A closer look at TCU’s drop in the 2022-23 US News & World Report rankings

The release of the 2022-23 US News & World Report (USNWR) rankings contains good news for TCU: As the university press release proclaims, TCU is in the top 100 nationally-ranked universities for the 13th year in a row. That is no small achievement and all Horned Frogs should celebrate it!

What the university press release didn’t mention is that TCU dropped from #83 last year to #89 this year. Of course, rankings don’t tell the whole story, and the US News & World Report rankings have been the focus of recent controversy. At the same time, the rankings have long been the benchmark for universities, and for my part, I rather like that they are based on a wide range of factors (if you want to dive into that, see the USNWR methodology page and their explanation of criteria and weights). Although the USNWR rankings aren’t the final word, they nevertheless convey something informative about the quality of the schools on the list.

So what about TCU’s 6-point drop? This year, several schools are tied at TCU’s former (2021-22) spot of #83: Binghamton University–SUNY, Gonzaga, Marquette, Stevens Institute of Technology, University of California–Santa Cruz, and University of Iowa. And likewise several schools are tied at TCU’s new spot of #89, including incoming Big 12 opponent BYU, as well as Colorado School of Mines, Elon, Howard, University at Buffalo–SUNY, University of California–Riverside, and University of Delaware.

That’s not bad company; these are solid, respectable schools. But is it the company that TCU seeks? A few years back, TCU’s Chancellor’s Cabinet self-identified ten peer schools. Here are those school’s rankings:

  • Wake Forest (#29)
  • Tulane (#44)
  • Villanova (#51)
  • Pepperdine (#55)
  • Santa Clara (#55)
  • George Washington (#62)
  • Syracuse (#62)
  • American (#72)
  • SMU (#72)
  • Baylor (#79)

At #89, I’m not sure most of these universities would name TCU as a peer. Indeed it seems that TCU’s peers have become its aspirants.

Going by the rankings, the ten private universities closest to TCU are Baylor (#77), Loyola Marymount (#77), Gonzaga (#83), Marquette (#83), Stevens Institute of Technology (#83), BYU (#89), Elon (#89), Howard (#89), Clark (#97), and University of San Diego (#97). With the exception of Baylor, which is a newly-minted Research 1 university positioned to ascend higher in future years, the USNWR list looks much different than TCU’s self-defined list.

What could lead to an increase in TCU’s ranking? That’s a question with many possible answers, including reduced class sizes (notably, the Board recently increased TCU’s student/faculty ratio from 13:1 to 14:1, amid budget cuts across the university’s academic units), increased alumni giving, greater graduation and retention rates (one of TCU’s strengths is that these are already high), and the beguiling standard of “undergraduate academic reputation” (which is essentially a popularity contest among senior administrators and admissions officers nationwide and, in my opinion, accounts for too much of the USNWR score).

One action worth considering is increased faculty compensation, which has accounted for 7% of the ranking in recent editions of the survey (equivalent to student selectivity of the entering class). USNWR uses this as a benchmark because, they say, “Research shows there is a link between academic outcomes and compensation of faculty.” Analysis from TCU’s Faculty Senate in 2019 and 2020 found that TCU’s compensation lags behind that of other nationally-ranked private universities, and a 2022 analysis suggests TCU’s compensation has gotten worse after rising inflation.

On the University Compensation Advisory Committee (UCAC), we have been discussing TCU’s compensation targets, which are 90% of the AAUP doctoral university median for faculty, and 80% of the median for staff. By definition, salaries below the median are below-average salaries, which seems inconsistent with TCU’s identity as a top-100 nationally-ranked university whose top strategic priority is to raise the academic profile.

Also inconsistent with that identity is TCU’s move to diminish the importance of faculty research. TCU has long been committed to the teacher-scholar model, which recognizes the equal worth of both teaching and research. As the TCU Faculty Senate put it in 2019, “Teaching and scholarly activity (such as research and creative activity) are mutually compatible and reciprocal, and exceptional performance in one inspires equal merit in the other.” But now, TCU’s Provost’s Office is far along in a plan to recalibrate tenured/tenure-track faculty workload for many units, such that 50% of faculty effort would be devoted to teaching and only 30% to research. This places faculty research closer to service work (20%) than teaching. If TCU wants to improve its scholarly reputation, drive innovation, and discover solutions to the challenges facing our world, this is not the way to go.

