In my last column I talked about the constant pursuit of growth at my university.
Each year, a major problem comes from setting our annual budget based on future growth, rather than previous income – so student recruitment becomes a race to meet targets – rather than a sensible view of what is achievable.
The pressure has become palpable for my boss, and can be very demoralising for the team, given the swings in enrolments.
There aren’t many ways to achieve growth without long term investment in building brand and trust over a sustained period of time.
But there is one lever at our disposal: entry requirements.
I quickly learned that admissions work is not an exact science relating to academic ability – it is just a way of controlling numbers.
Benchmarking international qualifications precisely against domestic grades like A-levels is impossible. There is no bible, no definitive global framework. So the academic and English language qualifications we accept are at our discretion.
Qualification-checking services seem to be risk averse, presumably because they don’t want to get sued over visa rejections, and are only really useful if you are a selective university.
So the question becomes: what are the minimum requirements for a student to succeed? The reality is we are forced to consider more risk in the search for more reward.
The higher education sector promotes competition between universities at every turn, through rankings, awards, price and graduate outcomes – and university offers are no different.
Universities that achieve rapid growth are often the ones that utilise that discretion to the full, to increase access. It’s never the quality of their modules that is driving demand.
Take India as an example. To unilaterally accept the same entry requirements from all state exam boards across a subcontinental size nation that is still defined as a developing county just doesn’t make sense, yet loads of universities do it.
Also accepting Standard XII English as an exemption from an IELTS test feels pretty risky, but gives us a competitive advantage and widens the pool of applicants.
In truth, internally we are sceptical about this, India is a complex ecosystem with lots of potential risk – but we do these types of calculated risks simply because our competitors accept it. We feel we have no other choice.
Do I feel equipped to benchmark academic qualifications from other countries? We make an educated guess.
The UK system has never been a level playing field for any applicant regardless of whether they pay domestic or international fees. No cohort is ever made up of students who all entered with the same grades, from the same curriculum.
And surely our world-class teaching will bridge the gap and bring everyone up to the same level?
“Why will one university accept this but you won’t?” – that is hard to explain.
A major frustration is that every year, for domestic undergraduates, we ask for A grades at the start of the cycle, and every summer we panic and accept C grades to fill courses at the last minute. We never learn and adjust the offer from the start.
Now, even Russell Group universities accept C grades through confirmation and clearing, so it pushes everyone’s standards lower to compete.
In response, this year we dropped all acceptable international grades by a fixed percentage to mirror a domestic algorithm-led confirmation strategy. A sweeping move that made a mockery of any benchmarking and ignoring the fact that in most cases we already consider international requirements a minimum requirement.
To halt this race to the bottom, the only way I can see forward is to move to a uniform UK standard framework because we need to level the playing field.
We have a government-approved secure English test list, but one with limited options on it.
Why not add the tests people are already accepting anyway? Why not be transparent about what others are accepting to create a national standard, instead of only part of the sector playing by the same rules?
Universities undercutting each other by doing interviews themselves or through agents, acceptance of medium of instruction in English letters from high risk markets, doesn’t help the situation; new private sector tests and pathways are spawning at a rate of knots and it’s hard to keep up.
From a student’s point of view, they simply cannot understand why UK universities judge their qualifications differently. “Why will one university accept this but you won’t?” – that is hard to explain.
My colleagues in admissions like to remind me they treat all applicants equally, which is a noble policy until you consider the vast inequality in tuition fee.
International students need targeted support. And while more risk might lead to more reward – students will inevitably need more help to bridge the gap.
My personal view is that qualification grades are poor predictors of success anyway, but we undoubtedly need to standardise our admissions culture in the sector.
Competitive decisions are turning into desperate decisions under financial pressures. So where does it end?
For now, the drop outs I see are are often linked to affordability, rather than academic level – but that is a topic for another day.
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