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'We're in this struggle together'
By Bill Maxwell, Role Models Today Publisher
and Columnist for the St. Petersburg Times.
September 21, 2003
English
professor Lucinda Coulter stood in front of a freshmen composition
class at historically black Stillman College in Tuscaloosa, Ala.,
lecturing on the essay of comparison and contrast. She was using
Mark Twain's essay, "Two Views of the River," to illustrate
the use of concrete detail.
It
wasn't going well. The concrete detail she noticed most among her
students was that of their eyes, glazing over. "I never wait
long when that happens," she said recently.
Enough
Twain: Coulter turned the class on a dime, taking an exemplary student
outline, putting it on the board, and encouraging the class to offer
examples and details that could bring the outline to life as an
essay. It worked.
"Those
are the kind of days I love," Coulter said. "For the first
time this semester, I finally knew that my noisy, slightly immature
group of freshmen, all black, had begun to both cooperate as a college-level
class and to think about a few of the basic principles of writing."
Coulter
and her colleagues at Stillman, founded in 1876 by a Presbyterian
clergyman, practice a highly responsive brand of education. They
improvise in class when necessary and give their students many hours
of individual attention. They believe that black students, many
of whom lack wealth and political and social clout, many of whom
have low SATs and ACTs, deserve a chance not only to attend college
but to succeed at it. They believe that Stillman and other colleges
of its kind - Historically Black Colleges and Universities, or HBCUs,
in the educational lingo - are the students' lifeline into America's
professional world.
Currently,
106 HBCUs remain. They are in 24 states, mostly in the South, and
in the Virgin Islands. They are public and private, liberal arts
and technological, four-year and two-year. Combined, they enroll
more than 370,000 African-American students annually.
For
most African-Americans, the practical value of HBCUs is an article
of faith. Although only 18 percent of black students in the United
States attend HBCUs, 23 percent of black students who receive degrees
earn them from these institutions. They have produced the bulk of
today's black middle class: 30 percent of blacks who hold doctorates,
35 percent of black lawyers, 50 percent of black engineers, 65 percent
of black physicians.
Yet,
despite their success and their cultural and social capital, many
HBCUs face an uncertain future. The 18 percent of all African-American
students attending HBCUs in 2003 represents the schools' smallest
share of the black college market ever. Before passage of the 1964
Civil Rights Act, 85 percent of all blacks who attended college
attended these schools.
Do
these mostly black institutions have a legitimate role in a society
that increasingly claims to value colorblindness? Will HBCUs remain
a viable option for a new generation of African-American students?
After
all, during the last two decades, 12 HBCUs closed, mainly because
of declining enrollments, falling endowments, mismanagement and
fierce competition from mainline campuses for talented African-American
students. Currently, at least three campuses, their infrastructures
falling apart, struggle to meet their payrolls. Quietly, diversity-seeking
American businesses have stepped into the HBCU funding gap, but
they have by no means closed it.
An
American saga
The history of HBCUs is a real American saga. They were established
as a direct result of racism.
Before
the Civil War, few blacks were permitted to attend school, even
in the North. The handful who did study did so informally, risking
their safety and lives. The overwhelming majority of blacks lived
in the South, and many Southern whites actively opposed education
for blacks.
A few
all-black elementary and training schools existed in the North,
the best known of which was the Institute for Colored Youth established
in the 1830s by a group of Philadelphia Quakers. Years later, it
would elevate its academic offerings and become Cheyney University,
the nation's first HBCU.
Higher
education for former slaves and their offspring did not become a
national reality until 1890 with passage of the second Morrill Land
Grant Act, mandating that states accepting land grant aid must either
open their campuses to both blacks and whites or allocate funds
for segregated black institutions.
Sixteen
all-black schools received land grant funds and opened their doors,
some with packed classrooms on the first day. Gradually, many other
black colleges were established. Starting operations in 1887, Florida
A&M University in Tallahassee expanded its programs after receiving
land grant money. Florida's other three HBCUs - Bethune-Cookman
College (1904), Edward Waters College (1866) in Jacksonville, Florida
Memorial College (1879) in Miami - are private and church-affilated.
