The next generation of online education could be great for students—and catastrophic for universities.
下一代在線教育是學(xué)生的福音——也是大學(xué)的災(zāi)難。
Like millions of other Americans, Barbara Solvig lost her job this year. A fifty-year-old mother of three, Solvig had taken college courses at Northeastern Illinois University years ago, but never earned a degree. Ever since, she had been forced to settle for less money than coworkers with similar jobs who had bachelor’s degrees. So when she was laid off from a human resources position at a Chicago-area hospital in January, she knew the time had come to finally get her own credential. Doing that wasn’t going to be easy, because four-year degrees typically require two luxuries Solvig didn’t have: years of time out of the workforce, and a great deal of money.
和成千上萬(wàn)的其他美國(guó)人一樣，Barbara Solvig去年丟了工作。50歲的她是三個(gè)孩子的母親，多年前，她在東北伊利諾伊州大學(xué)讀書，不過未能拿到文憑。此后，和有本科文憑的同事相比，她的工資總要低一些。所以，一月份她被芝加哥一家醫(yī)院的人力資源部門被辭退時(shí)，她知道自己該獲得一張本科文憑了。這么做可不容易，因?yàn)樗哪晡膽{要求Solvig生活缺乏的兩大奢侈品：離開勞動(dòng)大軍數(shù)年，還有一大筆錢。
Luckily for Solvig, there were new options available. She went online looking for something that fit her wallet and her time horizon, and an ad caught her eye: a company called StraighterLine was offering online courses in subjects like accounting, statistics, and math. This was hardly unusual—hundreds of institutions are online hawking degrees. But one thing about StraighterLine stood out: it offered as many courses as she wanted for a flat rate of $99 a month. “It sounds like a scam,” Solvig thought—she’d run into a lot of shady companies and hard-sell tactics on the Internet. But for $99, why not take a risk?
幸運(yùn)的是，現(xiàn)在有了新選擇。她上網(wǎng)搜索了適合她錢包和時(shí)間的東西，然后有一則廣告引起了她的注意：一家名為StraighterLine的公司在提供會(huì)計(jì)學(xué)、統(tǒng)計(jì)學(xué)、數(shù)學(xué)等在線課程。這其實(shí)并無(wú)非同尋常之處——成百上千的機(jī)構(gòu)在網(wǎng)上兜售學(xué)歷。不過讓StraighterLine脫穎而出的是她需要的那么多課程，公司每月只收取99元?！昂?jiǎn)直像騙局”，Solvig這樣想——她在網(wǎng)上遇到的騙子公司和硬性推銷戰(zhàn)術(shù)太多了。不過區(qū)區(qū)99元，為什么不冒個(gè)險(xiǎn)？
Solvig threw herself into the work, studying up to eighteen hours a day. And contrary to expectations, the courses turned out to be just what she was looking for. Every morning she would sit down at her kitchen table and log on to a Web site where she could access course materials, read text, watch videos, listen to podcasts, work through problem sets, and take exams. Online study groups were available where she could collaborate with other students via listserv and instant messaging. StraighterLine courses were designed and overseen by professors with PhDs, and she was assigned a course adviser who was available by e-mail. And if Solvig got stuck and needed help, real live tutors were available at any time, day or night, just a mouse click away.
Solvig全心投入到學(xué)習(xí)中，每天學(xué)習(xí)18個(gè)小時(shí)。出乎她的意料，這些課程正是她要找的。每天早上她坐在餐桌旁，登陸網(wǎng)站，接觸課程資料，讀課文，看視頻，聽播客，完成練習(xí)，然后參加考試。也有在線學(xué)習(xí)群，她可以通過郵件列表和即時(shí)通信與其他學(xué)生協(xié)作。StraighterLine的課程由具有博士學(xué)位的教授研發(fā)監(jiān)督，還給她委派了一名顧問，可以通過電子郵件聯(lián)系。如果Solvig停滯不前，需要幫助，真實(shí)的老師隨時(shí)都在，不論白天黑夜，只要一點(diǎn)鼠標(biāo)即可。
Crucially for Solvig—who needed to get back into the workforce as soon as possible—StraighterLine let students move through courses as quickly or slowly as they chose. Once a course was finished, Solvig could move on to the next one, without paying more. In less than two months, she had finished four complete courses, for less than $200 total. The same courses would have cost her over $2,700 at Northeastern Illinois, $4,200 at Kaplan University, $6,300 at the University of Phoenix, and roughly the gross domestic product of a small Central American nation at an elite private university. They also would have taken two or three times as long to complete.
對(duì)于Solvig——她需要盡快回到勞動(dòng)大軍中——很關(guān)鍵的是，StraighterLine讓學(xué)生按照自己的進(jìn)度快慢學(xué)習(xí)課程。一旦一門課結(jié)束了，Solvig可以繼續(xù)下一門，而無(wú)需多支付費(fèi)用。在不到2個(gè)月的時(shí)間里，她已經(jīng)完成了整整4門課，總額還不到200元。如果在東北伊利諾伊州大學(xué)，同樣的課程要花她2700元以上，在卡普蘭大學(xué)則為4200，鳳凰城大學(xué)為6300， 而在私立名校，則大概相當(dāng)于中美小國(guó)的國(guó)內(nèi)總產(chǎn)值了，而且這些學(xué)?；ǖ臅r(shí)間要長(zhǎng)2-3倍。
And if Solvig needed any further proof that her online education was the real deal, she found it when her daughter came home from a local community college one day, complaining about her math course. When Solvig looked at the course materials, she realized that her daughter was using exactly the same learning modules that she was using at StraighterLine, both developed by textbook giant McGraw-Hill. The only difference was that her daughter was paying a lot more for them, and could only take them on the college’s schedule. And while she had a professor, he wasn’t doing much teaching. “He just stands there,” Solvig’s daughter said, while students worked through modules on their own.
如果Solvig需要任何證明表明在線教育貨真價(jià)實(shí)的東西，某天她女兒從當(dāng)?shù)厣鐓^(qū)大學(xué)回來(lái)抱怨數(shù)學(xué)課時(shí)，她找到了這種證據(jù)。當(dāng)Solvig看了看教材，意識(shí)到女兒用的教材和她在StraighterLine用的完全一樣，都由教科書巨擘McGraw-Hill編寫。唯一的區(qū)別是，她女兒花的錢比她多得多，而且只能按照學(xué)校的課表進(jìn)行。雖然有個(gè)教授，也不怎么教?hào)|西。“他就往那一站，”Solvig的女兒說(shuō)，而學(xué)生們都自學(xué)。
StraighterLine is the brainchild of a man named Burck Smith, an Internet entrepreneur bent on altering the DNA of higher education as we have known it for the better part of 500 years. Rather than students being tethered to ivy-covered quads or an anonymous commuter campus, Smith envisions a world where they can seamlessly assemble credits and degrees from multiple online providers, each specializing in certain subjects and—most importantly—fiercely competing on price. Smith himself may be the person who revolutionizes the university, or he may not be. But someone with the means and vision to fundamentally reorder the way students experience and pay for higher education is bound to emerge.
