rumor has it that there are certain old institutions where senior staff, as a matter of principle, do not entertain junior staff. Such rank distinction 84 may be akin to class distinction but, in any case, it seems unknown at Pennsylvania and is rare in other American universities. The Need for Studies in Higher Education. The foregoing discussions may not cover all principles pertinent to a faculty program. But enough has been said to suggest the complexity as well as the significance of the various problems under consideration. These problems cannot be settled here or elsewhere for all time: there is need for a continuing study of faculty programs and of other aspects of higher education. 84

The double entendre here is not too subtle.

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In the past, this subject lay in the province of college and university administrators, and—in a more diffuse way—in that of the faculties. Elementary and secondary education were long ago "taken over" by professional educators, but the latter's influence on colleges has been very limited. Only recently have universities taken what may seem a quite logical step, that of appointing "professors of higher education" in departments or schools of education. A plausible case can be made for this arrangement. Professors, immersed in their disciplines, have little time to give to the study of higher education. Administrators are in contact with pertinent problems, but they also are too busy for actual research in this field. Why not assign it to professionals, who will concentrate on it and will also bring to it a knowledge of education in general? This approach, however, may arouse opposition among college and university faculties. One must recall that the controversy between professional educators and arts faculties has been sharp at times. Rightly or wrongly, the former's standards as well as their methods have been questioned; hence they may not be accepted in academic circles as authorities on university matters.98 Faculty attitudes, in this case, cannot be ascribed entirely to prejudice. Professional educators (like any group) are apt to see a new field against the background of previous experience. And their background happens to be that of the public 6 5 In the past, even mild criticism of professional educators was sharply resented, and present criticism is anything but mild. Note, e.g., the following comments of Professor Samuel E. Morison of Harvard: "I venture to say that professional educators are the greatest enemies not only to academic freedom but to academic excellence in the United States today. No one who has not read the stuff printed in educational journals would believe the nonsense that these people write, or the horrible jargon in which they express themselves, or the shabby mediocrity of their minds"; Freedom in Contemporary Society, Boston, 1956.

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school world, in which—despite a continuing invocation of "democracy"—teachers are allowed little or no role in determining policies.68 Educators may easily, perhaps unconsciously, project the assumptions of this world up on to the college level. They may expect university officials, as a matter of course, to determine policies and select staffs; and view the college faculty, meantime, as another group of "teachers" —to be trained, appointed, and directed as on the secondary level.67 It is a nice question whether administrative domination is desirable even in the public schools. Many teachers, facing this situation, have abandoned the guild tradition altogether by joining labor unions. In any case, administrative roles characteristic of public schools are inappropriate in colleges. And by virtue of all that has been said here, such roles are even more inappropriate in universities. Hence, to the extent that educators envisage universities in public school terms, there is an implicit threat to academic tradition. Higher education should remain higher and not be absorbed into the lower. Professors of higher education are, nevertheless, in a better position to do something with this area than are administrators or faculties at large. There are signs that they intend to make the most of this opportunity. The National Education Association, a public school oriented body, has promoted for some years an active section on higher education. Foundation officers and university administrators are listening, 8 8 T h e May, 1957 issue of The Nations Schools reported that 75 percent of school superintendents, in a national poll, saw no reason for consulting teachers "in any way"; cited in Council for Basic Ed. Вий., No. 11, June, 1957, 7. 6 7 See, e.g., "Teacher Supply and Demand In Degree-Granting Institutions," N.E.A. Research BuU., XXXIII, No. 4, Dec., 1955, 153; ibid., XXXIV, No. 3, Oct., 1956, 113; Expanding Resources for College Teaching, Amer. Council on Ed. Studies, XX, 1958, 67 ff., 73 ff.

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more and more, to educators in this field, since the latter may seem better informed than anyone else available.68 In a word, professional educators may "take over" this area by default, much as their predecessors took over secondary education a half-century ago. There is no intention here to suggest that this would be a total calamity: someone should take over. And professors of higher education may be credited with having had sufficient imagination to envisage possibilities and needs. The only question is: Are they, as a group, best qualified for this task in terms of all its subtleties and implications? Since the issue here may become controversial, there is a responsibility to state one's own opinion frankly. In view of previous statements, the present thesis is that specialists in higher education should be appointed in universities but that they should not be formally located in departments or schools of education. Nor should they be attached to administrative offices. Faculties at large have a vital concern in the study of their own institutions; and, by the same token, an interest in the qualifications and independence of persons chosen for such posts. It is therefore suggested that the specialist in higher education need have no departmental location but should be made a member of the faculty of the Graduate School. Here he may serve as a resource person for faculties and administrators alike. If developments warrant, he can be provided with assistants or even with colleagues in a departmental unit. But all this need not be decided at the start. The man appointed should have served as a member of an academic department, should have had some adminis6 8 Four research institutes in higher education, one at Teachers College, Columbia, were set up in 1956-57 alone—with support from the Carnegie Corporation.

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trative experience, and should have exhibited an interest in university affairs. If he also has a broad knowledge of education in general, so much the better. And if all these qualifications are unavailable in one person, the nearest approximation of them might be acceptable. The post will not be easy to fill. In searching for a candidate, various possibilities may be kept in mind. A scholar who has served on both arts and education faculties may prove promising, particularly if he has taught a so-called "content" subject in a school of education. The man who is already a professor of higher education might have some advantages, assuming that he is able, openminded, and familiar with academic viewpoints. But various other fields could be tapped. Psychologists, social scientists, and even historians might bring perspectives to bear on higher education which would be revealing. The separation of a staff member in higher education from traditional education faculties should not preclude cooperation between them. One would hope that individuals concerned would be willing to work together as occasion demanded and we believe that this would be the case at Pennsylvania. Colleagues in the School of Education could be helpful to a specialist in higher education, and the latter in turn might encourage good relations between that School and the other colleges. The relations of this specialist should, indeed, extend to both faculties and administrators on a university-wide basis. He would represent no one group, but rather the interests of higher education in general and those of the University of Pennsylvania in particular.

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3 Reputation and Morale of the Pennsylvania Faculties The general reputation of the University, as stated, does not seem to have changed in any marked fashion over the last thirty or forty years. The same statement holds true if one limits the denotation of "general" to the "reputation of its faculties"—leaving to others the ups and downs in public relations, in the quality of students, and in the fame of "varsity" teams. Even faculty reputation is too vague a concept to be employed without qualification. Do we have in mind the staffs of undergraduate or of advanced professional schools? Are we thinking of the University's standing in teaching, or in research, or in community services? It is doubtful if any scale can be devised which would cover all these variables and still provide meaningful averages. The Chicago Tribune, nevertheless, attempted such an over-all rating of American universities during the current year (1957), basing its estimates on those of "thirty-three distinguished [but unidentified] consultants."1 The outcome was a list, in order of standing, of what were viewed as the ten leading institutions.2 Pennsylvania was not included; but 1 April 21, 1952. Listed were Harvard, Yale, California, Chicago, Columbia, Princeton, Michigan, Cornell, Wisconsin, and Stanford. This group awards about 35 percent of all American doctorates. But some 150 other institutions give the degree; see Higher Ed. and Nat. Affairs, A.C.E., VI, No. 29, Nov. 12, 1957. 2

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other rating schemes, noted below, suggest that the cutting point of ten may have been just high enough to exclude it. Faculties as a whole are sometimes compared in terms of the number or proportion of their members who have been admitted to certain selective publications or learned bodies. It is doubtful if the number included in Who's Who in America, or in other biographical dictionaries, is of much significance. In the cases of the two national academies which elect members from all scholarly fields, Pennsylvania has a large representation in the American Philosophical Society (Philadelphia),8 but only a small number in the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (Boston). Pennsylvania membership in the National Academy of Science (10) is entirely respectable, but still is relatively low when compared with that of other outstanding universities. The number of Pennsylvania members, moreover, would fall almost to the vanishing point if the faculty of one college (medicine) were excluded. The reputation of particular colleges is, of course, more tangible than is that of the University as a whole. A possible criterion for the latter, indeed, may be the number of its colleges which are outstanding in the sense of being included within the first ten or the first fifteen in their respective fields. In the Chicago Tribune survey, the medical school was the one college at Pennsylvania which was included within the first ten, and estimates made elsewhere would probably place it in that category. Other professional colleges in the University, notably the schools of Law and of Dentistry, have long enjoyed an excellent reputation in the Philadelphia area, and the former's national rating is favorably interpreted by Professor Lon Fuller of Harvard for the current Educational * Proximity seems to be a factor here. Four northeastern universities (Harvard, Columbia, Princeton, and Pennsylvania) account for more than SO percent of total membership.

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Survey. But systematic estimates of the standing of these professional schools have not been available. Estimates of the standing of arts colleges or of other nontechnical undergraduate schools are also difficult to come by. The chief function of such schools is teaching; and no adequate scales are available for measuring the teaching ability of individuals—to say nothing of such an abstraction as the average ability of an entire faculty. Efforts are therefore made to evaluate faculties indirectly, but these either involve unproved assumptions or have very limited implications. If one assumes, for example, that a strong graduate faculty must also be an effective teaching staff, then the arts college rating may be read into that of the graduate school. Somewhat more convincing are assays based on the record of students subsequent to graduation, but here also there is much uncertainty because so many variables enter into these outcomes. One or two illustrations of such attempts can be noted, however, for what they may be worth. A recent study sought to throw light on the quality of undergraduate colleges by noting the ratio of their graduates who subsequently received fellowships or Ph.D. degrees. Based on the record of some 7,000 students, this revealed that Haverford could boast a ratio of 39.5 per thousand; Yale, of 27.2; Cornell, of 19.5; Pennsylvania, of 10.7 (48th in the list of institutions!); and Dartmouth, of 10.6. If women were segregated, Pennsylvania made a better showing; with a ratio of 15.6 and a standing of sixth in the list.4 Such a study may conceivably have some bearing on the quality of undergraduate instruction (whether it inspires students "to go on"); but there can be other explanations as well. * A study by R. H. Knapp and J. }. Greenbaum, cited by the Chicago Tribune, June 9,1957.

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Similar head-counting has been done for awards of national scholarships, and—more inclusively—for the number of "college graduates" who gain admittance to Who's Who. In the latter category (1956-57), Pennsylvania was not among the first ten institutions in proportion to enrollments but stood sixth in absolute numbers.5 Here, of course, the weight of professional graduates is evident, and the findings have no necessary bearing on the standing of undergraduate colleges. More significant evidence and interpretation of the quality of undergraduate (non-technical) faculties at Pennsylvania will become available in the intensive studies made for the Educational Survey. Pertinent, in this connection, will be those made on the Wharton School, on the Arts College, and on their quadrants of instruction (natural sciences, biological sciences, social sciences, and humanities). The standing of the Graduate School is more meaningful than that of any other single college, since the interests of its faculty extend across many scholarly fields. Here are centered the creative activities of most of the University staff; and it is the quality of such activities which largely determines, within the academic world, the general standing of an institution. Several investigations have been made, over the past thirty-five years, of the national standing of graduate schools. These studies, it is true, have obvious limitations. They begin with a selection of those scholars who are to be asked for opinions; and the latter, in turn, give their personal views of the standing of various departments and schools. There is, meanwhile, an element of time-lag in most judgments. Nevertheless, subjectivity tends to be "ironed out" if a reasonable 6 Ibid. See also Lovejoy's College Guide, New York, for 1953-54 and ensuing years.

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number of authorities are consulted, and the resulting analyses are the nearest thing we have to objective appraisals. A well-known Study of the Graduate Schools of America by R. M. Hughes (1925), placed Pennsylvania in twelfth place in national standing. This (and similar ratings in other studies) was based on preceding evaluations of departments, which were then averaged for schools as a whole. Some twenty years later (1946), the Association of American Universities made a self-rating study (among some twenty-five member institutions) and is said to have assigned the University to ninth place. And in 1957, after another decade had passed, Dr. Hayward Keniston's study for The Educational Survey listed Pennsylvania as eleventh in the national standing.6 In each of these reports, several graduate schools—those of Harvard, Yale, Columbia—appeared among "the first five." Equally stable was the reputation of Pennsylvania on the level of positions 9-11-12. Certain other universities, in contrast, moved sharply up or down in the scale. Thus, California rose, between the ratings of 1925 and 1957, from ninth to second place; while another well-known institution fell from second to sixth, and a third from seventh to sixteenth.7 These place values are quite abstract averages, and the standing of particular quadrants of learning comes closer to realities. A comparison of the 1925 and 1957 ratings for the social sciences, for example, shows that Pennsylvania fell slightly from twelfth to fourteenth place; while its physical science departments moved from fourteenth to the fifteenth position. On the other hand, the University's standing in bio6 The Hughes study was published by Miami University, Ohio. Dr. Keniston's data appear in his Survey reports on the Humanities and on the Graduate School. 7 These are Dr. Keniston's ratings for 1957. The Chicago Tribune's report varies in certain cases.

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logical sciences rose from the -15 limbo to ninth place; and, in the humanities, from tenth to eighth. Still more tangible comparisons can be made of the reputation of particular departments, and these will doubtless be noted in the other Survey reports mentioned. Suffice it to say here that such comparisons show the same balance of ups and downs within each quadrant. Among the humanities, for example, the University's departments of English and of History fell slightly (from 9 to tie for 11, and from 8 to 10, respectively), while the Romance Language department rose from position 7 to 4. The first two of these units may therefore be thought of as typical "Penn" departments, in that their recent ratings are about the same as those of the Graduate School as a whole. The present position of the Graduate faculty may be said, in the light of these reports, to be about eleventh in order of standing in the United States. In a country of this size with its many institutions, such standing is certainly respectable: there is no need here to "view with alarm." Indeed, in terms of academic competition, Pennsylvania's success in maintaining its position may be claimed as something of an achievement. The faculty must have kept moving at quite a pace, just in order to stand still in these ratings. By the same token, however, there is no occasion for complacency—no reason to "point with pride"—in view of the failure to improve the University's standing. In contrast, between 1925 and 1957, several other institutions moved up in rather dramatic fashion. It is true that the most conspicuous examples here, California, Michigan, and Indiana, were state institutions blessed with large funds. But imaginative leadership must also have been involved in the outcomes. In the opinion of some critics, both within and without the faculties, such leadership has been lacking at Pennsylvania 110

over the greater part of the last fifty years. And since administrators played the chief role in determining policies, responsibility for the record has been laid at their doors. They are said to have been unimaginative and unduly cautious—following the trends of the time as initiated by other institutions. It is also said that when decisions had to be made, they were reached hurriedly and without real consultation with the faculties.8 Negative evidence seems to support such criticisms, in that there were few if any instances in which the University engaged in major experiments or pioneered in new programs above the departmental level. Ultimate responsibility for the record, however, need not be placed entirely on administrators. The latter were certainly handicapped by lack of funds, and some would blame this on the failure of private wealth—especially in Philadelphia—to provide adequate support for the University. One need not speculate here about how far such failure was the fault of the University itself, or how far it could be blamed on social or other factors beyond institutional control. Quite apart from all this, the cautious record of the University is ascribed by some to the general conservatism of the Philadelphia environment. This has presumably been reflected in the attitudes of trustees as well as of administrators, since a large proportion of the former have been local men. What, meantime, of the faculties? A considerable number of the staff have a Philadelphia background, while a still larger percentage were trained at the University. And even members who were trained elsewhere might be expected, after decades of residence, to take on some protective color8 Professors who have expressed such criticisms are able meq wlto have had successful careers within and outside the University.

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ing adapted to the local scene. Have the faculties, as well as other elements in the University, lacked a spirit of adventure? Are they inclined, by and large, to "play safe" and to be content with things as they are? An affirmative answer is given by a few staff critics, who make up in ability what they lack in numbers. These men declare, on their own initiative, that faculty morale at Pennsylvania is "too good"—that it amounts to complacency. Apparent support of this view, one may add, is found in the fact that some senior men in the arts college rate their own departments much more highly than do the national studies cited above. In any case, the general indictment is summed up in the late Professor Edwin E. Aubrey's report to the Survey.9 He there stated that a newcomer to the University could recognize at once all the stigmata of which old-timers were unaware. Staff members, he found, resisted change, were distrustful of experiments performed elsewhere, and viewed critics as disgruntled or disloyal. They cherished vested interests and emotional prejudices, and—in short—saw in Pennsylvania the best possible of all academic worlds. There is, in our opinion, some truth in this indictment but it is not the whole truth. For one thing, the attitudes of staff members vary over a wide range—from the complacency mentioned to downright cynicism or bitterness. Individuals of senior rank, whose own promotions are not at stake, sharply criticize administration on all levels. It is said, for example, that a department exploits its junior members; that a Dean fails to present the needs of his faculty with sufficient force; and that upper administrative offices have proliferated unnecessarily and at excessive cost to the University. Whether such criticisms are valid or not, the men who make 9 Humanistic Training and the Place of Ethical and Religious Values in Higher Education, 1956, 34.

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them are not complacent about the state of the institution. The conservatism of the local environment, moreover, is not the only factor which influences faculty attitudes. At any given time, these attitudes are more responsive to the direct impact of conditions within the University itself. There is much evidence that faculty morale was low during the late 1940's and early '50's—especially in the undergraduate colleges. One need only cite, in this connection, the staff-inspired drive to organize the Senate. Behind this, apparently, lay dissatisfaction with salary scales—with declining real income—and a related conviction that remedies could be found only in a greater degree of faculty participation in University affairs.10 Since the advent of the present administration, advances in salary have been secured and a "consultative program" has been introduced into faculty-administrator relationships. As was doubtless anticipated, a rather rapid improvement in faculty morale has ensued. The majority of staff interviewed in the Arts College,11 and of those replying to questionnaires in the Wharton School,12 declared that the morale of their respective departments had risen and was now satisfactory or better. There was some hesitation about judging the state of mind of an entire college, and even more when it came to assaying that of the University as a whole. Yet, as far as members attempted these latter estimates, the opinions were much the same. Evidence obtained from interviews and questionnaires indicates, nevertheless, that various factors continue to exert 1 0 These two factors were those reported by the President's Comm. on Higher Ed. (1948) as chiefly conducive to low morale throughout the country. 1 1 Of 40 Arts men of all ranks, chosen by random sample, 11 thought departmental morale was good to excellent, 18 thought it "satisfactory," and 11 considered it poor. 1 2 Μ. E. Wolfgang, Wharton Faculty Attitude Survey, 27-30.

