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The Innovative University

CHANGING THE DNA OF HIGHER EDUCATION FROM THE INSIDE OUT

Clayton M. Christensen and Henry J. Eyring

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Preface

Because the research and writing of this book began and ended with Henry Eyring, I have written this preface so that our readers might glimpse what a privilege it has been for me to watch Henry's extraordinary mind and his selfless heart at work as we crafted this book.

In 2000, Ricks College, a two-year school in rural southern Idaho, became a four-year school, Brigham Young University (BYU)-Idaho. The creation of BYU-Idaho took almost everyone by surprise. It wasn't just that its sponsor, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (more commonly known as the Mormon Church) had a policy of preventing “mission creep” at its four institutions of higher learning.1 At least as surprising as the decision to make Ricks a four-year institution was its unique design. The new university would remain focused on undergraduate instruction: there would be no graduate programs and no traditional research scholarship. One of the most successful junior college athletic programs in the United States would be eliminated.

The university would also pursue new efficiencies. It would operate year-round, and new technologies, especially online learning, would be used to serve more students at lower cost. In becoming a university, the former Ricks College would actually operate more in the spirit of a community college than it had before.

At the time of BYU-Idaho's creation, Henry J. Eyring was at a sister institution, Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, directing the MBA program at the Marriott School of Management. A graduate of that program, Henry had been hired a few years earlier to help reverse a slide in its US News & World Report ranking, which had tied with Penn State for the last place in the top fifty MBA programs. The mandate was to move up quickly. Among other things, that meant becoming more selective in admissions; placing more students in higher-paying jobs; and bolstering the faculty's research and publication quality and quantity in order to enhance the program's reputation in the eyes of other academic leaders. These were crucial initiatives—and expensive ones.

This wasn't the first time Henry had seen the costs of operating at the upper heights of the academic hierarchy, however. As chief financial officer for the Huntsman Cancer Foundation, he approved outlays for medical research facilities and faculty salaries at the University of Utah's Huntsman Cancer Institute. Jon M. Huntsman Sr.'s initial commitments of more than $100 million were just enough to prime a pump that would need continual fueling by other sources, particularly federal research grants.

Thus, in 2000, the design of the new BYU-Idaho riveted Henry's attention. On a higher education landscape where the general goal is to move up notwithstanding the high cost of doing so, here was an institution focused on a relatively lowly niche. When, in 2005, Harvard Business School dean Kim Clark was named president of BYU-Idaho, Henry was among many who wondered whether the institution's strategy would change: Wouldn't an accomplished scholar and fundraiser from the world's preeminent business school attempt to raise the institution's prestige and profile?

In his inauguration address Kim squashed such speculation. As expected, he talked of raising the quality of a BYU-Idaho education. However, Kim projected a decline in the university's operating costs and an expansion of its reach to benefit even students in Africa. He admitted the difficulty of simultaneously raising the school's quality, decreasing its costs, and serving more students. But he spoke optimistically and with the credibility not only of a Harvard Business School dean but also as a distinguished scholar of operations management. Henry, who had met Kim only once, contacted him to learn more about his vision and then jumped at Kim's offer to join the BYU-Idaho team.

Working with Kim and his team proved as stimulating as expected—especially as Henry observed the differences between BYU-Idaho and most other universities. The people weren't fundamentally different: BYU-Idaho faculty members and administrators love learning and helping others learn, but that is true of almost everyone who embarks on an academic career. Somehow, though, the BYU-Idaho environment fostered unusual innovation and learning outcomes. Responding to his musings on these paradoxes one day, Henry's wife Kelly explained the difference with a metaphor: “BYU-Idaho has different DNA.”

The metaphor clicked. At the time Henry was reading a book called Excellence Without a Soul: How a Great University Forgot Education.2 Author Harry Lewis, a former dean of Harvard College, begins the book with an overview of Harvard's history. He summarizes innovations that produced institutional features familiar to any college student: merit-based admissions and scholarships; general education and majors; grading curves and honors; intercollegiate athletes and faculty members striving for up-or-out tenure. Reading now with BYU-Idaho's unique traits in mind, Henry recognized Harvard as the source of much of the DNA of traditional universities, from long-established research institutions to up-and-coming regional schools.

The thought occurred to Henry to contrast the differences between the DNA of Harvard and BYU-Idaho by telling their stories from initial founding to the present. The comparison might show how other institutions could change their DNA as BYU-Idaho has done. Kim Clark initially questioned the idea. Given Henry's employment at BYU-Idaho and the fact that his father was president of its forerunner, Ricks College, from 1971 to 1977, there could be accusations of self-serving bias. Kim was also sensitive to the potential inference that BYU-Idaho considers its educational model somehow preferable to Harvard's. A holder of bachelor's, master's, and doctoral degrees from Harvard, Kim knew that the two institutions are different species and literally incomparable.