StraighterLine是伯克·史密斯的創(chuàng)意，他是一位互聯(lián)網(wǎng)企業(yè)家，執(zhí)意要對(duì)已有500多年歷史的高等教育DNA進(jìn)行改革。史密斯希望看到學(xué)生們能夠無(wú)縫結(jié)合從眾多在線提供商處得到的學(xué)分和學(xué)位，每位提供商都專攻某些課題——最重要的——價(jià)格競(jìng)爭(zhēng)激烈，而非囿于象牙塔內(nèi)或面對(duì)無(wú)名的校園，史密斯本人可能是改革大學(xué)的人物，也可能不是，但有辦法有遠(yuǎn)景徹底改變學(xué)生體驗(yàn)高等教育并為之買單方式的人勢(shì)必要出現(xiàn)。
In recent years, Americans have grown accustomed to living amid the smoking wreckage of various once-proud industries—automakers bankrupt, brand-name Wall Street banks in ruins, newspapers dying by the dozen. It’s tempting in such circumstances to take comfort in the seeming permanency of our colleges and universities, in the notion that our world-beating higher education system will reliably produce research and knowledge workers for decades to come. But this is an illusion. Colleges are caught in the same kind of debt-fueled price spiral that just blew up the real estate market. They’re also in the information business in a time when technology is driving down the cost of selling information to record, destabilizing lows.
近些年，美國(guó)人已經(jīng)習(xí)慣了生活在曾經(jīng)輝煌的各種工業(yè)的烏煙瘴氣殘骸之中——汽車制造業(yè)破產(chǎn)、華爾街的品牌銀行倒閉，報(bào)業(yè)垂死掙扎。在這種環(huán)境下，我們很有沖動(dòng)從學(xué)院和大學(xué)的永久性中找安慰，認(rèn)為我們舉世無(wú)比的高等教育體系肯定會(huì)培養(yǎng)未來(lái)幾十年的研究和知識(shí)工人，但這只是幻象。在信息產(chǎn)業(yè)中也有那樣的一個(gè)時(shí)期，技術(shù)讓銷售信息的成本之低，跌破了記錄，甚至不穩(wěn)定。
In combination, these two trends threaten to shake the foundation of the modern university, in much the same way that other seemingly impregnable institutions have been torn apart. In some ways, the upheaval will be a welcome one. Students will benefit enormously from radically lower prices—particularly people like Solvig who lack disposable income and need higher learning to compete in an ever-more treacherous economy. But these huge changes will also seriously threaten the ability of universities to provide all the things beyond teaching on which society depends: science, culture, the transmission of our civilization from one generation to the next.
這兩種趨勢(shì)結(jié)合起來(lái)動(dòng)搖了當(dāng)代大學(xué)的基礎(chǔ)，和其他貌似堅(jiān)不可摧的機(jī)構(gòu)被四分五裂的方式大同小異。在有些方面，巨變倍受歡迎。學(xué)生們將從極其低廉的價(jià)格中大受裨益——尤其是像Solvig這樣缺乏可隨意支配的收入又亟需高等學(xué)歷在日益惡劣的經(jīng)濟(jì)環(huán)境中競(jìng)爭(zhēng)的人。不過，這些巨變也嚴(yán)重地威脅著大學(xué)提供教學(xué)以外的能力，而這種能力正是社會(huì)所依靠的：科學(xué)、文化、代與代之間的文化傳承。
Whether this transformation is a good or a bad thing is something of a moot point—it’s coming, and sooner than you think.
這種轉(zhuǎn)變是好還是不好，毫無(wú)意義——事情正在發(fā)生，而且比你想象的要快。
I met Burck Smith in his office on L Street in downtown Washington, D.C., in the spring of 2008. Thirty-nine years old, with degrees from Williams and Harvard, Smith looks remarkably like what you’d expect an Ivy League alum named “Burck Smith” to look like: Michael-Lewis-minus-ten-years handsome, open-collar shirts and sport coats, the relaxed confidence of privilege. He talked like someone who’d seen the future and was determined to be there when it arrived.
2008年春天，我在華盛頓特區(qū)的L街伯克·史密斯的辦公室同他會(huì)面。39歲，擁有威廉姆斯和哈佛的學(xué)位，史密斯屬于典型的常春藤校友：同邁克爾·劉易斯一樣英俊，但要年輕10歲，襯衫敞開衣領(lǐng)，運(yùn)動(dòng)裝，帶著因?yàn)閮?yōu)越而放松的自信。他談話時(shí)彷佛看到未來(lái)一樣，而且注定了與未來(lái)共進(jìn)退。
Smith was full of optimism about StraighterLine, which he planned to debut in September of that year. It would be the realization of an idea he’d been dreaming about since he was a graduate student at Harvard’s John F. Kennedy School of Government in the late 1990s. In 1999, after finishing his master’s degree, Smith wrote a “l(fā)ooking back from the future” article, set in a hypothetical 2015. By that time, the higher education landscape would look “dramatically different than it did at the turn of the millennium,” he predicted.
史密斯對(duì)StraighterLine完全充滿樂觀，他計(jì)劃當(dāng)年九月推出該項(xiàng)目。這實(shí)現(xiàn)了他自上個(gè)世界90年代末期在哈佛約翰肯尼迪政府學(xué)院讀研時(shí)就一直存在的夢(mèng)想。1999年，在拿到碩士學(xué)位之后，史密斯寫了篇名為“從未來(lái)回顧”的文章，背景是假想中的2015年。到那時(shí)，他預(yù)測(cè)，高等教育前景將與“千禧年伊始的教育千差萬(wàn)別”。
Technological change was the spark that ignited the wildfire of change. Like a hole in a dike, cheap and instantaneous Internet-based content delivery and communication nibbled away at barriers to institutional competition… . Suddenly, a student seeking an introductory statistics course could choose from hundreds of online courses from anywhere in the world… . Feeling the effects of low-cost competition, site-based education providers started cutting course costs and prices to attract students.