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an adverse influence on morale. A few of these relate to a large proportion of the faculty; for example, there is a general conviction that still higher salaries are essential. There is, again, wide concern about the inadequacy of the University Library building among those who use it, though this feeling is lessened by the prospects for a new structure. Professor Aubrey believed that the delay in building a Library was symbolic of attitudes toward the humanities, at a time of growing concern about teaching and research in natural science. One may view the Library as the "laboratory" of humanists—and, in lesser degree, of social scientists —and it is clear enough that its needs have not been as well met as have those in some natural science departments. Dr. Aubrey concluded that such contrasts were demoralizing to the humanities staff. The problem here is not peculiar to Pennsylvania. If one quadrant is suffering relative neglect as compared to another, we might expect a reflection of the contrast in minor as well as in major facilities. Is the natural science staff, for example, provided with superior office facilities and more effective secretarial aid? Or, for that matter, with higher salaries? Here we found no general rule. Certain departments or professional schools enjoy higher salaries than others, but the distinctions do not seem to run along the traditional line dividing natural science and the humanities. A few humanists protested against their cramped quarters and the lack of secretarial aid, but the same criticisms have been made, for example, of facilities in Psychology and in Veterinary Medicine.13 Humanists, like some other Arts staff, are apt to find themselves in old and crowded surroundings; but this usually seems to be more a result of historical 1 3 A Study of the School of Veterinary Medicine of the University of Pennsylvania by Henrik J. Stafaeth, 1957, 47. 114

circumstances than of conscious discrimination. Their prototypes were there first, and their need for new facilities did not seem as pressing as was that of the laboratory scientists. The condition of the "drab, dark and crowded" Library has certainly been discouraging; but we found little evidence that humanists, as such, were generally demoralized by this or other limiting conditions. They have made the best of existing circumstances and, as noted, enjoy the highest national rating achieved by any of the quadrants at Pennsylvania. That they have done so well is, of course, no reason for assuming that they will continue to thrive regardless of facilities made available to them. Faculty morale may vary with place, as well as with time, or with areas of scholarship. In other words, it may be simultaneously high in one college and low in another. General impressions suggest, for example, that average morale has been excellent in the Law School, from fair to good in the Arts College, the Wharton School, and the School of Medicine; but (until recently) poor in the School of Education and rather uncertain in one or two of the small professional colleges. The Educational Survey studies of the various schools may provide more definite assays for each of these units. The chief factors, which make for varying morale in different colleges, seem to be salary scales, professional quality, effectiveness of internal management, facilities, and relations with University administration (harmony, support, degree of autonomy, and so on). All these matters are mutually interrelated. Once established, strong faculties tend to develop selfconfidence, to achieve esprit de corps, and to inspire respect in administrative circles. But there can be exceptions, at any given time, if one of the variables mentioned gets—so to speak—out of line. 115

The state of mind of faculty groups may also vary with distinctions which cut across different colleges or fields. Theoretically, each minority element which is represented on the faculties may have its own reactions in terms of what seems to be its own status. Conversely, such staff members may have decided to ignore minority status as not affecting them individually. In any case, the number of persons in most of these categories is so small as to make any attempt to evaluate their relative morale a questionable one. More meaningful here, therefore, is the correlation of morale with rank. A minority of staff members in the Arts College and in the Wharton School—and doubtless in other colleges—are dissatisfied with such intra-departmental matters as teaching loads, promotion policies and opportunities for participation in decisions; and a similar minority feels strongly about such participation in college or university affairs. But the number of those dissatisfied with intra-departmental conditions is proportionally higher among assistant professors than it is on other rank levels.14 One surmises that instructors are reasonably pleased just to have made a start, while senior men hold an assured place and feel that they have "arrived." Assistant professors, for their part, have the advantage of youth, but otherwise face heavy odds. This group has relatively heavy teaching obligations, is most under pressure to "get ahead" through research, and is not yet permitted—despite all this—to take much part in policy decisions. To add to their troubles, assistant professors are usually at an age when they are attempting to maintain young families on low salaries. Here is the critical stage in most academic careers. 1 4 Occasionally, one finds similar unhappiness among associate professors who have been late in reaching this rank and who see no prospects for further advancement

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This situation merits serious attention, since the University should expect to make most of its future senior appointments from the assistant professorial level. It bodes ill if able young men feel that they are overloaded, that advancement or salary increases are long delayed, or that they are excluded from departmental affairs. The problems involved can sometimes be solved within departments if chairmen and other senior men are sufficiently concerned, but they should be heeded also by deans and college faculties. There is, of course, a long list of factors which influence the morale of particular individuals or departments. In addition to such basic items as have been mentioned (salaries, promotions, teaching loads, etc.) are relations between colleagues, relations with students, attitudes toward administrators, and opportunities for research. Several generalizations, chiefly negative ones, can be made on such matters. Few staff members felt that they were denied opportunities for research, and few seemed unhappy about relations with administrators or with students. With regard to the latter, it is not clear how far this implies good relations, and how far it merely suggests relative indifference to teaching. Interpersonal relations among colleagues are in part unpredictable, and may make all the difference. But they can also be controlled in some degree within departments by the attitude and policies of chairmen or of other senior men. In consequence, one department makes up a "happy family" and another does not. Specific policies which would seem calculated to improve morale in relation to some of these factors will be noted in ensuing chapters. Meantime, what of the general situation and its implications for the immediate future? By and large, the morale of most of the faculty is now reasonably good except in a few departments. There are, it is true, individuals 117

who are unhappy or even bitter. And, conversely, there is complacency in certain quarters—particularly among senior men long associated with the city and with the University. Even complacency, however, has its bright side; namely, a real—if rather uncritical—devotion to the institution and its environment. This attitude is revealed not only in personal statements, but also in the fairly high proportion of senior men who have declined offers to go elsewhere—often at a financial sacrifice. Such men emphasize, among the values they find at Pennsylvania, a sense of freedom in their own work.16 And the resulting loyalty among many of the staff is one of the University's most valuable assets. Much can be built on this loyalty in the future. It can be undermined, of course, if salary advances lag behind those in comparable institutions, or if the faculty is denied a real part in policy decisions. But present prospects are encouraging. The policies of President Harnwell's administration have elicited from the faculties increasing evidences of moral support and good will. 1B Several men interviewed thought that their research freedom was limited by a chairman's sense of values, but their number was quite small.

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4 Recruitment The term "recruitment" may relate either to the usual search for personnel already serving in other institutions, or to the larger effort to attract young people to the academic profession on a national scale. This chapter relates chiefly to the latter theme. No mechanism has ever been set up in this country in order to coordinate supply and demand for academic personnel. The ratio between them is a complex matter, since supply is affected by professional traditions and standards as well as by the relative attractiveness of the profession, while demand reflects many circumstances both within and without the halls of higher education. The two factors seem to have been in imbalance over most of the last twenty-five years, what with personnel surplus during the 1930*3, a shortage during World War II years, and some surplus again after about 1947. Such trends, moreover, represent only average conditions; there can be simultaneous shortages in one academic field and surpluses in another. Even in 1947, predictions were made of impending shortages. Although young men were still having difficulty at this time in finding college appointments, concern shifted entirely to what loomed ahead. It is unnecessary to repeat here all the calculations and predictions made over the last decade re population growth and the increasing demand for a "college education." These added up in 1955 to the estimate 119

that about 485,000 new "college teachers" would be needed by 1970.1 One aspect of demographic trends, however, merits emphasis. This was the estimate that between 1940 and 1960 the national population in age group 0-10 would increase about 73 percent, in group 10-19 about 27 percent, but in group 20-34 only 3 percent! 2 In other words, the potential population source for academic staff would be smallest just when the source for students was beginning to expand on an unprecedented scale. It is no wonder that the President's Commission on Higher Education (1948) urged that "aggressive" recruitment of academic personnel should be undertaken immediately throughout the country.3 Such personnel has long been recruited from among students in graduate and professional schools. But what was now envisaged was an effort to attract students in undergraduate colleges and, even before that, in the high schools. Certain special fields—law, medicine, engineering—had done something of the sort for years, and recent international developments are arousing demands for expanding the ranks of scientists. But most academic people have made no such efforts. Some, doubtless, were unaware of future needs, others probably felt that competitive appeals were undignified, and still others doubted their efficacy. 1 In 1900, only 4 percent of the appropriate age group was in college; by 1955, the percentage was 30 and was still rising. In the latter year, there were some 2.7 million "college students," and estimates place the number in 1960 at 3.2 million, and for 1970 at 6.4 million. In 1955, the total number of "college teachers" was estimated at 190,000—averaging 1 to 13 students. Assuming the same ratio, it was predicted that about 250,000 would be needed by 1960, and 495,000 by 1970; Graduate School Today and Tomorrow, 1955, 7. For somewhat different estimates in 1957, see Higher Ed. and National Affairs, VI, No. 5, 2. 2 Expanding Resources for College Teaching, Am er. Council on Ed., 1956,12. 8 Higher Education for Democracy, Washington, 1948, IV, 27.

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The situation here is not a simple one. In the first place, academic careers must appear promising if men or women are to be attracted to them. Yet present needs come at the end of a decade of declining relative income for faculties— in contrast to rising income in skilled trades and in certain professions. Meantime, the demand for highly-trained persons in other areas, as in industry and in government, is increasing. It is not surprising that when seniors in Harvard College and Radcliffe were recently questioned about the possibilities of college teaching, 73 percent of them objected to the salary prospects.4 The solution here obviously lies in higher salary scales. While some seniors are deterred from seeking academic careers by the ultimate prospects, others who would risk these are diverted by an immediate lack of funds. In 1953, for example, there were 73 undergraduate students at Pennsylvania who were majoring in History. Of this number, 30 thought seriously of going on to graduate work in the field, but 13 of the 30 gave up the idea for financial reasons.5 The answer here, presumably, lies in more adequate scholarships. Promising, in this connection, is the Woodrow Wilson National Fellowship Program (1945), recently expanded (1957) by a Ford Foundation fund of $25 million. The Program plans to recruit a thousand potential college teachers each year over the next five years. Over against financial limitations may be placed the intangible attractions of an academic career. But there are also intangible difficulties to be faced. A former Dean of the Harvard Graduate School declares, for example, that it is difficult to recruit college teachers because—as a guild—they * N. Y. Times, May 2β, 1957. 8 History Dept. Survey, 1953,18.

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have so little control over their own institutions.6 This is a personal opinion, but it implies, as far as it may be valid, that greater faculty participation in institutional affairs would aid in recruitment. Any other difficulties of which faculties are aware may also deter recruitment, in so far as these become known to seniors or graduate students. It does not help, for example, if word spreads that young men are overloaded and face long delays in promotions or salary advances. Faculties as such, for the various reasons suggested, have not taken the initiative in seeking to enlarge their ranks. They are conscious of the professional disadvantages, and some of them believe that these should be fully explained to all potential candidates.7 (As a matter of fact, few of the staff interviewed at Pennsylvania showed much concern about the national recruitment problem.) Hence, planning in this, as in other aspects of higher education, has been chiefly undertaken by administrators, professional educators, and the officers of certain foundations. These groups are more aware than are most staff members of national trends, and—at the same time—may be less inhibited by concern about the limitations of academic life for those who actually live it. Faculty members might say that if salary and other conditions were adequately improved, recruitment would take care of itself in a laissez faire academic world. But the groups just mentioned are convinced that such means need to be supplemented by conscious promotion. Thus, the American Council on Education has issued—or will soon issue—a pamphlet presenting the attractions of an academic career, and 6 Howard Mumford Jones, in The Graduate School Today and Tomorrow, 65. τ R. W. Werry, "With the Tongues Not of Angels but of Men," A.A.U.P. Вий., vol. 33 (1947), 499; note also Jour, of Educational Sociology, vol. 26 (1953), 187-193.

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a related pamphlet for present faculty personnel. The Council also plans to encourage recruitment "on the campus leveL" The Association of American Colleges has a somewhat similar program in mind. When a few academic men are brought into conference on this theme, differences in perspective emerge. If recruiting is to be attempted in the colleges or even in the high schools, the question arises: How and when are individuals likely to consider an academic future? Do they first decide to teach on a certain level—as is done by some who seek high school appointments—and then pick a subject that promises opportunities for this? Or are they first attracted to a subject which, subsequently, they decide they would like to teach in college? The latter process is usually preferred in higher education, where respect for "disciplines" survives. But the more the non-academic planners think of the need for "college teachers"—any and all teachers—the more they are apt to seek recruits for this profession as such. This way lies some danger of attracting mediocre persons who select their fields in terms of expediency.8 The way to recruitment, meantime, can be eased by drawing newcomers from larger groups than have heretofore been considered fully acceptable. These include, for example, (1) those who have received no graduate or professional training, (2) those whose advanced training falls short of the doctorate, (3) non-academic personnel, such as those in high schools, in government, and in industry, (4) women, (5) socalled minority groups, and (6) emeriti. With the possible exception of the first named, these potential sources should be considered on their merits, though many will in practice look 8

See, e.g., "Teacher Supply and Demand . . . ," ΝΕΑ Research Bull., XXXIII, No. 4 (Dec., 1955), 158; also Expanding Resource» for College Teaching, 19.

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upon them only as last resorts. A few comments on each are in order. One of the current suggestions for meeting a shortage of academic staffs is the proposal to use selected upper-classmen as teaching assistants. Whatever the merits of this from a pedagogical viewpoint, it is also a device for enlarging staff—at little or no cost. The arrangement would not in itself recruit permanent staff, but it might interest some studentteachers in going on with graduate preparation for teaching careers. Similar limitations and possibilities could be claimed for a related proposal: to select some individuals upon graduation for full or part-time teaching during the ensuing year. Much attention has been accorded proposals for training programs which would not take as long as does the acquisition of a doctor's degree. The initial impetus to such proposals may have been provided by the realization that Ph.D's were soon bound to be in short supply. It will be recalled that estimates call for some 485,000 new college teachers between 1955 and '70, but only 135,000 new doctorates are anticipated during the same interval. Some observers even claim that only one doctorate will be produced for every five which would be needed if the old training tradition were to be maintained. Matters are made worse by a decline in the percentage of Ph.D's (60 percent in 1940) who go into teaching. At present, about 40 percent of all college teachers hold this degree, but it is freely predicted that this ratio will fall to 20 percent by 1970. One authority on personnel reports that the country already lacks enough good people in higher education—in lieu of which we are confronted by "built-in" mediocrity.® 8 Μ. H. Trytten, in The Strength to Meet Our National Need (A Report to the President's Committee on Ed. Beyond the High School), 1956, 35.

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К Ph.D's cannot be secured in sufficient numbers, then some less protracted training must be arranged. And what could be more natural than to make a virtue of this necessity? At any rate, as soon as the prospect of shortages appeared, critics declared that this degree was unnecessary or even undesirable—at least in its present form.10 College teachers must therefore be drawn from those who take either a modified type of Ph.D. or some sort of M.A. Various proposals are made for adapting the latter degree to this end; for example, by relating it to broad learning rather than to specialized research, and by readjusting the time schedule involved. Much can be said, under present circumstances, for enlarging the pool from which college teaching personnel can be drawn. And there is every reason why the faculties at Pennsylvania might experiment with teaching procedures which may simultaneously provide more staff on the assistant level and recruit for higher-level training. In addition, the possibility of evolving a special M.A. for "college teachers" merits serious consideration. But it does not follow that the University should recruit its own staff on the basis of such a program. Our personal view is that a real university should require adequate research or professional training for all its full-time staff above the assistant level. The only alternative in such an institution is to set up distinct teaching faculties of whom no such requirement need be made. This alternative has some merits and might be preferable—as a last resort—to a cumulative infiltration of all departments by teachers who lack creative interests. But the arrangement does not appeal to us at present for Pennsylvania.11 10 11

This theme will be discussed in Chapter VII, below. See Chapter I, above.

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Although most departments recruit beginners from the graduate schools,12 certain faculties draw mature staff from extramural sources. Schools of commerce, for example, appoint some men from business circles, while education faculties lean heavily on public school personnel.13 Best known of such patterns is the appointment of part-time teachers of clinical medicine from the local profession. The suggestion is now made that, in the impending emergency, other faculties might canvass extramural sources more thoroughly than has heretofore been attempted. Most departments, if under pressure to find staff, will presumably think of these possibilities themselves. Yet old habits may have to be overcome in the process. Science departments, for example, may be able to find men in local industries who would make able part-time teachers and who qualify—at the same time—as creative workers. And humanistic departments may occasionally locate a high school man who has creative leanings or who may be an unusually effective teacher. It is unfortunate for both high schools and colleges that such persons are not more commonly encountered. In principle, it should also be possible to draw greater numbers of staff from the so-called minority groups, but in practice this is rarely feasible. Negroes, for example, are occasionally given university posts; but even if all prejudices 1 2 Aid in seeking personnel, especially for junior ranks, can be secured from placement offices of about 288 American "universities." The National Institutional Teacher Placement Asso. (N.I.T.P.A.) is preparing a directory of placement officers. (Sec., Miss M. Helen Carpenter, Univ. of Colorado, Boulder, Col.) 1 3 In 1955, from 45 percent to 55 percent of appointments in 56 private "tmivereities" were made directly from the graduate schools; and these institutions drew about 15 percent of new teachers from business. Present or former teachers colleges made about 40 percent of their appointments from public school ranks; "Teacher Supply and Demand in Degree-Granting Institutions," ΝΕΑ Research Bull., XXXIII, No. 4, 149.