Henry argued that that was exactly the point. His zeal for contrasting the DNA of BYU-Idaho and Harvard grew as Kim pointed out the features that make the latter different not only from the former but also from the many institutions that have attempted to copy Harvard. Kim described the intellectual stimulation of the Harvard house environment, with its tutors who showed him how to study more effectively and how to “navigate the system.” He told of being mentored by world-class scholars in graduate-level courses that were open to him as an undergraduate student.

Kim, who along with others well acquainted with Harvard, became a key advisor on the writing project, also talked about how much Harvard spends to simultaneously set the worldwide pace for scholarship and create a nurturing environment for all students, including undergraduates. The weight of that financial burden became generally apparent in 2009, as Harvard dealt with the budgetary fallout from a huge endowment loss. Henry realized that one reason other institutions struggle as they attempt to emulate Harvard is that essential elements of the DNA—especially Harvard's unrivaled wealth—are hard to copy.

As Henry studied the Harvard-emulation phenomenon, he recognized some of the pattern of disruptive innovation that I have found in so many industries. The theory of disruptive innovation asserts that in industries from computers to cars to steel those entrants that start at the bottom of their markets, selling simple products to less demanding customers and then improving from that foothold, drive the prior leaders into a disruptive demise. I was wrestling to explain the same issues in higher education, a natural next step after writing a book about disruptive innovation in public education. So when Henry invited me to join him in studying the past and future of higher education, I jumped at the chance.

We concluded that universities are an anomaly that my original framing of disruption could not explain. True, most entrants have indeed entered into the “low end” or “new market” of higher education, often as community colleges. And they have almost uniformly driven up-market to offer bachelor's and advanced degrees in more and more fields—just as the theory would predict. But the demise of the incumbents that characterizes most industries in the late stages of disruption has rarely occurred among colleges and universities. We have had entry, but not exit.

We identified three factors that resolved this anomaly. First, teaching. In the past, teaching was difficult to disrupt because its human qualities couldn't be replicated. In the future, though, teaching will be disruptable as online technology improves and shifts the competitive focus from a teacher's credentials or an institution's prestige to what students actually learn.

Second, we observed two distinct groups of college students who have different “jobs-to-be-done.” In one group, the campus experience is central to the college experience. For members of this group, the campus experience is hard to disrupt. Because of family and work responsibilities, however, students in the other group don't want to spend time on campus to earn a degree. They want to learn when they have time to learn—often after work, when their children are asleep. New entrants to higher education that focus on these potential students are indeed classic disruptors.

And the third reason why higher education has seen many new entrants but few exits is alumni and state legislators, who are “customers” of their institutions. Their support is typically driven not only by public spiritedness but also by deep personal relationships with faculty members and coaches who profoundly molded their lives. Alumni and state support gives traditional universities and colleges staying power unique to higher education.

These observations supported the finding of other studies that learning occurs best when it involves a blend of online and face-to-face learning, with the latter providing essential intangibles best obtained on a traditional college campus. I believe a more nuanced theory of higher education innovation emerged from our collaboration. The physical campuses and full-time faculty members of traditional universities and colleges can embrace online learning as a sustaining innovation—technology could make them stronger than ever. This is a different situation than the more straightforward dilemma that the newspapers and video rental stores faced when online technology knocked on their doors.

By the summer of 2010, Henry and I had revised the story of Harvard, BYU-Idaho, and disruptive innovation in higher education to the point of apparent diminishing returns. As I said on July 16, “Finishing a book like ours is like playing football on a logarithmic grid: regardless of how hard you work to cross the goal line with a perfect product, you see an eternity of additional work required to get there. At some point, you just have to declare victory, spike the ball and walk off the field.” We agreed that Henry would tighten the final part of the manuscript while I wrote a new introduction. Then we would call it good.

Two days later I suffered a stroke as I addressed a church group near MIT. A neurologist in the group recognized the slurring of my speech as a sign of stroke and admitted me to Massachusetts General Hospital, just five minutes away. The stroke rendered me unable to speak and write. Henry's able shoulders therefore had to carry not only his assignments but mine too, while I focused on learning again to speak and write. The delay brought unexpected benefits to the writing project. Most notably, the November 2010 release of a study called Winning by Degrees: The Strategies of Highly Effective Higher Education Institutions3 enriched the manuscript with its descriptions of the innovations of schools other than BYU-Idaho and Harvard. Henry did a magnificent job.

