Negotiating Technology in Faculty Collective Bargaining Agreements.Pdf

Home , Time clock

A Dissertation

entitled

Negotiating Technology in Faculty Collective Bargaining Agreements

Andrew J. Shella

Submitted to the Graduate Faculty as partial fulfillment of the requirements for the

Doctor of Philosophy Degree in Higher Education

Dr. Snejana Slantcheva-Durst, Committee Chair

Dr. Gary Rhoades, Committee Member

Dr. David Meabon, Committee Member

Dr. Penny Poplin-Gosetti, Committee Member

Dr. Amanda Bryant-Friedrich, Dean

College of Graduate Studies

The University of Toledo

December 2017

This document is copyrighted material. Under copyright law, no parts of this document may be produced without the expressed permission of the author.

An Abstract of

Negotiating Technology in Faculty Collective Bargaining Agreements

Andrew J. Shella

Submitted to the Graduate Faculty as partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Doctor of Philosophy Degree in Higher Education

The University of Toledo December 2017

This study analyzed the ways the implementation of instructional technology proscribes higher-education faculty work as coded in faculty collective bargaining agreements (CBAs). This study replicates and extends the work on the production politics of teaching and technology completed by Rhoades (1998). Collective bargaining agreements were collected from the higher education contract analysis system database, state employee relations websites, and union websites. A close reading and content analysis of the CBAs focused on to what extent instructional technology has deskilled or enskilled faculty work and/or extended managerial control over faculty work. This study found instructional technology provisions in faculty CBAs increased from 37% to 96% over last 20 years. The organizational and social context effected the frequency of negotiating instructional technology provisions. Two new categories emerged regarding faculty evaluation and privacy. Finally, the findings reinforce Rhoades’ contention that faculty are being marginalized to the periphery of the higher education organization and the traditional faculty duties are being assumed by contingent faculty and non-faculty professionals.

iii

For my Dad, Donald Shella; you taught us to value education and to do the right thing.

“I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren't trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.”

― Umberto Eco, Foucault's Pendulum

Acknowledgments

I am eternally grateful to Dr. Snejana Slantcheva-Durst for her patience, kind encouragement, and ultimately never giving up on me. It has been a long journey but you were always there for me with grace and compassion. I am proud of this dissertation but it might not have been completed without your mentoring.

I am grateful to Dr. Gary Rhoades agreeing to be on my committee and not only allowing but encouraging me to replicate your work. I appreciated every word of your critiques, your kind words of encouragement, and you truly challenged me reach my potential as a researcher. Your research, articles, and books inspired me from the beginning of my doctoral studies, even before I understood the sociology of organizations. I am overjoyed that I am able to contribute in some small way to your legacy of research.

I have benefited greatly from the high expectations and patience of Dr. David

Meabon and Dr. Penny Poplin-Gosetti. You generously gave of your time and expertise over this long journey. Your encouragement inspired me to persist as well as work to my potential as a researcher and writer. Your reputations for demanding high levels of rigor in research methodology and precise writing style precedes you. I was always relieved and encouraged by your gentle critiques and positive feedback.

Finally, to my wife, Cassandra and my daughters, Fiona and Alexa. Thank you for your support, patience, and understanding. I promise not to hide in my office as often and to be in a better mood, or at least be a little less distracted. I love you.

Table of Contents

Abstract iii

Acknowledgements v

Table of Contents vi

List of Tables x

I. Introduction and Problem Statement

A. Introduction 1

B. Purpose of the Study and Research Questions 7

C. Significance of the Study 8

D. Theoretical Framework 9

E. Assumptions and Limitations 9

F. Delimitations 11

G. Definition of Terms 11

H. Upcoming Chapters 13

II. Literature Review

A. Introduction 15

B. Academic Capitalism 17

C. Globalization 23

D. Faculty Viewed as Professional and Managed Professional 28

E. Production Technologies and Social Relations at Work 42

F. Deskilling as a Tool for the Reproduction of Labor 44

G. Technological Determinism in Social Organizations and Systems 50

H. Technological Changes Reinforces Hegemonic Structural Control 55

I. Effects of Technological Change 64

J. Technological Change Mediated by Social Relations 71

K. Managerial Extension 83

L. Theoretical Framework 86

M. Summary 87

III. Methodology

A. Introduction 91

B. Purpose of the Study and Research Questions 92

C. Research Rationale 93

D. Data Collection 96

E. Research Design 104

F. Data Analysis 106

G. The Researcher as the Instrument of Data Collection and Analysis 110

H. Assumptions and Limitations 113

I. Delimitations 115

J. Summary 115

IV. Analysis

A. Purpose of the Study and Research Questions 117

B. Data Analysis 118

C. Results 123

a. Provision 126

b. Deciding to Use and Selecting Technology 126

c. Training and Support 130

d. Skills and Hiring 138

e. Remuneration 140

f. Displacement 148

g. New Duties 155

h. Curriculum Control 166

i. Ownership 172

j. Evaluation 178

k. Privacy 183

D. Summary 189

V. Findings

A. Introduction 192

B. Main Findings 193

C. Discussion 205

a. Provision 205

b. Deciding to Use 206

c. Training and Support 207

d. Skills and Hiring 210

e. Evaluation 211

f. Remuneration 213

g. Displacement 216

h. New Duties 220

i. Privacy 226

j. Curriculum Control 230

k. Ownership 232

D. Implications for Practice 235

E. Recommendations for Further Research 237

F. Conclusions 238

References 241

vii

List of Tables

Table 1 State University Systems with Multi-Campus Faculty Contracts……… 100

Table 2 Faculty Contracts Sources……………………………………………… 103

Table 3 Descriptive Start Codes………………………………………………… 105

Table 4 States Represented in Faculty Contract Dataset...... ……… 119

Table 5 State University Systems with Multi-Campus Faculty Contracts……… 120

Table 6 Descriptive Codes………………………………………………………. 122

Table 7 Instructional Technology in the Contracts……………………………... 194

Table 8 Summary of Study Findings……………………………………………. 203

viii

Chapter One

Introduction and Problem Statement

Introduction

Faculty are in a constant political struggle for autonomy and control with managers, governing boards, non-faculty professionals, and even between stratified segments of the faculty profession (Braverman, 1998; Rhoades, 1998). The professional status of higher education faculty has been widely debated in the literature for over a century. Professionalism theory conceptualized the professional professoriate as autonomous experts who have control over their work and actions, serve clients and society, and are held to high ethics and standards via peer review (Hutcheson, 2000;

Kater & Levin, 2004; Kezar & Sam, 2010; Rhoades, 1998).

Rhoades (1998) extends and modifies professionalism theories in his studies of unionized higher education faculty, conceptualizing higher education faculty as managed professionals, a hybrid between traditional definitions of professionals and labor.

Rhoades (1998) asserts that higher education faculty exhibit some but not all of the characteristics of autonomous professionals. Faculty members maintain a tenuous monopoly on discipline specific expertise, internal promotion and discipline procedures, and at minimum, an advisory role within institutional governance (Rhoades, 1998).

Faculty members have a modicum of day-to-day autonomy and control but ultimately must report to managers (Rhoades, 1998). Faculty work has been influenced if not dictated by the needs of managers, the institution, and the trustees (Rhoades, 1998). The combined labor and governance terms of faculty collective bargaining agreements reveal

how faculty members codify the relationship with the administration as managed labor as well as maintain some autonomous control as professionals (Rhoades, 1998).

Much of Rhoades’ work is rooted in prior scholarship on the academic profession and the role of faculty as professionals. Mintzberg (1979) describes the academic profession as a Professional Bureaucracy. In a professional bureaucracy, there are few levels of managerial control between the administration and the professors. The professionals, in this case the faculty, maintain internal standards and self-governance

(Mintzberg, 1979). The professors have access and input on managerial decisions but are insulated from interference (Bolman & Deal, 1997). Other concepts of academic professionalism place an increased emphasis on expertise, on the maintenance of some autonomy within bureaucratic institutions, and on serving clients or the faculty member’s self-interest (Clark, 1984). Additionally, Brint (1994) notes that faculty links to the public good and their authority as experts in the public eye have been eroded by the increased influence of corporate and state interests.

According to Abbott (1988), professions are “systems” that have negotiated boundaries between themselves and other professional systems. The boundaries are based on each group’s perception of the objective and subjective qualities of their work (Hamer,

2008). Each professional system is based on the control and ownerships of tasks claimed by the profession (Abbott, 1988). Rhoades (1998) describes Abbott’s conclusions as an

“equilibrium model” (p. 22). In this model, professional jurisdictional disputes are determined by the objective and subjective qualities of the work, settlement is achieved by the assigning of control over tasks, and control is established through workplace negotiation (Rhoades, 1998).

The negotiation of professional jurisdiction and control over tasks leads to professional stratification (Abbott, 1988; Rhoades, 1998). Abbott (1988) refers to the stratification as professional regression; the professionals withdraw around increasingly abstract knowledge systems and away from the claimed jurisdictional task. Brint (1994) asserts that internal stratification among and within professions is illustrated by professional hierarchical structures. Each profession’s position in the hierarchy is determined by market and organizational forces (Brint, 1994). The professionals also self-segregate based on their professional and political beliefs as well as on their location within the organizational hierarchy. Brint (1994) concludes that the effect of internal stratification is a transitioning of professionalism from social trustee professionalism to expert professionalism. Otherwise stated, professionals are no longer the moral guardians of socially important work but technocrats, who are executing tasks of formal applied technical knowledge without regard for societal relevance (Rhoades, 1998). University tenure-track faculties are driven to concentrate on research that has commercial value in the marketplace while their teaching loads are shifted to contingent part-time adjunct faculty and non-tenure track full-time faculty (Rhoades, 1998; Slaughter & Rhoades,

2004).

