Small Colleges as Community Anchors

How Small Colleges and Small Towns Can Save Each Other

April 6, 2026, By Dean Hoke – I chose a small college for what a large university couldn’t offer—smaller classes, close faculty interaction, and freedom to explore my path. My experience revealed a bigger truth: small colleges and their towns are deeply linked, and their survival depends on collaboration, not isolation.

For me, that place was Urbana College in Ohio, with about 500 students when I enrolled in the late 1960s. It was where I learned to study, ask questions freely, and begin a career.

I’ve always been grateful for what that college gave me. Which is why it stayed with me when it disappeared.

Like many small institutions in recent years, Urbana was absorbed through a merger and ultimately closed. My alma mater is gone, and that loss has never left me. This is why I’ve spent the last several years trying to understand what’s happening to small colleges nationwide—and what it means for their communities.

Since 2022, I’ve conducted more than 75 podcast interviews—over 40 with presidents, provosts, and senior leaders at small colleges. I’ve also spent two years researching and writing about the economics of closures, leadership challenges, and the most at-risk communities.

After all those conversations, data, and lived experiences, one answer stands out: lasting success happens not by saving just the college, but by ensuring the college and town intentionally unite to secure each other’s futures. That partnership is the core way forward.

The Crisis We’re Not Talking About

I produce and co-host Small College America because I believe small private colleges are one of the most underreported—and undervalued—parts of American civic life.

We spend a lot of time talking about the elites, flagship state universities, and major research institutions. We spend far less time talking about the 1,700+ small private colleges that serve students who often don’t have access to those institutions and that anchor communities with few, if any, alternative economic drivers. However, these colleges are disappearing at a pace that should concern policymakers, philanthropists, and community leaders.

The numbers are moving in the wrong direction—and quickly. In 2024, Forbes assessed more than 900 private nonprofit colleges and found that 182 received a financial grade of D. Just three years earlier, that number was 20.

Huron Consulting Group, analyzing more than a decade of financial and enrollment data, projects that as many as 370 of the nation’s 1,700 private nonprofit colleges will close or merge within the next decade—more than triple the closure and merger rate of the previous ten years. An additional 430 institutions face moderate existential threats. Taken together, that is nearly half of all private colleges in the country.

And the demographic cliff driving these projections—a 13 percent drop in high school graduates expected between 2025 and 2041, hitting the Midwest and Northeast hardest—has not yet fully arrived.

I also want to be clear about something: not every small college should be saved. Some institutions are financially too far gone, too disconnected from their communities, or too duplicative of what already exists nearby. Closures and mergers will happen—and in some cases, they should. What concerns me is not the unavoidable consolidation of a sector under genuine pressure. It is the preventable loss of institutions that still have the assets, the relationships, and the community need to survive—if they and their towns are willing to act together while there is still time.

Closures are already happening, but this isn’t just a higher education story; it’s a community story. In many cases, the college and the town are bound in ways that only become apparent when one starts to falter.

When a town loses population, the college loses a natural pipeline of students. When the college contracts, it cuts jobs and spending, which weakens the local economy. That, in turn, accelerates population decline. It becomes a cycle—and once it starts, it’s difficult to reverse.

The impact is immediate—and significant. IMPLAN models show that the average college closure results in the loss of 265 jobs, $14 million in labor income, $21 million in GDP, and $32 million in total economic output.

  • $14 million in labor income
  • $21 million in GDP
  • $32 million in total economic output

In individual communities, the effects can be even more pronounced.

When Iowa Wesleyan University closed in 2023, Mount Pleasant, Iowa, lost about $55 million in annual revenue. In Rensselaer, Indiana, the closure of St. Joseph’s College resulted in the loss of 180-200 jobs. For a small city, that’s not a minor disruption.

It’s the equivalent of losing a major employer, except the institution that disappears is also educating students, training nurses and teachers, supporting local businesses, and contributing to the community’s civic and cultural life.

As Gallup economist Jonathan Rothwell has noted, the effects of college closures on communities may parallel what we’ve seen in regions that lost manufacturing.

I’ve seen that impact firsthand. It’s why I’ve come to believe that the way we frame this conversation—“how do we save the college?”—is fundamentally incomplete.

We’re Asking the Wrong Question

It’s understandable. College leaders are under pressure—from boards, from accrediting bodies, from bondholders, from their own faculty and staff. The instinct is to focus inward: cut programs, adjust pricing, increase discount rates, and find new enrollment markets.

