With over two decades of experience in higher education management, Camille Faivre has become a trusted voice in navigating the complex challenges facing colleges today. As an expert in education policy and e-learning development, she has guided numerous institutions through financial crises and enrollment declines in the post-pandemic era. In this interview, we delve into the recent closure of Limestone University, exploring the systemic issues that led to its downfall, the impact of financial mismanagement, and the broader lessons for small colleges. Camille offers candid insights on balancing budgets, leveraging digital innovation, and the critical role of leadership transparency during turbulent times.
How do enrollment declines and low graduation rates, like Limestone’s 27% enrollment drop from 2018 to 2023 and a graduation rate below 40% for a decade, affect a college’s financial health, and what strategies could turn such trends around?
I’ve seen firsthand how enrollment drops and poor graduation rates can create a vicious cycle for small colleges like Limestone. A 27% decline over five years isn’t just a number—it means millions in lost tuition revenue, often the lifeblood of these institutions. When you couple that with a graduation rate that hasn’t hit 40% in ten years, it signals to prospective students and families that the investment might not pay off, further shrinking the applicant pool. I remember working with a small liberal arts college in the Midwest a few years back facing similar issues. Their enrollment had tanked by nearly 20%, and the community felt betrayed because students weren’t finishing. We focused on targeted retention programs—pairing at-risk students with mentors and revamping advising to catch problems early. It wasn’t a quick fix, but within three years, their retention rate improved by 15%, stabilizing revenue. Limestone could have prioritized similar data-driven interventions or even partnered with local employers to create clear career pathways, making the degree’s value more tangible. The financial hit from these metrics isn’t just immediate; it erodes trust, which is harder to rebuild than a budget.
What factors likely contributed to Limestone’s expenses surging by 20% to $46.2 million between 2020 and 2022, and how could leadership have managed costs more effectively during that time?
That 20% spike to $46.2 million during such a short window is a red flag, and I’d wager it’s tied to a mix of post-pandemic recovery costs and perhaps some overly optimistic spending. Many colleges ramped up expenses in 2020-2022 on things like enhanced facilities, technology for hybrid learning, or even marketing to counter enrollment drops—often without a clear ROI. Leadership might have also failed to adjust staffing levels to match the shrinking student body, carrying payroll costs that were unsustainable. I recall consulting for a university during that same period where expenses ballooned due to unchecked investments in campus upgrades. We tackled it by first conducting a full audit of expenditures, identifying non-essential costs like deferred maintenance projects that could wait. Then, we negotiated short-term salary freezes with faculty buy-in, redirecting funds to student support services that directly impacted retention. Limestone’s leaders could have taken a phased approach—cutting satellite leases as suggested by consultants, freezing hiring, and prioritizing digital infrastructure over physical campus costs. It’s about ruthless prioritization; every dollar spent has to justify itself when you’re in crisis mode.
Limestone saw its net assets fall by over $12 million between 2023 and 2024 by drawing from its endowment. What are the long-term risks of using endowment funds for operations, and how can colleges avoid this dangerous path?
Dipping into an endowment for day-to-day operations is like burning your savings to pay rent—it’s a short-term lifeline with devastating long-term consequences. The biggest risk is losing the financial buffer that endowments provide for future crises or investments; Limestone’s net assets dropping by over $12 million to $61 million shows how quickly you can hollow out your reserves. It also sends a signal to donors and accreditors that the institution is on shaky ground, potentially drying up future gifts or risking accreditation. I’ve seen this play out with a small college in the Northeast that raided its endowment to cover deficits a decade ago. Within five years, they had no safety net left, couldn’t secure loans, and ultimately closed. Colleges can avoid this by establishing strict endowment policies upfront—limiting drawdowns to emergencies only and tying them to a recovery plan. Limestone might have explored aggressive cost-cutting or sought bridge funding from state grants while restructuring. It’s painful, but preserving that nest egg is about survival; once it’s gone, you’re often out of options.
Faculty at Limestone criticized leadership for a lack of transparency during the financial crisis in 2024. Why is open communication so vital during tough times, and what specific approaches would you recommend to mend trust?
Transparency isn’t just a nice-to-have during a crisis; it’s the glue that holds a campus community together when everything else is falling apart. When faculty and staff are left in the dark, as happened at Limestone under President Copeland in 2024, it breeds resentment and fear, making collaboration impossible. I’ve worked with a college where leadership hid budget cuts until the last minute, and the backlash was visceral—faculty morale tanked, and key staff left mid-year, worsening the crisis. On the flip side, I’ve seen trust rebuilt at another institution by holding monthly town halls where the president shared raw financial data, even the ugly stuff, and invited input on cuts. For Limestone, I’d recommend a multi-step communication plan: start with a candid all-campus meeting to lay out the financial state, no sugarcoating. Follow up with regular email updates on specific actions being taken, and create a task force with faculty representation to co-develop solutions. It’s not just about talking—it’s about listening and showing that input matters. When people feel included, they’re more likely to rally behind tough decisions.
Limestone’s $6 million emergency fundraising effort in 2025 fell short despite raising $2.1 million. What hurdles do colleges face in such desperate campaigns, and how can they better prepare for financial emergencies?