At a time when my persuasive abilities were still limited, Henry and the publishers concluded that our two names would appear alphabetically on the cover—because we both contributed all that we could. Our goal is to inspire today's higher education community to do what it did in the late 1800s, when Harvard and its peers created a new model of higher education. It was a model that built on the best traditions of U.S. and European institutions but added powerful innovations that took them all to greater heights. Along with the Morrill Act, which established the land-grant colleges, the new model dramatically expanded the quality and accessibility of higher learning, helping to fulfill Abraham Lincoln's dream of a “new birth of freedom.”

The technologies that now threaten to disrupt traditional universities and colleges can also reinvigorate them to the benefit of so many people. We hope that this book will help—that it will be widely read and debated. Our motive is not pecuniary; our royalties have been assigned to the Innosight Institute, our partner in promoting higher education innovation.

Henry and I love higher education. We appreciate what it has done for us, and we love the people who make it possible. They include not only teachers and administrators but also students and parents and taxpayers. This book is for them, in a spirit of love and hope.

Clayton M. Christensen and my magnificent partner in this effort, Henry J. Eyring

Acknowledgments

We are grateful to many people whose support and direction made this book possible. They include the following volunteers who generously read and commented on the manuscript. Each made it better, though none bears any blame for its flaws.

  1. Josh Allen and the students of his BYU-Idaho professional editing class
  2. Scott Anthony
  3. Douglas Anderson
  4. Devan Barker
  5. Ross Baron
  6. Michael Bassis
  7. David Bednar
  8. Susan Bednar
  9. Robert Bird
  10. Derek Bok
  11. Jack Brittain
  12. Molly Corbett Broad
  13. Fenton Broadhead
  14. Merv Brown
  15. Kelly Burgener
  16. Mary Carter
  17. Max Checketts
  18. Kim Clark
  19. Jordan Clements
  20. Hyrum Conrad
  21. Maureen Devlin
  22. Rob Eaton
  23. Jason Earl
  24. Tom Eisenmann
  25. Glenn Embree
  26. Henry B. Eyring
  27. Henry C. Eyring
  28. Matthew Eyring
  29. Mark Fuller
  30. Gordon Gee
  31. Clark Gilbert
  32. Mary Glenn
  33. Jack Harrell
  34. Roger Hoggan
  35. Matt Holland
  36. Steve Hunsaker
  37. John Ivers
  38. Shawn Johansen
  39. Paul Johnson
  40. Todd Kelson
  41. Jorge Klor de Alva
  42. Bruce Kusch
  43. Martha Laboissier
  44. Michael Leavitt
  45. Paul Le Blanc
  46. Nicholas Lemann
  47. Doug Lederman
  48. Harry Lewis
  49. Kent Lundin
  50. Michael Madsen
  51. Scott McKinley
  52. Louis Menand
  53. Joel Meyerson
  54. Todd Nelson
  55. Reed Nielsen
  56. Rulon Nielsen
  57. Jeffrey Olson
  58. Luba Ostashevsky
  59. Ric Page
  60. Greg Palmer
  61. David Peck
  62. Chase Peterson
  63. Richard Pieper
  64. Michael Porter
  65. LaNae Poulter
  66. Stephen Prescott
  67. Martin Raish
  68. Kirk Rawlins
  69. Henry Rosovsky
  70. Cecil Samuelson
  71. Matt Sanders
  72. Len Schlesinger
  73. Rhonda Seamons
  74. Mack Shirley
  75. Steven Snow
  76. Louis Soares
  77. Danny Stern
  78. Richard Tait
  79. John Thomas
  80. Eric Walz
  81. Steve Wheelwright
  82. Alan Young
  83. Michael Young

We received extraordinary professional support in the production of the book. Jesse Wiley correctly described his Jossey-Bass colleague Sheryl Fullerton as “simply perfect for the job” of editing the manuscript. Along with her teammates, Alison Knowles and Joanne Clapp Fullagar, Sheryl exceeded all reasonable expectations of effort and skill.

We are similarly grateful to Danny and Susan Stern and their gifted team at Stern + Associates: Millie Mortan, Laura Moss, Jim Nichols, Adria Tomaszewski, and Ned Ward. Each of them improved the book and played a vital role in publicizing it. The same is true of our Innosight Institute colleague Michael Horn.

We are particularly indebted to Clay's assistant Lisa Stone, who kept the channel of communication between us open as he experienced and miraculously recovered from a severe stroke. Lisa also helped us see the holes in our thinking and made brilliant suggestions for filling them. She is a friend of remarkable dedication, optimism, and talent.

For Christine, who keeps my mind sharp amidst everything else

—Clay Christensen

To Kelly, who suggested the DNA metaphor

— Henry Eyring