技術(shù)變化是點(diǎn)燃變化的火種。千里之壩，潰于蟻穴，廉價(jià)即時(shí)的互聯(lián)網(wǎng)內(nèi)容提供及通訊蠶食著機(jī)制性競(jìng)爭(zhēng)的障礙…突然之間，想找統(tǒng)計(jì)學(xué)入門課程的學(xué)生可以從世界各地成百上千的在線課程中選擇…感受到了低成本競(jìng)爭(zhēng)的影響，校園教育開始消減課程成本和價(jià)格以吸引學(xué)生。
That same year, Smith took the first steps toward achieving this vision, launching an Internet startup company called Smarthinking, which he cofounded with Christopher Gergen, the son of well-known Washington insider David Gergen. Smarthinking provided on-demand, one-on-one tutoring in a range of introductory college courses, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The tutors, people with bachelor’s and master’s degrees in their fields, communicated with students via computer, using an onscreen, interactive “whiteboard.” Math students typed in questions, graphed equations, and interacted with their tutors in real time from their own PCs. Writing tutors gave feedback on essays within twenty-four hours.
同年，史密斯邁出了達(dá)到此目標(biāo)的第一步，推出了名為Smarthinking的互聯(lián)網(wǎng)創(chuàng)業(yè)公司，這是他與華盛頓知名業(yè)內(nèi)人士David Gergen的兒子Christopher Gergen合建的。Smarthinking根據(jù)客戶要求，就很多大學(xué)入門課程提供一對(duì)一的輔導(dǎo)，一天24小時(shí)，一周7天。導(dǎo)師們都有各自領(lǐng)域的學(xué)士和碩士學(xué)位，他們通過計(jì)算機(jī)用視頻互動(dòng)“白板”和學(xué)生溝通。數(shù)學(xué)學(xué)生在自己的電腦上提問、寫方程式，與導(dǎo)師實(shí)時(shí)互動(dòng)。寫作課老師會(huì)在24小時(shí)內(nèi)就學(xué)生的作文給出反饋。
Smarthinking survived the dot-com crash because, unlike most of their entrepreneurial peers, Smith and Gergen had actually come up with a working business model. Their clients were colleges and universities which, looking to cut costs, outsourced tutoring in the same way companies farm out IT work, back-office support, and customer service to call centers overseas. Smith and Gergen knew that tutoring could take advantage of the same powerful economies of scale that made call centers profitable. It would be cost prohibitive for a single college to provide on-demand 24/7 tutoring for a few sections of, say, organic chemistry—the college would have to hire teams of full-time workers to work in eight-hour shifts, and much of their time would be idle. Smarthinking pooled the demand from hundreds of colleges and tens of thousands of students while hiring credentialed tutors in places like India and the Philippines. As long as “on demand” was defined as a high likelihood of being served within a few minutes, economies of scale and cheap foreign labor could be combined to drive per-student service costs to unheard-of lows.
Smarthinking頂住了網(wǎng)絡(luò)公司泡沫的沖擊，依然存在，不像大多數(shù)企業(yè)同儕，史密斯和Gergen已有了運(yùn)作成功的商業(yè)模式。他們的客戶是學(xué)院和大學(xué)，都在力爭(zhēng)削減成本，跟公司外包IT工作、辦公室后勤支援、將客戶服務(wù)外包給海外呼叫中心一樣，他們也在外包教學(xué)。史密斯和Gergen知道教學(xué)可以利用使呼叫中心盈利的強(qiáng)大有力的規(guī)模經(jīng)濟(jì)。讓一所大學(xué)按學(xué)生要求在少數(shù)幾個(gè)領(lǐng)域比如有機(jī)化學(xué)提供24/7輔導(dǎo)成本上不允許——大學(xué)必須雇傭全職教師隊(duì)伍8小時(shí)輪班，而大部分時(shí)間他們都無(wú)事可做。Smarthinking將幾百所大學(xué)成千上萬(wàn)學(xué)生的需求匯集在一起，然后雇傭印度和菲律賓等地有資格認(rèn)證的導(dǎo)師。只要“按需”可以定義為在幾分鐘之內(nèi)就能得到服務(wù)，規(guī)模經(jīng)濟(jì)和廉價(jià)的外國(guó)勞力就可以聯(lián)手將學(xué)生人均成本減到前所未有之低。
As a result, colleges could buy multihour blocks of 24/7 tutoring in subjects like biology and calculus from Smarthinking for much less than it would have cost them to provide that service on their own. By 2008, the company had 386 clients, ranging from big research universities to community colleges and the U.S. Army. Major publishers like Pearson and Houghton Mifflin packaged hours of Smarthinking tutoring with college textbooks and instructional software.
因此，大學(xué)可以從Smarthinking購(gòu)買生物學(xué)微積分等學(xué)科24/7多時(shí)段模塊教學(xué)，費(fèi)用比他們自己提供此類服務(wù)要低得多。截止2008年，公司已擁有386名客戶，從大型研究型大學(xué)到社區(qū)學(xué)院到美國(guó)軍隊(duì)。大型出版商如Pearson和Houghton Mifflin將Smarthinking的課程和大學(xué)課本及教學(xué)軟件打包。
But Smarthinking still fell short of Smith’s ambitions. He had built a particularly efficient cog in the mammoth, long-established higher education machine—but he hadn’t yet transformed it.
但Smarthinking仍未能滿足史密斯的抱負(fù)。在歷史悠久的高等教育的龐大機(jī)器上，他打造了格外有效的齒輪——但還未能改造這臺(tái)機(jī)器。
To be sure, much had changed in higher education. Technology had indeed altered how people went to college—that much Smith had gotten right back in 1999. Broadband access had become ubiquitous, and textbook companies had converted their standard introductory course content into inexpensive, Web-friendly form. While college students in 1999 were still making the transition to a Web-dominated world, 2008’s undergraduates had never known anything else. Both traditional colleges and for-profit companies like Kaplan and the University of Phoenix were diving headfirst into the online market, and students—especially people with day jobs like Barbara Solvig—were signing up in record numbers. Over four million college students—one-fifth of the total nationwide—took at least one online course last year.
