I am fascinated by LA.
The city's history and its mingling of cultures creates a dynamic environment that I find both intoxicating and energizing. Ready access to the visual and performing arts provides unprecedented opportunities to explore museums, to experience the theater, and to absorb the energy of creativity throughout the city.
I firmly believe I've become an Angeleno after three great years of living in the city and having the privilege of being part of the West community as we strive to be "a gateway of success for every student." I'm proud of the city and of California, and I'm deeply appreciative of the strong, decisive leadership our State, community and county officials are providing in the face of the coronavirus pandemic.
However, I have a strong allegiance to another community that is the diametrical opposite of LA: 2,200 miles away, a community of 9,000 that typifies American small town life, nestled in the Appalachian Mountains in the section of Maryland that squeezes between Pennsylvania and West Virginia.
Frostburg, Maryland.
Frostburg, for me, was the embodiment of small-town living. Trish and I arrived there with two small children in tow, and we grew together as a family (adding our daughter along the way), participating in the programs of the local elementary school, herding the boys off to soccer practice, hiking in the mountains that surrounded the town, and knowing just about every resident.
Frostburg was pivotal in my life as well because of Frostburg State University, where I spent my formative professional years and learned about being an educational administrator. A protypical rural, residential college of 5,000 students, FSU offered to students coming from Pittsburgh, Baltimore, Washington DC, and other locations in the mid-Atlantic the opportunity to experience the type of small-college educational experience that epitomized the "American dream" of college.
That was before the coronavirus.
Now, Frostburg State University (FSU), like so many other regional comprehensive colleges, is facing an existential crisis in the face of COVID-19. The college's budget is built in large part on the room and board fees paid by almost 2,000 students, and now news reports indicate that many schools, including FSU, are refunding room and board costs and other related fees because they emptied their residence halls. The impact is not felt exclusively by the college, however: FSU is the largest employer in town, and the loss of revenue from students--and the specter of layoffs--can be devastating to a small, close-knit town like Frostburg. That FSU is so inextricably linked to its community is illustrated by the fact that, when Trish and our family lived there, three generations of one family were employed in different departments at the college.
I worry about Frostburg because I still have very good friends there. I know that deep in their hearts they consider an uncertain future, wondering how the long-term impacts of the pandemic will alter the college and change their way of life.
I write about Frostburg this morning because I think about how fortunate we are here at West. As an urban community college, we benefit from the counter-cyclical nature of enrollments, as I discussed in a previous blog posting. For example, the experimental term that we created that began yesterday (April 27) with six general education courses enrolling 40 students each is now 95% fully enrolled. Students still believe in the power of education to carry them through hard times, and we are perfectly positioned at West to build on our strengths in distance education and to meet the needs of our community. So we grow, while schools like Frostburg search for a sustainable business model.
I encourage you to reach out to your friends and relatives who may be struggling with the impacts of COVID-19. Show them true compassion and offer an authentic listening ear. And let's quietly celebrate the opportunities we have at West, even in the midst of an unprecedented time in our history, to continue to do what we do best: providing a quality education to any student who comes to our door and says, "I want to come to college and to create a better life for myself and my family."
The city's history and its mingling of cultures creates a dynamic environment that I find both intoxicating and energizing. Ready access to the visual and performing arts provides unprecedented opportunities to explore museums, to experience the theater, and to absorb the energy of creativity throughout the city.
I firmly believe I've become an Angeleno after three great years of living in the city and having the privilege of being part of the West community as we strive to be "a gateway of success for every student." I'm proud of the city and of California, and I'm deeply appreciative of the strong, decisive leadership our State, community and county officials are providing in the face of the coronavirus pandemic.
However, I have a strong allegiance to another community that is the diametrical opposite of LA: 2,200 miles away, a community of 9,000 that typifies American small town life, nestled in the Appalachian Mountains in the section of Maryland that squeezes between Pennsylvania and West Virginia.
Frostburg, Maryland.
Frostburg was pivotal in my life as well because of Frostburg State University, where I spent my formative professional years and learned about being an educational administrator. A protypical rural, residential college of 5,000 students, FSU offered to students coming from Pittsburgh, Baltimore, Washington DC, and other locations in the mid-Atlantic the opportunity to experience the type of small-college educational experience that epitomized the "American dream" of college.
That was before the coronavirus.
Now, Frostburg State University (FSU), like so many other regional comprehensive colleges, is facing an existential crisis in the face of COVID-19. The college's budget is built in large part on the room and board fees paid by almost 2,000 students, and now news reports indicate that many schools, including FSU, are refunding room and board costs and other related fees because they emptied their residence halls. The impact is not felt exclusively by the college, however: FSU is the largest employer in town, and the loss of revenue from students--and the specter of layoffs--can be devastating to a small, close-knit town like Frostburg. That FSU is so inextricably linked to its community is illustrated by the fact that, when Trish and our family lived there, three generations of one family were employed in different departments at the college.
I worry about Frostburg because I still have very good friends there. I know that deep in their hearts they consider an uncertain future, wondering how the long-term impacts of the pandemic will alter the college and change their way of life.
I write about Frostburg this morning because I think about how fortunate we are here at West. As an urban community college, we benefit from the counter-cyclical nature of enrollments, as I discussed in a previous blog posting. For example, the experimental term that we created that began yesterday (April 27) with six general education courses enrolling 40 students each is now 95% fully enrolled. Students still believe in the power of education to carry them through hard times, and we are perfectly positioned at West to build on our strengths in distance education and to meet the needs of our community. So we grow, while schools like Frostburg search for a sustainable business model.
I encourage you to reach out to your friends and relatives who may be struggling with the impacts of COVID-19. Show them true compassion and offer an authentic listening ear. And let's quietly celebrate the opportunities we have at West, even in the midst of an unprecedented time in our history, to continue to do what we do best: providing a quality education to any student who comes to our door and says, "I want to come to college and to create a better life for myself and my family."