But together, those actions are mostly defensive and don’t address the underlying problem. A small college trying to solve its challenges on its own is up against forces it can’t control—demographics, regional population shifts, declining birth rates, and increasing competition from larger and better-resourced institutions. That’s a difficult equation to solve in isolation.

The better question is this: What actions can the college and its town take together, starting now, to secure a sustainable future for both? It’s time to move beyond conversation and toward concrete, shared steps.

That shift may sound subtle, but it changes everything. Because once a college defines its future as tied to its community’s future, the range of possible strategies expands immediately. Instead of operating as a standalone institution, the college becomes part of a broader local system—one that includes the city, major employers, healthcare providers, and regional economic development efforts.

And with that shift comes access to new tools:

  • Public-private partnerships
  • State and local economic development funding
  • Philanthropic investment tied to community outcomes
  • Workforce development initiatives

At the same time, the community gains something just as valuable: a permanent institution with physical space, intellectual capital, and long-term credibility. Not many organizations in a small city can play that role. A college can.

This Isn’t a New Idea—But It Is a New Scale

Large urban universities have been doing this for years.

The University of Pennsylvania’s investment in West Philadelphia is one of the most cited examples.

The University of Notre Dame has played a central role in the redevelopment of South Bend.

Closer to where I live, Indiana University’s investment in Bloomington’s Trades District offers a recent example. Working alongside the City of Bloomington and The Mill co-working space, IU secured a $16 million Lilly Endowment grant that is expected to leverage more than $80 million in total investment—developing an innovation district, attracting high-wage employers, and creating the kind of town-gown partnership that keeps talent in the region. The keystone partners in that effort—IU, the city, and Cook Medical Group—look remarkably like the four-partner model this article advocates at a smaller scale.

These are well-documented, well-resourced efforts. But they’re also not easily replicable for the kinds of institutions we’re talking about here. What’s different—and where the opportunity lies—is applying that same “anchor institution” model to a much smaller scale:

We’re talking about a college of 1,000 to 3,000 students in a town of 10,000 to 75,000 people.

That’s where this conversation needs to move. If you are a college leader or community stakeholder, act now: form partnerships, seek creative investment, and build shared, collaborative strategies. The case is clear: the future of small colleges and towns depends on working in tandem.

Because that’s where the risk is highest—and where the potential impact is greatest.

The Third Crisis We’re Missing

There’s another piece of this story that isn’t getting enough attention. While small colleges are under pressure, so are rural hospitals. And in many communities, those two institutions are the largest employers and the most important anchors.

According to the Chartis Center for Rural Health’s February 2026 update, 41.2 percent of rural hospitals are currently operating with negative margins. Four hundred seventeen are considered vulnerable to closure.

Since 2010, more than 180 rural communities have lost inpatient hospital care entirely. The Medicaid funding cuts enacted in 2025 are expected to put even more pressure on these systems—with some analyses projecting that as many as 700 additional rural hospitals could face closure risk.

Even hospitals that remain open are withdrawing critical services. Between 2014 and 2023, according to the Commonwealth Fund, 424 rural hospitals stopped offering chemotherapy, forcing cancer patients to travel farther for care.

What’s important here isn’t just the numbers. It’s the overlap. In many towns:

  • The college and the hospital share the same workforce pipeline
  • They rely on the same donor base
  • They depend on the same local and regional economic conditions

The towns face the same structural challenge: They are both place-based institutions in regions that are losing population.

Research reinforces this connection. When a rural hospital closes, the impact extends well beyond healthcare:

  • Employment declines—with one study finding a 13.8 percent drop in healthcare jobs in counties experiencing closure
  • Labor force participation drops—research shows an average 1.4% reduction in the total labor force
  • Population loss accelerates—counties that lose their only hospital see an average decline of 1.1 percent in total population

In some cases, the economic downturn begins before the hospital closes—which suggests the closure is a symptom, not the cause. That’s a critical insight. Because it means you can’t solve the hospital’s problem by focusing only on the hospital, and you can’t solve the college’s problem by focusing only on the college.

One System, Not Three Problems

The college, the hospital, and the community are often treated as separate entities. In reality, they function as parts of the same system. When one weakens, the others feel it. When one stabilizes or grows, the benefits ripple outward.

That’s why the most promising path forward isn’t institutional independence. It’s institutional alignment.

Not loose collaboration.

Not an occasional partnership.

But a shared understanding that their futures are connected, and that acting separately is no longer a viable strategy.

