California Crises
Take a Heavy Toll
On State Colleges
By RHONDA L. RUNDLE and JIM
CARLTON
Staff Reporters of THE WALL
STREET JOURNAL
LOS ANGELES -- Educators
from around the world used to flock to California to see what made its
vaunted higher-education system tick. Now the state's public colleges
are in crisis, buffeted by the forces plunging California into economic
and political turmoil.
The state's budget woes
have prompted funding cuts and fee increases at the schools, and
threaten to inflict even deeper wounds next year. At the same time, the
schools are being swamped by a wave of new students -- the children of
baby boomers and those of Latino and Asian immigrants who arrived in
record numbers in the 1980s and 1990s.
Among the hardest hit have
been the state's community colleges, which many low-income students use
as a stepping stone to better jobs and a better life. Many classes are
full at these schools, others have been canceled, and enrollment fees
have rocketed 64% higher, threatening to lock out many poor students.
And the woes at the state's
other school systems promise more trouble for the community colleges.
As fees shot up 30% at the California State University and University
of California colleges, more students are expected to flock to the
already-overburdened community schools. Things are expected to get even
worse next spring, when CSU plans to slash enrollment growth nearly in
half, denying admission to as many as 20,000 students. Six of its 23
campuses won't accept any freshmen or transfer students at all.
At City College of San
Francisco, immigrants or their children constitute more than one-half
the school's bulging enrollment of about 100,000 students. Nga Nguyen
is a 45-year-old Vietnamese immigrant who moved to the U.S. with her
husband five years ago. She has been attending classes at the community
college as part of a two-year program to become a pharmaceutical
technician.
But Ms. Nguyen, a
night-shift waitress who shares a cramped one-bedroom apartment with
her husband and two children, says she may have to extend her program
by an extra year because of recent budget hits. The school closed 40%
of its English-as-a-second-language classes this summer, a program used
by many immigrants to hone English-writing skills. "I tried to get in
one of the classes, but they were all full," she says.
City College officials
express frustration at the cuts, and say they may hold serious
consequences for California's economy. By making it more difficult for
strapped students to climb up from their menial jobs, says school
trustee Julio Ramos, employers may be forced to seek more workers
through visa programs or by outsourcing jobs overseas.
Now the California colleges
have become a political football in the state's overheated
gubernatorial contest. As 134 candidates vie to replace Gov. Gray Davis
in the Oct. 7 recall election, community colleges are a big part of the
debate.
Cruz Bustamante, the
state's lieutenant governor and the leading Democratic contender, said
last week that if he were elected he would roll back fee increases at
the community colleges and open up more classes to meet demand. He
would pay for the proposed changes with proceeds from a $12 billion
revenue-raising plan, including $8 billion in higher taxes.
Mr. Bustamante himself is a
product of the community-college system. He enrolled first at Fresno
City College, a short drive from his hometown of San Joaquin. But jobs,
and his political career, prevented him from finishing his four-year
degree. The lieutenant governor, now 50, was finally awarded his
bachelor of arts from California State University at Fresno earlier
this year, after taking Internet classes to help complete the few
credits he needed.
"Our community colleges
have been the source of California's economic growth and prosperity,"
Mr. Bustamante said in his opening campaign speech last week. "They
allow millions of people to become a part of the best-trained, most
productive work force in America."
The leading Republican
candidate, 56-year-old actor Arnold Schwarzenegger, is also familiar
with the California community colleges: He attended three of them
simultaneously in the Los Angeles area soon after arriving in this
country from Austria, according to a spokeswoman. He has pledged not to
make any more cuts to education in general but hasn't said whether he
would roll back cuts. Another Republican candidate, former baseball
commissioner Peter Ueberroth, says he would boost spending in colleges
and other schools if state revenue rose sufficiently under his proposed
spending caps.
California boasts that its
colleges -- the 108 community schools, 23 CSU campuses and 10 UC
campuses -- make up the largest system of higher education anywhere in
the world. Last fall, roughly 1.6 million students, or 70% of all those
in the state's public higher-education system, attended one of the 108
community colleges.
Unlike the state's
four-year universities, the community colleges don't have selective
admissions policies. Historically, their doors have been open to any
state resident over 18 who pays a modest fee.
Even with higher fees,
community colleges are still a bargain for many students. Community
schools cost full-time students about $468 a year, compared with $2,566
for CSU and $5,537 for UC. The fees are several times higher for
students who aren't California residents. Over the years, many students
who couldn't afford four years at CSU or UC have spent two years at a
community college before transferring to another system.
The funding reductions for
community colleges signed by Gov. Davis in July aren't as devastating
as many feared. Spending from the general fund, which pays for
education and other social programs, was cut by 9.4%, or about $250
million. But those cuts were rolled back to $86.8 million, or 1.7%,
after fees were raised 64% and property-tax forecasts showed
higher-than-expected revenue growth.
But that doesn't tell the
true story, says Robert Turnage, the community-college system's vice
chancellor for fiscal policy. Even with the smaller budget cut, funding
per student has dropped nearly 7% over the past two years, he says.
Meanwhile, the legislature has said it doesn't plan to support
enrollment growth at the state's universities in the fiscal 2005
budget, which will drive more students into the community colleges.
