ST. LOUIS — One regret has needled David Morris for half a century.
The 74-year-old, a military veteran and father of six, has owned a grocery store, sold real estate, and worked on an assembly line, at a post office and as a lab technician.
But Morris, of Black Jack, never finished college.
Finally, late last spring, he put in a call to Harris-Stowe State University.
“I should have done this a long time ago,†he said.
In Missouri and across the country, the number of people who start college but never finish dwarfs that of those who graduate, a problem that has mushroomed in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. About two-thirds of freshmen will not earn a bachelor’s degree in four years, according to , a national advocacy organization.
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“Stop-outs†are more likely to be saddled with debt and default on loans. They might miss out on career goals — Morris dreamed of being a teacher — and economic gains.
Schools lose tuition dollars and take a hit on their retention rates, which can influence the enrollment decisions of prospective students.
College attendance has been on a slide in the U.S. since peaking in 2010. There are fewer young adults overall, and fewer of them are choosing higher education. That “demographic cliff†has left schools, especially smaller ones, searching for other ways to fill seats.
The reservoir of Americans with some college credits but no degree continues to expand, from 36 million in 2019 to 40.4 million in 2022, according to the . Risk factors for dropping out include part-time attendance, being the first one in the family to attend college and coming from a low-income household, said Charles Ansell of Complete College America.
“Life gets in the way,†he said. “Finances get tight. You’re overtired, demoralized. You drop out.â€
Reengaging with former students for whom a diploma is just beyond their grasp has multiple benefits, Ansell said. For schools, it generates revenue and improves metrics. For students, it opens up possibilities and reverses old missteps.
“It makes all the sense in the world,†said Ansell. “We could be doing better.â€
‘Win for the university’
Higher-education programs that directly target later-stage stop-outs, though still uncommon, are “proliferating,†he said.
Webster University plans to implement a “full-blown†project next semester, according to Lisa Blazer, vice president of enrollment and management. The Webster Groves institution — which has weathered a 50% drop in enrollment over the past decade — has contacted some students who have recently left to gauge their interest in returning. The new project will include a marketing campaign and a broader reach.
“It’s a win for the university,†Blazer said. “There are so many students out there.â€
Finding them is one challenge; convincing them to invest their time and money is another. The rate of return can be tiny, but it’s worth an attempt, said Wendell Williams, an associate vice chancellor at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. In the past decade, 10,000 one-time Salukis have stopped out with more than 90 credit hours to their names.
“Somewhere in that 10,000 might be the cure for cancer, a way to control hunger, a solution for climate change,†said Williams.
An effort to bring them back, , was rolled out in August. About 15 returners are expected to join the campus’ 8,000 undergraduates for the spring semester.
The idea behind Project 90 stemmed from a small pilot group, which included Percy Timberlake, 61, of suburban Chicago. He arrived at SIUC in the mid-1980s to study criminal justice. During his senior year, his girlfriend moved back to Chicago with their baby boy to be closer to family.
“I wasn’t focused after that,†said Timberlake. So he left, six hours shy of his degree.
He worked as a deputy sheriff for Cook County, had four more kids, got them all through college, and retired in 2021. He never really thought about school.
Then one of his friends, a member of the SIUC board of trustees, broached the subject.
“I didn’t want to let my buddy down because we are like brothers,†Timberlake said. “I told him, ‘I’ll do it.’â€
The first thing Timberlake learned was how much had changed.
He used to sit at a desk in a crowded lecture hall. He copied outlines from the board into a notebook. He visited his professors during office hours.
This time, his classes were online. He never had to leave the house.
“I felt like I was on an island,†said Timberlake. But he adjusted, passing his second and final class last spring. “I wanted to show my kids that no matter what, you can always finish what you’ve started.â€
One class short
Intergenerational teasing pushed John Dames of Soulard back to the University of Missouri-Columbia three years ago. His oldest daughter was a student there, and “I was determined to beat her to graduation,†he said.
Dames, 53, was supposed to graduate in 1992, but his original major, Soviet studies, went out the window a semester before that, when the Soviet Union dissolved.
“It was a weird time,†said Dames. “I didn’t know what to do with that degree.â€
He checked out, leaving one class incomplete, and jumped into a career in graphic design and software development.
In 2020, Mizzou unveiled a rebranded college-completion program, the . COVID provided an unexpected benefit: More classes were available online and more students were willing to learn that way.
The Finish Line’s new focus was on ex-Tigers with more than a hundred hours, like Dames.
“It’s a small number in the scheme of things,†said Rachael Orr, the program’s director.
But it’s a motivated set of students. The end is already in sight. Since the initiative began, almost 200 people have completed their degree.
Dames aced the one class he needed, the History of Strategic Warfare. And he likes to remind his family that he became a Mizzou alum before his daughter did.
“I was glad to have won our inside joke,†he said.
At Harris-Stowe’s graduation last month, president LaTonia Collins Smith highlighted “extraordinary stories†from among the class of 128.
“It’s never too late to fulfill one’s academic aspirations,†she told the crowd gathered at the Henry Givens administration building.
‘Above and beyond’
Her final example was Morris, whose diploma was 50 years in the making — longer if you count the foundation that his parents laid for him in childhood.
“My mom and dad had a work ethic they passed on to us,†he said.
The family moved to ºüÀêÊÓƵ from Mississippi when Morris was 10, leaving behind their farm and settling in North City. Morris graduated from Soldan High School in 1968 and was drafted into the Army.
He earned an associate’s degree in business administration from ºüÀêÊÓƵ Community College while he worked and raised his kids. In 1983, he had his first class at Harris-Stowe. He wanted to become a history teacher.
But the load proved too much. He took a long break, returning in 2006 after the Ford assembly plant where he was employed closed. He paused again a couple of semesters later, after he had a stroke.
Sixteen years went by. Morris wasn’t sure how many credits he lacked but decided last spring that it wouldn’t hurt to ask. He contacted Harris-Stowe’s , which was created two years ago to “address the needs of returning adults and help them make a smooth transition,†said Aline Phillips, the assistant provost for retention and student success.
Harris-Stowe, with an enrollment of about 1,100, has a record of low graduation rates that led to a sanction from the Higher Learning Commission in 2022. Fewer than 20% of its freshmen will earn a diploma in six years.
But Phillips said the university is moving in the right direction. At about $260 a credit hour, it’s an affordable option. And the small campus allows for plenty of personalized help.
Morris needed just one class — Spanish — to wrap up an independent studies major. The student success coach he was paired with, Karen Czmarko, is a former Spanish teacher and tutored Morris through the semester.
“I call her Special K,†Morris said. “She goes above and beyond.â€
He got an A and was asked to speak at a dinner hosted by the university to attract other stop-outs like him.
One of the attendees, Czmarko told him, emailed afterward to say she “wanted to be like Mr. Morris.â€
He was flattered, but he wishes he hadn’t waited.
“It’s bittersweet,†said Morris. “I should have done this long ago.â€
So he’s wasting no time on his next goal: getting into law school.