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are overcome, the number of well-qualified colored persons is so small that it can hardly enter into an institution's calculations. Eventually, if greater opportunities are accorded the race, this situation may change and, in that case, every advantage should be taken of the resulting opportunity. Women, of course, represent the greatest potential source for staff which has never been fully exploited. In 1355, they made up about 22 percent of all faculties throughout the country;14 but the ratio varied with the type of institution. In small, independent colleges, for example—which presumably included some "women's colleges"—women constituted about one-third of the faculties; and in "teachers' colleges" the ratio was a little more than one-third. But in "private universities" the figure was only 13.7 percent. Within the latter, moreover, the ratio varied with different colleges; being high in schools of nursing or of home economics, and low in most other undergraduate colleges and in professional schools. At Pennsylvania, the ratio is below the average for private universities, as will be noted in a subsequent chapter on "Faculty Distribution." There is no question but that most administrators and professors, outside of "women's colleges" or of such special schools as were mentioned, are more inclined to appoint men. This is explained on various grounds; for example, that (1) students of both sexes prefer them; (2) unmarried women are poor emotional risks, and married women poor professional risks; and, in any case (3) few qualified women are available. Although there may be some valid points here, our opinion is that most of them are rationalizations. Despite the long history of feminism in this country and the oft-reiterated de14

U. S.

Although they make up about one-third of the total labor force in the

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votion to democratic principles, American society is not yet as willing to accord professional status to women as is, say, that of Russia.15 While it may be true that at any given time a department cannot find a qualified woman, there would be more such if there had been greater opportunities in the past. Individual women as professors have demonstrated how effectively they can pursue both original work and teaching. Even male students will recognize such ability once they have time to adjust to the situation.16 To some extent, supply-demand ratios may force a greater use of women in future faculties, though it is no compliment to turn to them as a last resort. (It will certainly be unfortunate if colleges appoint second-rate men in preference to first-rate persons of the other sex.) And if more women begin to be appointed, more will probably undertake advanced training. Such studies as that conducted by Dr. Althea Hottel for the American Council on Education may provide a better picture of the whole situation here. Meantime, departments need not seek women as such: all that should be asked is that they appoint the best person in view regardless of sex. The last potential source for recruitment is that of the emeriti. This is an important pool for universities which retire staff members at relatively low ages—at 67 or even at 65. The logic of the situation today should encourage such institutions to make the retirement age more flexible—as high as 70 for at least some individuals. Age 70 is already fixed at Pennsylvania as the retirement 1 6 In Russia, e.g., 70% of medical students are women, and the latter hold 15 to 20% of the top academic and administrative posts in the medical field; J. R. Paul, "American Medical Mission to the Soviet Union," Sei. Monthly, vol. 85 (Sept. 1957), 152 ff. 1 8 See, e.g., comments of Prof. Eleanor Metheny, Univ. of Southern California, in The Graduate School Today. . . .

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point and the opportunity to use men beyond that age is very limited. But distinguished men who retired earlier elsewhere are sometimes available. The faculty of one wellknown law school is composed entirely of such persons. Even if emeriti are appointed only on a year-to-year basis as lecturers, they may add strength and dignity to a department Unlike some older men still on tenure, moreover, emeriti need not be utilized unless it is clear that they are fully equal to the occasion." Sooner or later, one may say in conclusion, departments at Pennsylvania will encounter difficulties in finding well-qualified beginners in their respective fields. If the requirement of a doctorate is maintained, this time is not far off; indeed, vacancies are already reported in some institutions.18 If, meantime, little effort has been made to recruit young people before the shortages become pressing, it will already be too late to meet demand without dangerous delays. The efforts now being made to alert academic circles to the national problem therefore seem commendable. Administrative officers at Pennsylvania might well call the attention of faculties to this problem, both in terms of recruiting beginners and in relation to the use of such other sources for personnel as have been mentioned. After all, recruitment must in the last analysis be done on "the campus level." Faculties might, of course, remain indifferent—complacent 17 The National Com. on the Emeriti, be. (1025 Conn. Ave., N.W., Wash, β, D. C.) prepares the "Emeriti Census" of those available to institutions. The national A.A.U.P. is also planning a directory of such emeriti (1785 Mass. Ave., N.W., Wash, β, D. C.). 18 Among 656 colleges and universities surveyed in 1954-55, some 245 reported vacancies, especially in the physical sciences and engineering. About 70 percent of public universities and land-grant colleges reported vacancies, 51 percent of private universities; N.E.A. Research Bull., XXXIII, No. 4 (Dec., 1955), 149-153.

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in the thought that shortages in any guild may work to the advantage of present members. But this is not likely to be the case. Strong faculties are devoted to the future of their fields and of their institutions, otherwise they would not be where they are. If assured that administrators and trustees are doing everything possible to attract personnel by improving salaries and other conditions, the staff will probably do all that they can to encourage qualified persons to enter the academic profession.

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5 Rank and Tenure Most universities the world over exhibit somewhat corresponding ranks among their faculties.1 Pennsylvania maintains, for most of its full-time and certain of its part-time staffs, the conventional American brackets of instructor, assistant professor, associate professor, and professor. Junior personnel who are still graduate students, but who perform tasks ranging from reading papers to teaching sections of general courses, are termed assistants or assistant instructors. All these ranks except "full professors" may anticipate advancement: they are "on the academic ladder." Provision is also made for special services by staff members who are not in line for advancement. The first such category is that of "lecturers"; that is, mature scholars who come in to the University on a limited time or course basis. A second type is that of "associates" who are permanently engaged in the routine teaching of certain general courses.2 These individuals may have begun work as instructors; if so, they stepped (or were eased) off the ladder at some early point in their careers. In some universities, minor distinctions or subdivisions are 1 E.g., the American ranks correspond roughly with the English professor, reader, senior lecturer, and junior lecturer; and the three upper ranks with the German professor Ordinarius, professor extraordinarius, and privat dozent. 2 The term "associate" is occasionally used for other purposes in certain colleges. In the School of Medicine, e.g., the title is that of a rank midway between instructor and assistant professor.

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made within the four standard ranks noted above. The most obvious illustration is the creation of a super-class of "distinguished" or name-professorships, which is accorded a higher salary scale as well as special titles. The purpose here is to recognize outstanding merit. Although this arrangement must please recipients, it seems to us an undesirable one and we are glad to observe that it does not exist at Pennsylvania. In creating super-professors, ordinary professors are almost automatically demoted to second-class status—even though there is no such intent. In a word, there is a subtle debasement of the title which is usually recognized as most honorable throughout the world. In effect, also, super-professorships provide a fifth rank, and there is no clear need for increasing the number of rungs on the academic ladder.3 There are those, indeed, who would abolish all academic ranks in the name of democracy. It is held that such gradations, however desirable in military or ecclesiastical circles, introduce distinctions which are unfortunate within a "community of scholars." And in conformity with these views a number of independent arts colleges, notably Sarah Lawrence and Bennington, have done away with all ranks. Although one can sympathize with the idealism behind such actions, there are potent reasons for avoiding similar arrangements at Pennsylvania. For one thing, what may "work" in a small, independent college will not necessarily do so in a large institution. In the latter, distinctions in salary, tenure, and senior influence would probably survive • The distinguished-professorship category is not to be confused with individual, endowed professorships which carry a special name. Some persons who hold such chairs seem to cherish the titles, but any subtle distinction involved is often an accidental one—depending on what professor is available for the field to which a chair happens to be assigned.

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even if titles were given up, and the only outcome would be the loss of convenient labels for persisting realities. Even if these realities could be changed, moreover, the results would be dubious. Something might be gained for equalitarian comradeship if the "caste system" were really abolished. But much would be lost if there were no incentives to formal advancement: all social orders seem to need the motivations provided by "climbing a ladder." In any case, the term "caste system" is an exaggerated one in the academic context: it implies a rigidity of levels which does not exist. Even the younger men interviewed at Pennsylvania showed no resentment against ranks as such. As in any guild, occasional irritation is lessened by the expectation of one's own advancement. The chief moral which a university may draw from protests against rank is that senior men should limit distinctions to those necessary for effective operations. The more they treat junior associates as colleagues rather than as inferiors, the better it will be for the latter's morale and therefore for a department as a whole. The degree to which a senior man "throws his weight around" or "pulls his rank" on others is partly a matter of temperament, and so is not fully subject to control. But behavior of this sort can be discouraged by other seniors, and also by such formal arrangements (concerning the role of junior men in departments) as have already been suggested. The only bracket whose abolition might be considered at Pennsylvania—that of "associate" as defined above—is really a status rather than a rank. This status has apparently been found useful in the teaching of large, relatively elementary classes—such as those in English composition. Presumably, it is helpful to have an experienced group handle this routine but important work, rather than to draw all teachers from the 133

pool of short-term instructors or assistant instructors. Departments may also have found that certain persons can do this elementary work well, even though they lack the ambition or originality which would merit advancement. Hence such men remain associates indefinitely, acquiring de facto tenure by length of service. The teaching involved here pertains more to secondary than to higher education. Sometimes it even includes "remedial" courses which are clearly on the high school level. Associates thus function as second-class staff within a university environment, and therein lies the rub. Should a university harbor faculty members who are permanently unfit for advancement, however useful their services may be on a sort of secondary school level? Questions may also be raised as to how helpful such staff really are. Granting that they originally exhibited the abilities desired, can their morale be maintained indefinitely while advancement passes them by? As one critic put it years ago, speaking of the place of "associates" in any university: "They are lodged in this vermiform appendix and expected to keep fresh and sweet there, while their contemporaries rise to chairs and full professorships."4 Yet professors at Pennsylvania in departments concerned stated that associates did become reconciled to their lot and served a useful purpose. The problem of associates is a troublesome one and is not peculiar to Pennsylvania. A Harvard committee, discussing it in 1956, stated that a special title was desirable in such routine work as the management of laboratories or "language teaching." But they insisted that men receiving it should be able scholars and teachers whose functions were distinct but 4

Jacques Barzun, Teacher in America, 1945, 200.

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highly honorable.5 The query remains: Can such functions really be made honorable under the circumstances? If there is no other way of taking care of the elementary courses in question, there is no use debating the matter. But we would record our opinion that the existence of a non-promotable group within any department is an inherently unhealthy situation. It can be justified only if all possible efforts to solve the problem (through curtailment of courses or by the use of regular staff) have been made and found wanting. Conventional faculty ranks are divided, approximately and for most purposes, into junior and senior categories; that is, into instructors and assistant professors on the one hand, and associate and full professors on the other. Matters of age, seniority, and salary enter into this informal division, but the most distinctive factor is tenure. At Pennsylvania, as in most strong institutions, personnel in the senior ranks possess permanent tenure,6 while those in junior ranks usually do not. Although some of the latter have acquired tenure, the majority of them serve on a probationary basis. Little need be said about the instructorship other than that it is likely to be crowded out (as an existing rank) as difficulties in finding qualified beginners increase. Such persons will be offered assistant professorships at the start in the competitive appeal for their services. If so, no dire calamity will be involved; but, on the whole, it would be unfortunate if the rank disappeared. If retained, it offers a young person a beginning, full-time trial on a year-by-year basis. In the rare case in which unfitness is soon revealed, the appointee 5 Report of the Committee on Appointments, Promotions, and Retirement (Harvard College), March 14,1956, 19. 8 Hereafter referred to simply as "tenure." The only exception is that, upon recommendation of a dean, the term of a newly-appointed associate professor from the outside may be limited to three years. Statutes, 1955, VIII, 1, c.

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has no claim on the institution after one year and this is a real advantage. If competition for personnel becomes acute, moreover, it may prove desirable to appoint as instructors men who have not yet acquired a degree which would be insisted upon for an assistant professorship. Men should not ordinarily be retained as instructors, however, for more than three years, and never for more than five. The term for which assistant professors are appointed varies with different institutions, but usually runs from three to five years. At Pennsylvania it is three years, with a possibility of reappointments thereafter for similar terms. Unlike some institutions, the University does not formally grant tenure to assistant professors no matter how long they serve.7 But the distinction here is not very meaningful, since informal claims to tenure are acquired by anyone who has served an institution continuously in any rank for as much as seven years.8 Or, to be more exact, such claims are established in all institutions which follow what is now generally considered good practice.9 This is not the place in which to discuss the principles of tenure, as these have been developed in American higher education over the past sixty years. But it is now generally recognized that tenure for full-time faculty members above the probationary level is an essential factor in the mainte7 In a recent study of academic tenure, Clark Byse and Louis Joughin (1957), found that 30 percent of the 80 institutions examined gave tenure automatically after so many years of service, while 55 percent accorded it in terms of rank or of years in certain ranks (7). 8 Some institutions give credit toward this seven years for previous service in another college or university. The American Association of University Professors has suggested credit up to three years in this connection. 9 I.e., the practice approved by the Association of American Colleges (A.A.C.) and the A.A.U.P. This is not legally binding on any institution, but violations may result in A.A.U.P. investigations or other moral pressures of a serious nature.

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nance of academic freedom.10 And since men cannot be kept indefinitely on probationary status, some time limit has to be set. Beyond this limit, it is assumed that an institution plans to retain them indefinitely and that they are therefore entitled to tenure. Hence the A.A.C. and the A.A.U.P. have adopted the seven-year rule already mentioned. The implication of this rule for Pennsylvania is that junior staff members should not be reappointed for a total of more than six years' service, unless there is a desire to retain them permanently. Granting this, the question arises: Should the University desire to retain those who are not deemed worthy of promotion? The answer, in our opinion, is clearly no. Yet just such action has been taken in the past in reappointing assistant professors to a third term. The motives in such cases vary. Least defensible is the simple desire to evade an unpleasant decision. The man is reappointed but not promoted in the hope that he will become discouraged and go elsewhere. Unfortunately, if he is mediocre as the department believes, he will find it difficult to go elsewhere and may become a permanent and unhappy member. There may have been instances in which a department desired to retain a man as an effective teacher but declined to promote him for lack of creative ability. The "associates" mentioned above are a special case of this sort, but we are speaking here of assistant professors. Men who are kept at this rank as good teachers are almost as apt to become unhappy as are those whose presence is not desired at all. The remedy for the former, however, is simple enough and has already been suggested. Since such cases are rare, reward them with regular advances in rank. 1 0 Nor need we attempt here to define "academic freedom" or to discuss its values: there is a large literature on the subject.

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Now and then a department desires to promote a member to an associate professorship but is unable to do so for one reason or another. Desiring his continued services, they then secure his reappointment as assistant professor with de facto tenure. This is the most defensible motive for such action, but it also is dangerous unless an opportunity for promotion is anticipated in the near future. All this adds up to saying that faculties should not be cluttered up with permanent members whom departments will not or cannot advance. Such a situation spells mediocrity or demoralization. It can be avoided only by clear and courageous decisions when members reach in their careers the great divide between non-tenure and tenure status. Ordinarily, this will be at the time when they have completed two terms as assistant professors.11 They should then either be promoted to "a permanency," or their services terminated with ample notice. Rare exceptions to this "up or out" policy could be made, however, in cases when a promotion desired by a department must be briefly postponed for extraneous reasons. Some departments may be counted on to enforce such a policy "on their own" or if it is approved by their college faculty. A number of chairmen interviewed stated that, although mistakes had been made in the past, they had now been applying the "up or out" rule for some years. Most of the staff also seem to approve this in principle. Of a random sample of forty arts faculty members of all ranks, only five were opposed to the procedure. In practice, to be sure, afirmadherence to the "up or out" policy can be difficult for a department. Members are human. The man in question may be liked personally, even 1 1 But it could be, let us say, after two years as instructor and three as an assistant professor.

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though his limitations are recognized, and his friends will be tempted to make allowances. Hence the responsibility of administrative officers is clear. Their relations with the candidate are usually more impersonal, and this is where the retention of limited veto powers is desirable. The chief source for future "permanencies" should be the assistant professor personnel. In drawing on this through an "up or out" procedure, a reasonable percentage of them—at least forty percent—must secure advancement. Otherwise, incentives will wither and morale decline. If for these or other reasons the assistant professors become a mediocre group, promotions will become even less frequent and a vicious circle will be set in motion. In view of the vital distinction between non-tenure and tenure status, it has been suggested that universities might operate with only two corresponding ranks: that is, with assistant professors and professors. Instructorships may be largely crowded out by circumstances, and some institutions do get along without associate professorships. The suggestion was not approved, however, by the faculty members interviewed. Reasons for retaining instructors, if possible, have been mentioned. As for the associate professorship, we share the faculty's opinion that it has its place. If there is no such rank, no formal incentives lie ahead of a staff member after he has been advanced above the assistant professorship. He will then have "arrived" at, say, age forty and will have at least twenty-five years of tenure ahead. It is no secret that tenure at this stage involves certain risks. Some men tend to "rest on their oars," and the sooner this occurs, the more unfortunate the consequences. There are many hazards to overcome—the temptation to relax after the climb, social diversions, or special activities which may 139

be justifiable in themselves but are really welcomed as diversions. In the end, the "epic does not get written, and the Nobel prize remains unwon."12 Some faculty members are so industrious and so devoted to creative work that there is no danger of slowing down in later years. But others, despite ability, do just that. For them, the desire to attain a final promotion from associate to full professor between ages forty and fifty can provide just the incentive needed to overcome the risks. This is true, not only because intensive studies are continued through these years, but also because habits of work become more thoroughly fixed and may then persist beyond the final promotion. We would therefore recommend that, as far as is feasible, the four conventional ranks be retained at Pennsylvania. 12 Leonard Carmichael, "Laziness and the Scholarly Life," Sei. Monthly, LXXVII (April, 1954), 212.