In the end, then, the 6-point drop should provoke discussion and raise at least a bit of concern, but given the number of schools tied around our current (#89) and former (#83) rank, it should not be a matter of overreaction either. Much more concerning are the institutional decisions that could inhibit increases in the rankings and, more importantly, the academic quality and success of the university in the future. For example, TCU remains vulnerable to the next inevitable phase of athletic conference realignment, as the power conferences have a demonstrated preference for Research 1 universities.

The time is ripe for TCU to increase investment in the core academic mission of the university: The faculty, academic and student support staff, research labs, undergraduate and graduate programs, library resources, and grant development, along with a vigorous public relations campaign that emphasizes TCU’s commitment to scholarship. Beyond the USNWR rankings, these will enhance the ability of TCU’s students, faculty, and staff to make a positive impact on our world.


Delaying the Tenure Clock May Be an Inequitable Response to COVID-19

When I did a Google image search for “equity,” this was the first hit. I’ve seen this sort of picture before, and you probably have too. Given the Interaction Institute for Social Change has made the image freely available for use, it probably has appeared on every university campus in America during some presentation on diversity, equity, and inclusion.

(Interaction Institute for Social Change | Artist: Angus Maguire. interactioninstitute.org; madewithangus.com)

The message of the cartoon is clear: Rigidly identical standards may perpetuate inequity if we don’t account for differences across personal circumstances.

With this in mind, I’d like to consider how universities are approaching the tenure and promotion process during the COVID-19 pandemic. The most common response seems to be allowing assistant professors to extend their tenure clock by a year. However, this may create inequity for those on the tenure track, particularly for those in groups already underrepresented in the professoriate.

Recently, members of the University of Massachusettes ADVANCE team, a group “focusing on offering equitable campus support for faculty members and fostering inclusion amid major shifts to higher education and deep uncertainty about the future,” proposed a series of recommendations for helping faculty navigate COVID. Regarding tenure, they recommended:

Automatically delay tenure, promotion and reviews. Institutions should immediately slow the timing of decisions on tenure and reappointment to account for the new and unexpected tasks faculty members have had to shoulder. COVID-19 has affected research productivity in many ways, resulting in reduced access to labs, travel cancellations and suspension of human-subjects research, among other issues. Tenure delays can help mitigate such negative effects of COVID-19 on women faculty, who are already navigating gender biases in evaluation processes.


Let’s break this down. The first sentence observes that tenure-track faculty have encountered novel demands on their time and energy. In other words, assistant professors haven’t been vacationing during the pandemic. At my university, our Provost emphasized in an email to all faculty that the pandemic is “mandating our intense focus on teaching during all of 2020,” acknowledging “our planned progress on scholarship may be slowed.” In addition to whatever demands the pandemic has imposed on their personal lives, assistant professors have set aside research in order to train and transition to distance learning and hybrid classrooms.

Increased teaching workload isn’t the only challenge to research progress. The ADVANCE team notes that assistant professors often receive diminished research support from their universities, as well as more limited opportunities to collect data, present papers, and network with colleagues. For those whose scholarship requires longitudinal research, travel abroad, or field visits, the effect may be so devastating that assistant professors must reinvent their research programs.

Moreover, these burdens aren’t experienced equally across the professoriate. The pandemic appears to reduce the research productivity of women, perhaps because they are more likely to bear household and childcare responsibilities. The pandemic itself has hit ethnic/racial minority communities particularly hard, and faculty from underrepresented groups may face greater barriers to research productivity during the pandemic than their white peers.

Thus, in the classic equity image above, the tall person on the left may represent tenured faculty, who experienced plenty of financial support and opportunities for research without the calamity wrought by a global pandemic. Some fortunate assistant professors may be like the person in the middle, lacking that same support yet possessing research programs and personal privileges that enable them to weather the pandemic’s effects. And other assistant professors, perhaps especially women and members of racial/ethnic minorities, may be so burdened by the pandemic’s demands that they are like the person on the right who can’t see over the fence.