The concept of “academic capitalism” entered higher education scholarship in the early 2000s. Academic capitalism encourages non-profit public higher education institutions and faculty to continuously seek increases in productivity and efficiency much like a for-profit private corporation (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Instructional technology has served a pre-eminent role in efforts to achieve efficiency and higher productivity. Levin (2001a) asserts that instructional technology has been used to reduce

the labor costs of faculty and achieve the sought-after gains in productivity and efficiency. Levin (2001a) maintains that increased productivity has been achieved through commoditization of course content and delivery along with the casualization of the faculty employee by the increased use of contingent instructors.

Rhoades’ work has contributed much to our understanding of the impact of instructional technology on the faculty profession. In his Managed professionals (1998),

Rhoades focuses on the production politics of teaching and technology and on the potential of instructional technology to reduce faculty control over pedagogy and the curriculum as well as faculty professional autonomy. Rhoades evaluates faculty collective bargaining agreements, looking for evidence of whether instructional technology is enskilling or deskilling higher education faculty and/or extending managerial discretion. Rhoades (1998) maintains that higher education faculty risk being marginalized by the implementation of instructional technology. Rhoades (1998) advises that higher education faculty must assert their authority and control over instructional technology in collective bargaining agreements or risk losing control to management. The concept of faculty as managed professionals emerges from Rhoades’ analysis of contract provisions within faculty collective bargaining agreements (1998).

The theoretical foundation of Rhoades’ (1998) work rests within the sociological and organizational theories regarding the effect of new technology on social relations at work. Braverman (1998) describes the neo-Marxist concept of the deskilling of labor.

Deskilling postulates that management (capital) is using technology as a tool to constantly subdivide and routinize jobs so that only management maintains control over the complete production process as well as reproduces and reinforces the social power

structure within the division of labor (Braverman, 1998; Noble, 1984, 2001, 2003;

Shaiken, 1984; M. Wallace & Kalleberg, 1982). Organizational theorists propose that new technology gives workers the opportunity to learn, upgrade their skill level, and expand their role with the organization (Bell, 1973; Blau, Falbe, McKinley, & Tracy,

1976; Rhoades, 1998). Alternatively, neo-Marxist scholars discuss management’s reluctance to adopt new technology that may threaten the legitimization of management but relent if the workers embrace the value and benefits of technology within the predominant hegemony (Burawoy, 1979; Cornfield, 1987; Edwards, 1979). Yet other organizational theorists embrace technological determinism, explaining that the continuous innovation in technology is inevitable and that technology has important effects on our lives but do not have definitive relationship to the social relations at work

(Adler, 1990; Adler & Borys, 1989; Hirschhorn, 1984; Strassman, 1985; Zuboff, 1988).

Several other organizational theorists indicate that the findings regarding the social relation effects of new technology are contradictory, suggesting that the effects are contingent on confounding factors internal or external to the organization other than the new technology (Barley, 1986; Burkhardt & Brass, 1990; Form, Kaufman, Parcel, &

Wallace, 1988; Kelley, 1990; Sorge & Streeck, 1988; Spenner, 1983; Warner, 1985).

Managerial extension is described as workers performing work that is more skilled but their discretionary decision-making is limited and the workers are continuously monitored by management via the new technology (Kelley, 1990; Kling, 1991; Mohseni,

1993; Prechel, 1993, 1994; Rainbird, 1988; Vallas, 1993). The connection between skill, reward systems, and worker autonomy are socially constructed and politically negotiated

(Rhoades, 1998). Understanding the relationship between skill, rewards, and autonomy requires an analysis of the negotiated terms of labor (Rhoades, 1998).

Collective bargaining agreements are integrated into institutional policies and processes (Rhoades, 1998). The collective bargaining agreements give researchers documentation of negotiated policy changes over time making them ripe for analysis

(Rhoades, 1998). How instructional technology is negotiated and how it is implemented affects the traditional role of faculty. Instructional technology is a shift to a commoditization of learning, a marginalization of faculty, and an increased emphasis on competition, productivity, and efficiency spurred by neoliberal demands for the corporatization of higher education institutions (Levin, 2001a; Rhoades, 1998; Slaughter

& Leslie, 1997; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Specific and explicit instructional technology provisions in contracts illuminate faculty concerns (Rhoades, 1998). Despite the potential of collective bargaining agreements to provide insights into the faculty profession and the impact of instructional technology on it, Rhoades’ work from the late

1990s remains the most recent attempt to capture those insights. In the last fifteen years or so, technology has made significant advances into the world of academia. However, beyond Rhoades’ 1998 study and subsequent research articles(Lee, Cheslock,

Maldonado-Maldonado, & Rhoades, 2005; Levin, 2001a, 2006; Levin, Kater, &

Wagoner, 2006; Maitland, Rhoades, & Smith, 2009; Rhoades, 2007; G Rhoades, 2011;

Rhoades, 2017; Rhoades & Maitland, 2000; Vernon C. Smith, 2008; Vernon C Smith &

Rhoades, 2006; Townsend & Twombly, 2001), little research has centered on its impact on faculty’s role and work.

Purpose of the Study and Research Questions

This study aims to analyze the ways the implementation of instructional technology reshapes higher-education faculty work as coded in faculty collective bargaining agreements. This study replicates and extends the work on the production politics of teaching and technology completed by Rhoades (1998) in his seminal text,

Managed professionals: Unionized faculty and restructuring academic labor. This study employs qualitative content analysis as a systematic procedure for describing themes and patterns of meaning in the content of faculty collective bargaining agreements (Berg,

2001; Krippendorff, 2004; Merriam, 2009). Collective bargaining agreements come from the higher education contract analysis system (HECAS) database, state employee relations websites, and individual union webpages. A close reading and content analysis of faculty collective bargaining agreements focused on how the implementation of instructional technology affects higher education faculty was performed, replicating the thematic and rhetorical analysis conducted by Rhoades (1998). The discussion and findings of this qualitative analysis updates and extends Rhoades’ (1998) findings on

HECAS data contributing to the limited research on the effect of instructional technology on higher education faculty. The study was guided by the following research questions:

1. To what extent do faculty have input and managers have discretion regarding

the general decision to introduce teaching technologies and the specific choice

of which technology to utilize?

2. To what extent does the use of teaching technologies suggest the possible

enskilling or deskilling of faculty, and to what extent does it involve

extending managerial discretion over pedagogy, curriculum, and faculty?

Significance of the Study

Schuster and Finkelstein (2006) specifically list instructional technology and distance education programs among the topics in urgent need of study to better understand the increasing tension between current managerial imperatives and traditional faculty professional prerogatives (pp. 352-357). Faculty members operate on different principles and standards than traditional labor or professional definitions and merit individual treatment in the literature (Kezar & Sam, 2010; Rhoades, 1996). Rhoades

(1998) maintains that higher education faculties have not been given adequate consideration in the research and those unionized faculties have been mostly ignored.

Rhoades has revisited the topic of technology and its treatment in faculty collective bargaining agreements briefly in articles and essays since the publication of his seminal text, Managed professionals: Unionized faculty and restructuring academic labor.

Beyond the work of Rhoades and his collaborations, little is known about how community college and university faculty are addressing technology in collective bargaining agreements. This present study replicates and extends the work of Rhoades

(1998) on the production politics of teaching and technology, using the most recent available faculty collective bargaining agreements, extending beyond the collection of agreements available in the Higher Education Contract Analysis System.

In replicating Rhoades, the analysis of instructional technology contract provisions seeks evidence of faculty enskilling, faculty deskilling, and/or managerial extension. This study updates and adds to the knowledge base within academia regarding the effect of instructional technology on the higher education faculty profession. With its in-depth analysis of contractual texts, this study also hopes to contribute to the practice of

collective bargaining and contract formulation. Local faculty unions and their national affiliates are actively engaged in the negotiation of instructional technology implementation. The present study builds on Rhoades’ baseline findings on instructional technology contract provisions (1998). The present study seeks evidence of enskilling, deskilling, and managerial extension in current faculty union contracts.

Theoretical Framework

Diverse views and theories exist on the effect of new technology on social relations at work. The present study on the effect of technology on the social relations at work is framed within the Marxist concepts of deskilling (Braverman, 1998; Noble, 1984,

2001, 2003; Shaiken, 1984; M. Wallace & Kalleberg, 1982), hegemony (Burawoy, 1979;

Cornfield, 1987; Edwards, 1979), and managerial extension (Mohseni, 1993; Prechel,

1993, 1994; Rainbird, 1988; Vallas, 1993) as well as within the organization theory concepts of skill upgrading/enskilling (Bell, 1973; Blau et al., 1976), technical determinism (Adler, 1990; Adler & Borys, 1989; Hirschhorn, 1984; Strassman, 1985;

Zuboff, 1988), and contingency (Barley, 1986; Burkhardt & Brass, 1990; Form et al.,

1988; Kelley, 1990; Sorge & Streeck, 1988; Spenner, 1983; Warner, 1985). This framework is enriched and broadened by the theoretical principles based in academic capitalism (Slaughter & Leslie, 1997; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004), globalization (Levin,

2001a, 2005; Levin et al., 2006), and professionalism (Abbott, 1988; Brint, 1994;

Rhoades, 1998).

Assumptions and Limitations

I contend that the HECAS database is not comprehensive and has limited research capabilities beyond the keyword search. The HECAS system lacks any true tracking or

data analysis tools necessary for the scale and requirements of this study. The HECAS does offer the convenience of having a ready collection of contracts; the system is lacking in traceability of the data and capacity for organization during analysis. Additionally, the

HECAS search algorithm has demonstrated errors and, for lack of a better term, can be quirky. Through trial and error, I have found it best to make my queries using broad characteristics to identify a useable set of results. To increase accuracy, the data in the contracts must be transferred to another system for analysis and tracking of the contract provision data or done manually using paper printouts. The capabilities of the NVivo software overcomes these deficiencies after the contracts are uploaded into the system.

NVivo software is capable of more complex document search strategies, and has coding, categorization, analysis, and tracking capabilities which are useful as I immerse myself in the collective bargaining agreements. As a result, my assumption is that as a superior data-analysis software, NVivo has resolved issues related to the organization and analysis of voluminous textual data.