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6 Faculty Distribution The faculty of any university is distributed in various patterns. Some of these, although significant in principle, are of little present import—for example, those determined by race, sex, language, and religion. The number of Orientals and of Negroes on the staff is negligible. The same statement may be made concerning women, except in the areas of auxiliary medicine, nursing, and social work.1 Time was when the faculty was divided between those who taught in English and those who used German, but this unusual bilingualism was of brief duration. As for religion, the University makes no formal distinctions; and it is beyond the present purpose to inquire into distribution in terms of this criterion. There are some divisions within the faculties, moreover, which parallel others in a manner that renders separate discussions unnecessary. Thus, distribution along the lines of tenure and non-tenure status, or in terms of graduate and undergraduate teaching activities, roughly corresponds to the distribution of ranks. Again, the division between full and part-time personnel corresponds largely to ranks in the case of the "assistant" category, or it reflects the particular needs of certain professional schools. 1 The Arts College faculty, e.g., includes five women; the Wharton School five; the School of Education five; and the Engineering Schools and Fine Arts one each. The College for Women staff reflects, in this respect, that of the Arts College which it uses. The School of Dentistry includes seven; and about five percent of the School of Mediane staff are women.

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The extent to which full-time teachers are employed in clinical medicine, for example, has long been a serious issue in medical education. But the problems involved are those peculiar to medical teaching and research—or to other advanced professional interests—and their discussion would therefore seem most appropriate to reports on the professional schools.2 Most obvious of demarcations among faculties are those between fields of learning. The relative numbers assigned to various professional schools and undergraduate colleges reflect, over the long run, the importance which society attributes to the work of each of these institutions. Thus, the relative expansion of faculties in commerce and in engineering has been a product of general social trends. But it also reflects technical progress in these areas and resulting public demands. Technical advances may lead to the creation of new fields and faculties even in the absence of public interest, as in Indo-European philology seventy-five years ago, or in linguistics during recent decades. In such cases, the intra-University sense of values is the determining factor. Again, any decision by administrators and faculty that a given field should be "required" in particular colleges will usually increase the staff in that field. Or vice versa. Hence, while the relative number of staff in certain colleges or departments may remain almost stationary for years, that in others may be rising or declining. Members are politely (but busily) engaged in "empire building" or in rearguard action, as the case may be. In the first instance, individuals desire more courses and staff, or even new 2 Full-time, in this connection, relates to the giving of all professional time without receiving any income from private practice. It is not to be confused with so-called "geographical full-time."

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departments. In the second instance, they are seeking to preserve inherited assets. All these processes seem inevitable, perhaps even desirable, in the University environment. But they cannot be simply ignored in terms of some simple formula like "the survival of the fittest." The "fittest," in a particular situation, may be only the most aggressive, and the least fit only the non-aggressive. Expansion in the number of courses, however justified by new content, may not be in the interest of the college as a whole. The duplication of courses is questionable, and most so within the same college. We are not concerned, however, with curricula as such. The point is simply that expansion (or contraction) of offerings and of staffs often go hand in hand, and that the outcomes should not be just left to the operation of power politics within or between colleges. Someone must think things through as a matter of principle rather than of expediency. Faculties have a responsibility here, but they are also involved in personal relations with colleagues on a "live and let live" basis. If, in consequence, they are inclined to opportunism, administrative officers or committees have a role to play. The latter, in terms of their own philosophy, may oppose or encourage staff increases as circumstances warrant. Most pertinent, for the University as a whole, is the distribution of the faculty in terms of rank and of age. That for the first of these categories usually parallels the second—a college maintaining a high percentage of full professors will ordinarily exhibit a correspondingly high average age among its staff. The degree of such correspondence is determined, however, by appointment, promotion, and retirement policies. In a word, rank and age distribution are independent variables, even though they are apt to be closely correlated. 143

The full-time faculties of certain undergraduate colleges at Pennsylvania seem over-weighted in the senior ranks.3 This conclusion is based both on national averages and on a consideration of the issues involved. National distributions are reported in an N.E.A. survey of 1956, and these contrast with those at Pennsylvania as indicated below: 4 Percentages in Ranks National Averages Profs. Asso. P. Asst. P. Instr.

26.8 • 48.6 21.8 30.4 • 51.4 21.0

Arts Col. 39] 60 21 26] 40 14

Wharton

Engineering

32.3 1 M „ 17.7 J

ÜJH

25-0 Ί л 25.0 } 5 0 · 0

One notes that the percentage for the two senior ranks, combined, in the Wharton School is close to the national average; that this figure for the Engineering Schools is more out of line; and that the greatest disparity exists in the Arts College. This disparity is largely due, moreover, to the high percentage of full professors in the College, since that of associate professors is very close to the national average.8 8 The situation varies in the professional schools according to special needs. In the Law School, e.g., most staff are of senior rank; but in the School of Medicine the ratio is reversed—in both clinical and pre-clinical departments. Medicine, e.g., has 26 in senior rank and about 200 in the junior! In anatomy, the corresponding figures are 8 and 10; in biochemistry, 5 and 21, and so on. 4 National averages were reported in the Jour, of Higher Ed., voL 26 (1956), 69 ff; for the Arts College figures were compiled by Dr. Hayward Keniston; for the Engineering Schools by Dr. Reid WarTen; for the Wharton School by Dr. С. M. James (Wharton School Survey, Rept. F 1, 1957, 2.) 5 The weighting with full professors may have been even heavier in the past, though this has not been looked into. The writer recalls that he had the distinction, as an Instructor in History in 1924-25, of being one of two members of a department of eight who were not full professors.

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Some justification for the high proportion of professors in the Arts faculty may be found in their responsibilities for graduate teaching. One assumes that such teaching requires a greater percentage of senior staff than does undergraduate instruction. It may also be held that it is this staff, more than the junior ranks, which lends prestige to graduate programs and so attracts advanced students. Ergo, there should be a high proportion of senior men in departments which offer work on the graduate level.· Granting this in principle, the question remains: What price is a university prepared to pay for such a distribution of staff? Obviously, a high proportion of senior ranks involves greater costs than would less ambitious arrangements. Here, again, one observes a complication arising from the institutional straddling of the graduate and undergraduate levels. If the Arts College had its own faculty, distinct from that of the Graduate School, there would be no need to weight it heavily with senior ranks. In other words, the use of graduate school staffs is a relatively expensive way of providing undergraduate instruction. Further difficulties may lurk within the interrelations of rank distribution and age factors. If 60 percent of personnel are in the senior ranks and if their ages are not well scattered, long intervals will occur during which few vacancies will open up. At such times, it will be impossible to advance a desirable percentage 7 of assistant professors to associate professorships. This situation makes it difficult to attract or hold able young men, so that when a senior vacancy does occur, a department—seeing no promising juniors on h a n d replaces a professor with another professor from the outside. 6 Actually, in the U.S.A., most graduate students seem to be more attracted by the standing of a department—or even of the graduate school as a whole—than they are by the reputation of individual professors. 7 At least 40 percent

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Graduate work will not suffer and prestige will be preserved, but the departmental budget will remain unnecessarily high. And the department will have done nothing to recruit the profession from below. Meantime, a college or particular departments therein may be handicapped by a lack of "young blood." This situation is the more likely to develop if the retirement age is as high as seventy. At Pennsylvania, the age ratio varies with the different colleges. In the Engineering Schools, for example, it seems fairly well balanced. The mean age of seventeen professors is fifty; of eighteen associate professors forty-two; and of thirteen assistant professors thirty-nine.8 This implies that only about 20 percent of the full-time staff are over fifty, and about 55 percent over age forty-five. The latter ratio is somewhat higher than the national average for 1955 (about 45 percent above forty-five),9 but the national survey included many institutions with retirement ages below seventy. In the Arts College, on the other hand, faculty composition is more heavily weighted by the upper-age group. Dr. Keniston found that the median age of all professors in humanistic fields was as high as fifty-eight and that of associate professors, forty-eight. The implication is that at least half of the full-time humanities staff is over fifty years of age. The actual age composition may be even more extreme, to the extent that some assistant professors with de facto tenure are still on hand in their fifties and sixties. One need not subscribe to "the cult of youth" in order to realize that such a situation is questionable. A final complication of over-weighting in the upper-age 8 Data provided by S. Reid Wairen, Ass't. Vice President There are few instructors in all but one School. 9 Based on 61,000 full-time "college teachers"; N.E.A. Research Bull., XXXIII, No. 4 (Dec., 1955), 141.

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group is the well-known danger that several members of a department will approach retirement at about the same time. If replacements are then sought from outside, difficulties in a declining market may be compounded by the number of persons involved; and in any case, desirable continuity in personnel will be lost. These various disadvantages add up to the view that something should be done to lower the present percentage of senior ranks within the Arts College faculty at Pennsylvania. It would be difficult to measure the exact contribution which these staffs make to graduate programs and just how far that contribution may justify an excess of senior staff. But the cost of maintaining this excess, as well as the other difficulties mentioned, would seem to justify the course proposed —especially in a University which is by no means wealthy. The outcome would be, in effect, a compromise in which graduate work need not suffer seriously if really promising younger personnel are moved into the current of regular advancement. A reduction in age levels could be attained, first, by reducing the retirement age and so moving men out, say, at sixty-five. In our opinion, for reasons which will be discussed later, such a policy should be applied only to those whose limitations have become apparent. If this is granted, earlier retirement will not do much to redress the balance in ages and ranks. More promising will be the adoption of more systematic policies of appointment and promotion. It has already been suggested that an "up or out" policy be applied to assistant professors after six years' service to the University. In addition, as vacancies in full professorships occur, most of these slots should be filled by assistant professors or by advancement of the latter to associate professorships. 147

Whether to replace one professor with another or with a man of lower rank will depend on various circumstances relating to the field, to prestige, to instructional needs, and so on. But a primary consideration should be the rank-and-age status of the department and of the college involved. If this is already over-weighted at the upper levels, lower-level appointments will be indicated in most cases. Conversely, there may occasionally be a department which needs an increase in the upper ranks. The goal would be to stabilize most departments on approximately a fifty-fifty balance of senior and junior ranks. If, meantime, junior men are "up or out" after six years' service, a desirable balance in ages will begin to be established. Assuming that such men have been first appointed at about age thirty-two, the successful ones will become associate professors at least by the time they are thirty-eight.10 They will then have tenure and could reasonably be retained at this rank for six or seven years, attaining full rank at approximately age forty-five. With such age-rank correlations in mind, tables can be constructed which will show what adjustments are needed in order to provide for an upward flow in ranks which is consistent with the principles noted. These had best be related to a college as a whole, since departmental units are too small to provide an overall balance. Such tables need not be as systematic as those which are used, for example, at Harvard, and the needs of a particular department at a given time should not be ignored. There may be cases in which a brilliant young man should be ad1 0 This is assuming that they were first appointed as instructors or assistant professors at the University and have, by about thirty-eight, given it six years' service. But if first appointed as assistant professors from the outside, where all years served need not be credited toward tenure, promotion may be delayed two or three years.

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vanced to tenure status before age thirty-eight; or conversely, in which an associate professor had best not be promoted even after reaching forty-five. Instances of the latter sort will normally be rare, however, since no one should be made an associate professor who is not expected to qualify subsequently for full rank. A permanent associate professor is in a situation similar to that of a permanent "associate," albeit on a higher level. In the rare case when an associate professor does not fulfill earlier promise, nevertheless, further promotion should be postponed and he should be retired at the earliest possible age. One or two years before this takes place, he can be finally advanced. This gesture may help his morale at the end, and can be viewed as a price paid by the University for the original error in granting tenure. The same logic may be applied to any men who have lingered on into their sixties as assistant professors. They should be advanced at least to the next rank shortly before retirement, unless other status-giving posts have meanwhile been found for them. So much for the distribution of what may be termed the regular academic ranks. That of the several types of young assistants varies with the teaching or research needs of particular departments, and one would have to examine each unit in turn in order to decide whether such personnel were too numerous or too few. Matters are complicated by the fact that men are assigned to assistantships for two purposes— to aid the regular staff and to secure in-service training as teachers or investigators. If emphasis is placed upon the teacher-training function, it might even be desirable to have more assistants appointed than the regular staff needed in connection with their own work. A special situation arises, however, if graduate students are 149

used as the sole teachers of particular student groups. The system is usually employed in large, general courses which are broken down into many separate classes or sections. The arrangement provides low-cost instruction and may have both pedagogic and teacher-training values—provided there is real supervision by senior staff. But if the assistants actually do a large part of a department's teaching, questions can be raised about the over-all quality of such instruction. The significant thing here is not the distribution of assistants in comparison with that of the regular staff,11 but is rather the percentage of total teaching hours which is in assistants' hands. A final distribution pattern of considerable significance is that which relates to the academic origins of staff members. These could be analyzed in various ways—for example, re the relative numbers who received their undergraduate and/or graduate education in (1) private or state institutions, (2) secular or church schools,12 or (3) American or foreign universities. But the most meaningful distinction of this sort at the present time 13 is that between staff members who were trained in the institution in which they have done all or nearly all their teaching, and those who were trained or have had substantial experience elsewhere. The first of these groups is said to be inbred, and it is the possible danger of such inbreeding which arouses some concern. Both undergraduate and advanced professional schools at Pennsylvania exhibit considerable inbreeding, though the 1 1 In the Arts College, e.g., the sheer number of assistants is almost as great as is that of the regular staff (about 200 and 210, respectively). 1 2 In general, few members of secular university faculties in this country have received their graduate or professional training in strictly denominational institutions. 1 3 Fifty years ago in the U.S.A., the distribution of foreign- (and particularly German-) trained faculty members would have been quite significant.

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degree varies with the colleges and even with departments within the same college. In certain areas, this seems inevitable; for example, in the case of the part-time clinical staff of the School of Medicine. Again, if a given department was a pioneer in its field and few others existed elsewhere, such a department would be—for a time—almost forced to appoint its own products. But in most instances, the situation has arisen from habit or from deliberate choice. An extreme example of inbreeding is afforded in the case of the Wharton School. About 70 percent of its faculty who hold doctor's degrees received them from the University of Pennsylvania.14 (Some of this group have had significant experience elsewhere, but their number would not be large enough to change the general picture.) It also happens that about a third of the total Wharton staff received their baccalaureates at Pennsylvania, but this ratio does not seem as meaningful as that for graduate training.15 A similar though less extreme picture is observable in the Arts College. Of faculty members who are over fifty—practically all of whom hold doctorates—about 55 percent received them from Pennsylvania. The ratio falls to 47 percent for the entire full-time staff,16 and this indicates that inbreeding is a little less marked among the younger men. This contrast confirms the statements of several chairmen that the process has been deliberately checked in recent years. The fact remains that almost half the Arts College faculty —and more than half of the relatively influential senior members—teach within the same institution that gave them professional training. And although a few of these men have 1 4 About half the faculty hold the Ph.D. There is a large group of instructors who do not have this degree, but the partial graduate training already received by them came in most cases from Pennsylvania. 1 8 С. M. James, op. dt., 2. 1 6 H. Keniston, Ed. Survey Rpt. on the Humanities, 1957, 28.

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had substantial experience elsewhere, many others have spent practically their whole professional lives within the "Perm" environment. Such a situation, in this or in any other college faculty, is disturbing. "Inbreeding," it is true, is a loaded word. In academic life, as in the biologic world, the process may have desirable outcomes if it starts with good stock. If a department is strong and turns out able young doctors, why should it not appoint most of its new members from among these men whom it knows so well? A number of the faculty defended inbreeding on this ground. Only one man stated explicitly that it was desirable in order to "preserve traditions," but there is indirect evidence that such a view was also in the minds of a few other staff members. No one, of course, objects to the appointment of some local products to a department's staff. But the term "inbreeding" is used, in practice, to apply only to excessive appointments of this sort—on the scales, for example, exhibited by the Arts College and by the Wharton School. It is difficult to lay down a rule here, since strong departments can doubtless follow the practice with more impunity than can weak ones. (Unfortunately, some departments may not be as strong as they assume.) Generally speaking, however, we would think it undesirable for most departments—and for an undergraduate college as a whole—to harbor more than about 40 percent of its own doctorates on its full-time staff.17 The reasons for this are fairly obvious. To begin with, inbreeding is unfair to the young men themselves. It is only natural that many of them want to stay with the department in which they were trained, but they should be shoved out of the nest for their own good. The fact that certain homegrown individuals are among the ablest members of a given 17

Exclusive of those with substantial experience elsewhere.

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department proves nothing, one way or the other. (They might have been even better for experience elsewhere.) Real familiarity with attitudes and procedures in other institutions gives a faculty member broader perspectives on what goes on within the institution where he is teaching. And such outside experience may also be intellectually stimulating. There is much to be said, on the other hand, for bringing a promising man back to the University after he has taught outside. This procedure combines a thorough knowledge of the candidate—which is the merit of inbreeding—with the advantages of diverse experience. A scholar who takes his degree at Pennsylvania can teach elsewhere as instructor or assistant professor for two or three years and then be appointed assistant professor in his original department. He could, under existing regulations, serve at the latter rank for three years more before a decision had to be made about tenure status. Occasionally, of course, "Penn men" also could be brought back at higher levels. Warnings against excessive inbreeding are especially timely now in view of the looming shortage of academic personnel. A university department which finds it difficult to replace staff will be apt to hold on to its own M.A.'s or Ph.D's for teaching purposes. If this is actually unavoidable, nothing more can be said. Certainly, it were better to appoint a good home product than to bring in a mediocre outsider. The point is that such an alternative should be faced, if the percentage of locally-trained men is already 40 percent or more, only as a last resort.

