The CLA is comprised of three open-ended assessments: a performance task and two analytical writing exercises (making an argument, breaking an argument). Students in the book's participant sample took the CLA twice-one in their first semester of college and then again towards the end of their sophomore year. (Read that again--AA examines learning in the first two years of college--it is not a comparison of how students began and ended up, a topic other researchers tackle and for another time.)

The authors of AA--two sociologist, Richard Arum of NYU and Josipa Roksa of the University of Virginia--don't have any agenda but presenting what turns out to be some sobering findings. In essence, quite a hefty percentage of student respondents do not show much, if any, change in their CLA results across the two year period. What this means in practical terms is that many students' critical thinking skills, writing skills, and more complex reasoning skills remain rather flat. The academic side of college life has little impact on them. And AA points to the usual suspects that anyone who spends any time on a campus or in the company of college-aged folk will recognize immediately: too much socializing, too little studying, the pressure to work to pay for college and living expenses, and-wait for it--some complicit campus cultures that don't focus on undergraduate learning over other competing priorities (there's the source of that collective "Uh-Oh," but don't lose sight of the word some--it is not all).

Ouch! Is there any good news? Yes, some. "Who does do well?" you may ask in search of a silver lining. Well, the expected inter-correlated factors found to be associated with academic success are there--social class, family income, SAT/ACT scores, selectivity of college or university--being "high" on any or all of these is linked to positive change on the CLA scores. But this is not surprising--as Americans and as veterans of the recent recession, we should expect such outcomes; still, we should not be happy with "wealth = success" or the "haves still have it going on." But we shouldn't be surprised by it, either. We should be concerned about the fate and welfare of students who don't hail from the upper-middle class.

Still, there is some good news amidst these dark data: AA suggests that increases in performance on the assessments sometimes occur when students confront academic rigor (forgive all the qualifiers, but we are doing social science here with lots of variables). The rigor here is not terribly dramatic--ready? Within one class, being assigned to read 40 pages per week and completing 20 pages of writing (e.g., one long paper, several short ones) by the end of term constitutes indicators of rigor.

Does that sound like a lot? Well, for many members of the current generation of students, it may, especially those thrown into the ice water bath of the first year of college. (And just how much writing--how many 20 page papers--did you write in college--hmmmm?) But for those who rise to the challenge, grappling with and completing a fair amount of reading each week and also doing the leg work necessary to produce a lengthy term paper has some pay off. Of course, there are many other matters covered in AA, but I want to dwell on reading and writing.

Are 40 and 20 scary numbers? They may be when you consider other numbers, particularly class size. Teachers who have low enrollment classes (say, 30 or fewer students) are able to demand more reading and writing for several reasons. First, there is the matter of accountability--a student in a small class is likely to be noticed (literally) when there or absent. She is likely to be called upon to speak, which means she needs to have done the reading. Discussion, then, is often associated with lower enrollment classes. It is much harder to have an ongoing, freewheeling discussion when Psychology 101 has, say, 300 students in it. Some faculty members manage it, but relying on lecture is likely to be the failsafe option. Learning names is also easier in small classes, where a personal connection between teacher and student can grow (the implicit bond of "I know your name and I care what you think--in fact, I want to know what you think"). I do have some colleagues at other schools who teach large lecture classes and they manage to learn names, lead discussion, and keep everyone engaged--but it is not easy and they have a gift that many of us do not.

As for writing, the math is simpler still: Reading and commenting on papers written by 30 or fewer students is much easier to accomplish (not to mention quicker) than for 50 or 80 or 280 students. And larger enrollment classes (all else being equal) are more likely to be the fare in the first two years of the college experience than (all else being equal) the last two. But it depends on the college or university. Still, unless an instructor has a teaching assistant or a squad of teaching assistants, a 20 page paper or two 10 page papers--"let's get real," as my students are wont to say--even a 5 page paper!--is unlikely to be read and commented on for anything but a grade when hundreds of students are involved.

What matters when it comes to writing is giving students constructive feedback about how to improve their writing--their crafting of arguments, their marshalling of evidence, not to mention style, punctuation, grammar, formatting, use of illustrative examples . . . the road is long. How quickly a paper is returned is also a concern, especially if the goal is to see improvement in the next paper. (Don't forget, we are still talking about one class here, and most professors--whether of psychology or history or English--usually teach 3 or more courses per semester--so multiply the papers to-be-read-and-graded-and-commented-on by 3 or 4, sometimes more--sobering, isn't it?) And we have not even touched on the issue of instructors in two-year institutions or part time instructors . . . the water is wide . . .

Now, I am not making excuses for higher education here nor are the authors of AA. They--we--me--are simply trying to clarify what is going on (or not going on) in the classroom. Finger pointing does not help. The challenges are real for teaching psychology or any topic. And the solutions are not as simple as we all might like.