誠(chéng)然，高等教育發(fā)生了翻天覆地的變化。技術(shù)其實(shí)已經(jīng)改變了人們讀大學(xué)的方式——跟史密斯1999年的預(yù)想差不多。寬帶接入無(wú)處不在，教科書公司已經(jīng)將他們的標(biāo)準(zhǔn)入門課程內(nèi)容轉(zhuǎn)換成便宜的網(wǎng)絡(luò)友好格式。1999年的大學(xué)生還在努力過渡到網(wǎng)絡(luò)主導(dǎo)的世界，2008年的大學(xué)生除了網(wǎng)絡(luò)，一無(wú)所知。傳統(tǒng)大學(xué)和贏利公司如卡普蘭和鳳凰城大學(xué)都勇往直前沖向在線市場(chǎng)，而學(xué)生們——尤其是像Barbara Solvig這樣白天還要上班的人——都在報(bào)名，數(shù)量打破了記錄。去年，超過400萬(wàn)名大學(xué)生——全國(guó)的1/5——至少參加了一門在線課程。
But the other shoe had yet to drop. Even as the cost of educating students fell, tuition rose at nearly three times the rate of inflation. Web-based courses weren’t providing the promised price competition—in fact, many traditional universities were charging extra for online classes, tacking a “technology fee” onto their standard (and rising) rates. Rather than trying to overturn the status quo, big, publicly traded companies like Phoenix were profiting from it by cutting costs, charging rates similar to those at traditional universities, and pocketing the difference.
不過另一只鞋子還有待落下。雖然教育學(xué)生的成本下跌了，學(xué)費(fèi)增長(zhǎng)卻幾乎是通脹率的3倍。以網(wǎng)絡(luò)為基礎(chǔ)的課程沒有提供承諾的價(jià)格競(jìng)爭(zhēng)——事實(shí)上，許多傳統(tǒng)大學(xué)對(duì)在線課程額外收費(fèi)，在他們的標(biāo)準(zhǔn)（而且日益高漲的）費(fèi)用上又增加了“技術(shù)費(fèi)”。公開交易的大型公司如鳳凰城大學(xué)并沒有試圖推翻現(xiàn)狀，而是通過消減成本，收取與傳統(tǒng)大學(xué)相當(dāng)?shù)馁M(fèi)用，將差額裝入口袋。
This, Smith explained, was where StraighterLine came in. The cost of storing and communicating information over the Internet had fallen to almost nothing. Electronic course content in standard introductory classes had become a low-cost commodity. The only expensive thing left in higher education was the labor, the price of hiring a smart, knowledgeable person to help students when only a person would do. And the unique Smarthinking call- center model made that much cheaper, too. By putting these things together, Smith could offer introductory college courses à la carte, at a price that seemed to be missing a digit or two, or three: $99 per month, by subscription. Economics tells us that prices fall to marginal cost in the long run. Burck Smith simply decided to get there first.
史密斯解釋說(shuō)，這就是StraighterLine進(jìn)入的地方。在互聯(lián)網(wǎng)上存儲(chǔ)和溝通信息的成本幾乎已降為零。標(biāo)準(zhǔn)入門課程的電子課程內(nèi)容已成了低成本商品。高等教育中唯一昂貴的東西就是勞力，即只有人才可以的時(shí)候雇傭聰明博學(xué)的人來(lái)幫助學(xué)生的價(jià)格。而獨(dú)一無(wú)二的Smarthinking的呼救中心模型也使這變得更便宜。通過把這些東西放在一起，史密斯可以按照學(xué)生要求提供大學(xué)入門課程，而訂購(gòu)價(jià)格可以少一位、兩位甚至三位數(shù)：99美元/月。經(jīng)濟(jì)學(xué)告訴我們?cè)陂L(zhǎng)期中，價(jià)格降至邊際成本。伯克·史密斯就想第一個(gè)到達(dá)。
To anyone who has watched the recent transformation of other information-based industries, the implications of all this are glaringly clear. Colleges charge students exorbitant sums partly because they can, but partly because they have to. Traditional universities are complex and expensive, providing a range of services from scientific research and graduate training to mass entertainment via loosely affiliated professional sports franchises. To fund these things, universities tap numerous streams of revenue: tuition, government funding, research grants, alumni and charitable donations. But the biggest cash cow is lower-division undergraduate education. Because introductory courses are cheap to offer, they’re enormously profitable. The math is simple: Add standard tuition rates and any government subsidies, and multiply that by several hundred freshmen in a big lecture hall. Subtract the cost of paying a beleaguered adjunct lecturer or graduate student to teach the course. There’s a lot left over. That money is used to subsidize everything else.
對(duì)于任何目睹其他以信息為基礎(chǔ)的產(chǎn)業(yè)最近變化的人，這些含意可謂一目了然。大學(xué)向?qū)W生征收天價(jià)學(xué)費(fèi)，一部分原因是他們可以這么做，部分原因也是因?yàn)樗麄儾坏靡?。傳統(tǒng)大學(xué)龐雜而昂貴，提供的服務(wù)從科學(xué)研究到研究生培養(yǎng)，到通過松散附屬的職業(yè)運(yùn)動(dòng)特許提供大眾娛樂。為了資助這些活動(dòng)，大學(xué)想盡辦法開源節(jié)流：學(xué)費(fèi)、政府資助、研究撥款、校友和慈善捐款。但是最大的搖錢樹卻是層次較低的本科生教育。因?yàn)樘峁┤腴T課程很便宜，利潤(rùn)相當(dāng)大。這個(gè)算術(shù)題很簡(jiǎn)單：把標(biāo)準(zhǔn)學(xué)費(fèi)和任何政府補(bǔ)貼相加，然后和演講廳里的大一新生人數(shù)相乘，減去助理講師或研究生的上課費(fèi)用，剩下不少錢。這個(gè)錢就用于補(bǔ)貼其他東西。
But this arrangement, however beneficial to society as a whole, is not a particularly good deal for the freshman gutting through an excruciating fifty minutes in the back of a lecture hall. Given the choice between paying many thousands of dollars to a traditional university for the lecture and paying a few hundred to a company like StraighterLine for a service that is more convenient and responsive to their needs, a lot of students are likely to opt for the latter—and the university will have thousands of dollars less to pay for libraries, basketball teams, classical Chinese poetry experts, and everything else.
但這種安排，不論對(duì)社會(huì)整體多么有益，對(duì)于要在演講廳后面經(jīng)歷痛苦的50分鐘的大一新生而言，并非好事。在向傳統(tǒng)大學(xué)支付幾千元和向StraighterLine等公司支付區(qū)區(qū)數(shù)百元就得到更便捷更針對(duì)他們需求的服務(wù)之間，大多數(shù)學(xué)生都愿意選擇后者——大學(xué)少了成千上萬(wàn)的錢用于圖書館、棒球隊(duì)、中國(guó)古詩(shī)詞專家等等。
What happens when the number of students making that choice reaches a critical mass? Consider the fate of the newspaper industry over the last five years. Like universities, newspapers relied on financial cross-subsidization to stay afloat, using fat profits from local advertising and classifieds to prop up money-losing news bureaus. This worked perfectly well until two things happened: the Internet made opinion and news content from around the world available for nothing, and the free online classified clearinghouse Craigslist obliterated newspapers’ bedrock revenue source, the want ads. Suddenly, people didn’t need to buy a newspaper to read news, and the papers’ ability to subsidize expensive reporting with ad revenue was crippled. The result: plummeting newspaper profits leading to a tidal wave of layoffs and bankruptcies, and the shuttering of bureaus in Washington and abroad.