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7 Appointments and Promotions Policies concerning appointments and promotions have an obvious bearing on the quality of faculties, which in turn largely determines a university's reputation. One can hardly exaggerate the importance, therefore, of both the criteria which are kept in mind and the methods which are employed in this connection. In some measure, problems of appointment and promotion are common to all organizations which maintain large, more or less expert staffs. (In the case of higher education, similarities are greatest with other bodies which grant tenure rights—for example, with some government offices and international agencies.) Universities occasionally consult business experts in order to benefit from such overall knowledge about personnel (as well as about structural organization, finances, etc.) as the non-academic world can provide. The guild tradition of faculties, however, is so distinct that the differences between university and business "personnel problems" are greater than the similarities. This is recognized by some business officials themselves. It seems best, therefore, to discuss university procedures simply in terms of the university setting. Appointment of Administrators. Of primary interest are the appointment and promotion of faculty members, but that of administrative officers is also pertinent in so far as faculties are—or should be—involved in this process. The stake which faculties have in the selection of a president is obvi154

ous. In lesser degree, they are similarly concerned about the choosing of lesser officials. Yet, during most of the past, administrative officers 1 were appointed at Pennsylvania—as at many American universities—after little or no consultation with faculties. Such a procedure implied little confidence in faculty opinion and did not help faculty morale. But apart from that, did it make for the best decisions? No one can guarantee the wisdom of either faculty or trustee judgment in selecting a president. In principle, trustees usually have two advantages: (1) they are aware of a president's non-academic responsibilities, and (2) they are personally disinterested. (If a trustee permits extraneous considerations to influence his choice, he is presumably unfaithful to his trust.) Faculties, in contrast, are apt to think chiefly of a president's academic role and have in that a sort of vested interest. But academic matters are, after all, of great significance; and faculties are the experts in this sphere, while trustees are laymen. The different perspectives which trustees and faculties bring to bear on the presidency may, in at least one respect, result in the adoption of different criteria for selection. It is our own opinion that a president should almost always have been an academic man, and our impression is that the great majority of the faculty share this view. The Pennsylvania trustees, on the other hand, have not always employed this criterion in the past; and—for all we know—may not accept it in principle today. In any case, the respective advantages of faculty and of trustee judgment make it desirable that the opinion of the one group as well as of the other should be considered. Hence, as noted before, it is encouraging that the present 1

Exclusive of chairmen.

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University Manual provides for consultation of the Senate by the trustees when a president is selected. The same comment may be made on the Manuals provisions for consultation of the Senate by the president in recommending appointments to other administrative posts, and for his contacts with a faculty in the naming of its dean.2 In our opinion, recent appointments testify to the wisdom of these procedures. There are some staff members who would go further than this in urging that no administrators should be appointed without faculty approval.3 Such provision, in our opinion, is open to the objection noted in connection with the possible election of chairmen by departments; that is, it might delay the needed reform of a given unit. The requirement of faculty approval should be urged, we believe, only if the consultative program breaks down—that is, is not taken seriously. In that case, we are convinced, the risks involved in faculty vetoes would be less than are the dangers of entirely independent decisions by trustees or administrators. In a word, even faculty temporizing or ineffectiveness—unfortunate as it can be—is preferable in the last analysis to arbitrary rule. Appointment of Department Chairmen. The selection of a department chairman presents special problems, not only because it is vital but also because it follows no common pattern. The Manual, as noted, states that a dean will consult the college committee on appointments and pass his recommendation up the administrative ladder.4 We have already stated the opinion that administrative appointment See, again, Manual, Art. II, nos. 4, 7, 8. Such opinion is reported, e.g., in the Survey study of the School of Medicine, 39. * Art VII, No. 6. 2 3

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is sound in principle; but that, ordinarily, the recommendation of a department should be followed.5 Here are the two cardinal rules, (1) that the wishes of the department should be seriously considered; and (2) that administrators will, nevertheless, make their own, independent decisions. Within the limits so set, the details of the appointive process may well vary from college to college. One would think that, within any given college, a common pattern would be preferable; but some Deans may not desire even this degree of uniformity. A single procedure will be easy to administer and will presumably avoid uncertainty or misunderstanding, while diversity will permit of adaptations to particular departmental situations. Presumably, a Dean and his faculty should agree on the one arrangement or the other, and the faculty should be clearly informed of the processes to be followed. No such clarity seems to have obtained in the past. All sorts of variations have appeared, and faculty members must often have been in doubt as to what went on behind the scenes. In certain cases, the wish of a department has been almost automatically approved by administrators; at the other extreme, departmental recommendations have been vetoed and a chairman selected by administrators. Sometimes a Dean has informally consulted department members; in other instances, an ad hoc committee has been appointed— with or without administrators as members. Such committees, moreover, may or may not contain representatives of the department concerned. And the retiring chairman may or may not have exercised influence over the choice of his successor. Matters would be simplified if two suggestions made 6

Chapter IL

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above 8 were adopted: namely, if chairmen served for set terms, and if the Dean acted within an executive committee. The latter would then know well in advance when a chairman was to be appointed, could request recommendations from the department, and make its own suggestion in turn through the Dean. Presumably, the Dean of the Graduate School would also be consulted if the appointment had implications for graduate work, and likewise the "dean of faculties" (of faculty personnel) if such an official is in the picture. If no college executive committee exists, a similar role can be played by the college committee on appointments and promotions—the procedure indicated by the present Manual. The alternative to all this is the ad hoc committee appointed by the Dean or other administrator. We prefer the standing committee because such a group acquires cumulative experience and sees the departmental pattern as a whole. The ad hoc committee can, of course, be tailored to any special case, but a standing committee is free to get all the special information desired. On this level, in any case, the decision should be made by the Dean and his committee: the upper administrators act subsequently and may then consult further with the Dean and his committee as they desire. If an ad hoc committee is used, it should consult freely with any or all members of the department concerned and also consider the latter's formal recommendation. But such members should not serve on the committee, lest their presence inhibit free discussion and critical decisions. Nor, ordinarily, should administrators—other than the Dean—be members of the committee. If they are involved at this point, they will be in effect recommending to themselves on a higher level. β

In Chapter II.

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Criteria for Appointment and Promotion of Staff. The general assumption within colleges and universities is that staff appointments and promotions will be made on an individual basis. In contrast, public schools rarely maintain ranks and usually increase salaries by regular increments. Rewards for superiority have been tried on this level, but often arouse resentment among the majority of teachers.7 Whatever the pros and cons in lower schools may be, it is fortunate that the merit system is taken for granted in higher education. The most obvious criterion for appointment to the faculties of the undergraduate colleges and of the Graduate School at Pennsylvania is possession of the conventional Ph.D.8 Certain colleges desire or even insist upon this degree for any full-time post; others do not expect it of instructors and are willing to make exceptions even in the higher ranks.* Generally speaking, however, the trend has been to make the Ph.D.—or some professional equivalent—a sina qua поп for appointments above the instructorship. Pennsylvania is typical in this respect of universities in the United States. The percentage of faculty members holding the degree in most independent colleges, however, is much lower.10 As noted in Chapter I, the Ph.D. criterion for "college and 7 In 1957, the American Federation of Teachers (A.F.L.) described merit increases as "gimmicks" intended as substitutes for "salary increases"; N. Y. Times, Aug. 18, 1957, 53. See also J. Belmock, "Why Teachers Fear Merit Rating," Ed. Digest, XXIII, Dec., 1957, 12 f. 8 Professional schools accept other degrees appropriate to their respective fields. β In the Arts College, nearly all full-time staff hold the degree. In the Wharton School, the ratios are: Professors, 96 percent; Asso. Professors, 90 percent; Ass't. Professors, 80 percent. Only about two percent of full-time instructors hold a doctorate. С. M. James, "Wharton School Educational Survey," F-l, 14 (1957). 1 0 A 1955 survey showed that, in fifty-six "private universities," about 52 percent of full-time staff (including instructors) held a doctorate; in independent, private (arts) colleges, 35 percent; in teachers' colleges, 30 percent; N.E.A. Research Butt., XXXIII, No. 4, 137.

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university" appointments has been subjected to sharp criticism over the last decade. The indictment takes various forms, notably, claims that the degree: 1) Covers so many fields that it is meaningless. 2) Depends on training which is too protracted and too specialized. 3) Focuses entirely on research, and so has little value for "college teachers." 4) Involves impossible burdens and so defeats its own purpose. It is also pointed out that, whether the degree is valuable or not, the number who will take it will not approach the number of "college teachers" who will be needed. But this point is often combined in practice with an unfavorable opinion of the degree in itself. In view of what the Ph.D. has become, remarked a critic recently, the coming shortage of doctors "may not be such a bad thing." 11 The first point noted does not seem a very serious one. The Ph.D. has never indicated fields but rather a type and level of training, and the latter is a desirable function. It were easy to add such phrases as "in English" or "in chemistry" if this proves useful, just as one may add the name of the university where the degree is taken. The view that preparation for the Ph.D. is often too protracted and specialized has, in our opinion, some validity.12 But this comment simply implies a need for reform of graduate school procedures. There is no doubt that doctoral training focuses on research, despite the fact that a large percentage of those who 11 Expanding Resources for College Teaching, Amer. Council on Ed., 1956, 52. 1 2 See, e.g., the pronunciamento of four graduate deans in the N. Y. Times, Nov. 13, 1957.

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take it become "college teachers"13—who may or may not pursue research thereafter. And, as Barzun pointed out years ago, it is not true that "all teachers" must do research or that "all self-respecting institutions" must employ only productive scholars.14 But here, as so often, no distinction is made between teachers in university colleges and those in other types of institutions. As far as non-university college teachers are concerned, we have no quarrel with Barzun's views; and we agree that a modified M.A. might meet the needs of such personnel better than does the conventional Ph.D. The chief difficulty here is that the M.A. now lacks prestige, and the able "college teacher" may desire as dignified a title as that of his university colleague. Experiments might therefore be made re a modified, teaching Ph.D., which would require as serious a training as that degree now does, but which would involve a shift in emphases.15 College teachers with M.A.'s might return to graduate schools for such a degree. We are convinced, on the other hand, that most of those who hope to teach in university colleges should be selected and trained with a view to productive scholarship.1· Otherwise, a large proportion of non-creative persons will infiltrate faculties and the distinctive university function will be lost. The number of truly original persons is, of course, relatively small, and some may hold that there are not enough of them to man even university departments. But we would think that, in a country of this size, such personnel could be found for twenty or twenty-five strong universities. Even 1 3 Something over 50 percent for all fields, but much higher in the humanities; e.g., about 90 percent in English. " Teacher in America, 1945, 202. 16 Conversely, if such a teaching degree were made easy, it would be valueless and would hurt the standing of the Ph.D. at large. 1 8 Unless the university creates separate colleges or faculties with only teaching functions. See Chapter L

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within such institutions, not all those who find a place will live up to original promise. But the essential thing is that the proportion who do so will be large enough to set the tone of departments and of each university as a whole. If this criterion is accepted, the question remains: Are the requirements of the Ph.D. the best way of meeting it? Quite serious is the criticism, now current, that taking this degree imposes impossible burdens and kills, rather than inspires, the candidate's latent creativity. Or, what is almost as bad, that the process has an opposite effect in forcing unimaginative students into plodding investigations. There is no doubt that the "Ph.D. octopus" has encouraged many labored studies, and that similar mediocrity results from subsequent demands for "productivity." The answer here, however, is not the elimination of a research degree for university men. We would not throw the baby out with the bath. Everything possible should be done, rather, to lessen excessive pressures on young candidates and —at the same time—to refuse the research degree to those who do not show real promise along this line. Candidates, for example, should be discouraged from working for the Ph.D. while involved in full-time teaching or in any other full-time occupation. And they should not be rewarded, meantime, for the length of either their "residence" or their theses. The less original among them, if they display other potentialities, may be diverted to teaching degrees. Assuming these premises, we believe that universities should continue to employ the Ph.D. or its equivalent as a criterion for appointment. The great majority of the faculty interviewed at Pennsylvania shared this view.17 1 7 Even without reference, that is, to possible reform of the degree in one way or another.

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The phrase "or its equivalent," above, relates not only to professional degrees but also to general learning and scholarly productivity—no matter how or where achieved. Educational requirements are now so formalized that there is always danger of judging a man by his tags or labels, rather than by his inherent merits. No rule about degrees should be so rigid as to preclude exceptions. What other criteria, besides that of the Ph.D. or its equivalent, should be employed in appointments? There are many truisms here relating to personality, educational background, and so on, which hardly require discussion. Nearly everyone at Pennsylvania and elsewhere states that teaching ability should also be seriously considered. Candidates for junior appointments are not likely to have indulged in more than a year or two of college teaching, if that—plus some experience as assistants. Their appointment is reasonably safe if senior associates have been favorably impressed. Opportunities for closer appraisal will come thereafter. It is a common mistake at this point, however, to ignore the public school experience possessed by some candidates. Such experience usually makes a man very conscious of the teaching process and provides a valuable background which has been lacking—up to now—in those who have known only the graduate school environment. The extent to which teaching ability is weighed in senior appointments will vary with circumstances. Only well-known persons are considered and their reputation as teachers can usually be determined. Ability in graduate instruction is paramount if this is where their work will lie; but qualities as lecturers and attitudes toward students are pertinent if undergraduate classes come into the picture. Outstanding scholarship may justify appointment of even a mediocre 163

teacher, but contact with undergraduates should then be minimized if not eliminated.18 What criteria, meantime, should be applied to reappointments, promotions, or salary advances made on a merit basis within any given rank? Generally speaking, what has already been said about creativity and teaching applies to promotions as well as to appointments. But the former process involves additional questions, some of them of a specific nature. Although young scholars should be appointed to universities primarily for their originality, their first promotion or merit increase in salary need not be based on further research. At this stage they should give primary heed, for two or three years, to teaching, and they should not be burdened with immediate demands for "productivity." If teaching then seems satisfactory, and there is evidence of general responsibility, promotion or merit increase in salary is in order. The interlude here is not long enough to divert an original mind from major interests, particularly as the latter can be maintained meanwhile during the summers. Subsequent to the first promotion or reappointment, creativity again becomes the chief criterion for advancement.1® At this point, however, already-mentioned contingencies may arise. Dr. X, whose doctoral work was promising, has been teaching reasonably well for five years but shows no sign of returning to research. He should not then be reappointed as an assistant professor for three years, since that would assure him of tenure merely by length of service. But 1 8 The writer was once assistant to a distinguished professor at Pennsylvania who, in fairly large classes, could never be heard back of the second row! 1 9 Such a system is occasionally formalized. At Yale, e.g., the first appointment of an assistant professor is based on teaching, the second on research.

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in the гаге case of Dr. Y, who under similar circumstances proves to be an outstanding teacher, there should be opportunity to move up the ladder for that reason alone. This view is based on the assumptions that the Dr. Ys (1) seem likely to "stay alive" as teachers, (2) make up not more than 20 percent of a department's personnel, and (3) may be expected to carry somewhat heavier teaching loads than do colleagues who give much time to research. The arrangement, which should be clearly understood by all concerned, can be justified as a concession to a university college's teaching obligations. But one should remember that it also has indirect implications for research itself in terms of recruitment. Many a scholar has testified that an especially stimulating and sympathetic teacher in high school or in "college" first aroused his interest in a given field. All of these proposals are meaningless, of course, unless fairly satisfactory means for judging research and teaching are available. The first of these is usually measured approximately by the quality and/or quantity of publications, and everyone agrees—in principle, at least—that quantity has little meaning. Estimates of quality are not easy to make and cannot be entirely objective in nature. Nevertheless, a conscientious and well-informed committee can usually reach valid decisions on this ground. They have a man's publications at hand and, in the case of older men, can also consider their professional activities and reputations. Teaching ability is another matter. Even those staff members who insist that it should be rewarded, admit that it is very difficult to judge with any objectivity. The reputations which faculty members acquire as teachers, for better or for worse, are usually compounded of various factors—the impression they make on colleagues at a lecture or on a day-to165

day basis, occasional remarks by students, the size of elective (voluntary) classes, and so on. Perhaps all this adds up, in many cases, to reliable estimates. But there are also haunting doubts. Colleagues, if they like a man who lacks scholarly distinction, may assume that he is at least a good teacher. Large elective classes may only indicate that a staff member is easy or perhaps a showman,20 rather than a sound instructor. And occasional remarks by students may not provide a good, random sample of undergraduate opinion. In an effort to overcome the last-named objection, many institutions record student reactions in a systematic maimer. The arrangements vary widely. All students or special groups (classes, councils, etc.) may be involved. Reports may be made every year or at longer intervals, and they may be simple or complex in form. The returns finally are sent in some cases to chairmen or deans; in others, only to the teacher himself. The latter procedure is followed at the Wharton School. The School of Medicine has its own method for eliciting student opinions and these are made known to administrators. The Dean believes that the procedure has been helpful in revealing weak areas in the teaching program. Faculties who have had no experience with student rating systems are apt to oppose them in principle, usually on the ground that student opinion is unreliable if not meaningless.21 Conversely, faculties which have become accustomed to such procedures seem to accept or even approve them. Approval is most likely where, as in Wharton, only the teacher sees the returns. It is difficult to see why there should 2 0 There are ways of checking on this, however, (1) by direct observation of junior men, and (2) by comparing enrollments and grades. 2 1 This reaction was encountered with the majority of Arts faculty interviewed, although a minority held the opposite opinion.