The solution offered by the ADVANCE team is to extend the tenure clock, and the University of Massachusetts isn’t alone in that recommendation. Several universities, including my own, are enacting similar policies (University of Washington, for example). The logic seems to run along these lines: Perhaps the tenure and promotion guidelines recommend ten publications in peer-reviewed journals, but due to the pandemic, an assistant professor will only have eight publications by the time the clock expires. An extra year could make up for the year lost to the pandemic, enabling them to reach that threshold of ten publications.

At first glance, this may appear like equity as depicted in the picture—faculty receive more time than usual, in the hope that after that bonus year they’ll rise to the standard. Although well intentioned, this solution may not work for all tenure-track faculty, and it may facilitate inequity rather than curbing it.

Tenure and promotion mean many things in the life of a professor. Promotion often brings a pay raise, perhaps a substantial one. Beyond finances, obtaining tenure affords status and prestige in one’s discipline. It brings greater freedom to express opinions on controversial matters, both academic and institutional. Of course, it affords job security, which is becoming ever rarer in academia and may be under particular threat during the pandemic.

Delaying tenure means delaying all of these things. Even a retroactive pay bump, which the ADVANCE team suggests, doesn’t fully ameliorate that. Moreover, an extra year on the clock may not be enough to revive research programs strongly affected by the pandemic.

An extra year fails to acknowledge the challenging work assistant professors have already given to their universities. The current cohort of tenure-track faculty, which is more racially diverse than cohorts in the past, has shifted their research to teaching and service, and done so quickly and unexpectedly. Many have done this while navigating increased demands in their personal lives. Resources and opportunities for scholarship are more limited than they were even a year ago. For some, the pandemic may make it difficult or impossible to restart their prior research programs.

And yet their tenured colleagues and administrators, a less diverse group who did not face these challenges, still wants to hold today’s assistant professors to the same standard of productivity. Perhaps that is like the person on the left wondering why the person on the right can’t see the game. Giving a year extension may be like handing that person a pair of binoculars rather than a box on which to stand.

Although a year delay in the tenure clock may serve the interests of some faculty, for others it is an incomplete solution that ‘rewards’ overworked faculty, who may feel the effects of burnout, with the ‘opportunity’ to do another year of work before they receive the fruit of their labor.

A more equitable solution might consider the faculty member’s individual circumstances, including the nature of their research program and the effect of the pandemic on it. Institutions could require faculty members to include a statement about this in their tenure and promotion application (and ask those evaluating the application to consider it). Likewise, external review letters might include that information, as well as guidance on how the pandemic has influenced the institution’s research support and work priorities.

An alternative approach has received little consideration, as far as I can tell: Rather than affording faculty an extra year to reach the standard, perhaps it is time to reconsider the standard in light of our unusual circumstances.

A recent article quoted Dominique Baker, assistant professor of education policy at Southern Methodist University: “What difference does it make if we say, ‘Instead of having 20 publications, you need to have 15’? We have total control over what this looks like, and if we don’t want people to be burned out, why don’t we adjust our expectations a bit in light of what’s happening around us?”

One objection involves the precedent this might create. To that point, for the sake of equity, perhaps we should reconsider standards again if we ever encounter another situation as pervasive, deleterious, and demanding as the pandemic. Another objection could be that relaxing tenure standards may weaken the perceived prestige of the school, but this line of thought conflates research output with faculty quality. When circumstances improve, so will productivity of all faculty.

Some might observe that delaying tenure could help university budgets in the short term during a time of fiscal crisis. Yet balancing institutional finances on the backs of junior faculty would serve as clear evidence of inequity across professional ranks and roles.

During the pandemic, assistant professors have shouldered much of the labor that is keeping universities afloat in these turbulent waters. Considering all possible ways to adjust the tenure process equitably signals to assistant professors that universities value that work. For many, and particularly those from traditionally underrepresented groups, such adjustments could be the stack of boxes that will let them see the game. Without such equity, we risk diminishing the future contributions of an entire generation of assistant professors.

What I’ve been up to lately…

… no, I promise you, I haven’t forgotten about this blog! Rather, I’ve been writing and working on other things. Today, I’d like to share three of them with you!