The contracts are voluntarily submitted to the HECAS system and I assume that those submitting the contracts have made every effort to upload complete, updated, and unaltered documents. The voluntary submission process can introduce a self-selection bias. Union locals or state affiliates that are consistent in submissions are overrepresented while other unions and state affiliates are underrepresented. The submission format also allows for the submitter to define the document characterization. Misunderstanding of the predefined characteristics may introduce error. This is one reason why I endeavored to seek additional sources for faculty contracts.

I would never be able to obtain all the faculty contracts for analysis. Not all faculty unions make their contracts publicly available online. Many do not actively maintain websites or, alternatively, the website is maintained but is password protected.

Not all states allow higher education faculty to engage in collective bargaining. Public employees are exempt from the federal labor relations laws so it is up to states to enact legislation. The Southeastern Region of the United States, with the exception of Florida, lacks any appreciable collective bargaining at higher education institutions.

Delimitations

I am restricting my collection to contracts that are in effect or have been in effect within the past five years (2012-2017). Instructional technology has been implemented widely since 1998 and I wanted to have the most recent data available to capture the current trends for analysis. I have restricted the study to faculty contracts from public four-year and two-year higher education institutions. This study is inclusive of all public institution faculty contracts, including full-time, part-time, tenure-track, and non-tenure track. I exclude faculty contracts with private not-for-profit higher education institution.

The private institutions that have retained faculty union representation are few compared to the number of public institutions, and were ordinarily not included in the previous research. The contracts must all address instructional technology in some fashion to be included. If the instructional technology is not addressed in any appreciable way, the contract was not used in this study.

Definition of Terms

The following are definitions of key terms used in this study:

 Collective bargaining agreement (CBA), commonly referred to as a labor

contract or just contract means an agreement in writing between an employer

and a trade union setting forth the terms and conditions of employment or

containing provisions in regard to rates of pay, hours of work or other working

conditions of employees (Cihon & Castagnera, 2008);

 Deskilling, occurring when workers’ skills are degraded and the workers

discretion in deciding how to do their work is increasingly restricted,

controlled, and defined by managers (Rhoades, 1998);

 Enskilling, defined as an upgrading of workers’ skills and position, reducing

hierarchical command and control by management and decentralizing

information and control (Rhoades, 1998);

 Higher Education Contract Analysis System (HECAS) defined as the

collection of faculty collective bargaining agreements maintained by the

National Education Association, American Federation of Teachers, and the

American Association of University Professors as negotiation and research

resource for local union affiliates (Rhoades, 1998);

 Instructional technology, defined as new technologies used in higher

education for instructional use such as audio-visual equipment, video

recordings, television, email, websites, Internet-based videos/media, video

conferencing, course management software/platforms, and enterprise

application software (Rhoades, 1998);

 Managerial extension, occurring when workers’ skills are increased but

experience reduced autonomy and discretion in their work, which is

increasingly monitored and controlled by managers (Rhoades, 1998).

Upcoming Chapters

In Chapter 2, I discuss the literature on how instructional technology is affecting the process of production in higher education institutions, management, and unionized faculty. I start by reviewing the concepts of academic capitalism and globalization in relation to the adoption of instructional technology at the institutional level of higher education (Levin, 2001a; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Next, I review Rhoades’ work, focusing primarily on his 1998 study regarding the production politics of teaching and technology discussed in his text, Managed professionals. To achieve a clearer conception of the Rhoades (1998) theoretical framework, I review the sociological and organizational theory literature Rhoades (1998) cited in his study. I conclude Chapter 2 highlighting and articulating my theoretical framework and the scholarly literature gap this study fills. Chapter 3 discusses the qualitative methods used by Rhoades (1998) and the qualitative methods used by this study to replicate and extend his work. Chapter 3 includes a description of the research design and rationale, a description of the Higher

Education Contract Analysis System (HECAS), the resources used to acquire the faculty contracts, a discussion of the researcher’s role as the instrument, the methods of data collection and data analysis, and a discussion of the study delimitations, assumptions, and limitations. In Chapter 4, I revisit the purpose of the study and research questions, present my data analysis, and the results of the of my analysis of the faculty collective bargaining agreements. Chapter 5 includes a discussion of my main findings, a detailed discussion of

my analysis leading to my findings, the implications for practice, my suggestions for further research, and my final conclusions.

Chapter Two

Literature Review

Introduction

Instructional technology is changing the faculty profession. The traditional sage on the stage professor is being replaced with downloadable content on course management software. Students can choose between taking a traditional lecture, hybrid, or distance learning course. Distance learning can be synchronous, logging on for a live lecture common hour, or asynchronous, the student works at their own pace on their own time often never to see or be seen by the professor. Instructional technology captures the course content for efficient delivery to student, on the student’s terms.

In this chapter, I discuss the literature on how instructional technology is affecting the process of production in higher education institutions, management, and unionized faculty. I start by reviewing the concepts academic capitalism and globalization in relation to the adoption of instructional technology at the institutional level of higher education. Academic capitalism encourages non-profit public higher education institutions to continuously seek increases in productivity and efficiency much like a for- profit private corporation (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Globalization as described by

Levin (2001a) explains how instructional technology has been held out as a panacea in reducing the labor costs of faculty to achieve the sought-after gains in productivity and efficiency. Levin (2001a) maintains that increased productivity has been achieved through commoditization of course content and delivery along with the casualization of the faculty employee by the increased use of contingent instructors.

Next, I review Rhoades’ work, focusing primarily on his study regarding the production politics of teaching and technology discussed in his text, Managed professionals (1998). This study directly addressed the potential of instructional technology to reduce faculty control over pedagogy and the curriculum as well as faculty professional autonomy. Rhoades (1998) evaluated faculty collective bargaining agreements, looking for evidence of whether instructional technology is enskilling or deskilling higher education faculty and/or extending managerial discretion. Enskilling would be evidenced by faculty increasing their technological acumen via training, course design, and overall decision authority in instructional technology use (Rhoades, 1998).

Deskilling would occur when faculty are disconnected from the implementation and application of instructional technology (Rhoades, 1998). Examples of potentially deskilled faculty members include contingent faculty and faculty contracted to deliver a course without being the course content provider. In this situation, the faculty member experiences reduced autonomy and control over course content, design, and delivery.

Rhoades (1998) was unable to find convincing evidence refuting or supporting faculty deskilling in the collective bargaining agreements he reviewed. Rhoades (1998) also did not find evidence of managerial extension of control via technology over even a potentially more technologically skilled faculty. Yet, Rhoades (1998) recognized that his study might have been about five years before its time, as instructional technologies had not yet fully affected higher education faculty sufficiently to see changes within the profession. Rhoades (1998) did assert that higher education faculties were being potentially marginalized via instructional technology. Rhoades (1998) advised that higher education faculty must assert their authority and control over instructional technology in

collective bargaining agreements or risk losing control of courses to management. The concept of the marginalized faculty as managed professionals emerged from Rhoades’ work and serves as the cornerstone to the theoretical framework for the present study.

The theoretical foundation of Rhoades’ (1998) work rested within the sociological and organizational theories regarding the effect of new technology on social relations at work. I begin by further reviewing theoretical principles of academic capitalism

(Slaughter & Leslie, 1997; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004), globalization (Levin, 2001a,

2005; Levin et al., 2006), and professionalism (Abbott, 1988; Brint, 1994; Rhoades,

1998). To achieve a clearer conception of the Rhoades (1998) theoretical framework, I review the sociological literature Rhoades (1998) cited in his study on the production politics of teaching and technology: deskilling, enskilling, and managerial extension. The theoretical literature reviewed includes the neo-Marxist concepts of deskilling

(Braverman, 1998; Noble, 1984, 2001, 2003; Shaiken, 1984; M. Wallace & Kalleberg,

1982), hegemony (Burawoy, 1979; Cornfield, 1987; Edwards, 1979), and managerial extension (Mohseni, 1993; Prechel, 1993, 1994; Rainbird, 1988; Vallas, 1993) as well as the organization theory concepts of skill upgrading/enskilling (Bell, 1973; Blau et al.,

1976), technical determinism (Adler, 1990; Adler & Borys, 1989; Hirschhorn, 1984;

Strassman, 1985; Zuboff, 1988) and contingency (Barley, 1986; Burkhardt & Brass,

1990; Form et al., 1988; Kelley, 1990; Sorge & Streeck, 1988; Spenner, 1983; Warner,

1985). I conclude this chapter highlighting and articulating my theoretical framework and the scholarly literature gap this study will fill.

Academic Capitalism

Academic capitalism theory asserted that the administrators, academic support professionals, faculty, and students are accomplishing the integration of the colleges and universities into the new economy by creating new circuits of knowledge (Slaughter &

Rhoades, 2004). Administrators, academic support professionals, faculty, and students are engaged in a twenty-first century economy that is displacing the traditional public good knowledge or liberal arts learning mission of higher institutions with an academic capitalist knowledge regime. Academic capitalism theory does not assert that higher education institutions must directly adopt corporate structures as described by Soley

(1995) or Levin et al. (2006); rather the higher education institutions must only align the institutional organization, faculty, and resources to engage the new economic marketplace. For example, instructional technology enables higher educational institutions to deliver courses and transfer knowledge to new markets of students via online courses regardless of location. The course materials are captured, codified, and deliverable on demand to students. This is a new modality of instruction for a new market

(Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Slaughter and Rhoades (2004) identified the characteristics of academic capitalism within what they termed as four new circuits of knowledge.

Circuits of knowledge are constructs internalized by higher education institutions to better align with the new corporate economy and facilitate the involvement of faculty in market-influenced behaviors such as instructional technology and online courses

(Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004).

The first new circuit of knowledge identified by Slaughter and Rhoades (2004) is the development of interstitial organizations within the higher education institution. Mars

and Rhoades (2012) suggested that offices of technology transfer, learning technologies centers, faculty learning communities, and the development of on- campus business incubators or entrepreneurial centers are examples of interstitial organizations. The purpose of interstitial organizations is to increase corporate sector access and influence inside the higher education institution (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). These organizations demonstrate capitalistic benefits of fulfilling corporate needs outside the higher education institution (Gary Rhoades, 2011; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004).

