How do you count what can't be squeezed into a spreadsheet?

The problem with clarifying our value proposition, as the current euphemism puts it, is that a lot depends on whose values are included in the proposition.

Let me try that again.

Suppose you are a bean-counter at a campus suffering from budget problems, and one way to fix the problem is to cut some faculty lines, transform others into part-time contingent positions (because "any adjunct can teach that class for a lot less money"), and discontinue some programs entirely. How do you decide which programs to chop and which to enhance? (In this context, "enhance" might mean simply "allow to continue functioning as usual," but that's a quibble for another day.)

You've got to develop some metrics, concrete numbers to show which programs are contributing to the success of the institution and which ones aren't. The problem with this system, though, is that numbers can measure only those qualities that are measurable by numbers, which seems so self-evident that it's hardly worth mentioning but at the same time needs to be reiterated: numbers can measure only those qualities that are measurable by numbers. Which raises the question: what about the ones that aren't? How do you measure the immeasurable, untangle the intangible, eff the ineffable?

First let's think about the metrics that might be used to evaluate the effectiveness of a program, starting with FTEs, AKA "butts in seats." How many students does a program attract? How many of them graduate, and how quickly? How effective is the education they receive in those classes? This can be hard to measure--course evaluations are notoriously unreliable, but that doesn't mean their numbers won't be consulted. Assessment data will help. What about post-graduate outcomes--how many students go to grad school or find a job in their field within six months or a year? And of course you have to consider costs: How much does the department cost the institution in salaries, benefits, equipment, and facilities? How much grant money does it bring in? All these numbers are easily obtained and will therefore play a big part in evaluating a department's value to the institution.

So you run all these numbers through the algorithms and you come up with a list of programs or majors that attract a lot of students who demonstrate positive outcomes at a reasonable cost, and you conclude that those departments are contributing quite a lot to the success of the institution and should therefore be enhanced. Kudos to you, Top-Notch Department! According to the metrics, you're doing a great job educating your majors!

But of course Top-Notch Department isn't functioning in a vacuum. Its majors must take courses outside the department--writing and speech and general education courses, maybe even a second major or minor or certificate. How much do these other departments contribute to Top-Notch Department's students' success? That's a little harder to quantify. How much does a good Business Writing class contribute to a Finance major's ability to communicate clearly? How much more employable is a Petroleum Engineering major who can speak a foreign language proficiently? How can you equitably distribute the credit to all the departments that might contribute more or less to a student's success? And what about outside-of-class activities? How much does participation in student government or baseball or a fraternity or Model U.N. contribute to student success? 

Maybe that task is too difficult. It's a lot easier to ignore extracurriculars and courses outside the major; in fact, maybe it would be a lot easier--and cheaper!--if more of those general education and service courses were taught by part-time and contingent faculty members, which would improve the value proposition of the institution as a whole.

But, again, a lot depends on what you value.

Do you see general education courses as check-marks on a transcript or as opportunities for students to have enriching and sometimes life-changing encounters with a wide range of ideas? Is there room in your algorithm to measure the degree of enrichment experienced in those classes? Where does "that course changed my life!" fit into your metrics?

Do you see faculty members as interchangeable cogs in a machine or as experts and leaders who contribute to the quality of the institution even when they're not in the classroom? Is there room in your algorithm to value the time faculty members spend advising students, leading campus committees, or organizing cultural events that serve the entire community?

How, in other words, can your numbers quantify the things that make a Liberal Arts education a Liberal Arts education? How are you going to quantify the value of students' self-understanding and breadth of knowledge and in-depth study with faculty members who enjoy the academic freedom protected by tenure?

Maybe that's too much to expect. In fact, this whole program evaluation process has a fairly tight deadline, so you'd better just gather the numbers that are easily gathered and crunch the numbers that are easily crunched and ignore those qualities that resist quantification, even if those are the qualities most closely associated with the institution's mission, history, and identity. After all, you devalue the intangible or immeasurable or ineffable characteristics long enough, eventually they are bound to disappear. And since the costs of ignoring unquantifiable qualities are themselves difficult to quantify, you don't even have to worry about what may be lost along the way. Problem solved!

Meanwhile, those of us who value the intangible qualities that can't be squeezed into a spreadsheet find ourselves, at best, sidelined, dismissed as obstructionists or devotees of an outmoded ideal--or, at worst, deleted entirely from the system, just as our values are deleted from the institution's value proposition.

So go ahead, bean-counters, count what can be counted--but be watchful lest you count out the very qualities that make the institution matter most.