I’m SO incredibly proud of these two:

Katie_cropped Natalie_cropped

Katherine (Katie) Fearer (left) and Natalie Fech (right) did absolutely fantastic work on their master’s theses. Both theses addressed relational uncertainty and relational maintenance (Natalie’s in romantic relationships, Katie’s in friendships), and both found really really nifty findings that I fully expect will appear in press soon. Neither are pursuing a PhD at the moment, but if any of y’all reading this are looking to add great doctoral students to your program, these two are well worth recruiting!


I’ve talked with many professors who have wondered how they should manage students’ technology use in the classroom: “Should I allow laptops only? Or cell phones too? Maybe I should ban all technology use?” My wonderful TCU friend/colleague Dr. Amber Finn and I have set out to provide answers to these questions.

In a study that’s soon to appear in Communication Education (and is already available online), we examined how a teacher’s technology policies predict student learner empowerment–in other words, the student’s belief that s/he can perform effectively in the class.

Based on previous research (i.e., Turman & Schrodt, 2005), we expected learner empowerment would be highest when teachers moderately encourage course-relevant technology use and moderately discourage non-course use. But, that’s not what we found!

For encouraging policies, we found nothing but a positive effect. The more teachers encourage course-relevant technology use, the more empowered students feel. (IMO–This should give teachers some pause about banning all tech use in the classroom.)

For discouraging policies, we found the effect depended on the student’s level of apprehension about communicating online. These findings led to this graph, which I’ll share here just because I think it looks kinda cool (well, ‘cool’ in a geeky way… :-):

What does this mean? Well, the most important line is that dark, solid line–that’s the highly apprehensive students. The curve of the line is lowest in the middle–in other words, they feel least empowered when teachers are moderately discouraging of non-course tech use!

The upshot here? We think clarity is important. As an instructor, you can discourage non-course tech use as long as you’re clear about it. If you’re wishy-washy, you’ll ‘freak out’ the apprehensive students because they won’t know what to expect–and, consequently, they’ll fell less empowered.



Several years ago, my dear friend and mentor Em Griffin invited me to serve as a “special consultant,” and now as a co-author, on his textbook A First Look at Communication Theory. It’s the book that, as a college student at Wheaton, got me all fired up about being a communication professor–so I was delighted to accept his invitation!

We (Em and Glenn Sparks at Purdue University) have been working on the upcoming 9th edition. (The image above is the 8th edition; the cover hasn’t been finalized for the 9th edition yet.) I won’t say much about it now, except that I’m excited about the updates we’ve been making to the book! Much of my work has involved a new organizational communication theory… I’m very excited to see the feedback on it from long-time users of the book.

I should probably also mention that, this April, I was awarded tenure and promotion to associate professor at TCU. Thanks to all of you who helped me on the journey to this point in my career! I feel very blessed to work at such a wonderful university with truly excellent colleagues.

Do colleges really “close” during the summer?: A critique of Fay Vincent in the WSJ

So yesterday, I read an article in the WSJ by former MLB commissioner Fay Vincent (this link may/may not allow you to see it without a WSJ subscription).

In the article, he argues that universities can become “more efficient” if they don’t “close for the summer.” Um, I wonder if he’s ever been on a college campus during the summer? Every school I’ve seen firsthand runs a slew of revenue-generating summer classes and conferences.

He also attacks faculty, arguing they are “underutilized” and could “be used more productively” during the summer. Um, has he ever observed faculty during the summer? The faculty I know produce a lot during the summer across the domains of teaching, research, and service.

Finally, he addresses time, claiming “As school administrations over the years have steadily shortened the educational year, students were the losers. It is difficult not to conclude that my generation got a better education because we got more of it.” He fails to consider that the relationship between time and learning isn’t linear. I guarantee you my students aren’t learning as much during the 14th week of the semester as they are the 3rd–the comparison between the 74th and 6th minutes of class is also apt.

I agree we need to ask serious questions about higher education practices and consider creative answers. And speaking of productivity, such brainstorming is most productive when it doesn’t betray basic ignorance about fundamental facts of academic life.