The second construct is the development of intermediate organizations that emerge to form a new market place, mediating the interactions between the private, public, and nonprofit sectors of the economy (Mars & Rhoades, 2012; Slaughter &

Rhoades, 2004). Intermediate organizations are not supported or created by the higher education institutions. These organizations encourage the institution and faculty to engage in capitalistic behaviors such as increasing the use of instructional technology and online courses to grow enrollments (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). These organizations also lobby for official acceptance of instructional technology and online education by accreditors. The many foundations and think tanks that influence higher education are examples of intermediate organizations in the new economy (Slaughter & Rhoades,

2004). A few examples of pervasive intermediate organizations promoting instructional technology include the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, the Online Learning

Consortium (formerly the Sloan Consortium), the W.K. Kellogg Foundations, the Lumina

Foundation for Education, and the League for Innovation in the Community College

(Green, 2013; Gary Rhoades, 2011). The Sloan Consortium has been a long promoter of the increased and effective use of instructional technology for course content delivery, so

much so that the name was changed in 2014 to the Online Learning Consortium. The Bill

& Melinda Gates Foundation is also a strong advocate of instructional technology. The most prominent current interstitial organization is EDUCAUSE. On its website, eduacause.edu, EDUCAUSE indicated that the organization’s mission is to advance higher education through the use of information technology. These foundations and nonprofits facilitate the interactions between the public, private, nonprofit sectors to increase the availability and use of instructional technology.

The third construct of academic capitalism identified was interdisciplinary circuits of knowledge. Interdisciplinary circuits of knowledge are described as the collaborations between otherwise disconnected individuals or groups within and/or external to the higher education institution (Mars & Rhoades, 2012). These collaborations of interdisciplinary actors emerge in response to the new opportunities in the marketplace of the new economy (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). The advent of massive open online courses (MOOCs) is a prime example of interdisciplinary circuits of knowledge engaging the new economy. Faculty members from multiple academic disciplines have partnered with new instructional technology platforms, instructional technology software providers, venture capital firms, along with their higher education institutions to potentially reach a global market of students through the Internet (Green, 2013). The interdisciplinary organizations facilitating MOOC collaborations and course sharing for higher education institutions has included University of Phoenix, Udacity, Coursera, and edX (Green,

2013). These new corporations were established by disconnected actors, within and external to the higher education institutions, to meet the needs of a new market in higher education delivery.

The fourth and final construct of academic capitalism identified was the emergence and rapid expansion of the managerial professionals within the higher education institution to supervise the alignment of the institution within the new economy and the flows of knowledge and capital between the institution and the marketplace

(Rhoades, 1998; Rhoades & Sporn, 2002; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). New managerial professionals have emerged to manage the flow of new market and market-like activities created by the establishment of instructional technology (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004).

Examples of these new administrative positions have included: directors of information technology, directors of course design, chief information officers, and vice presidents of innovation. These new professionals were deemed essential to manage the flow of knowledge and capital between the higher education institution and the new economy

(Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004).

Instructional technology has created new circuits of knowledge that link the higher educational institutions to external sources of capital in a new economy (Slaughter

& Rhoades, 2004). Instructional technology enabled higher educational institutions to deliver course offerings and transfer knowledge to new markets of students via online courses (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). The course materials are captured, codified, and deliverable on demand to students. Slaughter and Rhoades (2004) termed this as a new modality of instruction to meet the needs of a perceived new market.

The uses and applications of instructional technology by higher education institutions to access markets in the new economy has exemplified academic capitalism theory. Slaughter and Rhoades (2004) directly addressed instructional technology through the lens of academic capitalism, specifically examining intellectual property rights related

to instructional materials mediated via technology. Slaughter and Rhoades (2004) drew on Rhoades’ (1998) earlier work in his seminal text, Managed professionals: Unionized faculty and restructuring academic labor. Rhoades suggested that faculty become marginalized as more managerial and support professionals gained control over or coproduce course instructional materials within the instructional technology platforms, also known as learning or course management systems. New markets of students were engaged through instructional technology that mediated online education course offerings. Instructional technology enabled online courses to be accessed by traditional students on campus as well as students at any distance from the physical location of the institution (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Online course content and delivery was not constrained by location, classroom place, mail circulation correspondence courses, or even availability of the faculty member (Rhoades, 1998). Faculty members were initially lured to create online course content by promises of job security from increased enrollments and increased student tuition profits (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Faculty initially maintained control of the curriculum as course content providers but the pedagogy was limited by the functionality of the instructional technology (Rhoades,

1998; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Management and instructional technology support personnel became increasingly essential for course management system access and maintenance as well as course delivery to students via instructional technology systems

(Rhoades, 1998). Academic capitalism theory suggests that higher education institutions were motivated to pursue ever greater revenues from external resources that required increasing numbers of managerial and support professionals to control the new flows of knowledge and capital (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). As online courses enrollments and

the use of instructional technology increases, the relevance, authority, and control by management and instructional technology support professionals should also increase

(Rhoades, 1998).

Globalization

Echoing academic capitalism as described initially by Slaughter and Leslie (1997) and later by Slaughter and Rhoades (2004), Levin et al. (2006) asserted that technology drove increases in efficiency, flexibility, product development, and service in response to the demands of the global marketplace. Meeting the demands and competition of a global marketplace, termed globalization, was internalized by higher education institutions and

“both reflected in and reproduced by the ideology of efficiency, productivity, and commodification of education and training” (Levin, 2001a, p. 13). Globalization emerged as a new neo-liberal economic paradigm within the higher education institution which imposed a corporatism on the institutional structure and hierarchy along with an increased managerialism controlling not only administrative outputs but also student learning and faculty scholarship (Levin et al., 2006). According to Levin (2001a), instructional technology has not only driven the globalization of higher education institutions but is continually integrating the culture and behaviors of globalization in higher education.

Higher education institutions have embraced new technology as a solution to increase operational efficiency when confronted by new market pressures, growing governmental oversight and authority, along with decreased allocations of government resources (Levin et al., 2006). Instructional technology has been used as a tool to raise the economic competitiveness of institutions by expanding enrollments through distance

learning (Levin et al., 2006). Instructional technology allowed for increased productivity in information processing by staff and the standardization of the curriculum and courses, progressively removing faculty possession of course content (Levin et al., 2006). The productivity increase allowed for reductions in classified staff, an increased use of part- time faculty to facilitate standardized courses, and the ability to serve grater volumes of students (Levin et al., 2006). Levin (2001a) and Levin et al. (2006) indicated that instructional technology facilitated the behaviors of marketization, commodification, restructuring, and higher productivity and efficiency in globalized higher education institutions.

Levin (2001a) described marketization as training programs and courses developed and delivered via instructional technology according to the specification of an industry or specific businesses rather than the normal faculty curricular development process. Higher education managers and administrators courted business and political entities, incorporating the priorities of these external influences. Higher education institutions adopted computer-based online learning and management systems, such as

Blackboard and Banner, to demonstrate the progressive nature of the institution that has altered its operations to better serve consumers and to keep up with the speed of business

(Levin et al., 2006). These developed courses, or rather educational products and services, emphasized the transfer of marketable skills and predetermined outcomes to students at colleges and universities. The development of market-oriented curricula was supported by the institutional administrations, encouraged by business and industry, as well as favorably funded by the federal, state, and local government (Levin, 2001a).

Levin (2001a) described student consumption of prepackaged educational products that delivered marketable skills or credentials as the commodification of education. Students acted as consumers of educational products, who demanded instruction that is more convenient. Instructional technology has facilitated asynchronous instruction. Course modules, stored on course management systems, remained accessible at the convenience of the student without requiring the presence of the faculty member.

Student demands reflected the market pressures, demanding easily accessible courses that delivered marketable skills (Levin, 2001a). The curriculum was tailored, modified, and potentially corrupted to satisfy students as customers and the interests of external business and political influences (Levin et al., 2006). The higher education institutional emphasis has shifted to emphasize workforce development over individual or community development (Levin et al., 2006).

The economic advantages of instructional technology, so prized by institutional managers, created an overemphasis on maximizing productivity and efficiency (Levin,

2001a). Institutional technology was seen as a way to generate new sources of revenue and enrollment by serving more students per instructor or less expensive instructors

(Levin, 2001a). Strains on institutional budgets from the relative reductions in governmental subsidies mandated bigger classes and an emphasis on maintaining or increasing enrollment (Levin et al., 2006). The emphasis led to “labor alterations” of faculty work (Levin, 2001a, p. 93). Ultimately, the institutional mangers found efficiency by increasing the use of part-time contingent faculty to staff classes at lower cost than full-time tenure track faculty (Levin, 2001a; Levin et al., 2006). Faculty overall experienced growing volumes of work, higher student loads, and fewer support staff

when instructional technology use was implemented and increased (Levin et al., 2006).

The use of technology changed the role of the faculty member from one of professional instructor to facilitator of learning (Levin et al., 2006). The traditional faculty control and ownership of course content and delivery has been unbundled from the role of the individual faculty member (Levin et al., 2006).

The professional identity of faculty as autonomous educators has been skewed by the push for greater productivity and efficiency along with the managerial model of institutional decision making (Levin, 2006). The new managerialism, according to Levin et al. (2006), translated into higher control over faculty work, where decision making became the sole purview of management and faculty assumed a subordinate role. This new managerialism was antithetical to the traditional faculty values and role in the shared governance of the institution. Faculty participation in governance has been diminished to an advisory role and institutional decisions have generally been ignoring the interests of faculty, especially the financial interests of faculty (Levin et al., 2006). Faculty have become instruments of the managerial institution (Levin et al., 2006). Faculty unions have acted as an oppositional force to this new managerialism, resisting the imposed will of administrations, governing boards, and government dictates but rarely criticizing the external influence of business and industry (Levin et al., 2006). With the exception of faculty unions, faculty have been peripheral to institutional decision making, even in the areas of curriculum and teaching that were previously solely owned by faculty (Levin,

2006). The faculty have been marginalized to an instrument of the globalized institution, facilitated by the new managerialism and the commodification of curriculum through instructional technology (Levin et al., 2006).