Since
the institutions' inception, a long list of influential alumni has
affirmed their worth: Booker T. Washington, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther
King Jr., Thurgood Marshall, Oprah Winfrey, Spike Lee and Jesse
Jackson, to name a few. Until the 1960s, nearly all black public
school teachers - then the most important figure in black society
- were trained at historically black schools.
HBCUs
are not a monolith. They range from the likes of small, cash-strapped
Wiley College in Texas to those of the wealthy "Black Ivy League":
Howard University, Hampton University, Spelman College, Fisk University,
Morehouse College, Tuskegee University and Dillard University. One
of the seven is often cited in U.S. News & World Report's annual
issue touting the nation's best colleges.
Nonetheless,
HBCUs as a group are increasingly challenged to justify their existence,
as Julian B. Roebuck and Komanduri S. Murty point out in their book,
Historically Black Colleges and Universities: Their Place in American
Higher Education.
After
all, argue conservative critics of HBCUs - such as black economist
Thomas Sowell, a senior fellow at Stanford's Hoover Institution
- the U.S. Supreme Court's 1954 Brown vs. Board of Education decision
outlawed segregated public education. And, since then, other legislation
and affirmative action have granted blacks greater access to education
at majority-white institutions.
The
argument, as characterized by Roebuck and Murty, is that "in
a society that is striving for racial integration, the further duplication
of physical facilities, academic programs, and services with a racially
segregated, two-tiered higher education system is counterproductive
financially, philosophically, and pedagogically."
Sociologist
Gerald A. Foster, author of the 2001 book, Is There a Conspiracy
to Keep Black Colleges Open?, sees HBCUs as throwbacks: "At
some point black colleges must relinquish the crutch of slavery
and its harmful effects on black people and learn to embrace a standard
of academic excellence that transcends race. If there is one basic
criticism of far too many black colleges it is that their admission
decisions are driven by the need for tuition and federal aid rather
than seeking high-quality students who are ready to engage in serious
study."
"These
are your children'
Outside of black territory, HBCU presidents must constantly defend
their institutions. Norman Francis has been president of Xavier
University in New Orleans for the last 35 years. His tenure is the
longest of any college president in the United States.
Speaking
on National Public Radio, Francis said that, while there is currently
"a great need for African-American youngsters and professionals
in every walk of life," the number of Ph.D.s awarded to African-Americans
has changed little in the last 25 years. And he said that of the
top 12 institutions graduating African-Americans who get Ph.D.s,
10 are HBCUs.
"Now
should it be that way? No," said Francis, noting that there
are 3,600 colleges and universities in America and fewer than 90
four-year HBCUs. But "until this country recognizes that it
has to put in more financial aid and assistance to African-American
youngsters who can go to any college and university," he said,
HBCUs will play a critical role.
James
Wingate, president of LeMoyne-Owen College in Nashville, Tenn.,
said HBCUs have excelled with students who need a transition to
college life. "Giving the underprepared student a chance to
be nurtured, taught, coached, cajoled and encouraged ultimately
to the point that they achieve and go on into the workforce and
contribute to the gross national product - that's what it's really
all about. It's not that other colleges can't do that. It's that
HBCUs do it better."
Even
on paper, the shared goals and mission of HBCUs reflect responsibility
to the black community. After surveying dozens of catalogs of majority-white
and HBCU schools, Roebuck and Murty conclude that the goals described
in black college catalogs, unlike those of white schools, stress
preparation for student leadership and service roles in the black
community.
At
Bethune-Cookman College, for example, students are expected to tutor
and mentor black children in nearby low-income communities, and
they are encouraged to "give back" to black communities
after graduation. During every campus-wide assembly, students are
reminded that they are role models.
But
students do not become role models just because their presidents
and professors say so. It takes self-discipline, as several HBCU
presidents noted, painting an image of their schools much at odds
with the "diploma mill" rap laid on historically black
colleges by their critics.
