The Real Return on College May Not Show Up Until Years Later

In Part 1 of my conversation with Dr. Robert Prickett, Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at Gardner-Webb University, we explored whether we have been asking the wrong question about college. Too often, discussions about value begin and end with a familiar set of metrics: the major a student chooses, the first job they obtain after graduation, and whether the return justifies the cost. Those questions matter, but they can also narrow our understanding of what a college education is intended to accomplish.

As we continued our conversation in Part 2, we moved beyond the question of value itself and began discussing something more fundamental. If a college education is about more than a direct pathway to employment, what exactly are students gaining during their time on campus? More importantly, how should we think about that value when many of its most important outcomes are not immediately visible when students walk across the commencement stage?

What emerged from the conversation was the recognition that some of the most meaningful returns on a college education do not reveal themselves at graduation. They become visible over time through a graduate’s ability to adapt, solve problems, navigate complexity, and continue learning long after formal coursework has ended.

What If the Most Valuable Thing College Teaches Can’t Be Measured at Graduation?

One of the challenges facing higher education is that many of the outcomes we value most are difficult to measure in the short term. Degrees are easy to count. Employment rates can be tracked. Graduate school admissions can be reported. Yet many of the qualities that ultimately shape a person’s success are far more difficult to quantify.

During our discussion, Dr. Prickett repeatedly returned to the importance of critical thinking, communication, adaptability, and the ability to make connections across different domains of knowledge. These are qualities that employers consistently identify as important, regardless of industry or profession. While technical knowledge and disciplinary expertise certainly matter, most organizations expect employees to continue learning once they enter the workforce. What they often struggle to teach are the habits of mind that allow individuals to analyze information, communicate effectively, work with others, and adapt to changing circumstances.

That reality becomes increasingly important when we consider the world graduates are entering. The pace of technological change continues to accelerate. New industries emerge while existing ones evolve. Artificial intelligence, climate change, cybersecurity, healthcare, and countless other challenges require individuals who can think beyond a single disciplinary lens. The problems themselves do not arrive neatly packaged within departmental boundaries, and the solutions rarely come from a single area of expertise.

This is one reason why conversations about educational value often feel incomplete. We naturally focus on what can be measured immediately because those indicators are visible. Yet some of the most important outcomes of a college education only become apparent years later when graduates encounter situations that require them to navigate uncertainty, evaluate competing perspectives, and apply knowledge in ways that could never have been fully anticipated during their undergraduate years.

Humanities and STEM Were Never Meant to Compete

One of the most interesting parts of our conversation centered on a divide that has existed in higher education for decades: the perceived competition between the humanities and STEM disciplines. Dr. Prickett’s background is rooted in English and education, while mine is in environmental science and chemistry. Despite coming from different academic traditions, we found ourselves in complete agreement that this divide is largely artificial.

The reality is that the most significant challenges facing society require contributions from both perspectives. Climate change cannot be addressed solely through science. Scientific understanding is essential, but meaningful solutions also require public policy, economics, communication, ethics, and human behavior. Similarly, artificial intelligence is not simply a computer science issue. Questions surrounding AI involve technology, certainly, but they also involve ethics, communication, creativity, law, and what it means to be human.

Dr. Prickett shared examples of medical schools increasingly incorporating humanities into their curricula, recognizing that future physicians need more than scientific expertise. They must communicate effectively, understand the human experiences of their patients, and navigate complex ethical decisions. Likewise, law schools have long attracted students from philosophy, English, history, and other humanities disciplines because success in the legal profession depends heavily on analysis, communication, interpretation, and critical reasoning.

These examples highlight an important shift. Increasingly, institutions are recognizing that interdisciplinary thinking is not a luxury. It is a necessity. Students still need disciplinary depth. A biologist should understand biology, and a political scientist should understand political science. However, depth alone is no longer sufficient. Graduates must also understand how their expertise intersects with other fields and how complex problems require multiple perspectives.

This has important implications for how colleges design academic programs. While interdisciplinary majors are one approach, Dr. Prickett made a compelling argument that existing majors themselves can become more interdisciplinary. The question is not whether students should learn less about their chosen field. The question is whether we can create opportunities for students to connect that knowledge with complementary disciplines in ways that better prepare them for the challenges they will face after graduation.

College Is Not the Finish Line. It’s the Beginning.

Perhaps the most powerful moment in our conversation came when Dr. Prickett reflected on the meaning of commencement itself. Higher education often treats graduation as a finish line. Students complete requirements, earn degrees, and celebrate the conclusion of an important chapter. Yet commencement literally means beginning, and that distinction changes how we think about the purpose of a college education.

For many students, graduation represents the culmination of years of effort. It is understandable that families and graduates view the moment as an ending. Yet from an educational perspective, the degree is less a destination than a launching point. Students leave with knowledge, skills, experiences, and relationships that will continue to shape them long after they leave campus.

That perspective also helps explain why resilience and adaptability are so important. One of the overlooked benefits of college is that it provides an environment where students can encounter challenges while still having support around them. They may struggle in a course, perform poorly on an exam, miss an opportunity, or discover that an initial plan no longer makes sense. Those experiences are not failures of the educational process. In many cases, they are essential components of it.

The goal is not to protect students from setbacks. The goal is to help them learn how to respond when setbacks occur. Employers routinely identify resilience, perseverance, and adaptability as critical workplace skills. Those qualities are rarely developed through uninterrupted success. They emerge through challenge, reflection, adjustment, and growth. College provides a unique environment where students can develop those capacities before the consequences become significantly higher.

Our discussion also returned to what we described in Part 1 as the hidden curriculum. While coursework remains central to the educational experience, some of the most transformative aspects of college occur outside the classroom. Students participate in undergraduate research, study abroad programs, internships, leadership opportunities, service projects, performances, and countless other experiences that broaden their perspectives and expand their understanding of what is possible.

Dr. Prickett reflected on his daughter’s college experience and the opportunities she embraced, from leadership roles to studying abroad in Cuba. What stood out was not a single achievement, but the accumulation of experiences that challenged assumptions, developed confidence, and created opportunities for personal growth. Those experiences may not always appear prominently on a transcript, yet they often become some of the most influential parts of a student’s education.

As our conversation came to a close, Dr. Prickett offered a perspective that ties all of these ideas together. Education is not simply about acquiring information. It is about developing the capacity and desire to continue learning. The most successful graduates are often not those who leave college with all the answers. They are the ones who leave with the curiosity, confidence, and habits necessary to keep asking questions.

That may be the most enduring value of a liberal arts education. Beyond any particular major, beyond any first job, and beyond any immediate measure of return on investment, it cultivates the mindset of a lifelong learner. In a world defined by constant change, that may be one of the most valuable skills a person can possess.

When families ask whether college was worth it, they are asking an important question. Yet the answer may not be fully visible at graduation. The real return often emerges years later through how graduates navigate complexity, adapt to change, lead others, and continue growing throughout their lives. The first job may be part of the story, but it is rarely the whole story. More often, the true value of the experience is revealed in what students are capable of becoming long after they leave campus.