In the heart of red-state America, a quiet rebellion is taking shape—led not by liberal politicians or university activists, but by parents of K-12 students. In Oklahoma, a growing number of families are fighting back against what they see as an aggressive ideological campaign by far-right leaders to insert misinformation, religious doctrine, and partisan propaganda into public school classrooms.
This resistance is not coming through marches or lawsuits alone, but through the very legal tools that conservatives once championed: parental rights. Families across the state are opting their children out of controversial new social studies standards that they claim distort U.S. history, undermine democratic institutions, and promote Christian nationalism.
Tulsa parent Lauren Parker is among the voices leading this countercharge. “Now that it’s being codified and now that it’s being brought more into the public eye, the liberals have realized that those are our rights too,” she said.
Her main concern: language recently added to Oklahoma’s social studies curriculum that questions the legitimacy of the 2020 presidential election. The standards require students to "identify discrepancies" in the results, echoing discredited claims advanced by Donald Trump and his supporters. These include references to “sudden halting of ballot-counting,” “sudden batch dumps,” and “security risks of mail-in balloting”—all without factual basis, and all now embedded in state-mandated education.
These standards were quietly introduced by State Superintendent Ryan Walters and passed by the Oklahoma State Board of Education, some of whom now claim they were unaware of the changes at the time of the vote. A legal challenge is pending in Oklahoma County District Court, questioning the procedures used to approve the new standards.
The opt-out movement has been fueled by organizations like We’re Oklahoma Education—WOKE—formed as a progressive response to right-wing parent groups like Moms for Liberty. WOKE provides parents with templated letters to exempt their children from lessons that include election misinformation, Biblical teachings, and content produced by conservative media outlets like PragerU and ideologically driven institutions like Hillsdale College and Turning Point USA.
“If you believe parents know best, then that applies to all parents,” said WOKE director Erica Watkins, a mother of two public school students in Jenks. Watkins, who describes her family as non-religious, said she won’t allow her children to be taught about Christian scripture in a public school classroom.
Walters has defended the addition of Biblical content as a way to provide historical context, arguing that the teachings of Jesus and the Bible shaped the country’s founding values. But parents like Parker see it differently: “This isn’t about history and facts. It’s about pushing their faith on us, and that’s unacceptable. It’s un-American.”
WOKE members are extending their efforts beyond classrooms. Their opt-out letters also reject any “interaction” with Walters and reject the use of content linked to partisan or religious agendas. In some districts, including Stillwater and Tulsa, school officials have indicated a willingness to honor these requests while awaiting clearer guidance on how to implement the new standards.
Ironically, the legal protections that parents are now invoking stem from Republican-led legislation designed to protect children from what conservatives labeled as “woke indoctrination.” Now, the same legal framework is being used to resist the imposition of a narrow, ideologically driven curriculum. As Senate Minority Leader Julia Kirt noted, “If we have separate schools for everybody who has different beliefs, we’re going to have some real challenges.”
That challenge isn't just philosophical. The battle for K-12 curriculum is already shaping higher education outcomes. Students trained in a politically skewed version of American history may enter college unprepared for academic rigor, especially in disciplines like political science, history, and journalism. Public universities in red states could increasingly find themselves in conflict with the ideological pressures shaping their incoming student populations. Faculty, already under scrutiny in places like Florida and Texas, may have to navigate a new wave of cultural and political tension on campus.
Meanwhile, the polarization of public education is reinforcing broader national divides—between those who see schools as places of civic development and democratic inquiry, and those who view them as battlegrounds in a culture war.
The resistance in Oklahoma marks a new chapter in that war. It's a reminder that parental rights are not the sole property of any political party—and that misinformation, no matter how it’s packaged, won’t go unchallenged. The pushback from parents like Parker and Watkins reflects a broader struggle for control over public education, truth, and the future of American democracy.
And in this fight, the line between K-12 and higher education grows thinner every day.
As we stand on the precipice of a turbulent future, one thing has become clear: the hardships ahead will disproportionately affect the working class, and the elites — across political, corporate, media, and intellectual spheres — have shown a consistent, and often intentional, indifference to their struggles. While many of us brace for economic downturns, climate chaos, and the seismic shifts brought on by technological advancements, the reality is that the ruling class has actively shaped a system where the burdens of these challenges will fall on the backs of ordinary people, all while they remain largely insulated from the consequences. The rise of authoritarian figures like President Donald Trump may dominate the headlines, but it’s not just about him; it’s about a broader systemic issue where elites, regardless of their political affiliation, have consistently prioritized their own interests over the well-being of those beneath them.
The Political Elites: A System Built to Serve the Powerful
It’s easy to point to figures like Donald Trump as the embodiment of elite disregard for the working class, but that misses the bigger picture. Trump was not a rogue element in the American political landscape, but rather the latest manifestation of a system that has long been rigged to benefit the wealthy. His administration, while promising to fight for the forgotten American worker, ultimately enacted policies that only deepened the wealth divide. Corporate tax cuts, deregulation, and a lack of meaningful action to address the hollowing out of American industries — these were the actions of a leader who claimed to represent the working class, but ultimately sided with the elite.
But Trump’s actions were not unique. The bipartisan neglect of the working class by both Republican and Democratic elites has been a long-standing feature of U.S. politics. Under both parties, trade deals like NAFTA, the deregulation of industries, the decline of unions, and the outsourcing of jobs were all policies that catered to corporate elites while leaving millions of working-class Americans in the dust. The promises of upward mobility, economic security, and better wages have been largely replaced with a system that offers crumbs to the working class while the wealthy continue to reap record profits. Political elites — whether through tax cuts for the rich or cuts to social programs — have shown an outright disregard for the struggles of everyday people.
This indifference is only magnified as we now face a growing economic crisis. The pandemic and economic shutdowns pushed the working class further into financial instability, and the challenges ahead — from potential recessions to an increasing reliance on automation — will continue to hit hardest those already on the brink. But the elites, whether corporate giants, politicians, or financial institutions, are poised to weather these storms with little more than an inconvenience to their wealth and power. Meanwhile, workers will be forced to bear the weight of an unstable economy, with wages stagnating and job insecurity rising.