Where This Is Already Working

This isn’t theoretical. There are already examples—at different scales—of institutions making this shift and seeing results.

At Colby College in Waterville, Maine, leadership deliberately aligned the college’s future with the city’s. That meant investing directly in downtown development—housing, a hotel, arts infrastructure—and measuring the results. An independent economic study covering 2019 to 2024 found that Colby supported $1.3 billion in economic activity in the greater Waterville area, while the city’s population grew by more than 9 percent—outpacing both the county (4.5 percent) and the state (3.5 percent). Forty new businesses opened downtown. The college didn’t just survive. It became central to the city’s renewal, and the Harold Alfond Foundation called the result a national model for communities working together for the greater good.

A different version of this can be seen at Gannon University in Erie, Pennsylvania. There, the university became a formal partner in the Erie Downtown Development Corporation alongside major employers and foundations, committing $2.5 million to join the governance of a downtown revitalization effort that has since raised more than $70 million. By aligning itself with regional economic priorities—particularly in life sciences and workforce development—Gannon helped drive investment and job creation while strengthening its own institutional position. Its annual economic impact on the Erie region is now estimated at $300 million.

At a smaller scale, Huntington University in Huntington, Indiana, offers a useful model.

Rather than treating community engagement as a secondary activity, Huntington has integrated it into its academic and institutional strategy. Through initiatives that connect students, faculty, and regional leaders around economic development and sustainability, the university has positioned itself as a contributor to the community’s future—not just a resident within it. In a city of roughly 17,000 people, that distinction matters: a college of 1,100 students that is visibly invested in the region’s economic future is a different kind of institution than one that simply occupies space within it.

And in Washington State, Pacific Lutheran University has taken a particularly innovative approach by building a formal three-way partnership with MultiCare Health System and Washington State University’s College of Medicine. MultiCare is committed to constructing a medical center on PLU’s campus. WSU placed medical students throughout the surrounding community, providing care to residents while living on PLU’s campus and using both institutions’ clinical facilities. The result is a small private college that is not merely training healthcare workers for jobs elsewhere—it is serving as the physical and organizational hub for healthcare delivery in its own community.

A New Model for Shared Success

Four Partners. One Shared Future.

None of the institutions we’ve talked about—Colby, Gannon, Huntington, Pacific Lutheran—moved forward by focusing only on themselves. They made a different decision, and they aligned their future with the future of the place they call home.

What’s emerging from these examples is a model that already exists in most small communities—but hasn’t yet been fully connected:

  • The college
  • The hospital
  • The city
  • A small group of key local employers

Not a loose collaboration, not a periodic meeting, but a formal, sustained partnership built around a shared reality:

If one struggles, all are affected. If one grows, all benefit.

So what does that actually look like? It starts with a few clear commitments.

A college opens underused space as a public-facing co-working hub, becoming the anchor for a remote-worker attraction strategy developed with the city and supported by state economic development funding.

The evidence that this works is substantial. Tulsa Remote, the most rigorously studied remote worker program in the country, has grown from 70 participants in 2018 to more than 3,400 as of 2024, generating $622 million in direct employment income. An independent study by the W.E. Upjohn Institute found the program to be six times more efficient at creating jobs than a traditional business tax incentive of equivalent cost—$36,000 per job versus an estimated $218,000 for a typical business incentive. Indiana alone has 55 communities now participating in similar programs with state matching funds. The city of Noblesville spent less than $1 million to attract 250 new residents who will contribute an estimated $40 million over five years. Ninety-one percent of those residents stayed. The $218,000 figure is a modeled estimate by W.E. Upjohn Institute economist Timothy Bartik, representing what a traditional business incentive would need to offer per job to match Tulsa Remote’s effectiveness—not a direct survey of actual incentive costs.

The hospital and the college create a formal workforce pipeline—training nurses, social workers, and allied health professionals in ways that both meet community need and strengthen the hospital’s long-term viability. Local employers invest in their workforce through the college, supporting degree-completion and continuing-education programs that provide more stable, predictable revenue than traditional enrollment alone. The college reconnects with its alumni—not just as donors, but as potential residents, mentors, and participants in the life of the community.

There’s one more piece that matters: Measurement.

Every successful example we’ve seen has made a point of documenting impact—through independent economic studies, public reporting, and clear outcomes tied to community growth. That’s not just about accountability, it’s about credibility.