如果如此選擇的學(xué)生變成了大多數(shù)，會(huì)怎樣？想想過去5年里報(bào)界的命運(yùn)。和大學(xué)一樣，報(bào)紙仰賴財(cái)政交叉補(bǔ)貼才得以經(jīng)營(yíng)，用當(dāng)?shù)貜V告和分類廣告的豐厚收入來(lái)彌補(bǔ)虧損的新聞部門。這一切都運(yùn)作完美，直至兩件事情發(fā)生：互聯(lián)網(wǎng)讓人們可以免費(fèi)得到世界各地的觀點(diǎn)和新聞內(nèi)容，而免費(fèi)的在線分類信息交換Craigslist使得報(bào)紙的暴利來(lái)源招聘廣告不復(fù)存在。突然之間，人們不需要買報(bào)紙看新聞了，而且報(bào)紙用廣告收入補(bǔ)貼昂貴的新聞報(bào)道的能力也大打折扣了。結(jié)果：報(bào)紙一落千丈的利潤(rùn)導(dǎo)致潮水般的裁員和破產(chǎn)，華盛頓和海外大批辦公室紛紛關(guān)門大吉。
Like Craigslist, StraighterLine threatens the most profitable piece of a conglomerate business: freshman lectures, higher education’s equivalent of the classified section. If enough students defect to companies like StraighterLine, the higher education industry faces the unbundling of the business model on which the current system is built. The consequences will be profound. Ivy League and other elite institutions will be relatively unaffected, because they’re selling a product that’s always scarce and never cheap: prestige. Small liberal arts colleges will also endure, because the traditional model—teachers and students learning together in a four-year idyll—is still the best, and some people will always be willing and able to pay for it.
像Craigslist一樣，StraighterLine威脅了一個(gè)大型產(chǎn)業(yè)利潤(rùn)最豐厚的部分：大學(xué)新生課程，類似于高校中的分類廣告。如果有足夠的學(xué)生轉(zhuǎn)向StraighterLine這樣的公司，高等教育面臨當(dāng)前體系建構(gòu)之上的商業(yè)模式的解體。其后果將會(huì)極其深遠(yuǎn)。常春藤和其他名校相對(duì)不會(huì)受影響，因?yàn)樗麄兂鍪鄣氖窍∪倍嘿F的產(chǎn)品：聲望。小的自由藝術(shù)學(xué)院也會(huì)持續(xù)，因?yàn)閭鹘y(tǒng)模式——在四年田園牧歌式的生活中師生一起學(xué)習(xí)——仍然是最佳選擇，總有人情愿也能夠?yàn)榇速I單。
But that terrifically expensive model is not what most of today’s college students are getting. Instead, they tend to enroll in relatively anonymous two- or four-year public institutions and major in a job-oriented field like business, teaching, nursing, or engineering. They all take the same introductory courses: statistics, accounting, Econ 101. Teaching in those courses is often poor—adjunct-staffed lecture halls can be educational dead zones—but until recently students didn’t have any other choice. Regional public universities and nonelite private colleges are most at risk from the likes of StraighterLine. They could go the way of the local newspaper, fatally shackled to geography, conglomeration, and an expensive labor structure, too dependent on revenues that vanish and never return.
但是那個(gè)超級(jí)昂貴的模型并非當(dāng)今大多數(shù)大學(xué)生所得到的。其實(shí)，他們更傾向于在相對(duì)籍籍無(wú)名的2年或4年制公立學(xué)校報(bào)名，然后找份跟工作有關(guān)的專業(yè)，比如商業(yè)、教育、護(hù)理或工程。他們上的入門課都一樣：統(tǒng)計(jì)學(xué)，會(huì)計(jì)，經(jīng)濟(jì)101。教授這些課程通常條件都很差——助理講師上課的演講廳可謂教育死角——可在此之前，學(xué)生別無(wú)選擇。地區(qū)公立大學(xué)和普通私立大學(xué)面臨StraighterLine等公司的挑戰(zhàn)最大。它們可能走上當(dāng)?shù)貓?bào)紙之路，受到地理、集團(tuán)以及昂貴的勞工結(jié)構(gòu)的致命束縛，過度依賴一去不復(fù)返的利潤(rùn)。
By itself, the loss of profitable freshman courses would be devastating. And in the long run, Web-based higher education may not stop there. Companies like StraighterLine have the hallmarks of what Harvard Business School Professor Clayton Christensen and entrepreneur Michael Horn describe as “disruptive innovation.” Such services tend to start small and cheap, targeting a sector of the market that established players don’t care much about—like tutoring in introductory courses. “This allows them to take root in simple undemanding applications,” Christensen and Horn write. “Little by little, the disruption predictably improves… And at some point, disruptive innovations become good enough to handle more complicated problems and take over, and the once-leading companies with old-line products go out of business.”
失去盈利的大一課程，后果不堪設(shè)想。在長(zhǎng)期中，網(wǎng)絡(luò)高等教育不可能停滯不前。像StraighterLine這樣的公司具有哈佛商學(xué)院教授Clayton Christensen和企業(yè)家Michael Horn所說(shuō)的“破壞性創(chuàng)新”的特點(diǎn)。這些服務(wù)起步都是小規(guī)模經(jīng)營(yíng)，價(jià)格低廉，目標(biāo)是成熟玩家不在乎的市場(chǎng)領(lǐng)域——比如入門課程輔導(dǎo)?！斑@讓他們植根于簡(jiǎn)單應(yīng)用，”Christensen和Horn寫到?！翱梢灶A(yù)言，這種毀滅會(huì)一點(diǎn)點(diǎn)地改善…..在某個(gè)時(shí)點(diǎn)，毀滅性創(chuàng)新會(huì)完善，足以應(yīng)對(duì)復(fù)雜問題，并且占領(lǐng)市場(chǎng)，而只提供過氣產(chǎn)品一度領(lǐng)軍的公司則會(huì)失去生意?！?/p>
The pattern has played out in industries ranging from transistors to compact cars. When Japanese companies like Honda first began selling small, fuel-efficient cars in America, the vehicles were markedly inferior to the chrome- festooned behemoths rolling off the assembly lines of invincible Detroit giants like Ford and General Motors. But they were also inexpensive—and, when gas prices skyrocketed in the 1970s, suddenly more attractive as well. Japanese cars gradually improved while American companies lapsed into complacency, and the rest is history.