Corporate Elites: Profits Over People, Even in the Face of Crisis
The corporate elite — the billionaires and multinational corporations who control the economy — have continued their indifference to the working class, exacerbating the hardships that lie ahead. As climate change accelerates and the global economy teeters on the brink, these corporations are more concerned with profits than with providing real solutions to the problems at hand. Instead of adapting to the growing demands for fair wages, secure jobs, and environmentally sustainable practices, many corporations are doubling down on exploiting their workers.
Take the tech industry, for example. Amazon, Google, and other tech giants are facing mounting scrutiny for their poor labor practices, such as low wages, harsh working conditions, and algorithmic surveillance of employees. Yet these companies — some of the richest in the world — are not shifting their priorities to address the inequities in their business models. Instead, they continue to exploit the labor of workers without offering them the protections and benefits they deserve. Meanwhile, the CEOs of these companies enjoy unimaginable wealth, completely detached from the daily struggles of those who actually power their success.
The financial sector, too, continues to perpetuate a system of inequality. The speculative bubbles in cryptocurrency, real estate, and stocks benefit the wealthy, while the working class is left with the fallout. When the next financial crisis inevitably hits — and it will — it will be the workers who lose their jobs, homes, and savings, while the banks and hedge funds are bailed out by the government. This pattern of privatizing gains and socializing losses has become a hallmark of elite indifference to the struggles of everyday Americans.
Media Elites: Crafting Narratives that Serve the Powerful
The media, which should serve as a check on power and a platform for the voices of the marginalized, has become yet another arm of the elite establishment. Corporate-controlled media outlets are more concerned with maintaining their profit margins and advertising revenue than with accurately reflecting the struggles of the working class. The growing divide in society — along lines of race, class, gender, and age — is often presented as an isolated issue, rather than a systemic failure that stems from decades of elite indifference and exploitation.
The media elites who control these narratives continue to push the idea of a meritocracy — the belief that success is the result of hard work and determination — despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. While working-class people struggle with rising rents, stagnant wages, and a lack of job security, media outlets cater to the wealthy and powerful, maintaining a status quo that ensures the perpetuation of inequality. The media’s failure to adequately address the systemic issues that have led to this growing divide — from the dismantling of the welfare state to the erosion of workers' rights — only deepens the alienation felt by ordinary citizens.
The Intellectual Elites: Detached from Reality
Even in academia and intellectual circles, the response to the challenges facing the working class is often one of detachment or indifference. While scholars and economists may craft theories about the future of work, automation, and global economic systems, few offer tangible, actionable solutions to help the millions of Americans who are already struggling. The intellectual elites — with their focus on abstract concepts and lofty ideals — have consistently failed to address the immediate needs of the working class.
For example, the rise of automation and artificial intelligence presents an existential threat to many workers in industries like manufacturing, retail, and transportation. While experts discuss the benefits of these technologies, few have addressed the real-world consequences for workers whose jobs are being automated away. The intellectual elites have, in many cases, failed to call for policies that would ensure a just transition for these workers, leaving them at the mercy of a system that values profit over people.
The Coming Hardships: Economic, Social, and Environmental Struggles
The coming years will bring significant hardships — both in terms of economic instability and environmental catastrophe. The working class will bear the brunt of these challenges, and yet, the elites seem more interested in protecting their wealth and power than in addressing the root causes of these crises. As automation continues to displace workers, and as the climate crisis leads to extreme weather events and resource scarcity, the working class will face mass unemployment, displacement, and economic insecurity. Yet, while working people are scrambling to adapt to these changes, the elites will continue to live in their gated communities, insulated from the storms of hardship that are ravaging the rest of society.
At the same time, geopolitical tensions — fueled in part by elite disregard for diplomacy and international cooperation — are pushing the world closer to conflict. The U.S. has increasingly aligned itself with authoritarian regimes and turned a blind eye to human rights abuses around the globe. The failure to address these global injustices, combined with a domestic political landscape increasingly divided by race, class, gender, and age, creates a volatile environment in which the working class will continue to suffer, while the elites profit off of the instability they have helped create.
Resistance and Reclamation of Power
Despite the indifference of the elites, resistance is growing. In the face of climate change, economic instability, and rising inequality, workers are beginning to organize — through strikes, protests, and boycotts — to demand better conditions, fair wages, and a more just society. This nonviolent resistance is not just a response to Trump’s policies but to a broader system that has long been stacked against the working class.
The time has come to recognize that the elites — whether in politics, business, or media — have consistently prioritized their own interests over the well-being of ordinary people. As the hardships ahead loom large, the working class must begin to reclaim power, not just through resistance but through the creation of a new system that values their labor, their dignity, and their humanity.
We cannot afford to wait for elites to solve these problems; the future depends on the collective action of those who have been sidelined for far too long. Only by organizing, building solidarity, and demanding a better future can we begin to address the systemic injustices that have plagued society for decades. The time for change is now, and the working class must rise to meet the challenges ahead — not just to survive, but to reclaim their rightful place in a just and equitable society.
In a nation that throws trillions at war, banks, and billionaires while students drown in debt and public schools crumble, the Bronx-based hip-hop duoRebel Diaz has carved out a necessary lane—one where education doesn’t come from a classroom but from struggle, solidarity, and sound. Formed by Chilean-American brothers Rodrigo (RodStarz) and Gonzalo (G1) Venegas, Rebel Diaz is more than a music group. They are truth-tellers, radical educators, and architects of a liberatory curriculum that centers the oppressed and calls the system by its name.
Nowhere is that more evident than in their track “A Trillion,” a searing critique of post-9/11 U.S. capitalism, war profiteering, and the impunity of Wall Street elites. It opens with an indictment so sharp it borders on satire:
“A lotta people askin’—‘Is that really nine zeroes?’
Nah, homie, it’s twelve.”
And then the verses drop—complex, accessible, and devastating in their precision. G1 raps:
“Lotta speculations on the moneys they made
Markets they played
Pimping the system because they run the game
They trades is inside of the old boy network
Money stays in while they build they net worth.”
This is economics with teeth—naming not just the scale of corruption but the two-tiered justice system that underwrites it. G1 continues:
“If I was to flip money that ain’t exist
Or get a loan on my home and not pay back that shit
Interest will stack up
Moving truck or backup
And the repo man will pack everything up.”
These aren’t abstract critiques. They’re visceral comparisons between the impunity of the rich and the precarity of everyday people. Wall Street collapses the economy and gets bailed out with public funds. Meanwhile, poor and working-class people are criminalized for far less—whether it’s defaulting on a loan, evading rent, or “flipping currency” in the underground economy.