A college that can demonstrate it helped bring new residents into a community, supported a hospital, or contributed to local economic growth becomes very difficult to ignore—and even harder to replace.

There is also a funding argument that has not yet been made loudly enough. Government incentive programs—grants, loans, tax abatements, workforce development dollars—exist precisely to attract new employers and grow local economies. Foundations and, increasingly, impact investors are searching for exactly the kind of structured, multi-institutional partnerships described here. A coalition that can present a college, a hospital, a city, and a group of employers as a unified investment case is fundamentally different from any one of those institutions applying alone. The combined balance sheet, the shared workforce pipeline, the co-located infrastructure—these are the elements that transform a grant application from a request into a compelling opportunity.

Small college towns have genuine competitive advantages to offer incoming employers and new residents alike: an educated local workforce, a cost of living substantially lower than in urban markets, and a quality of life that larger cities increasingly struggle to provide. The question is whether communities will organize themselves to make that case collectively—or continue to let those advantages go unmarketed while competing against each other for the same shrinking pool of investment dollars.

A Choice, Not a Fate

I started the Small College America podcast series because I believe these institutions matter, not as relics of the past, but as essential parts of the communities they serve. I’ve seen what happens when they close, but I’ve also seen what’s possible when leadership makes a different choice.

When Colby College president David Greene went to his board to make the case for investing in downtown Waterville, he framed it simply: Waterville had been there for Colby when the college needed it. Now it was time for Colby to be there for Waterville.

That idea, simple as it is, captures the entire argument. Small colleges in small towns are not problems to be managed. They are not institutions waiting to be consolidated, absorbed, or quietly closed. In many cases, they are the most important assets their communities have.

The pressures facing them are real.

The demographic cliff has arrived.

Healthcare systems are under strain.

Enrollment challenges are not going away.

None of that changes on its own. But the evidence is increasingly clear. From economic modeling, from community data, and from the institutions already doing this work: The places that find a path forward will be the ones where colleges, hospitals, cities, and employers stop operating independently—and start acting as partners.

This isn’t theoretical. It’s already happening. The question now isn’t whether this model can work; it’s whether more communities will choose to act on it, while there is still time to do so.


Dean Hoke is the Executive Producer and co-host for the podcast series  Small College America and Managing Partner of Edu Alliance Group, a higher education consultancy firm based in Bloomington, Indiana, and Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates. He formerly served as President/CEO of the American Association of University Administrators (AAUA). Dean has worked with higher education institutions worldwide. With decades of experience in higher education leadership, consulting, and institutional strategy, he brings a wealth of knowledge on colleges’ challenges and opportunities.  

Dean also serves as a Senior Fellow at the Sagamore Institute based in Indianapolis, Indiana,  where he is currently researching the Economic and Social Impact of Small Colleges in Rural Communities.

Small Rural Colleges Are Knowledge Infrastructure

February 15, 2026, By Dean Hoke – Through my ongoing work with Small College America and Edu Alliance Group, I’ve researched dozens of rural and small-town campuses and interviewed presidents, faculty, and community leaders across the country. I keep encountering a pattern that rarely makes the national conversation about higher education’s future.

The economic case for small rural colleges is straightforward and substantial. Across 276 small-town and rural private colleges in America, institutional operations generate an estimated $21.5 billion in annual economic impact. Add student spending, and the total reaches roughly $26.2 billion. These institutions directly employ nearly 119,000 people, with total employment impact exceeding 333,000 jobs when accounting for indirect and induced effects. These institutions serve the 66.3 million Americans—roughly 20 percent of the U.S. population—who live in Census-defined rural areas.

Those numbers matter. But the multiplier, as compelling as it is, tells only part of the story.

In communities where local journalism has collapsed, where city governments lack planners or grant writers, and where technical expertise is scarce, small colleges increasingly function as something more fundamental than economic anchors.

They serve as a distributed knowledge infrastructure.

In many rural regions, they are the only institutions capable of conducting research, convening stakeholders, analyzing complex problems, and producing evidence-based recommendations. When difficult questions arise, who can evaluate this policy? Who has access to data? Who can design a solution? Rural communities often turn to their local college. Not because it is the best option among many. But because it is the only option.

“When Hendrix thrives, Conway thrives, and when Conway thrives, Hendrix thrives,” Dr. Karen K. Petersen, President of Hendrix College in Conway, Arkansas, told me. “There’s just no way for one of us separately to thrive and the other not.” Beyond shared prosperity, she sees an ecosystem at risk. If these colleges hollow out across the middle of the country, she warns, it is not simply a loss for higher education; it is a loss for the republic.