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be objections to such a self-rating program, provided it is not too complex and time-consuming. Although self-rating will not aid chairmen or deans in appraising teaching ability, it may accustom a faculty to student polls and so persuade them in time to consider more far-reaching procedures. Meantime, it provides the individual teacher with student appraisals. Our own inclination would be to go further than this on the ground that student reactions should not be ignored. Consumers are not always able to judge a product well, but their opinion is one factor to be taken into account. Some of us, recalling student days, believe that we could have given meaningful appraisals of many of our teachers, though one also changes his views in retrospect in certain cases. Generally speaking, we think university faculties are oversensitive about any check on their teaching—an attitude which, however justifiable in graduate (university) work, should not be carried down to the undergraduate level.22 We would therefore suggest that deans, in those undergraduate colleges which now take no student polls, urge their faculties to approve such a program. The returns need be shown only to the teachers themselves, but administrators could be authorized to request a copy from any teacher if they desire. The teacher should feel free to decline but, if he does so, the burden of proof would be shifted to his shoulders. One may assume that administrators would be wise enough not to judge teaching ability solely by the student returns—particularly by those from any one class or any one year. As for the form of student polls, our preference would be for simplicity. The writer once taught in a university where 22

See Chapter I.

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each class, after being given conventional grades by the teacher, rated the latter in terms of these same grades (A, B, C, etc.). Although this procedure is oversimplified and certainly not of much help to the teacher himself, it seems preferable to the other extreme. The more elaborate a rating sheet, the more pertinent is the objection that replies have little meaning. Preferably, students will be asked to rate only a few major qualities; for example: 23 (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Is there apparent knowledge of subject? Is presentation clear? Interesting? Are there any teaching devices which are helpful? Is presentation too formal at one extreme, or too rambling at the other? Do you acquire worthwhile knowledge or ideas? Is there a friendly interest in the class? Are there any personal limitations or idiosyncrasies which lessen teaching effectiveness? What is your over-all rating?

Even a list of this length involves some overlapping of categories and some qualitative judgments on which students might legitimately differ among themselves. The list could doubtless be tightened up and made more exact by those accustomed to the preparation of questionnaires. So much for the major criteria of research and teaching. As noted, there are other tests which would usually be taken for granted, such as those relating to personality and to openmindedness in one's own field. Yet within any discipline which is inexact, a particular "school of thought" may come to dominate a department or a small college. Where such 2 3 See, e.g., E. R. Guthrie, "Evaluation of Faculty Service," A.A.U.P. Bull., Vol. 31 (1945), 255 ff.

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situations obtain, efforts—including the appointment of more open-minded persons—should be made to overcome them.24 As a final comment on promotions, one may note that certain services—quite apart from research or teaching—are often viewed as factors which deserve consideration. An assistant—or associate—professor may, for example, have given excellent service on committees, in special administrative roles, or to activities of value to the community. Conversely, another man may be known for his disinclination to serve the University along these lines. It is only human to reward the one type and not the other. Within narrow limits, moreover, such action seems justifiable, particularly in cases where there is a nice balance of opinion for and against promotion. But these special services, as criteria, should always be subsidiary to major considerations re teaching and research. If a man's administrative work merits distinctive recognition, for example, an administrative appointment may be in order; but two values are being confused if he is rewarded, rather, by promotion in academic rank. Some may hold, nevertheless, that a man who gives much time to administrative or community functions should not be expected to publish much in qualifying for promotion. Would he not be at a disadvantage in comparison with a colleague who gives all his time to teaching and research? In reply, one may note that the most time-consuming special services are usually demanded of professors who are beyond promotion in any case. Among such men, special services could indeed be accepted in lieu of publications as meriting salary increases. In lower ranks, men with special 2 4 This point is emphasized in the Educational Survey Report on the School of Social Work.

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burdens should be relieved of some teaching load rather than of responsibility for creative work. Procedures Used in Appointments and Promotions. Appointments to the lowest ranks (assistants or instructors) is a simple matter in most American universities. A chairman usually recommends to a Dean or to a college executive committee, and approval at that level is final. Endorsement by higher administrative officers, if required, is rarely more than a formality. Procedures involving higher ranks are more complex. Within a department, the chairman usually consults at least the senior members, and some of these units even secure formal votes on recommendations to be made.25 Initiative is usually taken by departments regarding higher as well as lower ranks, though some institutions still leave all such actions primarily in the hands of administrators.26 Upon receiving departmental recommendations involving upper ranks, an administrative officer or executive group usually consults a college faculty committee before reaching a decision. The latter may take any one of various forms. It may be appointed or elected, standing or ad hoc, specific or general in functions, merely advisory or entitled to make its own recommendations, and it may or may not include members of the department concerned. After this committee has been consulted, the Dean or executive body passes recommendations on up to higher administrators. The latter consult among themselves on the University level, ask for any further advice which is desired, and make final proposals to the trustees. See Chapter II, те intra-departmental procedures. This was true of about 30 percent or 80 institutions recently studied by Clark Byse and L. Joughin, but not all of these were universities. "Tenure Plans and Practices in American Higher Education," 1957, 19 ff. 26

28

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Such, with rare exceptions, are the procedures followed at Pennsylvania. Within the limits implied, however, some variations obtain among the different colleges, and these may be illustrated by the practices of the Arts College, the Engineering Schools, the School of Medicine, and the School of Veterinary Medicine. In the Arts College, the Dean refers departmental recommendations to a "personnel panel" of ten to twelve faculty members. This body, largely limited to professors, is elected by the faculty and operates through subcommittees for special cases. It reports back to the Dean. The latter then recommends to the provost, noting the opinion of the committee if it differs from his own. In the Engineering Schools, an administratively-appointed faculty personnel committee of 21 (of all ranks) also operates through subcommittees. The procedure of this committee is unusual in that it will consider proposals brought before it by any faculty member—with or without the approval of the "directors."2T The personnel committee makes recommendations directly to the Vice President for the Engineering Schools. The School of Veterinary Medicine has an executive committee made up of department chairmen, and departmental proposals go to this group. The Dean "abides by" its recommendations, which are then submitted to the whole college faculty. The latter's decisions are apparentlyfinalin the case of junior ranks, but, otherwise, are submitted to the medical vice president.28 The simplicity of the School of Veterinary Medicine organization may be ascribed, at least in part, to its small 2 7 Heads of particular schools, who correspond to chairmen of large departments. 2 8 H. J. Stafseth, "Survey Report on the School of Veterinary Medicine," 55.

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size. Quite the reverse is the scale of the School of Medicine, with a faculty of about 1,100 and a large council of full professors. This council chooses an executive committee of thirty-one, which is the real governing body. Lower-rank actions29 are initiated by chairmen and then submitted by the Dean to the executive committee. This committee's decisions re lower ranks are final, but it elects ad hoc committees (which also include administrators) to consider upper-rank proposals. If the ad hoc committee disapproves a chairman's recommendation, the latter may withdraw it. But if he insists, the committee must report its own recommendation back to the executive committee, which then passes it up with their own comments to the medical vice president. The Dean expresses his views in the executive committee, but cannot block the procedure noted. Once a recommendation reaches a vice provost, provost, or vice president, it is referred to a University committee on appointments and promotions which is made up of such officers and the president. This administrative committee gives serious consideration to upper-rank proposals and makes the final recommendations to trustees.30 To sum up, most actions of this nature at Pennsylvania are formulated within a department, are then considered at the college level jointly by faculty groups and administrators, and then are finally passed on at the University level by top administrators. Generally speaking, these procedures make for careful decisions—the more so, we believe, because faculty committees are now influential on the college level.31 Committees seem adequate and, indeed, more effective for this purpose than are entire college facilities, although certain institutions, 29

Below assistant professor. 80 Trustee disapproval is rare. 81 Only a decade ago, e.g., the arts college dean still acted independently, without advice from a "personnel panel."

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such as Yale College, submit actions concerning upper ranks to the whole senior faculty. Such a process, similar to that followed in Continental universities, demands too much of the members unless the college is small. Certain other universities bring faculty committees into senior appointment-and-promotion actions on the university level. At California (Berkeley), for example, such recommendations for all colleges are acted on by the University Senate committee on budgets and interdepartmental relations, which reports to the president. At Johns Hopkins, again, the faculty-elected Academic Council appoints ad hoc university committees,32 and recommends directly to the provost and president Conceivably, an all-university faculty committee could be set up likewise at Pennsylvania to pass on all recommendations coming from colleges and to recommend directly to the president. Such a super-committee could be appointed by the president or chosen by the Senate. It might occasionally check on low standards in a weak college which had slipped past administrators, even as the latter are expected to check any laxity on the part of departmental or college faculties. But an all-university faculty committee is open to three objections. First, it would insert another reviewing body and so complicate the machinery. Second, it would oversee so many colleges that, apart from the burdens involved, it could hardly add much to the president's understanding. Third, any virtue it might possess in regard to representing the faculty can be attained just as effectively on the college level. It is apparent that, in the procedures at Pennsylvania, negative actions can be taken at each level on recommendations from below. But final decisions are only reached on the upper level; deans, for example, may not block the processing 82

Except for the "Medical Institutions."

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of recommendations and their views can be reversed above. The need for such qualified authority has been recognized here; and we would only add the suggestion that, in case of negative actions, an explanation should be returned down the line. Otherwise, decisions may seem arbitrary. Thus, a chairman should be told if and why the Dean or committee has disapproved his recommendation; and a similar explanation is owed the Dean if his decision has been reversed above. The degree to which the appointment-and-promotion process may be reversed at Pennsylvania by administrative initiative is not clear. Certainly, the right to do this should be maintained but exercised with due discretion. And the process should then indeed be reversed; that is, the administrator or committee should seek departmental approval. Only in exceptional cases, as when a department needs reorganization, should administrators—as a last resort—act in opposition to a department's wishes. And here, again, explanations are in order. Regardless of what channels are followed in processing recommendations, one must also consider (1) what methods are used for securing information, (2) what time schedules are employed, and (3) what appeal procedures are available. The methods used for securing information on faculty personnel are fairly obvious. Part-time assistants are usually chosen from among local graduate students already known to department members. If candidates apply from other institutions, their records and opinions of their professors must usually suffice, but interviews may help if feasible. Opinions submitted from the outside, regardless of the rank involved, must be read critically—especially in the case of a professor who is recommending a former student. The former's estimate may be essential, since he probably knows the man in 174

question better than does anyone eke. But the situation requires that the department, as far as is possible, evaluate the sponsor as well as the candidate. This lesson, unfortunately, is often learned only by experience. Appointments to the rank of instructor or assistant professor, if the candidate is not known locally, should involve interviews as well as letters, and examination of his thesis or other writings. If someone can visit the man on his own campus and perhaps sit in on one of his classes, so much the better. It is simpler to bring a man on to the University, but interviews so arranged are apt to be awkward and not too revealing. Appointments to senior ranks also involve the procedures noted, although a candidate's general reputation will be well known. He can be asked to give one or more lectures; and it is even better, if feasible, to invite him to teach at the University for one or two semesters. Promotions to senior ranks involve scholars who are familiar figures in a department, and in many cases the staff will feel no need for outside evaluations. They may well secure the opinion of local colleagues in related fields, however, unless they wish to leave this to the Dean and his personnel committee. Opinions differ sharply on whether, in addition, outside opinions should be solicited. Some professors object that it is "absurd" or "embarrassing" to ask outsiders about "our own men" at this stage. Yet, in the well-known ad hoc committees at Harvard, two or three scholars from other universities —representing the field involved—are usually brought in as members. Their opinions are considered, along with those of Harvard professors in related fields, in formulating recommendations that go directly to the president. This procedure, in our opinion, has both the advantages 175

and limitations of any ad hoc arrangement. Our own preference for standing committees has already been indicated. But if the Harvard type of committee is used, the writer believes that the presence of the outsiders can be helpful. After all or nearly all Harvard members have agreed that X is the "best man in the country" for the post, an outsider may declare that Y in some other institution is even better. At this point, everyone sits up and takes notice! The writer is inclined to agree, however, that the views of outsiders elicited only by mail are of uncertain value. The man who responds, with no responsibilities and no one to question, may see little point in hurting the chances of "X" at some other university. Moreover, a chairman who desires promotion for "X" may consciously or unconsciously select sponsors who are apt to be favorable. De candidato, nil nisi bonum.33 The opinion of outsiders is brought to bear on a department, of course, whenever a member receives "offers" from other institutions. If the latter are reputable, the department is rightly impressed and may be justified in seeking promotion and/or salary increase in an effort to "hold" the man in question. It is unfortunate, nevertheless, if such pressure is the chief or even the only means by which advancement may be secured. There may be situations in which administrators, hardpressed for funds, naturally allocate them to those desired faculty members who would otherwise go elsewhere. But the faculty are then tempted to seek invitations which, actually, they would not wish to accept. The unwary man may be hoisted here by his own petard if his department does not wish to hold him. But if the reverse is true, the department 8 3 This is not to deny that, in a particular situation, some outsider's opinion may be helpful.

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should have been able to evaluate him on his inherent ability without waiting for another institution to do this for them. The writer's impression is that advances are now less dependent on outside pressures than was true a generation ago. If so, the trend has been salutary. In the matter of timing actions, some departments at Pennsylvania employ rather casual procedures; others follow a formal schedule. The latter is doubtless more necessary in large departments, particularly in those in which the chairman consults all senior members or even the entire full-time staff. Preferably, the status of each member should be evaluated regularly each year. This may be done by the chairman in consultation with his colleagues in terms of whatever procedures the department employs. If, as recommended, the chairman makes an annual report to the Dean, these evaluations should be included. They can then be made the basis for subsequent annual evaluations by the college personnel committee—which may or may not agree with those of the department. The former's functions include not only a check on undesirable advances, but also a searching out of cases of departmental neglect. Whatever departmental procedures are followed, they should be so correlated with those of the college authorities that men, if notified about recommendations, are not kept long in suspense about decisions. And the final decisions should be announced not later than about March 1. If delayed thereafter, the staff member has little chance to adjust his own plans for the ensuing academic year. Appeals. What, finally, of the staff member who believes that his advancement is long overdue but that there is no inclination to grant it? In principle, opportunity for appeal should be provided, even though, in many cases, advance 177

may not be merited. Able persons are occasionally neglected by their departments for one reason or another. At Pennsylvania, some men have gone to deans and their appeals have been considered. But others do not know whether such a right exists. The situation is uncertain and should be clarified in the Manual or elsewhere. The chief problem involved in appeals is the level on which decisions should be reached. Some institutions provide for high-level consideration. At Princeton, for example, a University committee with this function has direct access to the trustees. It would seem more feasible in large universities to permit appeals only over the head of the department to the Dean and his committee. Even though the latter considers all personnel in due course, the impact of a direct petition would make for special consideration. There is no objection in principle, however, if appeals are permitted to go up to the provost or to a vice president, if they prove so rare as to impose no burden on these officers.

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8 Suspensions and Dismissals Implicit, in the preceding chapter, was the assumption that faculty members may move up in rank and salary but never down. In a few instances, in other parts of the world, one encounters universities in which men may be tiemoted—even as they can be in the military services.1 But, as far as we know, there is no such practice in American institutions, except occasionally on the lowest ranks, when a shift to a new post may automatically involve a still lower title with no prejudice to the holder. Suspensions. In rare cases, however, staff members are suspended from teaching functions—usually pending some judicial procedure. If, for example, a man is indicted in the courts for a criminal offense, the University may be justified in suspending him until the verdict is reached. We would go further in saying that, if a faculty member's behavior suddenly becomes so erratic that contacts with students seem undesirable, he may be suspended in this case also—pending an investigation by the University. A representative faculty committee as well as administrators, however, should be a party to any such action. If the decision is unfavorable, the usual dismissal procedures can then be set in motion.2 This is true, e.g., of certain universities in the Philippines. Such instances are very unusual. If a new instructor proves "impossible," he can usually be put up with for the rest of the year. The onset of 1

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Whatever the cause of a suspension, salary should be maintained until the action is terminated by reinstatement or dismissal. Otherwise, there is violation of the principle that a man is to be viewed as innocent until proven guilty or— in the academic world—incompetent. Criteria for Dismissals. The problem of dismissals is most complex. Prior to the last half-century, trustees and administrators commonly claimed the right to dismiss faculty members at their own discretion. Since some dismissals resulted from a dislike of mens religious, political, or social opinions, it became apparent that tenure was necessary in order to maintain academic freedom. Such freedom may be violated, covertly, by refusing appointment or promotion for similar reasons, but the issue is overt in dismissal cases. By about the 1920s, tenure rights in one or both senior ranks were recognized in most American universities—either by statute or by common practice. Also recognized, in practice if not in principle, was the acquisition of de facto tenure by length of service. The present question, therefore, is simply: Under what circumstances is a college or university justified in dismissing a faculty member who possesses tenure? There is general agreement that a professor can be rightly dismissed for incompetence, for neglect of duty, or "for cause." Incompetence in the ordinary sense is difficult to establish except in extreme cases, and probationary screening makes it unlikely that such instances will ever appear. Incompetence resulting from personality deterioration is more common. Alcoholism, senility, or insidious mental illness prosenility, personality disorders, alcoholism, etc. is usually gradual and rarely calls for temporary suspension. There can be sudden mental illness, but, if acute, the victim would rarely attempt to teach.