A Trillion was written in the shadow of the Bush administration’s wars in Iraq and Afghanistan—wars that cost American taxpayers more than a trillion dollars, all while social services were gutted and inequality soared. Rebel Diaz doesn’t just call out that grotesque spending. They tie it directly to neoliberal austerity, to gentrification, to student debt, and to the very structure of a U.S. economy built on extraction and punishment.
Their music functions as what bell hooks called engaged pedagogy. It’s teaching that risks something—something real. And it’s rooted not in theory alone, but in a lifetime of organizing, community-building, and lived experience. The brothers’ political lineage runs deep: they are children of Chilean exiles who fled the Pinochet dictatorship, and that legacy of resistance is embedded in every syllable they spit.
Their broader body of work—songs like “Runaway Slave,”“Crush,”“I’m an Alien,” and “Which Side Are You On?”—challenges both the prison-industrial complex and the nonprofit-industrial complex, the police and the politicians, the landlords and the labor exploiters. In their hands, hip-hop becomes a weapon against what Paulo Freire called banking education—where students are seen as empty vessels to be filled, rather than agents of transformation.
Rebel Diaz refuses that model. They’ve facilitated workshops for youth around the world. They founded the Rebel Diaz Arts Collective (RDAC) in the South Bronx—a radical cultural center that functioned as studio, classroom, and sanctuary. While elite universities peddle “diversity” through PR campaigns, Rebel Diaz built power in real time.
A Trillion reminds us that debt and inequality aren’t natural—they’re designed. That a trillion dollars could be conjured for war and bailouts, while education remains underfunded and healthcare inaccessible, isn’t a fluke. It’s policy. It’s ideology. It’s class warfare.
And while most institutions of higher learning remain silent—or worse, complicit—Rebel Diaz offers a curriculum of truth. Their syllabus includes economic justice, anti-imperialism, grassroots organizing, and critical media literacy. Their lectures come through speakers, not Zoom screens. And their degrees? Measured not in credits, but in collective awakening.
In a society that leaves millions in debt for chasing knowledge, and rewards only the knowledge that maintains power, Rebel Diaz flips the script. They aren’t just part of the resistance—they are building the new university.
And in that space, “A Trillion” isn’t just a song. It’s a lesson. A warning. A call to action.
Rebel Diaz Playlist: A Syllabus of Sound
Listen to these Rebel Diaz tracks as an alternative curriculum—one that speaks to the struggles universities often silence:
“A Trillion” — A blistering takedown of war spending, corporate bailouts, and the injustice of capitalism. “Which Side Are You On?” — A rallying cry against complicity, rooted in a long tradition of protest music. “Runaway Slave” — A powerful indictment of the prison-industrial complex and systemic racism. “Crush” — A sharp narrative linking gentrification, police violence, and displacement. “I’m an Alien” — A migrant anthem reclaiming humanity against the backdrop of dehumanizing immigration policy. “Work Like Chávez” — A celebration of working-class resistance and Latin American liberation. “Revolution Has Come” — An intergenerational call to remember the lessons of past uprisings.
These tracks are available via Rebel Diaz’s Bandcamp page, Spotify, YouTube, or independent archives. Better yet, invite them to speak—virtually or in person—if your institution has the courage to confront its own contradictions.
Moral capital has become a contested currency in American public life. It is deployed by political elites to justify austerity, by campus executives to rationalize managerial authority, and by think tanks to discipline the working class. Yet moral capital also rises from below—from students building mutual-aid networks, from adjuncts organizing for fair wages, from communities confronting the harms universities have helped produce. In an era defined by climate peril, surveillance capitalism, and proliferating wars, the stakes of who controls moral capital—and who gets to exercise real agency—have never been higher.
At the center of this struggle lies a fraught psychological and sociological concept: locus of control. Higher education constantly toggles between narratives of internal control (grit, resilience, personal responsibility) and external control (the market, political pressures, funding cycles). Powerful actors encourage an internal locus of control when it shifts blame downward, and an external locus of control when it shields institutional failure. Students, staff, and faculty live suspended in this contradiction, expected to absorb the consequences of decisions made far above them.
Quality of Life as Moral Imperative
Quality of Life—once peripheral to higher education policy—is now a defining moral issue. Students and workers contend with unstable housing, food insecurity, unsafe campuses, inaccessible mental health care, and relentless economic pressures. For many, these burdens are compounded by existential crises: climate anxiety, global conflicts, democratic backsliding, and precarity amplified by technological surveillance.
Institutions often portray these crises as personal challenges requiring self-management. But Quality of Life is not an individual moral failure; it is a metric of collective conditions. When a university community’s quality of life declines, it signals a profound imbalance between agency and structure—a distorted locus of control.
The Industry’s Manufactured Moral Capital
Universities have long crafted narratives that elevate their own moral standing while displacing responsibility onto individuals. The “grateful striver” student, the “self-sacrificing” adjunct, the “visionary” president—these tropes protect managerial systems from scrutiny and allow elites to accumulate moral capital even as Quality of Life deteriorates for everyone else.
This manufactured moral authority collapses under existential pressures. As campuses confront heatwaves, flooding, militarized policing, housing crises, widening wars, and state-sanctioned surveillance, it becomes impossible to sustain the fiction that individuals can simply “grit” their way to stability.
Reclaiming Moral Capital
Moral capital is not owned by institutions. It can be reimagined, reclaimed, and reoriented. Four longstanding modes of internal discipline—temperance, celibacy, critical thinking, and solidarity—take on new urgency when placed in the context of planetary and political crisis.
Temperance
Temperance, stripped of its historical misuse, becomes a strategy of mindful refusal in the face of consumption-based exploitation. It includes rejecting burnout culture, resisting technological tools that monitor student behavior, and refusing to internalize blame for systemic failures. In an era of climate breakdown, temperance also signifies ecological responsibility—a modest but meaningful form of internal control aligned with global survival rather than institutional convenience.
Celibacy
Broadly interpreted, celibacy represents intentional self-limitation that protects one’s emotional and cognitive bandwidth. Amid surveillance-driven social media, algorithmic manipulation, and institutions that increasingly commodify student identity, celibacy can be a form of psychological sovereignty. It creates space for reflection in a world designed to keep people reactive, distracted, and easily governed.