The question facing rural and small-town America is not just what happens when a college closes. It is who fills the knowledge vacuum left behind.

The Capacity Gap in Rural Communities

At the Education Writers Association’s 2025 Higher Education Seminar on rural education, panelists emphasized a critical distinction that deserves broader attention. Rural communities do not lack ambition; they lack capacity.

Many counties simply do not employ research analysts, planners, or grant writers capable of navigating federal infrastructure funding or complex policy design. Colleges frequently step into that space—convening stakeholders, hosting workshops, applying for grants, coordinating broadband expansion, and facilitating healthcare initiatives.

This capacity gap extends beyond federal funding. According to a 2024 Trust for Civic Life survey of over 500 rural residents, rural Americans trust local institutions, such as schools, churches, and community businesses, far more than national organizations. When complex problems arise, rural communities turn to the institutions they know. Increasingly, that means turning to their local colleges, even if those institutions weren’t originally designed for such roles.

In many counties, the college is the only entity with:

  • Research infrastructure
  • Analytical capacity
  • Convening power
  • Multi-disciplinary expertise

Remove the college and you do not simply lose tuition revenue or student housing demand. You lose the region’s primary source of knowledge production.

Four Domains of Knowledge Work

What does this knowledge infrastructure look like in practice? Across the country, small rural colleges operate in four distinct but overlapping domains.

1. Technical and Scientific Knowledge

In 2023, students at Hendrix College conducted a telephone survey of 901 older Arkansans as part of an Advanced Policy Analysis course. The project, developed in partnership with the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences and AARP Arkansas, aimed to evaluate how communities could better serve aging populations.

The findings were striking: Conway—despite relative prosperity—ranked lowest among surveyed communities as a place to retire. Students analyzed transportation barriers, housing access, and social isolation, then presented policy recommendations at a public symposium attended by civic leaders and national AARP representatives.

Here is the question worth asking: Who would have conducted that survey if Hendrix did not exist?

Conway, a city of 59,000, does not employ research analysts. Contracting a private consulting firm would cost tens of thousands of dollars. The study likely would not have happened.

Across the country, similar patterns emerge. Environmental science students test regional water quality. Computer science students build nonprofit websites. Engineering students troubleshoot manufacturing systems. These projects may not always produce journal publications. But they produce something equally valuable to rural communities: locally actionable knowledge that would otherwise go uncreated.

2. Workforce Development Knowledge

When Arkansas officials documented a shortage of approximately 9,000 nurses, Lyon College in Batesville did more than launch a nursing major. It orchestrated a regional pipeline.

Lyon developed formal partnerships with White River Health, Arkansas State University-Newport, Ozarka College, and the University of Arkansas Community College at Batesville. Students begin liberal arts coursework at Lyon, transfer for RN licensure, then return to complete a BSN. Working nurses can finish degrees online at deliberately affordable tuition rates, with significant transfer credits applied.

This was not simply program development. It was system design.

The college identified a regional workforce shortage, convened institutions that historically operated independently, negotiated articulation agreements, aligned curricula, and built an infrastructure that retains healthcare workers locally.

In many rural communities, no other institution has the legitimacy, convening authority, and organizational stability to accomplish this kind of coordination. The college becomes a knowledge broker—connecting employers, students, technical programs, and policymakers.

3. Civic and Democratic Knowledge

In rural Kentucky, Berea College operates Partners for Education, serving the Appalachian counties through a network of full-time specialists providing academic intervention, college counseling, and wraparound services.

The program places staff directly in rural schools, offers Advanced Placement preparation, assists with college applications, and runs volunteer income tax preparation programs serving low-income families. It employs over 100 AmeriCorps volunteers annually and coordinates services across multiple counties.

This is not incidental service. It is institutionalized civic infrastructure.

When a student in Clay County aspires to attend college, Berea’s specialists navigate financial aid, admissions testing, and bureaucratic systems that under-resourced schools cannot manage alone. When families need help accessing earned income tax credits, Berea-trained volunteers assist. Remove the college, and the network dissolves.

The knowledge infrastructure here is not abstract research—it is the expertise required to translate policy into opportunity.

4. Social and Cultural Knowledge

In Swannanoa, North Carolina, Warren Wilson College coordinates the Verner Experiential Gardens—a multi-organization partnership with early childhood educators and nonprofit partners.

