As a specialist in legislative oversight within the academic sphere, I have spent the last few years analyzing how state policies translate into classroom quality and institutional integrity. The recent findings within the Utah System of Higher Education offer a sobering look at how even the most prestigious systems can lose their way when accountability mechanisms become purely performative. This discussion centers on a massive audit that exposed a significant disconnect between the noble goals of academic tenure and the actual experience of students, many of whom are paying for an education that is being undermined by a lack of oversight. We are seeing a system where “lifetime” appointments can sometimes become a shield for mediocrity, leaving department chairs in the impossible position of policing their own peers without the authority or incentives to do so effectively.
The following conversation explores the systemic failures identified in over 666 performance reviews and 120 interviews with academic leaders. We delve into why “satisfactory” ratings are being handed out to underperforming instructors, the specific damage this does to high-demand STEM fields, and the structural “mentality shift” required to transform department chairs from temporary placeholders into empowered academic leaders.
In many higher education systems, hundreds of performance reviews are conducted annually, yet this audit suggests they often fail to trigger any real change. How do you explain the massive gap between the 666 reviews analyzed and the fact that only eight faculty members were actually flagged for needing improvement?
The discrepancy is truly staggering and points to a culture of “polite avoidance” that has permeated the academic hierarchy. When you look at those 666 performance reviews and realize that only eight individuals were marked for improvement, it suggests a system that is essentially rubber-stamping mediocrity. In our investigation, we actually hand-selected 40 cases where teaching was rated as “satisfactory” despite clear, documented evidence to the contrary, such as plummeting student enrollment or explicit complaints about a lack of engagement. It’s disheartening to hear accounts of professors who, when asked about their poor student feedback, simply shrug and admit they haven’t even looked at an evaluation for “some time.” This isn’t just a minor administrative lapse; it’s a systemic failure where the leaders most aware of the issues are disincentivized from taking action, resulting in a “satisfactory” rating that feels like a betrayal to the students sitting in those classrooms.
The audit highlights a particularly troubling trend in science and engineering programs where students are reportedly abandoning these fields due to poor instruction. What are the long-term implications for a state’s economy when tenured faculty in high-demand sectors are not held accountable?
This is perhaps the most damaging aspect of the findings because it strikes at the heart of Utah’s economic future and the aspirations of its youth. When students are forced to withdraw from or repeat required courses in science and engineering—not because the material is too hard, but because the instruction is “persistently poor”—we are effectively leaking talent from the very industries that drive growth. We saw cases where students felt they had no choice but to abandon their dreams in these high-demand fields simply because they couldn’t navigate a classroom led by an instructor who dismissed their input. This creates a bottleneck in the labor market, as the state struggles to fill critical roles in technology and infrastructure while students are left with increased debt from repeating credits. The emotional toll of a student feeling “pushed out” of a promising career because of a single unaccountable professor is a cost that doesn’t just show up on a balance sheet, but in the lost potential of an entire generation of workers.
You’ve noted that department chairs are often “thwarted by both structural and cultural barriers” when trying to manage their peers. Why is the current rotational leadership model failing, and what did the 67% of chairs who expressed concerns tell us about their daily reality?
The rotational model essentially asks a colleague to act as a boss for a few years before returning to the ranks, which creates a massive conflict of interest and a “don’t rock the boat” mentality. Our interviews revealed that 67% of department chairs feel completely hamstrung by the design of their roles, often citing a lack of authority, an overwhelming workload, and a total absence of incentives to address performance issues. Imagine the social and professional pressure of having to discipline a senior faculty member who will, in just two or three years, be the person voting on your own future promotions or research grants. Many chairs expressed a deep-seated reluctance to act against colleagues they will eventually work alongside again, leading to a culture where it’s easier to ignore a problem than to fix it. This structure forces academic leaders to choose between their personal career stability and the educational quality of their department, and unfortunately, the current system makes the path of least resistance very tempting.
Salt Lake Community College was singled out as a successful exception to these systemic issues. What specific actions have they taken to create a “mentality shift” among their leadership, and how does their documentation differ from other institutions?
Salt Lake Community College has moved away from the traditional, temporary chair model in favor of a permanent, non-rotational supervisor system, which has fundamentally changed the power dynamic. By hiring first-line supervisors who are held accountable as leaders for the actual student outcomes in their units, they have removed the “peer pressure” that stifles criticism in other institutions. In our review of their documentation, we found significantly higher levels of accountability and a much more rigorous approach to faculty evaluations compared to the standard USHE degree-granting schools. These leaders don’t see themselves as faculty members with a temporary side-hustle in administration; they see themselves as managers responsible for the success of their students and the performance of their staff. This shift from a “collegial” oversight model to a professional “supervisory” model is exactly why their internal metrics show a much clearer picture of faculty performance and a quicker response to instructional deficiencies.
The audit suggests several bold recommendations, including redefining the role of department chairs and using specific performance metrics. How do we ensure these changes don’t infringe upon academic freedom while still protecting the interests of the students?
The key is to decouple the concept of “academic freedom” from the concept of “instructional quality,” as the two are often conflated to protect underperformers. Tenure should absolutely protect a professor’s right to research and speak on controversial topics, but it was never intended to be a shield for a teacher who refuses to look at student evaluations or provide a competent learning environment. By redefining chairs as primary academic leaders and providing them with clear, actionable metrics aligned with the institution’s mission, we are simply professionalizing the management of the classroom. We are recommending that the Board of Higher Education formally strengthen these supervisory roles so that leaders have the time and the institutional backing to address poor performance without fear of social retaliation. If we prioritize leadership capability during the selection process and hold chairs accountable to institutional leadership, we can create a system where academic freedom and high-quality instruction coexist as two sides of the same coin.
What is your forecast for the future of tenure and faculty accountability in public institutions?
I believe we are entering an era of “justifiable tenure,” where the focus will shift from a lifetime guarantee of employment to a system that requires continuous proof of professional contribution and instructional excellence. By late 2026 and into 2027, I expect to see more states adopting the permanent leadership models we see at institutions like Salt Lake Community College, moving away from the awkward and ineffective peer-review rotations that have failed so many students. We will likely see the implementation of standardized metrics that track student retention and course success rates as direct reflections of faculty performance, making it much harder for “persistently poor” teaching to hide behind a satisfactory rating. Ultimately, the survival of the tenure system depends on its ability to evolve; if institutions cannot prove that tenure benefits the students as much as it benefits the faculty, the legislative pressure to dismantle it entirely will become insurmountable. The focus will move from protecting the professor’s job at all costs to protecting the student’s investment in their future.
