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Rutgers, Rowan, and my ongoing ignorance about educational branding

As an alumnus of Rutgers Camden (BA, ’91; MA, ’95), I have received a lot of information through alumni channels and talked with many former classmates about Governor Chris Christie’s proposed “merger” of Rutgers University Camden with Rowan University. After digesting this information as best I could, I realize I am against this forced joining, for many reasons. But being faced with this issue has rekindled an embarrassing aspect of my thinking: My utter ignorance about educational branding. No, that’s being too generous: When it comes to educational branding, I’m stupid, naïve, and pathetically out of step with my fellow humans.

In case you don’t know, Governor Christie proposed linking these two southern New Jersey institutions as part of a larger plan for NJ higher education that includes incorporating many components of the University of Medicine & Dentistry of New Jersey into Rutgers University. Rutgers Camden is fighting back vigorously [1], and many prominent people in South Jersey have voiced disapproval, saying the move would hurt the City of Camden, disrupt the education of current Rutgers Camden students, and fuse two institutions with different pedagogical and research agendas. This site [2] provides more information from the Rutgers Camden side.

Another prominent anti-merger reason that keeps surfacing is about the “brand” of Rutgers. And this is the part that just leaves poor me, in all my ignorance, adrift. But by writing this, I am confessing my wrongness, because I dimly know how important people think your educational brand is, and Rutgers has a great one. I also know people will think less of you at parties and job interviewers will throw your resume in the trash and grad schools will snicker at you because of your institutional brand. And I know this branding can now start in preschool.

But I still don’t get it.

People of a certain stripe are scrambling like never before to send their kids to places like Elite Zenith University (EZU). Do they really know in a concrete way not only that EZU is a great place to learn but that it’s a great place to learn for their children? Usually no. They do know there is a mythical aura – constructed and supported mainly, of course, by people just like them – around EZU. They may not know anything concrete about EZU educationally, but they know that with EZU you get a cool bumper sticker, a secret society-like alumni association, and the opportunity for their kid to hang out with rich folks. They can tell people “My children go to EZU” and get the buzz of seeing others feel all gushy and amazed.

But due to some cerebral shortcoming on my part, the EZU educational brand doesn’t register. (This shortcoming may contribute to my having driven some crappy cars and being a bad dresser.) Certainly, I’m a linguistic animal, so words do affect me, but for me, when I hear “I go to EZU,” my associations, as a result no doubt of my cerebral miswiring, go kind of like this:

Alas, in my life, in my experience with EZUites (the school name is actually the Apogees [3], which illustrates the beyond-the-mortal-coil perception in which this group should be held), some of them have been super smart and successful. Some have been losers. Unfortunately, they fall into these categories in about the same ratios as my non-EZU acquaintances.

This is not to say that certain programs at certain schools would be better for certain people. If your kid is a great cello player, you might want her around the best cello players. Pick that school. If your kid is researching toxoplasmosis prevention (and if you read this article [4], you will most definitely encourage your kid to pursue this line of research), then the best toxoplasmosis lab in the world would be good. Pick that school. If your kid has 4.3 speed and when he tackles people the earth shakes, you might want him around great football players. Pick that school.

But, starting when they’re little, kids are being shepherded to elite places because of perceived eliteness. Period. What the schools actually do for these kids is a hard question, once you sort out self-selection bias and money.

Because of my naiveté, regardless of your EZU sweatshirt or Apogee forehead tattoo, I will take some time to get to know you, whether I meet you in a diner or you’re interviewing for a job with me, before I really know what you’re all about.

Despite my perceptual problem and my embarrassment about it, I still think the idea that the very air of EZU is going to make your kid, just by virtue of strolling around the ground, better, is bad. While there’s something harmlessly pathetic about thinking a brand of sneakers or a type of car makes you a better person, it seems insidious when we apply the same idea to education, considering how complex the outcome of educational “success” is when applied to a particular child.

But, of course, I think that because I’m missing something about how the world works.

I am proud I went to Rutgers Camden. I had a great experience and learned a ton. I don’t want Rutgers Camden and Rowan to merge. But it makes me a little sad that Rutgers people are so worried about the brand on their degree and that they would be judged by the name of the institution on their resume or sweatshirt. But, I’m even sadder because despite my ignorance about this topic, I do realize they are absolutely right.

Scott Warnock is a writer and teacher who lives in South Jersey. He is a professor of English at Drexel University, where he is also the Associate Dean of Undergraduate Education in the College of Arts and Sciences. Father of three and husband of one, Scott is president of a local high school education foundation and spent many years coaching youth sports.

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