在各個(gè)產(chǎn)業(yè)，從晶體管到小型車，這種模型都在上演，范圍很廣。當(dāng)本田等日本公司開始在美國(guó)銷售小型燃油節(jié)約型汽車時(shí)，這些車與底特律無(wú)敵巨人福特和通用汽車生產(chǎn)線上下來(lái)的合金大型車相比，處于絕對(duì)劣勢(shì)?？墒牵鼈兡敲幢阋恕?dāng)1970年代汽油價(jià)格飆升時(shí)，突然之間就變得炙手可熱了。日系車逐漸改善，而美國(guó)車卻沉浸在自滿中，從而成為了歷史。
Econ 101 for $99 is online, today. 201 and 301 will come. It’s no surprise, then, that as soon as Burck Smith tried to buck the system, the system began to push back.
99元是今天在線課程Econ 101的價(jià)格。201和301會(huì)來(lái)。那么當(dāng)伯克·史密斯嘗試松開系統(tǒng)時(shí)，系統(tǒng)開始倒退，也不足為奇。
The biggest obstacle Smith faced in launching StraighterLine was a process called accreditation. Over time, colleges and universities have built sturdy walls and deep moats around their academic city-states. Students will only pay for courses that lead to college credits and universally recognized degrees. Credits and degrees can only be granted by—and students paying for college with federal grants and loans can only attend—institutions that are officially recognized by federally approved accreditors. And the most prestigious accreditors will only recognize institutions: organizations with academic departments, highly credentialed faculty, bureaucrats, libraries, and all the other pricey accoutrements of the modern university. These things make higher education more expensive, and they’re not necessary if all you want to do is offer standard introductory courses online. To compete, Smith needed StraighterLine courses to be as inexpensive as they could be.
在推出StraighterLine時(shí)，史密斯遇到的最大問題就是認(rèn)證過程。隨著時(shí)間推移，高校在自己的學(xué)術(shù)城邦周圍修建了堅(jiān)實(shí)的城墻和很深的護(hù)城河。學(xué)生只為可以得到學(xué)分普遍認(rèn)可的學(xué)位課程買單。學(xué)分和學(xué)位只能由聯(lián)邦批準(zhǔn)的認(rèn)證中心官方認(rèn)可的機(jī)構(gòu)頒發(fā)——而且只有用聯(lián)邦撥款和貸款買單的學(xué)生才能獲得。而最具聲望的認(rèn)證機(jī)構(gòu)只承認(rèn)這樣的機(jī)構(gòu)：有學(xué)術(shù)系部、高學(xué)歷的教職員工、行政機(jī)構(gòu)、圖書館以及現(xiàn)代大學(xué)所有的所有其他不菲裝備。這些東西使得高等教育更加昂貴，如果你只想提供在線入門課程，這些都不必要。為了競(jìng)爭(zhēng)，史密斯需要讓StraighterLine 課程盡可能便宜。
So he devised a clever way under the accreditation wall, brokering deals whereby a handful of accredited traditional and for-profit institutions agreed to become “partner colleges” that would allow students to transfer in StraighterLine courses for credit. After the credits were accepted—laundered, a cynic might say—students could theoretically transfer them anywhere else in the higher education system. The partner colleges stood to benefit from the deal as well. They all had their own online endeavors, but those required hefty marketing investments to keep new students enrolling. The schools reasoned that the StraighterLine relationship would introduce them to potential new students, with some StraighterLine customers sticking around to take their more advanced (and expensive) courses.
所以他在認(rèn)證壁壘之下，設(shè)計(jì)了很巧妙的方法，與少數(shù)幾家傳統(tǒng)贏利認(rèn)證機(jī)構(gòu)達(dá)成協(xié)議，成為“伙伴院校”，可以將StraighterLine課程轉(zhuǎn)化為學(xué)分。在學(xué)分認(rèn)可之后——憤世嫉俗者可能說(shuō)是學(xué)分被洗之后——理論上，學(xué)生可以將這些學(xué)分轉(zhuǎn)入任何高教系統(tǒng)?；锇樵盒Ｒ矎闹蝎@利。他們都有自己的在線課程，但需要巨額營(yíng)銷投入才能不斷吸收新生。學(xué)校的說(shuō)法是，StraighterLine關(guān)系會(huì)使他們接觸潛在的新生，而有些StraighterLine客戶甚至還想上他們的高級(jí)（昂貴）課程。
One of StraighterLine’s original partner colleges was Fort Hays State University, just off I-70 in Hays, Kansas. Smith had met the school’s provost, Larry Gould, at a higher education technology conference back in 2001. Soon after, Fort Hays became one of the first clients for Smarthinking’s tutoring services. When Smith approached Gould in late 2007 with the StraighterLine concept, the provost paid four faculty members to review StraighterLine’s curricula and course materials—a level of scrutiny, he notes, that far exceeds that given to most credits students transfer in. “Right now students can bring in up to sixty credits from community colleges,” Gould told me, “even though we often don’t know who taught those courses or even what the syllabi look like. The StraighterLine people we know, and the course materials are there to see.”
StraighterLine最初的伙伴院校之一是Fort Hays州立大學(xué)，就在堪薩斯州Hays I-70洲際公路 邊上。在2001年的教育技術(shù)會(huì)議上，史密斯遇到了該校的教務(wù)長(zhǎng)Larry Gould。很快，F(xiàn)ort Hays成了Smarthinking輔導(dǎo)服務(wù)的第一批客戶。當(dāng)2007年末，史密斯向Gould推出了StraighterLine概念，教務(wù)長(zhǎng)花錢請(qǐng)四名員工審查了StraighterLine的課表和教材——他說(shuō)，審慎程度遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)超過了學(xué)生們要轉(zhuǎn)入的學(xué)分審查?！澳壳?，學(xué)生可以從社區(qū)大學(xué)獲得60個(gè)學(xué)分，”Gould告訴我，“即使我們不知道誰(shuí)給這些學(xué)生上課，或者課表如何，我們看得到StraighterLine的人和教材?！?/p>
But as word of the StraighterLine deal spread around the Fort Hays campus, professors and students began to protest. By early 2009 a Facebook group called “FHSU students against Straighter Line” had sprung up, attracting more than 150 members. “Larry Gould,” they charged, “has taken steps that will inevitably cheapen the quality and value of a degree from Fort Hays State University by placing our university in bed with a private corporation… . [T]he end result of this move is that FHSU would have a viable reason to eliminate faculty positions in favor of utilizing services like Straighter Line.” The English Department announced its displeasure while a well-known academics’ blog warned of the encroaching “media-software–publishing–E-learning-complex.” Gould was denounced in the Fort Hays student newspaper.