The net effect of instructional technology seen through the lens of academic capitalism and globalization is that the higher education institution management has been motivated to reduce expensive full-time tenure-track faculty lines and increase less expensive at-will mid-level managers, instructional technology support professionals, and contingent adjunct faculty (Levin, 2001a; Levin et al., 2006; Slaughter & Rhoades,

2004). Management discretion within the workplace has been increased due to the clear authority over the at-will support employees who must report directly to management.

Faculty members with tenure protections tend to be less responsive to management, prefer to exercise self-governance, and remain more responsive to peer-evaluation and discipline specific prerogatives (Levin, 2001a; Levin et al., 2006; Slaughter & Rhoades,

2004).

Course materials and content captured by the instructional technology has been commodified for consumption by students at their convenience (Levin, 2001a; Levin et al., 2006; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). The course content and availability is no longer constrained by classroom space or even the availability of a faculty member (Slaughter &

Rhoades, 2004). Management flexibility to make course content available to the new student markets has been increased (Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). The strategic use of instructional technology and contingent faculty has increased managerial flexibility and the marginalization of full-time faculty has been justified by the need to respond to competitive market pressures (Levin, 2001a, 2001b, 2005, 2006; Levin et al., 2006; Mars

& Rhoades, 2012; Rhoades, 1996, 1998; Rhoades & Sporn, 2002; Slaughter & Rhoades,

2004).

Faculty Viewed as Professionals and Managed Professionals

Professionalism theory conceptualized the professional professoriate as autonomous experts who have control over their work and actions, serve clients and society, and are held to high ethics and standards via peer review (Hutcheson, 2000;

Kater & Levin, 2004; Kezar & Sam, 2010; Rhoades, 1998). The professional status of higher education faculty has been widely debated in the literature for over a century. In

1958, Wilson (as cited in Hutcheson, 2000) described the professional professoriate as research faculty who focused on maintaining monopolies of expertise, having limited self-interest, and exhibited disdain for the influence of external economic interests. The motivating factor for these idealized professors was maintaining exclusivity and high social prestige (Light, 1974). Expertise, exclusivity, and prestige allowed the faculty to protect autonomy and control over work, appointment, and promotion (Brint, 1994;

Hutcheson, 2000).

Mintzberg described the academic profession as a professional bureaucracy

(1979). In a professional bureaucracy, there are few levels of managerial control between the administration and the professors. The professionals, in this case the faculty, maintain internal standards and self-governance (Mintzberg, 1979). The professors have access and input on managerial decisions but are insulated from interference (Bolman & Deal,

1997). Professional bureaucracies allow professors to tend to resist change and standardization (Bolman & Deal, 1997). Professors in this professional bureaucracy have resisted standardization of course presentation by citing issues related to academic freedom. The lack of standardization leads to problems for measuring outputs or creating systems to plan and control the course outcomes (Mintzberg, 1979).

More recent concepts of academic professionalism placed an increased emphasis on expertise, on the maintenance of some autonomy within bureaucratic institutions, and on serving clients or the faculty member’s self-interest. Clark (1984) identified faculty professionals as autonomous experts defined by the needs of their specific academic discipline. Levin et al. (2006) disaggregated higher education sectors and noted that university faculty linked professional status with participation within a specific academic discipline but community college faculty linked their professional status to their position within their institution, i.e. full-time versus contingent, non-tenured versus tenured, tenured versus faculty chair. Additionally, Brint (1994) noted that faculty links to the public good and their authority as experts in the public eye has been eroded by the increased influence of corporate and state interests. Lee et al. (2005) expressed dismay at implications that faculty members were no longer considered autonomous discipline- specific experts. The authors conceptualized faculty as more knowledge workers than content experts. Schuster and Finkelstein (2006) argued that the professoriate has been transformed by concurrent changes affecting every aspect of the academic profession, making the profession difficult to tightly define. Cummings and Finkelstein (2012) concluded that there were no cohesive characteristics of the academic profession at present. According to Cummings and Finkelstein (2012), faculties differentiated across work patterns, career choices, and institutional types long ago (p. 13).

2008). Each professional system is based on the control and ownerships of tasks claimed

by the profession (Abbott, 1988). These systems illustrated how society has given structure to expertise (Abbott, 1988). Abbott focused on disputes and competitive systems of professions to analyze the professional negotiation of tasks (Rhoades, 1998).

Rhoades (1998) described Abbott’s conclusions as an “equilibrium model” (p. 22). In this model, professional jurisdictional disputes were determined by the objective and subjective qualities of the work, settlement was achieved by the assigning of control over tasks, and control was established through workplace negotiation or legal discourse

(Rhoades, 1998).

The competition for professional jurisdiction and control over tasks leads to professional stratification (Abbott, 1988; Rhoades, 1998). Abbott (1988) referred to the stratification as professional regression; the professionals withdraw around increasingly abstract knowledge systems and away from the claimed jurisdictional task. In academia, university professors prioritize and reward research, community college faculties have valorized teaching and learning methods, and contingent faculties were left to actually teach discipline related content to students (Abbott, 1988).

Similar to Abbott, Brint (1994) also viewed professions as systems and elaborated on the internal stratification of professions. Brint (1994) asserted that internal stratification among and within professions was illustrated by professional hierarchical structures. Each profession’s position in the hierarchy is determined by market and organizational forces (Brint, 1994). The professionals also self-segregate based on their professional and political beliefs as well as on their location within the organizational hierarchy (Brint, 1994). Brint concluded that the effect of internal stratification was a transitioning of professionalism from social trustee professionalism to expert

professionalism. Otherwise stated, professionals are no longer the moral guardians of socially important work but technocrats, who are executing tasks of formal applied technical knowledge without regard for societal relevance (Rhoades, 1998). Rhoades

(1998) agreed with Brint, stating that the internal stratification among and within faculty has occurred. University tenure-track faculties were driven to concentrate on research that has commercial value in the marketplace while their teaching loads were shifted to contingent part-time adjunct faculty and non-tenure track full-time faculty (Rhoades,

1998; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004).

Faculty members have asserted the right to retain control over their professional work lives through unionization and collective bargaining. One of the first studies to look more comprehensively at the faculty collective bargaining was the Williams and Zirkel

(1988) longitudinal study of 124 higher education institutions. This seminal article was the first look at how faculty have used collective bargaining to increase input and control over academic items that were traditionally negotiated within the purview of shared governance structures (Rhoades, 1998). The study looked for evidence that traditional academic issues had been included in the faculty collective bargaining agreements between the years 1975-1985, and whether the faculty collective bargaining agreements significantly differed in 1985 from those in force in 1975. Williams and Zirkel (1988) asserted that faculty unions have used collective bargaining agreements to maintain their professional rights in areas such as academic freedom and intellectual property. In fact,

Williams and Zirkel (1988) found that faculty were more often bargaining protections regarding academic freedom and control than salaries and general working conditions in collective bargaining agreements.

Faculty collective bargaining agreements have captured and given structure to the jurisdictional competition and the negotiated control over tasks of faculty with the higher education institution administration (Rhoades, 1998). All collective bargaining agreement negotiations address wages, hours, terms, and conditions of employment as mandated by the National Labor Relations Act of 1935 (Benjamin, 2006). Workload, campus hours, and salary tables or calculations are routine sections of all labor and faculty collective bargaining agreements that satisfy the mandated labor topics (Benjamin, 2006). Benjamin also noted that beyond the mandated topics, terms traditionally associated with shared governance such as academic freedom and faculty autonomy were also negotiated

(Benjamin, 2006). Kater and Levin (2004) also found that unionized faculty members tend to prioritize faculty roles in academic decision making and personnel matters over monetary issues during collective bargaining negotiations. The non-mandatory provisions negotiated and specifically codified include such topics as intellectual property rights, academic chairs, committee configurations and membership, promotion and tenure, and curricular authority traditionally honored by shared-governance arrangements (Benjamin,

2006). In particular, Kater and Levin (2004) determined that community college faculties were most frequently engaged in collectively bargaining control over curriculum, faculty evaluation, and tenure. Of particular interest to this study, Levin (2001a) noted that higher education faculty unions have had the ability but were choosing not to negotiate the limitations of management rights over the use of instructional technology.

Faculty are in a constant political struggle for autonomy and control with managers, governing boards, non-faculty professionals, and even between segments of the faculty profession (Rhoades, 1998). Rhoades (1998) extended and modified the

previously discussed professionalism theories in his studies of unionized higher education faculty, conceptualizing higher education faculty as managed professionals, a hybrid between traditional definitions of professionals and labor. Rhoades (1998) asserted that higher education faculty exhibit some but not all of the characteristics of autonomous professionals. Faculty members maintain a tenuous monopoly on discipline specific expertise, internal promotion and discipline procedures, and at minimum, an advisory role within institutional governance (Rhoades, 1998). Faculty members have a modicum of day-to-day autonomy and control but ultimately must report to managers (Rhoades,

1998). Faculty work has been influenced if not dictated by the needs of managers, the institution, and the trustees (Rhoades, 1998). The combined labor and governance terms of faculty collective bargaining agreements reveal how faculty members codify the relationship with the administration as managed labor as well as maintain some autonomous control as professionals (Rhoades, 1998).

Rhoades (1993) developed and first introduced his unique perspective on professionalism theory in Retrenchment clauses in faculty union contracts. Rhoades

(1993) examined retrenchment clauses in faculty collective bargaining agreements from the perspective of professional rights. Utilizing content analysis, Rhoades (1993) compared forty-two contracts based on bargaining agent and institutional type. Based upon the literature and his findings, Rhoades (1993) proposed that when bargaining contract agreements management acted out of personal self-interest to gain control over the work of faculty, the faculty acted collectively to maintain autonomy and control over work.

Rhoades (1996) continued to refine his theoretical framework through examining professional workforce issues related to part-time faculty in unionized institutions.