"We
discourage pessimism and flatly reject self-pity and excuses,"
said Cordell Wynn, past president at Stillman in Tuscaloosa. "We
reconnect black kids with traditional values that have been lost
today. We give them a nurturing, hopeful environment. Many young
black people have a great thirst to learn, but they must have opportunities.
They need to be around positive adults who believe in them, who
see them as significant individuals. Caring is hope. We teach our
students that we're in this struggle together, that we can do better
together."
Even
critics, such as conservative sociologist Christopher Jencks, who
sees HBCUs as academic wastelands - acknowledge that the schools
foster strong bonds between students, professors and other employees
that is best described as a student-surrogate parent relationship.
Greg
Carr, an Afro-American Studies professor at Howard University, commented
on his relationship with his students: "It's closer here. The
assumption is these aren't just students. These are your children."
Many
professors often invite students to their homes for dinner and discussions.
Faculty routinely attend student-sponsored and community events
both on and off campus. The purpose is to let students know that
their professors support their efforts and believe in them. For
the same reason, many professors attend their students' churches.
Research
indicates that the philosophy of friendly, personal and supportive
involvement goes beyond social relations. It is credited for a teaching
technique that is part formal and part casual, a technique that
apparently succeeds with below-average students - especially males
- who cannot meet admissions requirements at white schools.
Black
institutions always have rejected certain teaching principles associated
with the traditional university: that professors should demand respect
for their achievements and position, that subject matter should
be taught without considering student-faculty personal relations,
that professors should not care if the students like them or not.
Black professors at HBCUs, on the other hand, know that the impersonal
approach will fail with many black adolescents, especially males,
who expect African-American adults to be understanding and flexible.
Respect
for the teacher is necessary, HBCU professors acknowledge, but if
students like and respect their professors, the students will accomplish
more.
On
black campuses, Roebuck's and Murty's research shows, professors
encourage spirited exchange of subject matter, ideas, beliefs and
opinions during class discussions. Because remediation is a natural
part of academic life at most HBCUs, professors let some students
keep pace by retaking exams, completing take-home exams or giving
classroom presentations.
The
comments of Tyshell Travis, a Stillman College sophomore, typify
the views of most HBCU students: "I want a lot of attention.
If I need help in a course, I can get it personally from my professor.
I feel at home. . . . The professors want you to succeed in their
classes."
Because
of many HBCUs' open admissions policies, administrators acknowledge
they accept many students with low SAT and ACT scores. But they
also enroll students with high scores who, for personal and family
reasons, still choose to attend an HBCU. In fact, the schools of
the Black Ivy League, along with others, such as Florida A&M,
annually attract and enroll more black National Merit Scholars than
elite traditional schools, such as Harvard, Yale and Stanford.
"I'd
hire all of them'
The huge digital divide between HBCUs and mainline campuses worries
HBCU leaders. A 2000 United Negro College Fund study showed that
only one out of six students at HBCUs owned or had access to a personal
computer, compared to one out of two white students on white campuses.
Four out of 10 professors at HBCUs owned computers, compared to
seven out of 10 at white institutions.
Alarmed
by the findings, HBCU leaders met to find solutions to bridging
the gap and helping HBCUs become competitive in the electronic workplace.
UNCF President William Gray initiated his Technology Enhancement
Capital Campaign to raise $80-million to provide access to computers
to all students and professors at the private HBCUs.
The
response was huge and continues to be so, surprising even Gray.
In addition to foundations and individuals, companies such as IBM,
Dell, Hewlett-Packard and Microsoft immediately contributed more
than $80-million in cash, hardware, software, technical services
and faculty development and training. Bill Gates alone donated more
than $100-million in software, cash and technology. Many companies
have adopted their regional HBCUs.
Although
these technology partnerships have received good press, they are
part of a longstanding, but rarely reported, alliance between HBCUs
and businesses that value ethnic diversity.