Critical Thinking
Critical thinking remains the academy’s most subversive tradition—especially when deployed against the university itself. It helps students analyze the interplay between personal agency and systemic constraint. It equips them to understand climate injustice, militarism, and the geopolitics of knowledge production. And it exposes the ways mass surveillance—from learning analytics to campus police technologies—erodes autonomy and shifts the locus of control away from individuals and communities toward powerful institutions.
Solidarity
Solidarity transforms private moral commitments into collective action. It breaks the isolation manufactured by surveillance systems, precarity, and competitive academic cultures. Solidarity has historically been the source of the most effective nonviolent strategies—from civil rights sit-ins to anti-war mobilizations to student debt strikes. Today, as geopolitical conflicts escalate and authoritarian tendencies rise, the power of organized nonviolence becomes an existential necessity. It is one of the few tools capable of confronting militarized policing, resisting state repression, and challenging the corporate infrastructures that profit from crisis.
Nonviolent Strategies in an Era of Global Threat
Nonviolent action remains a potent form of moral capital—and one of the most effective forms of collective agency. Research across conflicts shows that sustained, mass-based nonviolent movements often outperform violent struggles, especially against highly resourced opponents. For universities, which increasingly collaborate with defense contractors, data brokers, and state surveillance agencies, nonviolent resistance has become both a safeguard and a moral compass.
Sit-ins, teach-ins, encampments, divestment campaigns, and labor actions reassert external locus of control as something communities can influence—not by force, but by moral clarity, strategic discipline, and the refusal to comply with harmful systems.
Mass Surveillance as a Threat to Moral Agency
Mass surveillance is now woven into the fabric of academic life. Learning management systems track student behavior down to the minute. Proctoring software uses biometrics to police exams. Campus police drones and public-private security networks feed data into law enforcement databases. Administrative dashboards quantify student “risk” and worker “efficiency” in ways that reshape institutional priorities.
This surveillance apparatus corrodes moral capital by reducing human judgment to automated metrics. It also distorts locus of control: individuals are told to take responsibility while being monitored and managed by opaque systems far beyond their influence.
Reclaiming agency requires dismantling or limiting these systems, demanding transparency, and reasserting human dignity in spaces now governed by algorithms.
Toward a More Honest Locus of Control
Moral capital and locus of control are not academic abstractions. They are lived realities shaped by climate disruption, war, inequality, and surveillance. Higher education must stop using moral narratives to deflect responsibility and instead cultivate practices that reinforce real agency: temperance, celibacy, critical thinking, solidarity, and the disciplined power of nonviolent resistance.
In a world marked by existential threats, reclaiming moral capital from below is not simply an intellectual exercise—it is a condition for survival, and a pathway to collective liberation.
Sources
Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth
Erica Chenoweth & Maria Stephan, Why Civil Resistance Works
Shoshana Zuboff, The Age of Surveillance Capitalism
Naomi Klein, This Changes Everything
Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed
Astra Taylor, Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When It’s Gone
[In 2017, we collaborated with Crush the Street on a video describing the College Meltdown.]
“Education is not merely a credentialing system; it is a humanizing act that fosters connection, purpose, and community.”
Origins
The College Meltdown began in the mid-2010s as a blog chronicling the slow collapse of U.S. higher education. Rising tuition, mounting student debt, and corporatization were visible signs, but the deeper crisis was structural: the erosion of public accountability and mission.
By 2015, the warning signs were unmistakable to us. On some campuses, student spaces were closed to host corporate “best practices” conferences. At many schools, adjunct instructors carried the bulk of teaching responsibilities, often without benefits, while administrators celebrated innovation. Higher education was quietly being reshaped to benefit corporations over students and communities — a true meltdown.
Patterns of the Meltdown
Enrollment in U.S. colleges began declining as early as 2011, reflecting broader demographic shifts: fewer children entering the system and a growing population of older adults. Small colleges, community colleges, and regional public universities were hardest hit, while flagship institutions consolidated wealth and prestige.
Corporate intermediaries known as Online Program Managers (OPMs) managed recruitment, marketing, and course design, taking large portions of tuition while universities retained risk. Fully automated robocolleges emerged, relying on AI-driven templates, predictive analytics, and outsourced grading. While efficient, these systems dehumanized education: students became data points, faculty became monitors, and mentorship disappeared.
“Robocolleges and AI-driven systems reduce humans to data points — an education stripped of connection is no education at all.”
Feeding the AI Beast
As part of our effort to reclaim knowledge and influence public discourse, we actively contributed to Wikipedia. Over the years, we made more than 12,000 edits on higher education topics, ensuring accurate documentation of predatory practices, adjunct labor, OPMs, and corporatization. These edits both informed the public and, inadvertently, fed the AI beast — large language models and AI systems that scrape Wikipedia for training data now reflect our work, amplifying it in ways we could never have predicted.
“By documenting higher education rigorously, we shaped both public knowledge and the datasets powering AI systems — turning transparency into a tool of influence.”
Anxiety, Anomie, and Alienation
The College Meltdown documented the mental health toll of these transformations. Rising anxiety, feelings of anomie, and widespread alienation were linked to AI reliance, dehumanized classrooms, insecure faculty labor, and societal pressures. Students felt like credential seekers; faculty suffered burnout.
“Addressing the psychological and social effects of dehumanized education is essential for ethical recovery.”
Trump, Anti-Intellectualism, and Fear in the Era of Neoliberalism
The project also addressed the broader political and social climate. The Trump era brought rising anti-intellectualism, skepticism toward expertise, and a celebration of market logic over civic and moral education. For many, it was an era of fear: fear of surveillance, fear of litigation, fear of being marginalized in a rapidly corporatized, AI-driven educational system. Neoliberal policies exacerbated these pressures, emphasizing privatization, metrics, and competition over community and care.
“Living under Trump-era neoliberalism, with AI monitoring, corporate oversight, and mass surveillance, education became a space of anxiety as much as learning.”
Quality of Life and the Call for Rehumanization
Education should serve human well-being, not just revenue. The blog emphasized Quality of Life and advocated for Rehumanization — restoring mentorship, personal connection, and ethical engagement.
“Rehumanization is not a luxury; it is the foundation of meaningful learning.”
FOIA Requests and Whistleblowers
From the start, The College Meltdown relied on evidence-based reporting. FOIA (Freedom of Information Act) requests were used to obtain internal communications, budgets, and regulatory filings, shining light on opaque practices. Whistleblowers, including adjunct faculty and staff at universities and OPMs, provided firsthand testimony of misconduct, financial malfeasance, and educational dehumanization. Their courage was central to the project’s mission of transparency and accountability.