College students work alongside young children, developing food systems education, outdoor curriculum, and intergenerational learning environments. The partnership requires sustained coordination, curriculum integration, infrastructure management, and evaluation.

Individual volunteers can serve a meal, and Institutions build systems.

This quieter work—relationship-building, curriculum alignment, multi-year coordination—rarely appears in rankings or federal datasets. But it shapes long-term community resilience.

The Counterfactual: What Happens When Colleges Close?

Economic impact studies estimate that a small college closure can eliminate roughly $32 million in annual output and hundreds of jobs. Property values decline. Businesses shutter. Young professionals leave.

But the knowledge loss is harder to quantify—and more damaging over time.

Who conducts the next community survey? Who negotiates the next workforce pipeline? Who coordinates regional college access initiatives? Who convenes hospitals, schools, and nonprofits around emerging challenges?

In major metropolitan areas, other universities, think tanks, and consulting firms can step in. In rural regions, there often is no alternative provider. When a college closes, the community loses:

  • Research capacity
  • Stakeholder convening power
  • Multi-disciplinary expertise
  • Alumni networks and institutional memory
  • Grant relationships with state and federal agencies

Infrastructure like this takes decades to build. It can vanish in months.

The Measurement Problem

Part of the challenge lies in how we measure higher education value.

Federal data systems such as IPEDS focus heavily on first-time, full-time, degree-seeking students. Adult learners, part-time enrollees, noncredit workforce trainees, and transfer preparation work are often undercounted or invisible.

The four domains described above—community surveys, workforce pipelines, civic partnerships, regional coordination—generate almost no federal metrics. We reward enrollment and graduation numbers. We ignore regional knowledge production.

The result is a mismatch between what rural colleges do for their communities and what public policy measures. When you measure the wrong outputs, you misjudge what is worth preserving.

Policy Implications: Recognizing Knowledge Infrastructure

If small rural colleges function as distributed knowledge infrastructure, policy must reflect that reality.

First, states should create Rural Knowledge Partnership Grants—competitive funding streams that reward documented college-community problem-solving initiatives.

Second, federal agencies should expand community-engaged research funding targeted specifically at small and mid-sized institutions serving rural regions.

Third, state economic development strategies should formally integrate colleges as implementation partners in broadband, healthcare, workforce, and infrastructure initiatives.

Fourth, foundations concerned about rural resilience should treat colleges not merely as grantees, but as anchor intermediaries capable of coordinating multi-sector coalitions.

These changes do not require new institutions. They require recognizing what already exists.

What We Stand to Lose

President Petersen describes Hendrix as ‘scrappy,’ an institution that ‘punches above its weight.’ But she worries about the broader ecosystem of small colleges across the middle of the country.

The demographic headwinds are real. The financial pressures are mounting. Elite institutions attract disproportionate philanthropic attention. Meanwhile, rural-serving colleges operate in relative obscurity. Yet as rural America faces aging populations, workforce shortages, infrastructure deficits, and civic fragmentation, the institutions most capable of addressing these challenges are themselves under strain.

We often talk about colleges as if they are simply educational providers. In rural America, they are something more. They are the institutional capacity to ask complex questions. They are the convening power that aligns fragmented stakeholders. They are the research engines capable of producing evidence-based solutions.

When a rural college closes, we count the lost jobs and shuttered dormitories. We rarely measure the knowledge vacuum. We do not count the surveys never conducted, the partnerships never negotiated, the civic programs dissolved, the problem-solving capacity eroded.

Infrastructure is not only roads, water systems, and broadband. It is the ability to solve problems. In many rural counties, that capacity resides primarily inside one institution: the local college. The question is not whether America can afford to sustain these institutions. The question is whether rural communities can function without them.

If we are honest about existing capacity gaps—if we recognize that knowledge infrastructure takes decades to build and weeks to dismantle—the answer becomes clear. Small rural colleges are not luxuries we can no longer afford. They are necessities we cannot afford to lose. Not because they are historic or charming. But because they perform work that no one else is doing, in places that desperately need it done.


Dean Hoke is Managing Partner of Edu Alliance Group, a higher education consultancy, and a Senior Fellow for The Sagamore Institute. He formerly served as President/CEO of the American Association of University Administrators (AAUA).

Dean has worked with higher education institutions worldwide. With decades of experience in higher education leadership, consulting, and institutional strategy, he brings a wealth of knowledge on small colleges’ challenges and opportunities. Dean is the Executive Producer and co-host for the podcast series Small College America.