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What kind of university is possible when digital tools are not taken for granted, but hacked for a more experimental future?

The global pandemic has underscored contemporary reliance on digital environments. This is particularly true among schools and universities, which, in response, shifted much of their instruction online. Because the rise of e-learning logics, ed-tech industries, and enterprise learning-management systems all threaten to further commodify and instrumentalize higher education, these technologies and platforms have to be creatively and critically struggled over. 

Studious Drift intervenes in this struggle by reviving the relationship between studying and the generative space of the studio in service of advancing educational experimentation for a world where digital tools have become a permanent part of education. Drawing on Alfred Jarry’s pataphysics, the “science of imaginary solutions,” this book reveals how the studio is a space-time machine capable of traveling beyond the limits of conventional online learning to redefine education as interdisciplinary, experimental, public study. 

Calls for aesthetic education to unite cultural practices of radical imagination with everyday practices of care

While Latin America was neoliberalism’s laboratory, Argentina and Chile have been crucibles for its cultural logics. In this book, D. Bret Leraul examines the rise of neoliberal culture in the Southern Cone through the educational infrastructures that disseminate and reproduce it. Leraul draws on literature and criticism, the history of higher education, and examples of recent social movements to propose a theory of cultural production for social transformation.

Study Without Ends charts the cultural consequences of introducing a neoliberal rationality into the region’s higher education landscape. The university’s increasing centrality within the literary institution and the rise of theoretical prose fiction suggest that poetics today is less about crafting literary works than instructing readers. At the same time, despite efforts to reduce education to human capital investment, it remains a process of personal and social transformation, as recent activism by Chilean students and Argentinean unemployed workers shows. In response to the compounding crises of social reproduction represented by the informal work and precarious livelihoods of people rendered surplus populations, and inspired by the decommodified labor of students, artists, women, and the unemployed, Leraul calls for a materialist aesthetic education that unites artistic culture’s practices of radical imagination and everyday culture’s practices of care.

Since the nine-month school year became common in the United States during the 1880s, schoolteachers have never really had summers off. Administrators instructed them to rest, as well as to study and travel, in the interest of creating a compliant workforce. Teachers, however, adapted administrators’ directives to pursue their own version of professionalization and to ensure their financial well-being. Summers Off explores teachers’ summer experiences between the 1880s and 1930s in institutes and association meetings; sessions at teachers colleges, Black colleges, and prestigious universities; work for wages or their family; tourism in the U.S. and Europe; and activities intended to be restful. This heretofore untold history reveals how teachers utilized the geographical and psychological distance from the classroom that summer provided, to enhance not only their teaching skills but also their professional and intellectual independence, their membership in the middle class, and, in the cases of women and Black teachers, their defiance of gender and race hierarchies.

Exposes the forgotten origins of the student loan system, how politicians have attempted to fix it, and the life-altering damage borrowers face.
 
Student-loan horror stories are a dime a dozen. But students today are faced with a seemingly insurmountable paradox: Research consistently shows that the clearest viable option to financial stability is a college degree. But if and when Americans decide to pursue diplomas, student loan payments quickly follow, and even after securing full-time employment, many borrowers struggle to make ends meet for years. In Sunk Cost, journalist Jillian Berman explores how the nation’s student loan program went from a well-intentioned initiative aimed at helping low- and middle-income students afford college to one that traps borrowers in long-term debt.
 
Berman interviewed dozens of borrowers and policymakers and dug into the archives to unearth the true causes of the student loan problem. A couple of generations ago, policy makers generously subsidized Americans’ college educations because they knew it would be advantageous for the entire country: a more educated population meant better quality of life for all. But today, higher education is viewed as an individual goal, so students and their families are expected to be on the hook for it themselves. Berman explains how this enormous shift happened, which industries benefit from it, and what it means for college-going Americans today. She shares real-life stories of college graduates who are being crushed under some of the harshest consequences of the student loan system. These borrowers pursued higher education in hopes of a better life and yet some have been trapped in debt for decades, making it difficult to put food on the table, much less imagine a life beyond debt.
 
By connecting personal accounts to the policy history of student loans, Berman makes clear that if American society continues to push students toward higher education, but fails to truly subsidize it, the financial strain will become unbearable for all but the most privileged. The current system is broken, but Berman proposes that significant changes are possible, and will require political will from state lawmakers and Congress, along with a philosophical shift, to tackle one of the largest consumer finance challenges of our time.