“Insider testimony and public records revealed the hidden forces reshaping higher education, from corporate influence to predatory practices.”
Historical Sociology: Understanding the Systemic Collapse
The importance of historical sociology cannot be overstated in analyzing the decline of higher education. By examining the evolution of educational systems, we can identify patterns of inequality, the concentration of power, and the commodification of knowledge. Historical sociology provides the tools to understand how past decisions and structures have led to the current crisis.
“Historical sociology reveals, defines, and formulates patterns of social development, helping us understand the systemic forces at play in education.”
Naming Bad Actors: Accountability and Reform
A critical aspect of The College Meltdown was the emphasis on naming bad actors — identifying and holding accountable those responsible for the exploitation and degradation of higher education. This included:
University Administrators: Prioritizing profit over pedagogy.
Corporate Entities: Robocolleges and OPMs profiting at the expense of educational quality.
Political Figures and Ultraconservatives: Promoting policies that undermined public education and anti-intellectualism.
“Holding bad actors accountable is essential for meaningful reform and the restoration of education's ethical purpose.”
[In 2016, we called out several bad actors in for-profit higher education, including CEOs Jack Massimino, Kevin Modany, and Todd Nelson.]
Existential Aspects of Climate Change
The blog also examined the existential dimensions of climate change. Students and faculty face a dual challenge: preparing for uncertain futures while witnessing environmental degradation accelerate. Higher education itself is implicated, both as a contributor through consumption and as a forum for solutions. The looming climate crisis intensifies anxiety, alienation, and the urgency for ethical, human-centered education.
“Climate change makes the stakes of education existential: our survival, our knowledge, and our moral responsibility are intertwined.”
Mass Speculation and Financialization
Another critical theme explored was mass speculation and financialization. The expansion of student debt markets, tuition-backed bonds, and corporate investments in higher education transformed students into financial instruments. These speculative dynamics mirrored broader economic instability, creating both a moral and systemic crisis for the educational sector.
“When education becomes a commodity for speculation, learning, mentorship, and ethical development are subordinated to profit and risk metrics.”
Coverage of Protests and Nonviolent Resistance
The College Meltdown documented student and faculty resistance: tuition protests, adjunct labor actions, and campaigns against predatory OPM arrangements. Nonviolent action was central: teach-ins, sit-ins, and organized campaigns demonstrated moral authority and communal solidarity in the face of systemic pressures, litigation, and corporate intimidation.
Collaboration and Resistance
Glen McGhee provided exceptional guidance, connecting insights on systemic collapse, inequality, and credential inflation. Guest authors contributed across disciplines and movements, making the blog a living archive of accountability and solidarity:
Guest Contributors:
Bryan Alexander, Ann Bowers, James Michael Brodie, Randall Collins, Garrett Fitzgerald, Erica Gallagher, Henry Giroux, David Halperin, Bill Harrington, Phil Hill, Robert Jensen, Hank Kalet, Neil Kraus, the LACCD Whistleblower, Wendy Lynne Lee, Annelise Orleck, Robert Kelchen, Debbi Potts, Jack Metzger, Derek Newton, Gary Roth, Mark Salisbury, Gary Stocker, Harry Targ, Heidi Weber, Richard Wolff, and Helena Worthen.
Lessons from the Meltdown
The crisis was systemic. Technology amplified inequality. Corporate higher education rebranded rather than reformed. Adjunctification and labor precarity became normalized. Communities of color and working-class students suffered disproportionately.
Dehumanization emerged as a central theme. AI, automation, and robocolleges prioritized efficiency over mentorship, data over dialogue, and systems over human relationships. Rising anxiety, anomie, and alienation reflected the human toll.
“Rehumanization, mentorship, community, transparency, ethical accountability, and ecological awareness are essential to restore meaningful higher education.”
Looking Forward
As higher education entered the Trump era, its future remained uncertain. Students, faculty, and communities faced fear under neoliberal policies, AI-driven monitoring, mass surveillance, litigation pressures, ultraconservative influence, climate crises, and financial speculation. Will universities reclaim their role as public goods, or continue as commodified services? The College Meltdown stands as a testament to those who resisted dehumanization and anti-intellectualism. It also calls for Quality of Life, ethical practice, mental well-being, environmental responsibility, and Rehumanization, ensuring education serves the whole person, not just the bottom line.
Sources and References
Washington, Harriet A. Medical Apartheid. Doubleday, 2006.
Rosenthal, Elisabeth. An American Sickness. Penguin, 2017.
Skloot, Rebecca. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks. Crown, 2010.
Nelson, Alondra. Body and Soul. University of Minnesota Press, 2011.
Paucek, Chip. “2U and the Growth of OPMs.” EdSurge, 2021. link
Ravitch, Diane. The Death and Life of the Great American School System. Basic Books, 2010.
Alexander, Bryan. Academia Next. Johns Hopkins University Press, 2020.
U.S. Department of Education. “Closed School Information.” 2016–2020. link
Federal Reserve Bank of New York. Student Debt Statistics, 2024. link
Wayback Machine Archive of College Meltdown Blog: link
Kashana Cauley’s second novel, The Payback (out July 15, 2025), might read like a brilliantly absurd heist movie—but its critique of debt peonage, surveillance capitalism, and broken educational promises is dead serious. With its hilarious yet harrowing depiction of three underemployed retail workers taking on the student loan-industrial complex, The Payback arrives not just as a much-anticipated literary event, but as a cultural reckoning.
The protagonist, Jada Williams, is relentlessly hounded by the “Debt Police”—a dystopian twist that, while fictional, feels terrifyingly close to home for America’s 44 million student debtors. But instead of accepting a life of financial bondage, Jada and her mall coworkers hatch a plan to erase their student debt and strike back against the system that sold them a future in exchange for permanent servitude.
This wild caper—praised by Publishers Weekly, Bustle, The Boston Globe, and others for its intelligence and audacity—may be fiction, but it echoes the real-life story of one bold man who did exactly what Jada dreams of doing.
The Legend of Papas Fritas
In the mid-2000s, a Chilean man known only by his pseudonym, Papas Fritas (French Fries), pulled off one of the most radical and symbolic acts of debt resistance in modern history. A former art student at Chile’s prestigious Universidad del Mar—a private for-profit institution later shut down for corruption and fraud—Papas Fritas discovered that the university had falsified financial documents to secure millions in profits while leaving students in mountains of debt.