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vide illustrations. Elderly men, moreover, may be unable to recognize sheer physical limitations. Reasonable consideration should be extended in such situations and the victim may be persuaded to resign. But, if not, there is an obligation to protect the students and dismissal will be justified. "Neglect of duty" is another pattern which is difficult to demonstrate save in extreme instances. Now and then, a college has to deal with a teacher who habitually misses classes, refuses to work with colleagues, becomes abusive, and so on. Explanations may be found in some of the factors just mentioned, since "incompetence" and "neglect" are overlapping categories. But even if no one can probe beneath the surface of "plain cussedness," something must be done and that something—as a last resort—may be dismissal. The concept of "cause" reflects the ethical standards of the community in general and of higher education in particular. The two are largely identical, but a university may have on occasion an obligation to protect staff members from mass sentiment. Everyone agrees that conviction for a serious crime merits dismissal, even though the legal definition of such crime may vary somewhat with time and place. The difficult decisions for a university fall within areas in which there is strong popular disapproval but no legal prohibition. In situations of this sort, a university should pass judgment in terms of the implications for its own, internal welfare. What may be termed the external reputation of an institution is no guide here, since it could be used to justify submission to any popular hysteria as "good public relations." Cases which illustrate these distinctions are all too numerous. Suppose, for example, that a teacher is accused of homosexuality. If this condition is criminal under state law and the evidence supports the charge, that would seem to settle 181

the matter. But, if not, a college is still justified in dismissing him on the ground that his association with students is undesirable. Formal procedures, fortunately, are rarely necessary. On the other hand, if the man is able and original, he may still serve the university in some research capacity. Common sense must be used in such matters. The test is whether the situation produces tensions within the university, or between it and the community. If not, there is no ground for action. But if it does, suspension or dismissal may be indicated. A university should not antagonize the public unless some principle is involved. Situations involving morality are bound to occur from time to time and are less serious, in the long run, than are those relating to academic opinions. Many difficult cases have arisen in recent years, for example, over issues involving the Fifth Amendment and/or communism. Since an appeal by a professor to the guarantees of the Bill of Rights is clearly legal, action against him by his university must be based only on the implications which such appeal may have for his teaching. And these implications must be investigated in a judicial manner. In a word, automatic dismissal for invoking one of the Amendments is a violation of freedom, but such invocation may justify an intra-university investigation of motives and circumstances. If a fair inquiry shows that the professor was motivated by principle, or by the conviction that investigators were prejudiced against him, no further action by his institution is in order. If, on the other hand, inquiry shows that the man "had something to hide," what are the implications for his teaching or even for his research? Let us say that this something is membership in the communist party or at least strong sym182

pathy therewith. The case thereupon involves the larger issue of the status of professors who are communists. Here again, if communist affiliation is not a statutory offense, the matter must be judged in relation to the implications for university functions. And conscientious observers are sharply divided on this point. One group holds that communist discipline prevents any open-mindedness, that those who accept it are "agents" rather than merely "members," and that they are therefore incapable of objectivity in either teaching or creative work. Others are convinced that individual communists may actually do objective teaching and research, at least in those disciplines which have no obvious political or social aspects. In view of this divided opinion, even affiliation with communism is not sound ground for automatic dismissal. It is, however, good ground for intra-university investigation and possibly for suspension. Whether any individual communist professor is incapable of giving good service cannot be determined by surmise or in terms of "guilt by association." Each case must be looked into on its own merit. If there is good evidence that the man in question exploited his post for the purpose of indoctrinating students, he should be dismissed. (Within a secular institution, parenthetically, we would say the same thing of professors who indoctrinate students with particular religious views.)8 But if there is no good evidence that a professor has exploited his position in this manner, there are no legitimate grounds for dismissal.4 3 Obviously, this point does not necessarily apply to colleges with religious affiliations. * Similar positions, re cases involving the Fifth Amendment and/or communism, have been taken recently by the U.S. Supreme Court in situations analagous to college dismissals; see, e.g., Slochower o. Bd. of Higher Ed., 350 U.S. 551 (1956).

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Dismissal Procedures. Dismissal is a serious matter which may, in some cases, end a faculty member's academic career. The interests of trustees, of the faculty, and of the individual concerned must all be taken into account. In the Nearing case of 1915, the trustees of the University in effect dismissed an assistant professor without consultation or warning. Although this action was legal, inasmuch as Dr. Nearing had no claim on tenure, the method employed seemed so arbitrary that it aroused widespread protest. Soon thereafter, in consequence, the University Statutes were so modified as to permit the dismissal of a professor on the petition of a facvdty; and provision was also made for hearing and answering charges against the person concerned. From 1915 to 1940, no removals were made at Pennsylvania without faculty approval.8 Nor does the writer know of any such cases since the latter date. Instances probably occurred in which dismissals were recommended by administrators without the knowledge of faculties; but, if so, nothing came of them. In a word, the University has had a fine record in the matter of dismissals for more than forty years—one which compares favorably with that of most sister institutions. Its present Statutes simply state (Art. IX) that "The Executive Board (of the Trustees), upon the recommendation of a Faculty, may suspend or remove . . . any member of such faculty. . . The Manual further provides for a hearing before the Executive Board and for consultation with a faculty committee, and adds that the Board's decision is final. These regulations, excellent in themselves, should be made more explicit. The statutory clause is ambiguous in that it 6 Edward P. Cheyney, History of the University of Pennsylvania, 1940, p. 371.

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may be interpreted in either of two ways: (1) that dismissals may be proposed only by a faculty; or (2) that this is only one method of procedure, the trustees meantime reserving a right to act on their own initiative if they so wish. Our own opinion is that, since the faculties are best informed about the circumstances of a professor's acts, the formal initiative in dismissal cases should be in their hands alone.® One may urge against this view, nevertheless, that faculties have a vested interest in tenure which may lead them to oppose almost any dismissal on principle. Will they, then, ever initiate proceedings looking toward such action? Critics of the Association of American University Professors, which has done much to establish tenure rights throughout the country, insist that this body has shown more concern about preventing unjust dismissals than it has about encouraging justifiable ones. In a word, will faculties show as much concern about obligations as they do about their rights? The answer here must be found in experience. Faculties are, no doubt, in a more embarrassing position in moving against colleagues than are trustees or administrators—hence any hesitation on their part is understandable. And they may believe that, at the worst, there is less danger in letting an occasional incompetent or otherwise objectionable professor "get by" than there is in permitting dismissal initiative from above. But the issue remains. It can usually be resolved, in 6 There was long an impression among the faculties, based no doubt on the regulation of 1915, that a professor could not be dismissed except "by a vote of his peers." This is still true, if only a faculty can initiate proceedings. It could also be true, conceivably, if action was started by the trustees and the issue submitted by them to a faculty. If the latter were authorized to make the final decision, there would be a reversal of roles but no change in the substance of things. But if the trustees both initiated an action and then reviewed the faculty's recommendation, they would function both as prosecutors and judges.

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our opinion, through the action of a third party, namely, the administrators. Administrative officers are in the best position really to start dismissal actions. They are better informed than trustees, and in a more detached position than the faculties. And they are, moreover, in a position to influence the faculties. A dean who has a serious case on his hands can usually expect moral support from a faculty committee and have a reasonable prospect of this reaction in a faculty as a whole—provided that the case does not seem to violate academic freedom. The writer knows of such instances, and it will be noted that dismissals have occurred at Pennsylvania and elsewhere with faculty approval. Efforts are needed, nevertheless, to alert some faculties to their responsibility in such matters. If dismissal actions are actually started by administrators and then formally initiated by faculties, the first interpretation of the Statute noted above may be maintained. Meantime, of course, a faculty may actually start the ball rolling if it is so inclined. From this point on, the University's regulations need amplification. In the Manual, at least, procedures should be spelled out—not only in protection of the man in question but also in the interest of the trustees. The judicial nature of the whole process ought to be made clear. Otherwise, if an ousted man brings suit, a court may find breach of contract and grant him damages—or even convict the trustees for noncompliance or contempt.7 Assuming that dismissal actions at the University will originate with administrators and faculties, the following procedures are desirable: 7 Clark Byse and L. Joughin, "Tenure Plans and Practices . . . Γ 1957, 3 f . A university in the Middle West recently paid a dismissed professor a reputedly large sum, rather than face his suit in the courts.

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(1) The dean, after discussion with the chairman and other department members, informs the professor 8 of the proposed action and of the reason therefor. (2) Discussions are held "off the record" with a view to possible adjustment. The parties involved are the dean, his personnel committee, the professor, and the latter's counsel or other adviser. If this effort fails, then: (3 ) The dean, with the approval of the personnel committee, notifies the professor that he is entitled to a hearing and "confronts" him with the pertinent data (written charges, list of dean's witnesses, summary of evidence, pertinent statutes or rulings, nature of the hearing). (4) The hearing is conducted by a faculty committee of five, at least three of whom are elected. The other two may be appointed by the dean. Preferably, a standing committee is used, and the committee on academic freedom may serve in this connection. The committee selects its own chairman, who might well be a professor of law.9 (5) The hearing is conducted in a judicial manner—that is, a record is kept and made available to all concerned; both parties10 have a right to present witnesses, to cross-examine, and to remain throughout the hearing; prompt adjudication is assured. If the hearing-committee decides against dismissal (by majority vote), the proceedings are ended. If not, they recommend directly to the faculty concerned. The term, as used here, does not denote rank. If the professor declines a hearing, the dean and his personnel committee make recommendations directly to the faculty concerned. 1 0 The dean or other administrator, and the professor. Each may be aided by counsel or other adviser. 8

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( 6 ) The faculty considers this recommendation, coming from their own representatives. If the majority approves, the faculty recommends dismissal to the trustees. ( 7 ) The trustees (acting as a sort of appellate court which makes its own rules and has the record before it) takes final action.11 No reference has been made, up to this point, of administrators above the level of dean. In practice, in other institutions, it has often been the president who spearheaded dismissal procedures and then recommended to trustees. But at Pennsylvania the tradition is otherwise; in the Nearing case, for example, the president took no active part. And the Pennsylvania statute directs that formal initiative comes from a faculty. Hence it seems well for a dean to marshal his own faculty, so to speak, and for that group to make the recommendation to the trustees. The president's advice is likely, of course, to be requested by the trustees. He may therefore wish to be kept informed about a case, and the record and presumably the dean's opinion will be available to him. The hearing and record, however, should be considered confidential in most respects. If the faculty consulted request it, a copy of the record may be shown to any committee they appoint for the purpose. But it should not be revealed to anyone not immediately concerned, except on the approval of the dean or of the president. 1 1 The proceedings here suggested are based, in part, on those approved by Byse and Joughin, op. cit., 62-87, and on those accepted by the A.A.C. and the A.A.U.P. Byse and Joughin report that examples of most procedures noted may be found in other institutions; though in some instances, only in a minority of them. Thus, 57 percent of eighty institutions studied provided hearings before bodies of some sort, and these were faculty committees in 25 percent of the schools (63).

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These procedures assure adequate protection to the professor; and they also protect the University (trustees) in case of subsequent appeal to the A.A.U.P.12 or to the courts. If they seem elaborate, one should remember that they rarely need be invoked but that, when they are, the issue is a most serious one. Even the reputation of the University may be involved. 1 2 If a dismissed person appeals to tbe A.A.U.P., the letter's officers look into tbe case in a preliminary way. If they think procedures have been just, no formal investigation is made. University administrators can often avoid difficulties by consulting the A.A.U.P. before or during procedures, and this has been done at Pennsylvania in the past.

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9 Salaries and Fringe Benefits Like the prospect of increased enrollments, the need for higher faculty salaries has been widely publicized both within and without higher education. The two matters are not unconnected. The demand for "college teachers" will increase more, over the next decade, than will that for most other types of workers; therefore, college salaries should be raised at least as rapidly as those of other elements in the population. Unfortunately, quite the reverse has been true for nearly two decades since 1940. Faculty salaries not only failed to keep up with those of other groups but, over certain intervals, even lagged behind increases in living costs. Hence there was a decline in the real income of most of the academic profession; and this trend, combined with mounting taxes, reduced the academic standard of living just when that for the people as a whole was rising. The National Picture. This contrast may be summarized by recalling the following facts. State universities and landgrant colleges usually secured greater salary increases during the 1940's than did private institutions.1 Yet in the relatively favored state universities, over the interval 1929 to 1953, the 1 E.g., salaries of professors in the public institutions, 1940-50, rose 68 percent; in the private, only 40 percent; Seymour E. Harris, "Faculty Salaries," A.A.U.P. Bull., vol. 43 (Dec., 1957), 583, quoting J. D. Millett, Financing Higher Education to the

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tuition rates finally did go up sharply—as in recent years—administrators and staff in some institutions became apprehensive less they had priced themselves out of the market. Less favorable to faculties is another explanation of salary lags which has recently been advanced by Beardsley Ruml.8 Here the difficulties are blamed on the "incredibly inefficient" teaching program, and it is bluntly said that "the pay the professor gets today is the direct consequence of what he earns. . . ." Salaries could be raised, declares Ruml, if the program were improved by reducing the number of courses, lowering the faculty-student ratio, and so on. Delays in salary advances can also be ascribed to the ways in which available funds have been allocated. Actually, the total income of colleges and universities did rise between 1939 and 1952 out of proportion to increases in the number of "teachers." Total income per teacher in 1939-40 was only $3,930; by 1951-52 it had reached $10,600. Thus, in terms of these figures, salaries could have been raised during the interval by about 150 percent; in reality, they rose only by about half that ratio.9 This disparity means that income was diverted elsewhere. Faculties received a diminishing share of the educational dollar. Enrollments were going up, construction consequently increased, administrative staffs expanded, upkeep became more expensive because plant employees—unlike faculties—could demand more pay, and so on. Between about 1929 and 1952, in 85 institutions, income per student rose 55 percent, administrative costs per student 76 percent, 8 "Pay and the Professor," Atlantic Monthly, (April, 19S7) 48 f. Ruml implies that tuition has risen excessively, but the reported increase in "private colleges," 1940-57, was only 83%—barely enough to keep up with the devaluation of the dollar. See Higher Education and 'National Affairs, VH, No. 4, Jan., 1958, 2. » Harris, in A.A.U.P. Bull., vol. 43 (1957) 588.

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maintenance per student 84 percent, but instruction per student only 47 percent.10 To sum up, nearly all aspects of college and university life benefited by financial developments between about 1945 and 1955, except faculty salaries. Tuition became a bargain for the average family, plant employees enjoyed relatively rapid pay increases, more posts opened for administrators,11 and students found themselves in more adequate and attractive buildings. The last item also benefited staffs, but not in a degree to compensate for salary lags. And all these developments were made possible, in part, by the fact that faculties did not share proportionately in the resources available. It may be said that, in effect, the academic profession subsidized higher education during this era. A national commission has declared, indeed, that this unnoticed subsidy amounted to more than twice "the grand total of alumni gifts, corporate gifts, and endowment income of all colleges and universities combined." It adds, however, that this "largest scholarship program" in history was not calculated to aid education in the long run.12 Despite such emphatic statements, some observers—including a few professors—maintain that faculties have not really been underpaid. Ruml, as noted, thinks the staffs have received all they deserved, but that they would merit more if they would mend their ways. But others point again to the inherent "compensations" of the profession—long vacations, tenure, and so on—as justifying relatively low salaries. They also suggest that, since the national trend in incomes has been toward equality, high-income groups (like college facLong, op. at., 582. What happened to administrative salaries is rarely revealed. They may or may not have advanced more rapidly than did those of the staff. 1 2 President's Com. on Ed. Beyond the High School, Second Report (July, 1957), 6. 10

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ulties!) should yield to this trend in the interest of the common welfare.18 Those who hold this view might add that, after all, faculty salaries in the United States have been relatively high in comparison with those abroad. Canadian scales seem to be roughly similar to, or only a little lower than, the American.14 But in 1957, English universities—apart from Oxford and Cambridge—were paying professors up to a maximum of only about $9,000, and readers and senior lecturers (associate professors) a maximum of around $6,750.15 Continental salaries are even lower. In France, for example, maximum professorial salaries are about $6,000; in Turkey, only $2,000 at the legal exchange. Allowance must be made of course for black markets or for living conditions. Rents are low in Paris; and, in Turkey, professors can live in reasonable comfort if they do not buy foreign goods. Yet all is not well, and efforts are being made to raise salaries in various countries. Public protests have been made, in recent months, by faculties and students in both France and Italy. In any case, the central question is not whether American professors appear affluent against an international background. The point is, rather, that they have suffered by American standards. And their plight became widely recognized during the early 1950*s, in just these terms. Salaries began to go up in more substantial fashion and, by 1957, purchasing power had been largely regained. Desirable as this trend was, however, it did not repay faculties for losses sus1 3 C. Sticler, Employment and Compensation in Education (1950), 4263; Soltow, Are College Teachers Really Underpaid?," A.A.U.P. Bull. (Autumn, 1956), 504 ff. i * See Canadian Asso. of Univ. Teachers' Butt., vol. 5 (1956), 13. 1 B The national Universities Grants Committee sets the base-salary scales within the limits of the Parliamentary budget, but local allowances may ba added; see Univ. of London, Rep't. by ffce Principal, 1956-57, 19.

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tained since 1940. Nor did it equalize their salaries with those of other economic groups, including the competing professions. Estimates have varied as to how much salaries should be further raised, if more academic people are to be secured within a competitive personnel market. As early as 1947, the President's Commission suggested an immediate increase of 50 percent. A decade later, the Educational Policies Commission recommended a rise of from 75 to 125 percent within the next fifteen years. In the same year (1957), the President's Committee on Education Beyond the High School urged that average salaries should be doubled within only five to ten years; and the national council of the A.A.U.P. went on record in favor of the same proposal.16 The President's Committee further suggested that the upper ranks should benefit most in salary advances, since they had been most squeezed during the preceding era. The same view has been expressed by trustees and faculty committees at a number of institutions, and by the A.A.U.P. Committee on the Economic Status of the Profession. The latter body ascribed the relative lag of upper-rank salaries to the sympathy of older men for the younger, and to the policy of giving "across the board" rather than merit increases when entire salary scales needed revision.17 Base Salaries at Pennsylvania. Salaries at the University have, in general, followed the national trends of the last two decades. There was the same failure to keep up with living costs or with the income of other groups. Provost Rhoads has pointed out that, as late as 1955, upper-rank salaries had only 1 6 President's Commission (1947), V, 14; Higher Education in a Decade of Decision (1957), 130 ff.; President's Committee, Second Report (1957). 17 A.A.U.P. ВиП., vol. 42 (Spring, 1956), 10 f.