About
15 years ago, a handful of major companies and organizations, including
the U.S. military, acted when HBCUs asked them to form partnerships
that would increase the schools' competitiveness while helping the
firms diversify their workforces and boost profitability. The results
have been remarkably successful.
Fortune
500 companies and others see the 30,000 annual graduates of the
HBCUs as physical and intellectual capital.
"When
you want to have a diverse workforce, where do you go?" asked
Kelvin Mayner, a human resources representative for State Farm Insurance.
"Campuses like Bethune-Cookman College, Florida A&M . .
. and others. Those have been the places we go to help diversify
our employee group. . . . It's critical in the insurance industry.
A few years ago, we started what we call "emerging markets
campaigns' where we wanted to tap into those markets that we historically
haven't tapped into, that being the Asian, Hispanic and African-American
markets."
Bethune-Cookman
officials said nearly 75 companies have visited the campus this
year to recruit, including ESPN, the Arts & Entertainment Network
and the Walt Disney Co.
Knowing
that their campuses are being courted by corporations, faculty and
administrators acknowledge their focus on preparing students for
the workplace.
About
the quality of Bethune-Cookman's nursing graduates, for example,
Barbara Hinebaugh, employment supervisor at Halifax Medical Center
in Daytona Beach, said: "If they had 25 or 30, I'd hire all
of them. . . . Their assessment skills, their clinical knowledge
and their professionalism are unparalleled. When we go to their
campus and interview the students at the job fair, every one of
them . . . bar none, are dressed in suit attire, they have their
resumes . . . they ask professional questions, and they ask for
career guidance."
Many
firms see themselves in a real "talent war," and they
contribute millions of dollars to select HBCUs for scholarships
and fellowships, infrastructure, equipment, internships and faculty
training.
"By
training faculty," a Nissan executive said, "the companies
help to strengthen the schools from the ground up. This makes the
schools more attractive to top professors, who in turn produce graduates
who can compete."
The
federal government also recognizes the value of HBCUs and has formed
partnerships with many. One of the first such efforts started in
1995, when the U.S. Army Research Laboratory established programs
to link HBCUs with public and private technology experts. Since
then, scores of other lucrative federally funded programs, which
focus on problem-solving strategies in science and technology, have
been established on black campuses.
Hampton
University is a beneficiary. Receiving an initial $92-million grant
from NASA, it is the first HBCU to be responsible for a major NASA
mission. It will launch satellites from California and Russia.
The
tin cup and the stock market
Even with the lucrative partnerships, many HBCUs will remain viable
only if they can cope with the sluggish economy, massive cuts in
higher education funding nationwide, shrinking endowments and aggressive
recruitment of the brightest black students and professors by traditional
institutions.
This
year, two schools, Morris Brown in Atlanta and Mary Holmes College
in Mississippi, lost their accreditation. Morris Brown has suspended
its sports programs and laid off its coaches. Grambling State University
in Louisiana is on probation after auditors could not decipher the
school's accounting. Bennett College, which has run up millions
of dollars in deficits during the last five years, also has been
placed on probation. The U.S. Department of Education is determining
if the administration is capable of handling federal student aid
and is asking the college to repay as much as $1-million for mismanaging
aid.
The
list of other HBCUs facing serious money problems and possible probation
includes Talladega College in Alabama, Barber-Scotia College in
North Carolina, Virginia Union University, Florida A&M, Saint
Augustine's College in North Carolina, Philander Smith College in
Arkansas, and Knoxville College in Tennessee. The latter has operated
without accreditation since 1997.
Some
of the schools in financial trouble are digging out, but the national
economy is not helping. HBCU presidents rank raising money as their
biggest challenge.
President
Ernest McNealey of Stillman College tells this joke: "I have
a very large tin cup . . . and I'm constantly running through airports
with my tin cup, and wherever the plane lands, I will go to the
tallest building and work my way from the penthouse on down to the
garbage unit with my tin cup. And whether it's the CEO or the janitor,
I will hear this long story about the declining stock market."
McNealey
and his colleagues wish that President Bush could get the joke,
because the president's blessings, at least on one issue, could
help ease some of the HBCUs' money woes. But Bush apparently is
not listening.
