Nearly all of the transformations at GSU followed a pattern: A review of institutional data reveals a problem, and then data is used to understand it, design solutions, evaluate small-step interventions, and develop and evaluate university-wide scale-ups. Data is also used to manage the often turbulent political waters of persuading colleagues of the need for change and to again their support. As Grumbel put it: “This was a strategy that would come to define the entire trajectory of Renick’s student success work: start small, show the benefits, then scale the program university wide.” The approach is not “you have to adapt to us” but “we have to adapt to you,” said Darryl Holloman, dean of students and vice president of student affairs from 2012 to 2018. As a strategy for institutional change, it inspires trust at every turn.

A ten-member University Innovation Alliance has committed to exploring its data-driven strategies. Also, GSU has its own National Institute for Student Success, headed by Renick, that helps regional public universities use this approach. As the degree of implementation progresses in these schools, graduation rates have increased, sometimes drastically so, especially for low-income and minority students. And there is another sector of American higher education that, in taking a more developmental approach to its students, has long used its own versions of GSU-type supports: historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs).

There is, of course, another pedagogical mindset in graduate education: Give students the freedom to find what they care about, a true passion that will sustain them as their careers unfold. In this mindset, it’s reasonable to rid programs of as much structure as possible to allow students’ own talents, ingenuity, and interests to guide their development. This approach has produced generations of distinguished scientists and scholars. But it may not work as well for a diverse student body. The ambiguities it allows into the training experience may impose a special burden on students whose identities put their belongingness under suspicion. The open-ended freedom assumed to foster development could leave them in near-constant churn.

It’s important to stress that the UC Berkley College of Chemistry, like GSU, used multiple practices to reduce ambiguity and give support in the setting. Multiple red buttons. Any one practice alone might not be enough. Take procedural justice— the degree to which a community adheres to nondiscriminatory, transparent practices in matter of hiring, promotion, and adjudicating disputes.

They haven’t dropped the practice of giving grades, or jettisoned the lecture format, or lessened their commitment to research excellence. They haven’t restricted their commitment to a narrow sector of the population. Rather, they’ve added capacities that detect and meet the developmental needs of all students, including the less resourced and identity-threatened. They don’t lean back, presuming to select students who have what it takes to succeed in their institution. They lean in; take responsibility for developing students’ abilities and talents. And following this developmental approach they’ve built solid foundations of institutional trust that greatly facilitate student success.

What he needs when he gets to school is something other than cognitive accountability— its good intentions notwithstanding. He needs signals that address his churn and that help resolve it: signs from adults and fellow students, for example, that he belongs in that school, that he is valued for who he is and who he can be, and that he is seen as having the potential to succeed there. And it wouldn’t hurt if he found some things about school interesting. For example, if his homeroom teacher read the class a compelling story every morning to get the day rolling. He needs signals that despite his status— and his churn to the contrary— he can trust the school’s beneficence toward him.

Yet in his school— very likely in the grip of cognitive accountability— he isn’t likely to have such experiences. Rather (as we shall see), he’s likely to get a more basic skills curriculum not much connected to his life, needs, or interests; a rigid disciplinary system; and frequent assessments of his cognitive skills that, from his perspective, may reinforce his image as a poor student— to himself and others.