His response? He infiltrated the school’s administrative offices, extracted records documenting approximately $500 million in student loans, and burned them. Literally. With no backup copies.
He then turned the ashes into an art installation called “La Morada del Diablo” (The Devil’s Dwelling), displayed it publicly, and became an instant folk hero. For many Chileans, who had taken to the streets in the early 2010s protesting an exploitative and privatized higher education system, Papas Fritas was more than a trickster—he was a vigilante philosopher, an artist of revolt.
His act raised questions that still haunt us: What is the moral value of debt acquired through deception? Should the victims of predatory institutions be forced to pay for their own exploitation?
Fiction Meets Resistance
In The Payback, Cauley’s characters don’t just want debt relief—they want retribution. And like Papas Fritas, they understand that justice in an unjust system may require transgression, even sabotage. Cauley, a former Daily Show writer and incisive New York Times columnist, doesn’t shy away from this. Her prose is electric with rage, joy, absurdity, and clarity.
She also knows exactly what she’s doing. Jada’s plan to eliminate debt isn’t merely about numbers—it’s about dignity, possibility, and reclaiming a future that was sold for interest. Cauley’s fiction, like Papas Fritas’s fire, is not just a spectacle—it’s a warning, and a dare.
In an America where student debt totals over $1.7 trillion, where debt servicers act like bounty hunters, and where the promise of higher education has become a trapdoor, The Payback delivers catharsis—and inspiration.
Hollywood, take note: this story demands a screen adaptation. But more importantly, policymakers, debt collectors, and university administrators should take heed. The people are reading. And they’re getting ideas.
Preorder The Payback
Signed editions are available through Black-owned LA bookstores Reparations Club, Malik Books, and Octavia’s Bookshelf. National preorder links are now live. Read it before the Debt Police knock on your door.
Because as both Cauley and Papas Fritas remind us: sometimes, the only moral debt is the one you refuse to pay.
After more than a decade of weekly columns on the shifting terrain of academia, Steven Mintz—professor, public intellectual, and longtime contributor to Inside Higher Ed—has stepped away from his platform, “Higher Ed Gamma.” In his farewell post, Mintz characterizes the move as a philosophical shift, not a retreat. But for those engaged in the daily battles to defend the public mission of higher education, his withdrawal from one of the few widely read, accessible venues for higher ed critique feels like something else: a concession at a moment when visibility and resistance are needed more than ever.
Mintz says he is no longer as interested in “reacting to headlines,” preferring instead to explore the quieter realms of cultural inquiry—grappling with themes like grief, historical consciousness, and the inner lives of students through essays on Bob Dylan, T. S. Eliot, and opera. His transition to Substack, where he will continue to write freely and thoughtfully, signals an intentional shift toward what he calls “a different rhythm.”
But what happens when thought leaders retreat from public forums just as the foundations of higher education are being dismantled?
Mintz’s departure from Inside Higher Ed comes amid a historic and escalating assault on higher education’s core values: the elimination of DEI programs, political meddling in public institutions, massive layoffs, closures of small colleges, and a crisis of labor precarity among adjuncts and graduate students. It is a time of culture war, economic shock, and administrative capture—one that demands vigilance, confrontation, and critical dialogue. The silence of well-respected voices like Mintz, even when artfully composed, leaves a vacuum at precisely the wrong moment.
To be sure, Mintz has always occupied an ambiguous space in the higher ed discourse: never quite a radical, but often reflective and open to challenging assumptions. He offered important insights about student success, the role of the humanities, and institutional reform. But his columns were also marked by a cautious optimism that sometimes failed to account for the structural brutality many faculty, staff, and students experience daily—from exploitative adjunct labor to debt peonage and corporate takeovers of the academy.
In retreating from Inside Higher Ed—a public-facing, open-access platform—and into Substack, a more insular, self-selecting venue, Mintz risks preaching to a smaller choir. His musings on literature, aesthetics, and ambiguity, while intellectually rich, come at the cost of direct engagement with the high-stakes political and economic struggles now engulfing academia. In a word: the move feels safe.
But there is no safety for the contingent instructor evicted from their job mid-semester. No retreat for students saddled with unpayable debt. No intellectual sanctuary for librarians, counselors, and staff facing layoffs. The reality of higher ed today demands more than reflective essays on opera and poetry; it demands solidarity, analysis, and resistance.
To be fair, Mintz is not abandoning the field entirely. He promises to continue writing “sometimes about higher ed, sometimes about what it means to be human.” That is a noble aim. But as the privatization and defunding of higher education accelerate, and as faculty governance erodes in favor of corporate management, the fight to preserve the very possibility of the humanities and liberal inquiry depends on public intellectuals remaining in the arena, not retreating to side chambers of culture.
Mintz closes his farewell with an affirmation that “education—real education—is still worth defending.” We agree. But the defense requires more than aesthetic reflection. It requires naming enemies, calling out injustice, and staying embedded in the public struggles that define this moment in American education.
For those of us who continue the work of muckraking, exposing inequality, and sounding alarms about the corporatization of the university, Mintz’s exit from Inside Higher Ed is less a turning of the page than a missed opportunity to stand firm. The page is burning, and too many are still waiting for the writers to put out the fire.
The Higher Education Inquirer has crossed another milestone, reaching more than 600,000 views over the past quarter. For a niche publication without corporate backing, this is a significant achievement. But the real measure of success is not in page views—it is in the stories that matter, the investigations that refuse to die even when the higher education establishment would rather they disappear.
Since its inception, HEI has taken the long view on the crises and contradictions shaping U.S. colleges and universities. We continue to probe the issues that mainstream media outlets often skim or ignore. These are not passing headlines; they are structural problems, many of them decades in the making, that affect millions of students, faculty, staff, and communities.
Among the stories we continue to pursue:
Charlie Kirk and Neofascism on Campus: Tracing how right-wing movements use higher education as a recruiting ground, and how student martyrdom narratives fuel a dangerous cycle.
Academic Labor and Adjunctification: Investigating the systemic exploitation of contingent faculty, who now make up the majority of the academic workforce.
Higher Education and Underemployment: Examining how rising tuition, debt, and credentials collide with a labor market that cannot absorb the graduates it produces.