Rhoades (1996) asked to what extent faculty contracts addressed managerial discretion in the use of part-time faculty and how conditions of employment differed between part- time and full-time faculty. Rhoades (1996) examined 183 individual institution and system collective bargaining agreements and found that faculty were being managed and reorganized in ways similar to other professional workforces. Rhoades (1996) found power struggle exhibited in the contracts derives from managerial demands for more flexibility.

Rhoades (1998) proposed that faculty risked becoming deskilled by advancing educational technology. According to Rhoades,

Deskilling theory holds that new technologies lead to more routinized jobs

with downgraded skill requirements. Workers experience reduced degrees

of freedom in exercising discretion in their work, which is increasingly

defined as controlled by managers. (p. 183)

In this process, there is an incentive for managers to introduce new technology thus extending their power by reducing the worker skills and costs. Deskilling reinforces social power structures such that management power is increased but workers are further subjugated (Braverman, 1998). Deskilling of the faculty means the majority of faculty would be less skilled with fewer credentials and/or experience, and less secure in their position, with no control over course development or content, little discretion in delivery mode, and no choice over course assignments (Rhoades, 1998). A few highly skilled full- time lead faculty members are maintained to oversee the work of the less skilled part-

time or otherwise contingent faculty members (Rhoades, 1998). Management maintains control over the programs, curriculum, scheduling, and mode of delivery including the use of instructional technology (Rhoades, 1998).

Alternatively, Rhoades (1998) framed enskilling as an upgrading of faculty skills and position, reducing hierarchical command and control by management and decentralizing information and control. In this model, new technology leads to a reduction in low skill jobs, as routine tasks become automated (Rhoades, 1998).

Simultaneously, new enskilled jobs require greater skill, knowledge, and worker autonomy (Rhoades, 1998). Worker freedom and decision-making responsibilities increase (Rhoades, 1998). Management, on the other hand, becomes less centralized and hierarchical (Rhoades, 1998). In the case of enskilling, one might find evidence of management being reluctant adopters of technology as it tends to reduce their power

(Rhoades, 1998). The economic advantage of increased productivity drives the introduction of new technology and enskilling, overcoming management resistance

(Rhoades, 1998).

Rhoades (1998) proposes that the deskilling/enskilling frameworks may not completely capture the influence of technology on organizational structure. Technology’s effects may be contingent on the pre-existing social relations of an organization (Form et al., 1988; Rhoades, 1998). The choices of technology and its effects are negotiated within the confines of the organizational structure and restructuring may or may not occur

(Kelley, 1990; Rhoades, 1998). In a union environment, there is an opportunity to formalize the terms of labor through the negotiations guaranteed in collective bargaining.

Thus, the unions, their strategies, and the established management relations are a

contingency on how technology will affect the organization (Rhoades, 1998). Given this opportunity, Rhoades (1998) notes, unions tend not to negotiate choice and control of technology but rather its application. Negotiating provisions ensuring retraining reduces the deskilling effects of new technology (Rhoades, 1998). Negotiating provisions for increased job protection and the rights of displaced workers may actually impede the enskilling of faculty (Rhoades, 1998). In protecting deskilled jobs, the unions create an opportunity to create new skilled positions outside the collective bargaining unit, ultimately undermining the bargaining unit (Rhoades, 1998). The link between increased job skills resulting in increased control over the work process is called into question

(Rhoades, 1998).

Others have discussed the potential deskilling effects of technology on faculty.

Paulson (2002) discusses how instructional technology is causing a diminished faculty role due to the unbundling of course creation, delivery, and evaluation. Instructional technology requires an increasing number of technical specialists and administrators that limits the faculty role to only content expert (Paulson, 2002). A team of individuals facilitates creation and delivery of the course as the technology becomes more complex.

Faculty members often lack the knowledge, skills, or administrative rights to upload, manage, and deliver course content via instructional technology without extensive training (Paulson, 2002). Once the course content is uploaded and captured as a tangible course content package, a commodity, the originating full-time faculty member may no longer be necessary (Paulson, 2002). Less expensive, part-time contingent faculty can deliver the content and evaluate the student response (Paulson, 2002; Rhoades, 1998).

Technologists and other support personnel ensure delivery and maintenance of the

course. Paulson (2002) highlights the growing trends in distance education, the fears for faculty job security, and the incentives for academic leaders to pursue productivity gains through technology driven education. Paulson (2002) opines that there is a need for a more thoughtful analysis of the real affordability and efficiency of instructional technology.

In this post-industrial economy, the technologically skilled workforce may actually reduce workers’ decision-making discretion (Kelley, 1990). Skills gained in accessing and manipulating technology are increasingly regimented by implemented rules and all interaction or activities are stored within computers (Rhoades, 1998).

Computer and telecommunication mediated work is easily monitored and regulated.

Telephone calls are digitally recorded for quality assurance. Organizational email accounts are filtered, stored in case of future litigation, so there can be no expectation of privacy. Alternatively, management may also impose new skills of workers who have been deskilled or downgraded on others without reward or even acknowledgement

(Rhoades, 1998). In this way, skill is therefore disconnected from worker control and autonomy. Vallas (1993) articulated this effect of technology in the workplace that

Rhoades (1998) termed managerial extension.

In contrast to enskilling theory, managerial extension maintains or increases management’s control over worker productivity even after the worker has acquired the new skills (Rhoades, 1998; Vallas, 1993). Rhoades (1998) indicated that managerial extension was more consistent with deskilling theory based on evidence that the introduction of technology increases management control over faculty rather than to increase faculty autonomy. Rhoades (1998) found that faculty reward systems and

professional autonomy were not linked to new instructional technology skills. Rhoades

(1998) observed that instructional technology had the potential to expand managerial flexibility and increases managerial control over faculty and the curriculum.

Rhoades (1998) did not find definitive evidence of enskilling or deskilling in the faculty collective bargaining agreements nor much support for managerial extension theory as described by Vallas (1993). Instead, Rhoades (1998) described an alternate variation of managerial extension theory in which managers extended their control through professional marginalization. As he noted,

Managers extend their discretionary control neither by deskilling

professionals nor by gaining greater control through technology over

enskilled professionals, but by bypassing existing full-time faculty. This

managerial strategy in the production politics of teaching and technology

is to establish new processes of student production on the periphery of the

organization over which they have greater control. (p. 207)

By marginalizing faculty from the traditional processes, management gained control of the curriculum and course delivery with minimal faculty input or interference

(Rhoades, 1998). The full-time faculty members became the initial course content generators but were decentralized from course delivery and marginal to the process of educating students (Rhoades, 1998; Vernon C Smith & Rhoades, 2006).

Vernon C Smith and Rhoades (2006) revisited deskilling theory in evaluating the effect of the increased use of instructional technology for distance learning course delivery. Vernon C Smith and Rhoades (2006) asserted that faculty had maintained their role as instructors and content experts but the creation, production, and maintenance of

the course was managed by computer technicians and third-party contributors. Vernon C

Smith and Rhoades (2006) proposed that faculty were one part of a virtual assembly line for course development and delivery. This new model raised concerns over control and intellectual property ownership of the course. The model showed how instructional technology unbundled the faculty as content expert from the packaged course content work product. Once course content was unbundled from the full-time faculty member, contingent faculty members who had no course ownership or input on course content delivered the course (Vernon C Smith & Rhoades, 2006). Management assigned workload for maximized productivity and acceptable levels of positive student outcomes.

Levin (2007) concurred and foretold the potential of a new norm for faculty as course content providers with the goal of maximizing course delivery efficiency and productivity.

Rhoades’ (1998) analysis of instructional technology provisions in faculty collective bargaining agreements established a useful baseline and insight into the parameters of managerial extension and faculty autonomy. Rhoades (1998) identified seventy-eight clauses regarding instructional technology in the contracts. He categorized the clauses based on similar content or theme grouping these into three categories. The first category included provisions regarding the faculty control in the decision-making about technology implementation and/or the selection of specific technology. Technology decision-making provision content included the subcategories: class size, workload calculations, technology decisions, and course conversion (Rhoades, 1998). Faculty job skills and autonomy was the second major category of contract provisions developed by

Rhoades (1998). The job skills and autonomy subcategories included: faculty training,

compensation, instructional quality, and retrenchment (Rhoades, 1998). The third and last category that he identified was autonomy and management control. The subcategories included: job autonomy, control of the curriculum, course evaluation, control of course use, and ownership of intellectual property (Rhoades, 1998).

Recent studies of faculty collective bargaining and instructional technology have reflected Rhoades’ (1998) research. L. Wallace (2007) analyzed university instructional technology policies regarding workload, course evaluation, and ownership of intellectual property. Wallace identified a lack of awareness and research regarding the tension between management and faculty over instructional technology. L. Wallace (2007) found that faculty collective bargaining agreements addressed workload, course evaluation, and ownership of intellectual property rather than institutional policy.

Delaney (2009) asserted that even though many studies reported on faculty’s apprehension about the use of technology and distance education, few faculty members were aware of the existence, extent, or nature of instructional technology provisions in faculty collective bargaining agreements. Delaney (2009) found that the highest frequency of distance education provisions in community college collective bargaining agreements appeared in areas related to process, compensation, intellectual property, workload, class size, training, and faculty displacement.

Maitland et al. (2009) briefly revisited the faculty contracts and found that many more but far from all faculty collective bargaining agreements had instructional technology provisions covering faculty involvement in instructional technology decisions and control. Maitland et al. (2009) reviewed examples of faculty contract provisions regarding workload, curriculum, and intellectual property terms as related to faculty job

security and autonomy. Maitland et al. (2009) illustrated the current conditions and concerns regarding increased managerial discretion in instructional technology decisions.

Maitland et al. (2009) also noted that the absence of contract provisions increases managerial discretion and control since authority not specifically reserved by faculty in a collective bargaining agreement is by default a management right.

Shella (2010) offered insight into how the AAUP, AFT, and NEA distance learning recommendations were integrated into faculty collective bargaining agreements.