但是，隨著StraighterLine交易的消息傳遍了Fort Hays校園，師生們開始抗議。2009年初， Facebook上出現(xiàn)了一個(gè)名為“FHSU學(xué)子反對(duì)Straighter Line”的群組，吸引了150多名成員。 “Larry Gould,” 他們批判道，“采取措施讓我們學(xué)校與私人企業(yè)同床共枕，勢(shì)必會(huì)削弱Fort Hays州立大學(xué)文憑的質(zhì)量和價(jià)值… .這個(gè)行動(dòng)使FHSU有充分的理由削減教師職位，利用諸如Straighter Line等服務(wù)。”英語(yǔ)系宣布其不滿，而一個(gè)知名的學(xué)術(shù)博客則警告大家當(dāng)心不斷入侵的“媒體-軟件-發(fā)布-電子學(xué)習(xí)的聯(lián)合體?！盕ort Hays 學(xué)生報(bào)紙公然抨擊Gould。
Soon the story was picked up by the national higher education trade publication Inside Higher Ed, which caught the attention of the accreditor that oversees Fort Hays. The accreditor began asking questions, not just of Fort Hays but also of some of the other partner colleges, including for-profit Grand Canyon University and Ellis University. This prompted more news coverage and Internet chatter; one blog led with the headline, “Something Crooked About StraighterLine?”
很快，全國(guó)高等教育商業(yè)出版物Inside Higher Ed報(bào)道了該故事，引起了監(jiān)管Fort Hays的認(rèn)證機(jī)構(gòu)。該認(rèn)證機(jī)構(gòu)開始質(zhì)疑，不僅僅質(zhì)疑Fort Hays，也質(zhì)疑其他合作大學(xué)，包括盈利的大峽谷大學(xué)和伊利斯大學(xué)。這導(dǎo)致了更多新聞報(bào)道和網(wǎng)上討論；甚至有篇博文的標(biāo)題就是，“StraighterLine不誠(chéng)實(shí)？”
Within months, Grand Canyon and Ellis had ended their involvement with the company. The controversy eventually took a toll on Fort Hays as well; in June the university informed StraighterLine that it was considering bringing the relationship to an end. Smith had to recruit several new partner colleges to stay afloat.
數(shù)月中，Grand Canyon和 Ellis不再參與該公司事務(wù)。這個(gè)矛盾最終也使Fort Hays遭受重創(chuàng)；6月份，校方通知StraighterLine他們?cè)诳紤]結(jié)束合作關(guān)系。史密斯不得不招募幾所新院校才能順利經(jīng)營(yíng)。
When I spoke with Smith again in June, the whole experience had left him frustrated. “A couple of posts from grad students who’ve never even seen or taken one of the courses pop up on Facebook,” he said, “and North Central [the accreditor] launches an investigation. Meanwhile, there are horror stories about bad teaching at regular universities on RateMyProfessors.com”—a popular student feedback site—“and they don’t give it a second look.” Since traditional colleges provide virtually no public information about how much students learn in their introductory courses and won’t even agree on a common standard for how such results could be measured, there was no way for Smith to prove the quality of his courses in the face of accusations. And Smith’s Facebook critics weren’t looking all that closely at their own institution; even as they warned, “If we don’t fight against Straighter Line, it will be the death of the awesome, face-to-face education that FHSU has provided students for decades,” the university was itself teaching thousands of students online through the Fort Hays “Virtual College,” and using Smarthinking tutors to do it.
6月，我再次與史密斯交談時(shí)，整個(gè)經(jīng)歷讓他倍受挫折。“有些根本沒有看過或上過我們課程的研究生在Facebook上發(fā)帖，”他說(shuō)，“然后North Central（認(rèn)證中心）開展了調(diào)查。同時(shí)，在RateMyProfessors.com（一個(gè)很流行的學(xué)生反饋網(wǎng)站）上出現(xiàn)了對(duì)常規(guī)大學(xué)惡劣的教學(xué)質(zhì)量的恐怖報(bào)道，他們甚至都不再多看一眼。”由于傳統(tǒng)大學(xué)幾乎不提供學(xué)生在入門課程中學(xué)到多少內(nèi)容的公開信息，甚至沒有衡量結(jié)果的公用標(biāo)準(zhǔn)達(dá)成共識(shí)，在面臨指摘時(shí)，史密斯無(wú)法證明他的課程質(zhì)量。而史密斯的Facebook批判者也沒有仔細(xì)看看自己的學(xué)院；甚至就在他們警告“如果我們不與StraighterLine對(duì)抗，F(xiàn)HSU數(shù)年來(lái)為學(xué)生提供的令人敬畏的面對(duì)面的教育就會(huì)死亡”的同時(shí)，大學(xué)本身卻通過Fort Hays的“虛擬學(xué)院”在線教授數(shù)千名學(xué)生，并且還利用Smarthinking的導(dǎo)師這么做。
Meanwhile, Smarthinking’s executive management team (the company is privately held) began questioning why they were spending so much time and effort beating against the accreditation wall. StraighterLine enrolled a few hundred students in its first year of operation, accounting for only a marginal piece of Smarthinking revenues. The company’s core business was serving colleges and universities, they reasoned, not competing with them. By the end of July, Smith had stepped down as company president and was finalizing negotiations to take over StraighterLine as a separate business.
同時(shí)，Smarthinking的執(zhí)行管理團(tuán)隊(duì)（公司為私有）開始質(zhì)疑為什么他們花這么多時(shí)間和精力打破認(rèn)證壁壘。StraighterLine第一年運(yùn)作時(shí)招募了幾百名學(xué)生，對(duì)于Smarthinking的利潤(rùn)只是杯水車薪。他們認(rèn)為該公司的核心業(yè)務(wù)是為學(xué)院和大學(xué)服務(wù)，而非與之競(jìng)爭(zhēng)。7月底，史密斯辭去了公司總裁的職務(wù)，最終談判，將StraighterLine當(dāng)做獨(dú)立業(yè)務(wù)接管下來(lái)。
Smith’s struggle to establish StraighterLine suggests that higher education still has some time before the Internet bomb explodes in its basement. The fuse was only a couple of years long for the music and travel industries; for newspapers it was ten. Colleges may have another decade or two, particularly given their regulatory protections. Imagine if Honda, in order to compete in the American market, had been required by federal law to adopt the preestablished labor practices, management structure, dealer network, and vehicle portfolio of General Motors. Imagine further that Honda could only sell cars through GM dealers. Those are essentially the terms that accreditation forces on potential disruptive innovators in higher education today.