EdTech, Robocolleges, and the University of Phoenix: Following the money as education technology corporations replace faculty with algorithms and marketing schemes.
Student Loan Debt and Borrower Defense to Repayment: Tracking litigation, regulatory shifts, and the human toll of a $1.7 trillion debt system.
U.S. Department of Education Oversight: Analyzing how federal enforcement waxes and wanes with political cycles, often leaving students exposed.
Online Program Managers and Higher Ed Privatization: Investigating the outsourcing of core academic functions to companies driven by profit, not pedagogy.
Edugrift and Bad Actors in Higher Education: Naming the profiteers who siphon billions from public trust.
Medugrift and University Medicine Oligopolies: Connecting elite medical centers to systemic inequality in U.S. healthcare.
Student Protests: Documenting student resistance to injustice on campus and beyond.
University Endowments and Opaque Funding Sources: Pulling back the curtain on how universities build wealth while raising tuition.
Universities and Gentrification: Exposing the displacement of working-class communities in the name of “campus expansion.”
Ambow Education as a Potential National Security Threat: Tracking foreign-controlled for-profit education companies and their entanglements.
Accreditation: Examining the gatekeepers of legitimacy and their failure to protect students.
International Students: Covering the precarity of students navigating U.S. immigration and education systems.
Student Health and Welfare: Looking at how universities fail to provide adequate physical and mental health support.
Hypercredentialism: Interrogating the endless inflation of degrees and certificates that drain students’ time and money.
Veritas: Pursuing truth in higher education, no matter how uncomfortable.
These are the stories that make HEI more than just a blog—they make it a watchdog. As higher education drifts deeper into corporatization and inequality, we will keep asking difficult questions, exposing contradictions, and documenting resistance.
The numbers are gratifying. But the truth is what matters.
It's April 1, 2025. And this is no joke. Under Donald Trump and his Republican government, the US is quickly headed down the wrong path, politically, economically, and socially, with little resistance. After three months of government disruption, there are still tens of millions of Americans that do not get what's happening, and many more that do get it but are unwilling to act.
In history, we have seen moments very similar to this. This time, politicians, corporate CEOs, and higher education elites, who should know better, have largely stood on the sidelines. At their worst, these elites have systematically punished those who did have the courage to speak out, making others fearful of even nonviolent resistance.
“Who are we? Where are we going? Where do we come from?” These existential questions are not luxuries in times of crisis—they are necessities. And as the storms of political, social, and environmental upheaval grow darker, they demand our full attention.
For many in the United States, especially younger generations, the future feels bleak. Student loan debt weighs down tens of millions. Meaningless, low-wage, precarious employment—what anthropologist David Graeber called “bullsh*t jobs”—dominates the landscape, even for the college educated. Higher education, once touted as the great equalizer, has increasingly functioned as a sorting mechanism that reinforces class division rather than dismantling it.
This is not accidental. It is the consequence of more than a half century of growing inequality, fueled by tax cuts for the wealthy, deregulation, union busting, and the privatization of public goods. Since the 1970s, wages for working people have stagnated, while the top one percent has consolidated unimaginable wealth and power. Higher education has both suffered from and contributed to this shift: as public funding declined, universities increasingly turned to corporate partnerships, tuition hikes, student loans, and contingent labor to survive. In doing so, they have often replicated the very inequalities they claim to challenge.
Instead of building an informed and empowered citizenry, the modern university too often churns out debt-saddled consumers, precarious workers, and disillusioned graduates. The idea of education as a public good has been replaced by the logic of the market—branding, metrics, debt financing, and labor flexibility.
Meanwhile, U.S. politics offers little solace. We are caught between the reactionary authoritarianism of Trumpism and the managerial neoliberalism of the Democratic establishment. Both forces have proven inadequate in confronting systemic inequality, environmental collapse, and imperial overreach. Instead, they compete to maintain the illusion of normalcy while conditions deteriorate.
Internationally, the collapse of moral leadership is most evident in the ongoing genocide in Palestine. Backed by billions in U.S. aid and political cover, the Israeli military has killed tens of thousands of civilians in Gaza and displaced countless more. Hospitals, schools, and entire neighborhoods have been leveled. On college campuses across the U.S., students and faculty who dare to speak out against this atrocity have faced surveillance, censorship, arrests, and administrative repression. At a moment when moral clarity should be the minimum, too many institutions of higher learning have chosen complicity.
This convergence of global injustice and domestic repression raises urgent questions for academia. What is the role of the university in a world marked by war, inequality, and ecological collapse? What values will guide us through the storm?
The answer begins with honesty. We must recognize that higher education is not separate from society’s failures—it is entangled in them. But that also means it can be part of the solution. Colleges and universities can serve as spaces of resistance, reflection, and regeneration—but only if they reject their alignment with empire, capital, and white supremacy.
Where do we come from? From resistance: from student uprisings, civil rights sit-ins, anti-apartheid divestment, labor organizing, and community building. From people who believed—and still believe—that education should serve justice, not profit.
Where are we going? That depends on whether we are willing to confront power, abandon illusions, and build institutions that are democratic, transparent, and rooted in the needs of the many rather than the few.
The future is uncertain. The storm is here. But history is not finished. A more humane and equitable society remains possible—if we have the courage to demand it.
In 2025, the landscape of higher education is dominated by contradictions, crises, and the relentless churn of what might be called “collegemania.” Underneath the polished veneer of university marketing—the glossy brochures, viral TikToks, and celebrity endorsements—lurks a network of systemic pressures that students, faculty, and society at large must navigate. The hashtags trending below the masthead of Higher Education Without Illusions capture the full spectrum of these pressures: #accountability, #adjunct, #AI, #AImeltdown, #algo, #alienation, #anomie, #anxiety, #austerity, #BDR, #bot, #boycott, #BRICS, #climate, #collegemania, #collegemeltdown, #crypto, #divest, #doomloop, #edugrift, #enshittification, #FAFSA, #greed, #incel, #jobless, #kleptocracy, #medugrift, #moralcapital, #nokings, #nonviolence, #PSLF, #QOL, #rehumanization, #resistance, #robocollege, #robostudent, #roboworker, #solidarity, #strikedebt, #surveillance, #temperance, #TPUSA, #transparency, #Trump, #veritas.