In his examination of the most recent full-time faculty collective bargaining agreements from both two-year public community college and four-year public universities submitted to the Higher Education Contract Analysis System (HECAS), Shella found that 57% of public two-year and 60% of four-year institutions compiled in the Higher Education

Contract Analysis System had any reference to distance education instructional technology. The study focused specifically on the explicit inclusion of curriculum control, course ownership, and workload terms.

Bray, Harris, and Major (2007) summarized the distance education technology literature, noting that workload, intellectual property rights, and compensation were the most common topics of interest. Del Favero and Bray (2010) indicated that conflicts over instructional technology most commonly arose from faculty and management tensions regarding faculty training, control of faculty work, compensation, and ownership of intellectual property.

In summary, Rhoades (1998) asserted that instructional technology had the potential to reduce faculty input and increases managerial discretion over course pedagogy, curriculum, and faculty work. The lack of collective bargaining provisions for

faculty input or authority over technology allowed management to bypass faculty in the development, creation, and delivery of coursework (Rhoades, 1998). Faculty risk increased marginalization as instructional technology improved and the ability to capture faculty expertise became more practical and accessible (Rhoades, 1998). If the course content was captured, automated grading was established, and student interaction was minimized, expertise was no longer necessary to administer the course (Rhoades, 1998).

This commoditization of expertise allowed for full-time faculty members to be replaced with less qualified and less costly part-time or otherwise contingent faculty, increasing the stratification of the workforce (Rhoades, 1998). Faculty members became marginal to the actual process of course management (Rhoades, 1998). The marginalized faculty risked losing academic autonomy, control over work, and job security. Rhoades (1998) concluded that the increasingly marginalized faculty members were not autonomous professionals with complete control over pedagogy and curriculum but were managed professionals with limited control over their work.

Production Technologies and Social Relations at Work

The present study is a replication and extension of the work completed by

Rhoades (1998) in his text, Managed professionals: Unionized faculty and restructuring academic labor, more specifically the text chapter describing the production politics of teaching and technology: deskilling, enskilling, and managerial extension. In his study,

Rhoades (1998) asserted that the introduction of new instructional technology affects the social relation of work in the academy. The following literature informs the theoretical framework Rhoades used to evaluate faculty collective bargaining agreements for evidence of deskilling, enskilling, and managerial extension,

New technologies are used to extend management’s power and control over the production process by reducing labor’s skill and cost (Rhoades, 1998). This deskilling effect on labor is accomplished through the routinizations of jobs with downgraded skill requirements (Rhoades, 1998). Deskilling reinforces and reproduces the division of labor, legitimizing the authority of management (Braverman, 1998; Noble, 1984, 2001, 2003;

Shaiken, 1984; M. Wallace & Kalleberg, 1982). Other scholars have indicated that new technology gives workers the opportunity to learn, upgrade their skill level, and expand their role with the organization (Bell, 1973; Blau et al., 1976; Rhoades, 1998). Yet another group of scholars has discussed the management’s reluctance to adopt new technology that may threaten the legitimization of management but relent if the workers embrace the value and benefits with the hegemony (Burawoy, 1979; Cornfield, 1987;

Edwards, 1979). Additional scholars have embraced technological determinism, explaining that the continuous innovation in technology is inevitable and that technology has important effects on our lives but the researchers have disagreed on what the definitive effects are (Adler, 1990; Adler & Borys, 1989; Hirschhorn, 1984; Strassman,

1985; Zuboff, 1988). Several studies have indicated that the effect of new technology is contradictory and have suggested that the effects are contingent on other factors, internal or external to the organization (Barley, 1986; Burkhardt & Brass, 1990; Form et al.,

1988; Kelley, 1990; Sorge & Streeck, 1988; Spenner, 1983; Warner, 1985). The final set of studies involved what Rhoades (1998) called managerial extension. The research has indicated that workers perform more skilled work but their discretionary decision making is limited and the workers are continuously monitored via the new technology thus management gains more control (Kelley, 1990; Kling, 1991; Vallas, 1993). Alternatively,

the worker becomes more highly skilled or is required to gain skills but management either does not acknowledge or reward those skills (Garson, 1988; Mohseni, 1993;

Prechel, 1993, 1994; Rainbird, 1988).

Deskilling as a Tool for the Reproduction of the Division of Labor

In 1974, Harry Braverman wrote his seminal labor process theory text based on

Marx’s deskilling theory, Labor and monopoly capital: The degradation of work in the twentieth century. Braverman (1998) described deskilling of labor as management using technology as a tool to constantly subdivide and routinize jobs so that only management maintains control over the complete production process as well as reproduces and reinforces the social power structure within the division of labor. focused on the social forces and constructs proximate to the introduction of new technology. Braverman (1998) did not propose that the mere implementation of new technology causes deskilling.

Rather the development and the application of new technology, normally legitimized by notions of productivity, profitability, or innovation, often captured more of the production process control historically owned by labor. Braverman (1998) maintained that the technology-mediated transfer of production process control to management from labor was driven by a social and cultural determinism rather than economic or technological determinism. In this social construct, management was driven to implement new technology primarily to increase management’s social power and dominate the workers in the production process thus reinforcing or increasing the social stratification within the division of labor (Adler & Borys, 1989; Braverman, 1998; Burawoy, 1979, 1996; Marx

& Engels, 1888/2005; Noble, 1984).

According to Braverman (1998), deskilling occurred when workers were confined to discrete tasks with little autonomy in contrast to management who exercise discretion over the production process. The workers no longer need to have specialized knowledge of a craft or even extensive abilities to perform a variety of tasks; they only need to be able to perform their individual task in the process assigned to them. Braverman explained that the “dissociation of the labor process from the skill of workers” is the first step in deskilling the worker (1998, p. 78). These routinized jobs held by the majority of workers require downgraded or limited skill, compared to pre-industrial craftsman modes of production (Braverman, 1998). In this way, workers become interchangeable. Workers are not required to have previous knowledge or skills to perform the specific task beyond simple training. The worker does not need to possess extensive mechanical knowledge or experience of how machines work or what tools are necessary to complete a complex machine assembly or repair. More likely, the worker can be handed a screwdriver and shown how to install a single component by driving a few screws within minutes.

In dissociating the worker from the labor process, the worker experiences “the separation of conception from execution…the separation of mental from manual labor”(Braverman, 1998, p. 79). In the Marxist tradition, Braverman identified that workers become alienated from the product and profit of their labor. The worker, now not needing much prerequisite skill beyond manual dexterity, is not involved in the conception, development, or planning of the production process. Management retains all control over the process, technical knowledge and reasoning is restricted to the privileged engineers, managers, and foremen (Braverman, 1998). The workers are only instruments of productions much like the machines they tend and feed (Braverman, 1998). Without

prerequisite knowledge, experience, or input over production, previously skilled workers are easily replaceable by uneducated and unskilled workers.

The deskilling of the workers allows management to gather and concentrate knowledge of the labor processes (Braverman, 1998). The ultimate goal of management engages in monopoly capitalism, according to (Braverman, 1998). Monopoly capitalism is the “use of this monopoly over knowledge to control each step of the labor process and its mode of execution” (Braverman, 1998, p. 82). The continued deskilling of workers and the capture of process knowledge by management creates a greater and greater polarization between workers and management (Braverman, 1998). Management and the few skilled engineers profit from the excess profit gained as increased competition for the deskilled production jobs drives wages down (Braverman, 1998).

Braverman (1998) used his extensive knowledge and experience in industrial operations to illustrate his concepts but he noted that routinization and mechanizations trends were emerging amongst many white-collar offices and service industries.

Braverman’s work on deskilling has been applied by multiple scholars to explain the effects of technological change in many other industries and contexts (Armstrong, 1988;

Burawoy, 1996; Garson, 1988; Noble, 1984; Rhoades, 1998; Shaiken, 1984; Sorge &

Streeck, 1988; Spenner, 1983; Warner, 1985; Zuboff, 1988).

Noble (1984) studied the implementation of computer numerical controlled

(CNC) machining technology to replace traditional machine tool operations from its inception at MIT to its application in industry at General Electric (GE) and the US Air

Force. Noble (1984) supplemented his study with a discussion of the effects of CNC implementation across the machining industry by analyzing the industry’s popular press

and magazines. Noble (1984) emphasized that the introduction of new technology is a social process rather than a direction result of the technology. The technology does determine the effect on the organization; only the social constructs created by people matter. Noble (1984) asserted that the conflict and struggle is part of the social process of the implementation of new technology, not the technology itself. Noble (1984) argued that new technology does not change the realities of power within the organization.

Domination and control over the means of production increased upon the implementation of automated machining operations (Noble, 1984). Management programed the computer numerical control and the operator was locked out of the control system. The machinist’s job was reduced to feeding the machine raw stock and collecting the finished product.

The machinist who could have contributed “his own creative intelligence and store of skills to the production process” to increase the productivity and efficiency of the production process was locked out to guarantee central management control (Noble,

1984, p. 329). The machinist skills are now unnecessary as a machine operator. The machine operator, in all practical terms, has become a machine loader/unloader with limited input or control of production. The worker is therefore deskilled, as the management-programmed machine controls the human rather than the human the machine (Noble, 1984). The worker also became more productive as the simplification of task allowed more free time, so now the worker can be assigned the loading/unloading of four or five machines thus reducing labor costs. Noble (1984) concluded that the motivation for labor saving automation is not purely the economic rationale of increased productivity and profitability. Technology implementation and design was used by

management as a system of domination to neutralize the power of the worker and concentrate management’s control over the production process (Noble, 1984).

Also, relevant to this study, is Noble’s (2001, 2003) analysis of automation in higher education. Noble (2001, 2003) asserts that faculty are labor in a production process similar to the other industries he had studied. The curriculum has been transformed into “instructional commodities,” the distillation of education into discrete salable packages of course content, to be marketed, much like product of any industrial process, by the higher education institution (Noble, 2003, p. 39). Noble (2003) claims that faculty have much in common with the skilled workers of manufacturing and may suffer a similar plight. Noble (2003) explains that once faculty and courses are captured as online content, administrators gain ready and increased access to scrutinize, supervise, and discipline faculty over performance and course content. The faculty also risk losing control of course material knowledge and course design skill once the course is uploaded to the instructional technology machinery (Noble, 2003). Effectively once the course is captured, the services of the faculty are no longer necessary. Higher education institutions hire lower cost untenured, part-time, or otherwise contingent faculty members to deliver the course content (Noble, 2003). Management exerts constant pressure to reduce labor costs and increase profitability. Noble (2003) claimed faculty were deskilled and losing professional status through the routinization of work, greater managerial supervision, reduced autonomy, and reduced job security.