"That is quite startling
when you consider the history of California, its past commitment to
higher education" and the "tidal wave" of expected enrollments in this
decade, Mr. Turnage says. "If we look ahead to 2004 and 2005, the
prospects aren't bright."
California's famous "Master
Plan for Education" was adopted in 1960, when the first round of baby
boomers prepared to leave high school. It promised every California
student a free college education and kicked off a campus-building boom
across the state. The plan was a turning point in higher education in
the U.S. and was widely copied in other states and countries. Despite
the adoption of fees and other changes over the years, the plan's basic
tenets still survive.
Now California is facing
another demographic shift. Post-secondary enrollments are projected to
increase by 26% in the decade ending in 2011. The children of the baby
boomers are reaching college age. So are the children of millions of
Mexicans, Filipinos, Salvadorans, Chinese and other immigrants who came
to California over the past 20 years.
Josias Dominguez, 19, is a
typical first-generation student. His parents left El Salvador and
migrated illegally to Los Angeles in 1980. His mother has a sixth-grade
education; his father stayed in school somewhat longer. Mr. Dominguez
says he has a passion for math and wants to become an electrical
engineer. Once he fulfills his general-education credits at West Los
Angeles Community College, he hopes to transfer to a four-year
university.
"I'm somewhat in poverty
because we spend most of our money on the house," he says. After paying
his share of groceries and other household expenses, Mr. Dominguez
says, he could barely cover his school fees, books and supplies.
The fee increases effective
this fall mean he will have to scrape up an additional $336 a year to
stay in school. While that's not a huge sum, Mr. Dominguez earns only
$7.50 an hour as a parking attendant on the other side of town. It's a
long bus ride from home when he can't borrow his mother's car.
Even if he comes up with
the money, he may not be able to get the courses he needs. Faculty
layoffs at community colleges have resulted in fewer course offerings,
effectively blocking students from classes needed to finish a
certificate program or earn a degree. Nearly 80% of community-college
students work and may drop out if they can't find courses that mesh
with their job schedules.
Administrators say the
cutbacks are a bigger threat than the fee increases. "Many students who
are turned away don't come back," says Sylvia Scott-Hayes, a trustee at
the Los Angeles Community College District, which administers nine
campuses in Los Angeles.
No one knows what the
impact of budget cuts and higher fees will be on overall enrollments of
low-income and immigrant students. But there's no doubt that these
groups will suffer. "We're facing a train wreck," says David W.
Breneman, an economist who has studied higher-education issues and is
dean of the University of Virginia's Curry School of Education. "We're
going to lose a significant part of the next generation. I don't know
what those folks will do other than very low-wage grunt work."
Many California businesses
depend on community colleges to provide a steady flow of skilled
workers. Northrop Grumman Corp. says it relies on the schools for
computer programmers and engineers, among other positions. "Obviously,
anything that happens to disrupt the number of potential employees
could have an impact on our efforts to attract and retrain highly
skilled workers," said Randy Belote, a spokesman for the Los
Angeles-based defense contractor.
One field that is already
feeling the pinch is nursing. Community colleges train nearly
two-thirds of nurses educated in the state, and there is an acute need
for graduates as hospitals scramble to meet strict new staffing
standards that take effect in January. But plans to ramp up the number
of graduates are slowing due to constraints in hiring faculty. A new
nursing program at Los Angeles City College, for instance, will
graduate between 26 and 28 new nurses next spring, half as many as
originally planned. Hospitals, meanwhile, are recruiting nurses from
the Philippines, Australia and New Zealand.
In California's heavily
Hispanic Central Valley, education budget cuts are making it tougher
for children of farm workers to pull themselves into the middle class.
Alejandra Garcia is a 21-year-old junior at California State University
at Fresno, and one of eight children of Mexican-born farm workers Lino
and Guadalupe Garcia. They all live under one roof in the town of
Madera, about 20 miles north of Fresno at the base of the Sierra Nevada
mountains. The combined family household income, which includes two of
Ms. Garcia's brothers, is under $30,000 a year, so low that Ms. Garcia
was able to qualify for some financial aid to attend classes.
But the economic pressures
on her are mounting. Her 61-year-old father, who has worked in the
fields of the Central Valley for three decades, recently contracted
botulism, apparently through contaminated irrigation water. For several
weeks, he has been laid up as the family struggled to get him qualified
for state disability payments. In the meantime, the household has lost
his $800-a-month income.
Meanwhile, state budget
cuts delivered two more hits to the Garcias. Ms. Garcia's 15-year-old
brother, Ignacio, had his part-time job tutoring elementary-school
students slashed a few weeks ago. Then Ms. Garcia was notified in late
July that her $3,000-a-year job at an information desk on the Fresno
campus had been eliminated. She says all of this may delay her goal of
getting a bachelor's degree in international business.
"We barely make payments on
this house as it is, and we don't even have a bank account," says Ms.
Garcia, as her mother chokes back tears in the sweltering living room
of a five-bedroom home they recently purchased with a low-interest
loan. The mortgage payment is about $700 a month. According to the
mother, who is 56: "Our big hope is that our children can get a career
better than we have. It's why we came here."
Write to Rhonda L. Rundle
at rhonda.rundle@wsj.com and Jim Carlton at jim.carlton@wsj.com
Updated August 28, 2003