史密斯創(chuàng)建StraighterLine的艱苦掙扎表明，當(dāng)互聯(lián)網(wǎng)的炸彈在地下室爆炸之前，高等教育仍有時(shí)間。對(duì)于音樂和旅游業(yè)，保險(xiǎn)絲只不過是幾年時(shí)間；報(bào)業(yè)則是10年。高校可能還可以拖10、20年，尤其是他們有政策保護(hù)。想象一下，如果本田為了在美國(guó)市場(chǎng)上競(jìng)爭(zhēng)，按照聯(lián)邦法律必須采用現(xiàn)有的勞工慣例、管理結(jié)構(gòu)、經(jīng)銷商網(wǎng)絡(luò)和通用汽車的系列產(chǎn)品。再想象一下，本田只能通過通用汽車的經(jīng)銷商出售。這本質(zhì)上就是認(rèn)證機(jī)構(gòu)強(qiáng)加于高等教育中具有破壞力的改革者的條款。
There’s a psychological barrier as well. Most people are so invested in the idea of education-by-institution that it’s hard to imagine another way. There’s also a sense that for-profit schools are a little sleazy (and some of them are). Because Web-based higher education is still relatively new, and the market lacks information that allows students to compare introductory courses at one institution to another, consumers tend to see all online courses in the same bad light. “The public isn’t good at discriminating,” says Larry Gould. “They read ‘online course’ and they think ‘low quality,’ even when it’s not true.”
還有個(gè)心理障礙。在大多數(shù)人頭腦中，在學(xué)校接受教育的想法如此根深蒂固，難以想象其他方法，而且還有一種感覺，贏利學(xué)校質(zhì)量有點(diǎn)差（有些確實(shí)如此）。因?yàn)榫W(wǎng)絡(luò)高等教育相對(duì)而言仍是新事物，市場(chǎng)缺乏信息供學(xué)生比較兩種機(jī)制的入門課程，所以，消費(fèi)者都傾向于用相同的不滿態(tài)度看待所有在線課程?！肮姴簧朴阼b別，”Larry Gould?！八麄兛吹健诰€課程’就想到‘質(zhì)量惡劣’，哪怕情況并非如此。”
But neither the regulatory nor the psychological obstacles match the evolving new reality. Consumers will become more sophisticated, not less. The accreditation wall will crumble, as most artificial barriers do. All it takes is for one generation of college students to see online courses as no more or less legitimate than any other—and a whole lot cheaper in the bargain—for the consensus of consumer taste to rapidly change. The odds of this happening quickly are greatly enhanced by the endless spiral of steep annual tuition hikes, which are forcing more students to go deep into debt to pay for college while driving low-income students out altogether. If Burck Smith doesn’t bring extremely cheap college courses to the masses, somebody else will.
但不論是法規(guī)還是心理障礙都不符合不斷發(fā)展的新現(xiàn)狀。消費(fèi)者會(huì)更精明。文憑認(rèn)證的壁壘會(huì)倒塌，如眾多人為障礙一樣。想讓消費(fèi)者偏好同意迅速變化需要的是一代大學(xué)生把在線課程當(dāng)做合法課程——而且價(jià)格要便宜很多。由于每年學(xué)費(fèi)暴漲，這種事情發(fā)生的可能性大大增加，迫使更多學(xué)生舉債讀書，而低收入的學(xué)生根本就上不了學(xué)。就算伯克·史密斯不能帶給大眾極其便宜的大學(xué)課程，也會(huì)有其他人去做的。
Which means the day is coming—sooner than many people think—when a great deal of money is going to abruptly melt out of the higher education system, just as it has in scores of other industries that traffic in information that is now far cheaper and more easily accessible than it has ever been before. Much of that money will end up in the pockets of students in the form of lower prices, a boon and a necessity in a time when higher education is the key to prosperity. Colleges will specialize where they have comparative advantage, rather than trying to be all things to all people. A lot of silly, too-expensive things—vainglorious building projects, money-sucking sports programs, tenured professors who contribute little in the way of teaching or research—will fade from memory, and won’t be missed.
這意味著那一天終將來(lái)到——比大多數(shù)人想象得要快——有大量的錢突然從高等教育體系中不翼而飛，就好像其他產(chǎn)業(yè)一樣，信息流量前所未有地便宜而且收取方便。這筆錢大部分都會(huì)以更低廉的價(jià)格留在學(xué)生的口袋中，當(dāng)高等教育是繁榮的關(guān)鍵時(shí)，這既是便利條件也是必須條件。大學(xué)專門從事他們有比較優(yōu)勢(shì)的地方，而不是對(duì)所有人都面面俱到。大批愚蠢而超級(jí)昂貴的東西——虛榮的建筑、圈錢的運(yùn)動(dòng)項(xiàng)目、對(duì)教學(xué)或研究貢獻(xiàn)寥寥無(wú)幾的終身教授——都會(huì)從記憶中淡出，而且無(wú)人懷念。
But other parts of those institutions will be threatened too—vital parts that support local communities and legitimate scholarship, that make the world a more enlightened, richer place to live. Just as the world needs the foreign bureaus that newspapers are rapidly shutting down, it needs quirky small university presses, Mughal textile historians, and people who are paid to think deep, economically unproductive thoughts. Rather than hiding within the conglomerate, each unbundled part of the university will have to find new ways to stand alone. There is an unstable, treacherous future ahead for institutions that have been comfortable for a long time. Like it or not, that’s the higher education world to come.
但是這些機(jī)構(gòu)的其他方面也會(huì)受到威脅——支持當(dāng)?shù)厣鐓^(qū)和合法學(xué)術(shù)的關(guān)鍵部分，讓世界成為更文明更富裕的居住場(chǎng)所。正如世界需要報(bào)紙迅速關(guān)閉的海外分設(shè)，它也同樣需要不同尋常的小型大學(xué)報(bào)紙，莫臥兒王朝紡織品歷史學(xué)家，還有付費(fèi)讓他們思考深入但在經(jīng)濟(jì)上沒有產(chǎn)出的思想的人。大學(xué)的每個(gè)部分都必須找到新方法以獨(dú)樹一幟，而不是淹沒在大融合中。對(duì)于一直以來(lái)十分安逸的大學(xué)而言，未來(lái)毫不穩(wěn)定，充滿艱辛。無(wú)論你是否喜歡，未來(lái)的高等教育世界就是這樣。
Kevin Carey is the policy director of Education Sector, an independent think tank in Washington, D.C.
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