Taken together, these words map the terrain of higher education as it exists today: a fragile ecosystem strained by debt, automation, political polarization, and climate urgency. Students are increasingly treated as commodities (#robostudent, #strikedebt), faculty are underpaid and precarious (#adjunct, #medugrift), and universities themselves are subjected to the whims of markets and algorithms (#algo, #AImeltdown, #robocollege).
Financial pressures are unrelenting. The FAFSA system, once intended as a bridge to opportunity, now functions as a tool of surveillance and debt management (#FAFSA, #BDR). Public service loan forgiveness (#PSLF) continues to be delayed or denied, leaving graduates to navigate the twin anxieties of indebtedness and joblessness (#jobless, #doomloop). Meanwhile, austerity measures squeeze institutional budgets, often at the expense of research, mental health support, and academic freedom (#austerity, #anomie, #anxiety).
Automation and artificial intelligence are now central to the higher education ecosystem. AI grading tools, predictive enrollment algorithms, and administrative bots promise efficiency but often produce alienation and ethical dilemmas (#AI, #AImeltdown, #roboworker, #bot). In this context, “robocollege” is not a metaphor but a lived reality for many students navigating hyper-digitized classrooms where human mentorship is increasingly rare.
Political and cultural currents further complicate the picture. From the influence of conservative campus organizations (#TPUSA, #Trump) to global shifts in power (#BRICS), universities are battlegrounds for ideological and material stakes. Moral capital—the credibility and legitimacy of an institution—is increasingly intertwined with corporate sponsorships, divestment movements, and climate commitments (#moralcapital, #divest, #climate). At the same time, greed and kleptocracy (#greed, #kleptocracy) permeate administration and policy decisions, eroding trust in higher education’s social mission.
Yet amid this bleakness, there are threads of resistance and rehumanization. Student debt strikes, faculty solidarity networks, and advocacy for transparency (#strikedebt, #solidarity, #transparency, #rehumanization) reveal a persistent desire to reclaim the university as a space of collective flourishing rather than pure financial extraction. Nonviolence (#nonviolence), temperance (#temperance), and boycotts (#boycott) reflect strategic, principled responses to systemic crises, even as anxiety and alienation persist.
Ultimately, higher education without illusions demands that we confront both the structural and human dimensions of its crises. Universities are not just engines of credentialing and profit—they are social institutions embedded in broader networks of power, ideology, and technology. A recognition of #veritas and #QOL (quality of life) alongside the demands of #collegemania and #enshittification is essential for any hope of reform.
The hashtags are more than social media markers—they are diagnostics. They chart a system in flux, exposing the frictions between automation and humanity, austerity and access, greed and moral responsibility. They call on all of us—students, educators, policymakers, and citizens—to act with accountability, solidarity, and courage.
Higher education without illusions is not pessimism; it is clarity. Only by naming the pressures and contradictions can we begin to imagine institutions that serve human flourishing rather than perpetuate cycles of debt, alienation, and social inequality.
Sources & Further Reading:
An American Sickness, Elisabeth Rosenthal
Medical Apartheid, Harriet Washington
Body and Soul, Alondra Nelson
HEI coverage of student debt, adjunct labor, and AI in higher education
[Image above: Turning Point USA, a neoconservative student group, has grown to more than 1100 high school and college chapters since its founding in 2012.]
The College Meltdown has been developing for decades. But now, it is at a turning point as the Trump Administration enters office. Most likely, American colleges are headed toward more racial and ethnic tension, less transparency, and more corruption. And the Trump Administration's solutions, which include privatization and deregulation, may not only accelerate the College Meltdown, their "hands off" approach to civil rights may increase conflicts on campus.
Donald Trump's selection of Betsy Devos and Jeff Sessions as US Secretary of Education and Attorney General have already sent a loud statement to those who research and analyze organizational effectiveness and institutional corruption in education.
The loud statement is that citizens should keep an eye out for even more discrimination, inequality, and fraud in K-12 education and higher education. Non-Christians and "others" with limited financial resources should be particularly concerned. But don't expect to get much information from the corporate controlled media--it would take too much work and it wouldn't be profitable.
For those interested in how education policy plays out over the next four years, we'll also need to know who will lead the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, Federal Trade Commission, Securities and Exchange Commission, Federal Communications Commission, and how much those agencies will receive in funding for oversight of the US education industry.
Lack of oversight will accelerate opportunities for cronyism, nepotism, theft, lack of transparency, academic cheating, and intellectual dishonesty at the state and local levels
We also expect this increase in wrongdoing and poor decisions to be met with limited resistance and highly framedmedia attention.
Government-fed media stories may show structural failure that has been existent for generations and corruption that has cropped up in the age of increasing school choice. But ideological perspectives and power will influence which sides get the most attention, the quantity and quality of background information provided, and which stories (if any) gain the most traction.
"School choice," "empowerment," "opportunity," "religious freedom," "union corruption," "failing schools," "local control," "merit pay," "vouchers,""political correctness," "safe spaces," and "micro-aggressions" will be terms widely used to frame stories about US education.
For every action by all of these educational players, there will be a set of reactions from multiple sides. Vested interests include banks, private equity, hedge funds, philanthropies and foundations, for-profit and non-profit education and educational services companies, political parties, teachers union leaders, marketing and advertising companies, construction unions, pension funds, lobbying firms, think tanks, public relations businesses, and media outlets.
Liberals may secretly like vouchers, so their children can get tuition breaks for private school attendance, or chances to get out of dangerous or failing public schools.
Much of the action will also be at the state and local level and may not be reported by major news outlets.
Outside players such as student debt groups, adjunct professors, and teacher resistance groups will also be involved, but will likely be marginalized or silenced.
We cannot predict what will happen exactly, but power, influence, and organizational effectiveness will be large determiners of what unfolds. And deals between power players behind the scenes may be vastly different than what is presented in the media.
Look for changes in charter school tax credits (including New Markets Tax Credits), and other incentives as well as IPOs in the education business.
Some people will profit from the direction the nation's educational policy is going. But a larger number will suffer. We don't expect society as a whole to understand the consequences for quite some time.
Parents with high hopes will place their children in lotteries for high-demand charter schools. But most will be disappointed.
About 0.5% of American children are currently enrolled in online charter schools. But this number could expand with deregulation, even if their educational value is in question.
While we construct this article, we suggest that you read three of our previous reports.
We invite feedback and opinions from all sides with interests in the education business and will respond to every comment we receive. Our email is dahneshaulis@gmail.com