Last-minute fundraising campaigns like Limestone’s $6 million push are often doomed from the start because they’re born out of desperation, not strategy. The biggest hurdle is donor fatigue—when a college is visibly struggling, potential donors question whether their money will make a difference or just delay the inevitable. Plus, raising $6 million in a sprint requires a robust alumni network and pre-existing relationships, which take years to build. I remember a small college I advised that tried a similar emergency drive; they raised a fraction of their goal because they hadn’t cultivated donors consistently—alumni felt disconnected. Limestone only raised $2.1 million, which suggests a lack of groundwork. To prepare, colleges need a standing development plan with regular engagement events, even in good times, to keep donors invested emotionally and financially. They should also build a rainy-day fund tied to specific enrollment or revenue benchmarks, so they’re not starting from zero in a crisis. It’s about playing the long game—fundraising is a relationship, not a transaction, and preparation can mean the difference between survival and closure.
Despite surviving past challenges like during the Civil War, Limestone couldn’t overcome modern obstacles. What made this closure different, and what lessons can other small colleges take away from this history?
Limestone’s history of resilience—surviving the Civil War and multiple financial scares—makes its 2025 closure especially poignant, and I think the difference lies in the scale and speed of modern challenges. Back then, closures were often temporary, tied to external events like war, and the college could rebound with local support and a smaller, more contained higher ed market. Today, the combination of a 27% enrollment drop, uncontrolled expenses spiking to $46.2 million, and a tapped-out endowment created a perfect storm that no quick fix could address. I see parallels with other small colleges I’ve studied that collapsed post-2008; the market is simply less forgiving now with demographic declines and competition from larger or online institutions. The lesson for other small colleges is to act decisively at the first sign of trouble—don’t assume past survival guarantees future success. They need to diversify revenue through partnerships or online programs and monitor financial health with brutal honesty. Waiting until you’re fundraising for $6 million in a crisis, as Limestone did, is often too late. History can inspire, but it can’t save you from today’s realities.
Mergers have been suggested as a potential lifeline for struggling colleges like Limestone, especially before assets dwindled after 2021. How realistic are mergers as a solution, and what steps should leaders take to pursue them early on?
Mergers are a viable option for struggling colleges, but they’re far from a silver bullet and require foresight and humility—qualities often in short supply during a crisis. They’re realistic if both parties see mutual benefit, like shared resources or expanded reach, but the window closes fast once assets tank, as Limestone’s did after 2021 when unrestricted net assets fell from $25 million to $1 million. I’ve seen a successful merger between two small colleges in the South where leaders started talks early, driven by declining enrollment forecasts. It worked because they aligned missions and pooled endowments before either was desperate. For Limestone, waiting until distress was obvious likely scared off potential partners. Leaders should start by commissioning a feasibility study to identify compatible institutions based on geography, mission, and finances. Then, form exploratory committees with board and faculty input to discuss terms transparently—trust is key. Finally, engage legal and financial advisors to navigate regulatory hurdles. It’s a complex process, but starting when you’ve still got assets and goodwill can save an institution’s legacy.
Limestone was a pioneer in online education with its Virtual Campus in the late 1990s. How could they have capitalized on this early innovation to avoid closure, and what missed opportunities do you see in their digital strategy?
Limestone’s early adoption of online education through its Virtual Campus in the 1990s was a visionary move, and it’s heartbreaking to see that advantage squandered. They could have doubled down on this strength by aggressively marketing their online programs to nontraditional students and working adults, a demographic hungry for flexible learning long before the pandemic. I’ve worked with a college that pivoted heavily to online offerings in the early 2000s, investing in robust platforms and faculty training; they grew enrollment by 30% over a decade while traditional numbers stagnated. Limestone missed the chance to scale their online infrastructure into a national brand, perhaps by partnering with industry for credential programs or tailoring courses to regional workforce needs. Instead, it seems they treated online as a side project rather than a core strategy. They could have allocated resources to user-friendly tech and student support services specific to virtual learners—details that make or break retention. I suspect they lacked the vision or funding to modernize this early edge, and in today’s competitive online market, standing still is falling behind.
What is your forecast for the future of small colleges facing similar challenges as Limestone, and how can they adapt to survive in this evolving landscape?
Looking ahead, I believe small colleges will continue to face an uphill battle, with more closures on the horizon unless they radically rethink their models. The demographic cliff—fewer high school graduates combined with rising skepticism about college value—means traditional enrollment pipelines are drying up, and financial pressures like those at Limestone, with expenses hitting $46.2 million against falling revenue, will intensify. I foresee a future where only the most agile institutions survive, those that embrace hybrid learning, form strategic partnerships, or merge before it’s too late. Adaptation requires a willingness to shed outdated traditions and invest in what works—whether that’s robust online programs, community-focused micro-credentials, or shared services with other colleges to cut costs. I’m hopeful for those willing to act now, but my concern lingers for schools clinging to the past. Survival isn’t just about money; it’s about reimagining purpose in a world where education is more accessible, yet more contested, than ever.