Soon
after taking office, Bush issued an executive order creating the
President's Board of Advisers on Historically Black Colleges and
Universities, a panel that has existed with different names under
other presidents. It was charged with advising the president on
black issues in higher education and with publishing a yearly report.
The board completed its first report in seven months, recommending,
among other strategies, that 10 percent of all federal money for
higher education be allocated for black colleges.
Having
already joined the fight against the University of Michigan's affirmative
action program, the Bush administration refused to publish the report.
To ease damage among black voters during an election season, the
president announced a 5 percent increase in appropriations for black
colleges.
HBCU
presidents and their supporters in Congress see Bush's gesture as
a ruse, amounting to $10.7-million, a mere drop in the bucket for
the struggling schools. Even GOP lawmakers who supported the panel's
recommendations oppose Bush's move.
If
Bush had accepted the panel's recommendation and set aside 10 percent
of all federal money for higher education for the HBCUs, the schools
would have been helped on one big front: professors' salaries. Figures
released for 2002-2003 by the American Association of University
Professors show the gap between the salaries at HBCUs and traditional
institutions is as wide as ever.
The
average salary for the professorial rank at HBCUs was $53,000. At
majority white schools, the average was $65,000. For instructors,
the average salary was $41,000 at HBCUs compared with $50,000 at
all others.
Some
schools are so strapped for money that professors are foregoing
raises, taking pay cuts and, as at Stillman College, paying larger
portions of their health insurance.
HBCU
presidents and the UNCF are trying, among other efforts, to convince
alumni to donate more money and repay student loans at a faster
rate. Sallie Mae, the nation's top student loan provider, reports
that HBCUs have higher than average student loan default rates,
frequently double those at other schools. The presidents are forming
new corporate partnerships and are trying to halt the student "brain
drain" as the brightest black students increasingly opt for
traditional schools. They are seeking ways to enhance their endowments
and attract dedicated, qualified professors.
The
biggest irony is that while public HBCUs struggle financially, they
face increasing numbers of "diversity" legal actions in
states such as North Carolina, Mississippi, Alabama and West Virginia.
In these states, opponents of affirmative action have turned the
concept of multiculturalism on its head, arguing that tax dollars
should not support public HBCUs.
Although
established for blacks, HBCUs - unlike their white counterparts
- never denied admission because of race. And they always have had
white professors. Simply put, whites choose to stay away from black
schools.
More
than a decade ago, as traditional institutions capped enrollments,
large numbers of whites took advantage of federal aid incentives
to attend public HBCUs. Officials at these schools encouraged the
trend for federal dollars, and white enrollment approached 50 percent
at Kentucky State University and Oklahoma's Langston University
while climbing even higher elsewhere.
Now,
as traditional campuses relax admissions and as federal aid tightens,
fewer whites attend HBCUs. Here in Florida, whites comprised 8.1
percent of total enrollments at FAMU in 1992, but only 2.8 percent
last year.
Many
HBCU alumni and other supporters believe the schools are the keepers
of a unique tradition and heritage and should remain predominantly
black. Hampton University president William Morris said he wants
to maintain an 85-88 percent black majority and a white population
of 12-15 percent, which would foster an integrated environment for
talented students and faculty while preserving the school's black
identity.
What
does it mean to attend an HBCU?
For high school seniors considering a majority white college or
an HBCU, William R. Moss III, a recent HBCU graduate and co-founder
of HBCU-Central.Com, an online information clearinghouse, offers
this advice: "When asked, on numerous occasions, what does
it mean to attend an HBCU, I usually respond with: "The odds
are in your favor.'
"One
thing you'll begin to realize once you set foot into that first
classroom is that you have no excuses for failure. Since most of
my classmates and professors were black, I knew I was going to get
a fair chance. Another benefit of attending an HBCU is the fact
that most HBCUs have low student-to-faculty ratios, which means
if you want to try sitting in the front of the class for a change,
chances are you can. The odds are in your favor."
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