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68 percent of the purchasing power of the salaries of 193539.18 In recent years, however, the scale has risen to a better level at Pennsylvania as elsewhere—both through "across the board" and merit increases. Between 1954-55 and 195657, mean salaries for professors in the Arts College rose from $8,098 to $8,714; and the median in that College is now (195758) about $10,000. Average professional salaries in the Engineering Schools, during the same years, rose from $8,362 to $9,235; and the mean in these Schools has now reached $10,300. So it goes down the line of the various colleges. Average salaries of all professors at the University (excluding those in medical schools) rose from $8,403 in 1953-54, to $9,520 in 1956-57. Roughly similar increases were received by associate professors, whose salaries rose during the same period from $5,975 to $7,136; and by assistant professors, whose compensation went from $5,039 to $5,675. Relatively, the associate professors gained most (almost 20 percent), while the assistant professors received increases of about 14 percent and professors of about 13 percent.19 Deans at Pennsylvania are usually paid a modest bonus, which seems justified under the circumstances. Similar bonuses for higher administrative offices are merited for the same reasons. Whether substantially higher salaries for upper positions are desirable is another question. In university business posts, such salaries must presumably be paid to compete with business scales, and should academic administrators receive less than their business colleagues? But one thing should be noted. In so far as administration in itself is thought worthy of greater compensation than is scholar18 u. of P. Med. Bull., V, No. 2 (Mar., 1957), 14. See Tables I and II, end of chapter.

19

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ship as such, universities at large reflect a sense of values which seems out of place in the world of learning. Meantime, if faculty salaries are to be further increased on the scale recommended by several national bodies in 1957 (100 percent over the next five to ten years), the magnitude of the financial problem is apparent. Since the average salary of professors at Pennsylvania, for example, was $9,520 in 1956-57, the proposed schedule would call for the attainment—sometime between 1961 and 1966—of an average figure of about $19,000 in this bracket! Similar contrasts would appear in reference to the other ranks. Even if the ideal of 100 percent increases is not realized, moreover, the pressures on the University's total income will be substantial. Most members of academic staffs are not directly involved in fund raising, though they are naturally interested in prospects for increases in State or Federal aid, in corporation and alumni giving, and in the possibility that foundations may be weaned away from individual projects and persuaded to make lump awards to private institutions. But the faculties are directly concerned with two of the explanations noted for past delays in salary advances—in the possibility that their own structures and procedures are unnecessarily costly,20 and in the proportion of University income which is allocated to their maintenance. We do not have at hand specific data on the proportion of the University's income which, over the past decade or two, has been assigned to faculty salaries. But since other types of costs—construction, up-keep, administration, and so on— have mounted at Pennsylvania, it is quite possible that the University followed the national trend toward decreasing proportional expenditure for instruction. If so, the balance 2 0 This point will be discussed below, under Teaching and under Research.

198

should be restored. But even if other costs did not go up more than did the ratio of salary increases—let us say, 20 percent since 1953-54—(acuity salaries should be given priority in the interest of the institution s own future. A recognition of the need for this priority has been repeatedly expressed, during the last two or three years, by the President and by other administrators. In so far as they are able to follow through, the prospects are encouraging. But one should add that, in principle, specific faculty committees also should be consulted in planning salary increases—preferably an executive or personnel body on the college level, and a Senate committee for the University as a whole.21 Up to this point, faculty salaries at Pennsylvania have been viewed quite apart from those in other, particular institutions. But the scales maintained in comparable universities are of more immediate significance than are national averages. We have therefore compared mean, base salaries at Pennsylvania with the average of such salaries at three private universities in the Northeast from 1948-49 to 1956-57. Some salaries at Pennsylvania, as noted, have gone up further during 1957-58; but this is also true of the other threeColumbia, Cornell, and Yale.22 Hence the comparison down to 1957 offers a fair picture of the University's competitive position as it enters an era of mounting expenditures.23 The comparative figures are given in Table I, and a graphic presentation thereof in Charts I and II appended to this Chapter.24 The meaning of these data can be sum2 1 See, on this point, S. H. Sbchter, in the A.A.V.P. Butt., vol. 32 (1946), 7X8-724. The President recently appointed an ad hoc, joint committee of the Senate and of the Educational Council to advise him on such matters. 22 No "across the board" advances were made at Pennsylvania in Ю5758. 2 3 Data for the other universities were provided by their finance officers for the annual reports re "Faculty Salaries" in the A.A.U.P. Вий. 24 Medical schools are excluded.

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marized briefly. Between 1948-49 and 1956-57, average professorial salaries at "Penn" were consistently below the mean for the other universities. At three points of time the difference was more than 10 percent. At the end of the period (1956-57), for example, the figure for the University was $9,520 and that for the other three $10,781. The comparison for associate professors is similar though not so pronounced. The gap here in favor of the other three has narrowed from about 15 percent in 1948-49 to about 5 percent in 1956-57. The two lower ranks at Pennsylvania, however, have closed the gap. Salaries of assistant professors, although about 7 percent below the three-university average in 1948-49, were .2 percent above in 1956-57. And those of "Penn" instructors, having been 10 percent below the other average at the beginning of the period, were almost equal to it at the end. Spot checks on salaries for the current year (1957-58) with certain other private universities in the Northeast, also reveal the disadvantageous position of Pennsylvania. At the University of Pittsburgh, for example, the range of professors' base salaries runs from $8,750 to $18,000, and at New York University from $9,000 to $17,000; while at Pennsylvania it is only $7,000 to about $15,ООО.25 It is true that the announced minimum of $7,000 at Pennsylvania is misleading, since very few professors linger on the level between $7,000 and $8,000-only four out of more than sixty, for example, in the Arts College. One should have the median or at least the average, current salaries at these three universities in order to make a fully meaningful comparison. Yet, as far as it goes, the contrast in ranges is not favorable to Pennsylvania. 2 6 Excluding law and medical schools in each instance. Information provided by the finance offices of each university. See Table III.

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One can, of course, find respectable, private universities whose mean, base salaries are lower than those at Pennsylvania. This is true, for example, of American University, Catholic University, and George Washington University in the District of Columbia. But the competitive picture at "Penn" is that of a scale—for upper ranks—which is below that of Columbia26 and Yale, and at best on a par with Cornell, Pittsburgh, and New York University. We say nothing of Harvard, or of such high-salaried, state universities as Michigan, Indiana, and California. Intra-University Problems. The complete salary picture, one should add, can be seen only by looking more closely at situations obtaining within the University. Here, as in most institutions, scales vary moderately between different undergraduate colleges but are considerably higher in the schools of medicine and law. The latter disparity is usually justified by the assumption that faculty members could derive even larger incomes from private practice. And the assumption is doubtless true of medical clinicians and of many if not all professors of law. The situation is complex, however, in the case of the medical schools. In the first place, pre-clinical staffs may have no more opportunity for outside employment than do scientists in the Arts College. In the second place, relatively few clinicians at Pennsylvania serve on complete "full-time"; that is, most of them either have a regular private practice or operate on "geographical full-time" (private practice within the University Hospital). Even if paid little or no salary, their income is apt to be higher than that of the full-time staff. 26 The present minimum for professors at Columbia is $10,000, and associate professors may be paid up to that amount (1957-58).

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Hence average salaries in medical schools may have little meaning. In any case, such clinical professors as are on full-time may presumably—like professors of law—be paid relatively high salaries in order to hold them. There are, it is true, other fields in which outside opportunities beckon staff membersnatural sciences, social sciences, engineering, and so on. But usually, in these areas, income contrasts are not so great. The question may be raised, therefore, whether—with the possible exceptions of law and of clinical medicine—a common salary scale by ranks should be adopted throughout the University. Such scales have many advantages and they are being increasingly adopted at other institutions.27 They "iron out" invidious distinctions between colleges, prevent serious discrepancies within or between ranks, permit of increments within the range of a given rank,28 and enable staff members to know within limits where they stand. As an example, based on an awareness of the competitive situation rather than on any knowledge of actual resources, the writer would suggest for the immediate future such a scale as the following: Instructors $4,500 - $ 5,500 Asst. Profs. $5,500 - $ 6,500 Asso. Profs. $7,000 - $ 9,000 Professors $9,000 - $15,000 If one takes the Arts College as a measuring rod here 29 and assumes that the medians for each rank would fall at Higher Ed. for Amer. Democracy, IV, 55. We would not desire automatic increments as in the public schools, but rather merit increments which would average so much every year or two for all those within a given rank. 2 9 Its present salary average is close to the mode for those of the large, undergraduate colleges. 2T

28

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the mid-point in the range, the scale suggested would raise 1957-58 medians in that College by $500 for each of the ranks below professors. The two lowest ranks were, in 195657, paid as well as the average for Cornell-Columbia-Yale; but the latter doubtless have or will raise these scales; and in any case, some increase is indicated here on a living wage" basis. The modest increase for associate professors would be aimed at bringing this group up to the three-university level. The increments suggested above could average $200 a year within the ranges of the two lower ranks. Increments for associate professors would be less exact, since the time served in this rank is more elastic. On the face of it, the minimum suggested for professors is raised by $2,000, but this would actually amount to about $1,000 in all but a few cases. The usual maximum for this rank would be unchanged, but the median would rise by $2,000 (from the present $10,000, to $12,000). Such an increase for professors is indicated (1) by the fact that salaries on this level have not gone up proportionately in the past, and (2) by the competitive situation. Universities which aspire tofirst-ratestatus will soon be out of the running if they cannot offer professors a median reward of at least $12,000. In addition, provision should be made in exceptional cases for salaries running from $15,000 up to $20,000;10 but these would be so few in number that they could be viewed as off the scale. Reasonably high salaries for professors provide incentives for young men in the lower ranks. A long range for professorial salaries, moreover, will permit of adjustments to outside employment pressures. The schedule proposed, incidentally, provides for no 8 0 A few professors at certain universities now receive salaries above $20,000.

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overlapping of salaries between ranks; for example, no assistant professor is to receive more than any associate professor. Many of those who comment on this question, however, think that overlapping is desirable for the sake of flexibility.31 If so, the extent of overlapping can be indicated in the scales; for example, salaries of assistant professors may run from $5,500 to $7,000, those of associate professors from $6,500 to $9,500, and those of professors from $9,000 up. The University's competitive position, one must recall, is influenced by many factors besides base salaries—indeed, by all those which bear on morale. If a prospective appointee is offered the same base salary at Pennsylvania and at another university, for example, his decision may turn on the teaching loads which are expected in the two institutions, or on living arrangements, or the attractiveness of the location. Among such of these factors as are within the University's control, one of the most important is that of supplementary salaries. Supplementary Salaries. Like other universities in metropolitan areas, Pennsylvania maintains several programs for part-time students—usually through evening classes. The arrangement presumably meets community needs and has the merit of involving more continuous use of the plant. The same advantages may be claimed for the Summer School. Classes in the Summer School, and also in the evening programs, are taught largely by the local staff on a voluntary basis. Although the rate of pay for such classes is well below that for the regular courses (the former are expected to maintain themselves financially), the remuneration is just that much extra for the teacher. Hence the University may be able to tell a prospective appointee that his base salary will 3! See, e.g., H. G. Badger in the A.A.U.P. Butt., vol. 33 (1947), 443 ff.

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be, say, $6,000, but that he can easily add another $1,000 or so in this manner. The degree to which extra pay raises total faculty income may be judged by the extent of these arrangements. Chiefly involved are the staffs of three undergraduate units—the Arts College, the Wharton School, and the School of Education. But the Graduate School faculty is also in the picture (since much of its staff is drawn from the Arts College), as are also the Engineering Schools in lesser degree. In 1956-57, about 35 percent of the Arts professors received extra income from the University, which provided an increase of about 25 percent over base salaries for the total group. Corresponding figures for associate professors were about 43 and 31; for assistant professors, about 40 and 27; and for instructors, 33 and 23. The Wharton and Education faculties were more deeply involved. In the former, about 59 percent of professors, 82 percent of associate professors, 60 percent of assistant professors, and 50 percent of instructors taught extra classes; adding to the total income for their group, respectively, 32, 28, 36, and 31 percent. In the School of Education, 87 percent of professors, 66 percent of associate professors, and 100 percent of assistant professors taught extra classes; adding to the total income for their groups, respectively, 18,18, and 24 percent.82 The financial advantage of extra-teaching arrangements for individuals is obvious, though whether it is worth the cost in time and effort will be discussed later under "Teaching" and "Research." These arrangements improve the University's bargaining position when in competition with 8 2 It is assumed here that all extra income came from extra teaching—in evening classes, Summer School, etc. In a few cases, there may have been such other sources as special administrative work. See Table IV.

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institutions which serve few part-time students—for example, Cornell and Yale. But extra teaching provides no relative advantage when Pennsylvania competes with other metropolitan universities, such as Columbia or "N.Y.U.," which also offer extensive programs of this sort. In a word, the University's competitive position had best be defined in terms of base salaries rather than of total income. Extra payments are too variable, too unevenly distributed, and raise too many value problems to merit consideration in any long-run plan for salary advances. Pros and Cons of Secrecy. One last question about staff salaries may be raised in conclusion: How far should they be viewed as confidential in nature? The matter appears incidental but can, nevertheless, have serious implications. Traditionally, salaries are considered confidential at Pennsylvania except within narrow limits, and the majority of the staff interviewed favored the continuation of this policy. The common opinion was that publicity would be embarrassing, if not demoralizing. A few staff members maintained the opposite position, holding that publicity would throw light on extreme variations, occasional injustice, and the like. This view is expressed by H. J. Stafseth in his Report for the Survey, wherein he declares: 33 I see no reason for any secrecy about salaries, unless the University is ashamed of them or there are some gross inequalities that must be kept secret for the sake of the morale of the staff. . . . Surely, no sensible, educated person is going to cause any revolution because a deserving colleague receives a salary higher than his own. as Report on the School of Veterinary Medicine (1957), 53. 206

Those who oppose secrery in these matters can point to the fact that, in some state universities, all staff salaries are published or are at least made available upon inquiry. The writer, who once taught in such an institution, cannot recall that the arrangement led to any serious difficulties. It therefore may be argued that embarrassment would attend only a transition period, in case salaries—hitherto secret—were suddenly made accessible to all. Our own opinion, nevertheless, is that there is no need to publicize salaries at the University, if other arrangements suggested above are followed. As noted, we do not favor limiting knowledge of departmental salaries to chairmen and other administrators. But if these are known to a departmental executive committee, as well as to the college personnel committee, the danger of gross injustice is slight. If a University salary scale is adopted, moreover, everyone knows the general level of a man's salary by his rank. Why is it necessary to go beyond this? There are times when individuals should not be encouraged to compare income with certain colleagues in particular, or to think too much about personal rank and salary in general. Fringe Benefits. These benefits, which supplement salaries, have been so improved at Pennsylvania over the last decade that few specific suggestions need be made concerning them. Croup-life insurance protection has become more substantial, and the University has raised its contribution to T.I.A.A. annuity premiums from 5 to 7.5 percent. It pays, moreover, on the full salary. Group-life insurance is now compulsory for all newly-appointed staff, but annuities are still a voluntary matter. We are inclined to think that these also should be made compulsory, above the level of the instructorship, if the Senate can be persuaded to approve such action. 207

Other types of insurance are under consideration, notably, so-called "major medical" (health) insurance. T.I.A.A. and other companies offer this,34 and the University's Personnel Committee favors adopting it—with premiums for the staff member paid by the University, but for dependents by the teacher himself. Certainly, this would be highly desirable. Disability income insurance is also under scrutiny. Temporary illness is taken care of within a department, and sick leave now may be granted—but not indefinitely—after one semester. In individual cases of need, administrators may later place a man on an indefinite pension. Such paternalism is admirable in its way, but seems less desirable than would be disability insurance protection to which a man was entitled. In relation to ordinary medical care, faculty members may go to University clinics but receive no special attention; and the Student Health Service gives only emergency aid. But needs in this area would be met, more or less, if health insurance were provided. Faculty children are well looked after, in that they receive free tuition; and the University also participates in the national Tuition Exchange Program which includes 190 institutions. In some universities, staff members secure substantial discounts by buying consumer's goods through the purchasing departments. Such an arrangement can be made at Pennsylvania but most faculty personnel are unaware of it. The procedure would be very helpful to individuals, and can be recommended if it does not entail too many difficulties for the purchasing office. Discounts of 20 percent are allowed 3 4 See, e.g., the T.I.A.A. booklet on Croup Insurance for Major Medical Expenses, 1956.

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the faculty at the Houston Club store, and the latter's supplies might be increased to faculty advantage.88 All in all, the fringe-benefits program at Pennsylvania is now a commendable one and promises to be more so in the near future. It is calculated to make for good morale, and this was the opinion of most faculty members who were interviewed.36 3 5 Fringe benefits in the form of faculty housing are probably not feasible in the University's location. Pertinent, however, are proposals mentioned earlier for faculty apartments, parking lots, etc. So, also, is the Faculty Club, to the extent that it may be subsidized by the University. 3 8 The question sometimes arises, whether a faculty would prefer to have a university increase its contributions to annuity premiums in lieu of corresponding salary advances. Such an increase would not raise a professor's income tax until he received annuity payments. But we suspect most men would prefer the salary increase.

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TABLE

I

Comparison of Weighted Mean Salaries at Pennsylvania with Weighted Mean Salaries of Three Large Universities (Columbia, Cornell, Yale) Medical and Dental Schools Excluded Year and University 1948-49 Pennsylvania Three Large

Professors

Associate Professors

Assistant Professors

Instructors

7,021

5,195

4,233

2,822

Universities

8,656

6,309

4,533

3,195

1953-54 Pennsylvania Three Large Universities

8,403

5,975

5,038

3,504

9,786

7,010

5,178

3,824

9,237

6,971

5,498

4,186

10,071

7,268

5,394

4,047

9,520

7,136

5,675

4,458

10,781

7,564

5,662

4,478

1955-56 Pennsylvania Three Large Universities 1956-57 Pennsylvania Three Large Universities

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