Shaiken (1984) also studied the effects of CNC automation in the traditional machine shop. Shaiken (1984) found “an obsession with total managerial control is guiding the restructuring of production” (1984, p. 264). Similar to Noble (1984), Shaiken

(1984) asserted that the deskilling is so prevalent and persuasive that losses of productivity are ignored after the implementation of new technology or automation as long as managerial control and authority increased and worker input decreases within the production process. Shaiken (1984) predicts the extension of managerial authority and loss of worker autonomy via technology in other industries including the white-collar office. Shaiken (1984) claimed that the expansion of networked computer systems would not only redefine the flow of information but lead to restructuring of all phases of work.

Shaiken (1984) explained that computer systems allow office managers to more closely monitor the performance and production of clerical works as well as control tasks, creating a more authoritarian workplace.

Wallace and Kalleberg (1982) evaluated the implementation of computerized typesetting in the printing industry. The researchers indicated that the traditional craft skills of the printing operators were undermined by the implementation of automated printing facilities. Management’s rationalization for the new technology was to streamline production, generate efficiencies, and eliminate costly sources of human error

(M. Wallace & Kalleberg, 1982). The proximate effect of the automation was a loss of control over work and the exercise of judgement in the printing process by the printing machine operators (M. Wallace & Kalleberg, 1982). M. Wallace and Kalleberg (1982) found no enhanced profitability resulting from the automation but did find evidence of increased management control-related functions. The skill of the printing worker had been diminished and control over the printing operations had been transferred out of the hands of the craftsman to management (M. Wallace & Kalleberg, 1982). The researchers

predicted that the erosion of skill would lead to the continued elimination of printing jobs.

Technological Determinism in Social Organizations and Systems

Enskilling suggests that new technology tends to free workers from tedious, routine jobs allowing workers to engage in more challenging tasks (M. Wallace &

Kalleberg, 1982). Enskilling, or reskilling according to Braverman (1998), occurs when labor increase their skill and autonomy via training as well as active participation in the evaluation and decisions regarding the implementation of new technology such as instructional technology (Burkhardt & Brass, 1990; Rhoades, 1998). Bell (1973) asserted that technology tends to upgrade the quality of work due to worker acquiring new skills and specialization to operate or interact with the new technology. These new skills lead to greater professionalization from the additional responsibility and knowledge gained by the worker. Bell (1973) predicted that with technological change, ownership will be separated from control and that in this post-industrial society, workplace authority will shift from the owners and managers to a professionalized, salaried elite. Blau et al. (1976) agreed and stated that the acquisition of technological skills coincide with upward mobility within the organization. In this way, the pre-existing power structures and structural reorganization benefits the worker in the long run (Rhoades, 1998). For example, Burkhardt and Brass (1990) noted in their study that early adopters of technology became more influential and central within the organization.

Adler (1990) proposed an optimistic interpretation of the long-term effects new technology has on skill under capitalist conditions. Adler (1990) argued that Marx’s theory on capitalistic skill trends actually results in upgrading skill, i.e. enskilling or

upskilling, rather than deskilling in the long term. To Adler (1990) the theory of deskilling propagated by Marx and Engels (1888/2005) was a “polemical extrapolation of some short-term trends into the longer term” (1990, p. 781). According to Adler (1990), a more holistic reading of Marx revealed that while short deskilling does cause an initial alienation of workers, the technological evolution of the production process allowed workers to be emancipated from job boredom. In the long term, after training and education, most workers attained an upgrading of skill, and most workers found new employment in more rewarding, i.e. more autonomy and free time, higher skilled jobs

(Adler, 1990). Based on this alternative reading of Marx, Adler (1990) rejected the social construct of management seeking to dominate and stratify the workface and the nondeterministic nature of technology presented in Braverman’s work. Adler proposed a technical determinist view asserting that new technology “plays a crucial role in shaping and reshaping skill requirements, work organization, and the resultant class capabilities”

(1990, p. 790). Adler and Borys (1989) articulated that new technology required upgraded skill based the following new challenges faced by workers: substantial increases in skill complexity, worker responsibility increases in automation systems, automated work is more abstract, automation increases worker interdependence and coordination, and the professionalization of operators. Thus, quite to the contrary of

Braverman (1998) and Noble (1984), Adler (1990) claimed automation and mechanization resulted in skill upgrades for labor, at least in the long-term, and the implementation of new technology was historically driven by technical and scientific factors rather than social or political structures of labor domination in the division of labor.

Hirschhorn (1984) rejected the notion that technology eliminates the need for human skill. Hirschhorn (1984) proposed that technology allows for the reduction of the drudgery of repetitive tasks and/or the physical exertion necessary for work, freeing the worker to execute more self-fulfilling cognitive tasks. Hirschhorn (1984) pointed to the definite human need of engineers and machine operators to design, build, program, maintain, load, unload, and constantly make adjustments to machinery in response to variable specifications and changes in conditions. Technology is also imperfect and a source of production errors and failures. Hirschhorn (1984) asserted that only skilled workers can adequately respond to these contingencies of any technological innovation.

According to Hirschhorn, labor was not deskilled because workers will still “control the controls,” constantly monitoring the technology of the production process as well as possess the knowledge and skill to correct errors (1984) (p. 2). In this way, workers will also be integral in the redesign and development of technological improvements, transcending skilled and semiskilled workers of the past to become a “postindustrial worker” (1984) (p. 2). Hirschhorn (1984) projected that postindustrial workers will constantly be learning to control the technology in response variables in the production process and the operating system of the technology, resulting in increasingly valued worker skill and therefore wage increases. Hirschhorn (1984) recognized that technological determinism does not alone shape work and organizational structures, social and political constructs shape individual response to technological change. In

Hirschhorn’s mind, while technology sets the limits within production design, it also created new problems to be solved which created opportunities for a continuous learning environment. In his view, technology does not constrain social life but delivers the

opportunity to develop a culture of learning from which everyone can develop skill and an appreciation of organization design. Hirschhorn (1984) concluded by limiting himself to discussing the effects of technology determinism, leaving the social and political forces to work themselves out as the innovations of technology change of the workspace.

Zuboff (1988) proposed an even more optimistic technology determinist view than Adler or Hirschhorn. Zuboff (1988) envisioned information technology allowing for the free flow of data and information. The traditional hierarchical organizations would evolve into concentric information organizations without clear lines of authority. Zuboff

(1988) predicted the workers would enjoy greater autonomy with access all pertinent information to execute their function within the organization. The workers were described as self-actualizing members of the organization engaged in continuous learning. Zuboff (1988) claimed that this will occur once we as a society choose to embrace computerization and technology in the workplace and cast off the 19th century language of Marxist domination and oppression developed during the industrial revolution and embrace workplace democracy. Zuboff (1988) vision contrasted what she found in her research consisting of office, factory, professional, and executive workplaces. The organizations studied tended to replicate the military/industrial concepts of hierarchical work generated over the last one hundred years, using new information technology for surveillance and managerial process control rather than the free dissemination of useful information across the organization. Zuboff (1988) advised doing the opposite, information technology should be a great equalizer by increasing the diffusion of information throughout the organization thus breaking down the division of labor between labor and management, creating a concentric organization centered around

information systems. Zuboff foresaw a day when all organizational data would “be automatically generated, captured, and stored…in the form of dynamic, detailed, real- time, integrated texts” (1988, p. 393). Ultimately, the responsibility of the organizational members is to use the integrated texts and their own intellect to generate, measure, and create meaning and methods of work (Zuboff, 1988). Management’s responsibility centers on intellectual skill development, technology development, strategy formation, and social system development (Zuboff, 1988). Zuboff named this post-hierarchical utopian workplace an “informated organization” (1988, p. 395).

Strassman (1985) echoed Adler’s optimistic technological determinism, extoling the merits of information technology as means for continued economic development in modern societies. Strassman (1985) agreed with Zuboff (1988) that we must rethink our

19th century industrial culture, values, and management strategies. Strassman (1985) stressed, in this postindustrial service economy, successful implementation of new technology requires a close evaluation and analysis of organizational structure centered on meeting customer needs. Management must be willing to make the appropriate changes in organizational structure and worker roles to survive. Strassman (1985) stated that in a service economy, the organization must be structured to allow efficient knowledge sharing and cooperation to efficiently meet customer needs. Information technology was viewed only a tool for knowledge storage and transfer. The organizational structure determined if the informational technology was used to facilitate cooperation or centralizing control. As Strassmann stated, “information technology cannot be used to solve societal problems. Only social solutions can accomplish that”

(1985, p. 208). Strassman (1985) clarified that successful information technology design

and workplace acceptance occurs in organizations that have a business strategy to develop a service culture rather than an industrial culture. Characteristics of workplaces with a service culture include simplifying bureaucratic structures, increasing individual autonomy in decision making, enlarging worker roles, eliminating task isolation, and providing opportunities for learning, training, and change (Strassman, 1985). To

Strassman, information technology provided a tool to maximize prosperity and individual skill in an evolving service-based society.

Technological Change Reinforces Hegemonic Structural Control

Other studies have shown that workers often adopted management’s view of technology’s value and benefits (Rhoades, 1998). Burawoy (1979) asserted that workers often consent to control and exploitation by capitalist managers and corporations via shop-floor level compromises. Burawoy (1979) argued that workers become trapped in what he metaphorically calls games in the workplace that entice and encourage workers to work harder, increasing the productivity and efficiency of the production process

(Adler, 2013). Workers play the games, with the tacit agreement of management, to sociologically fit in to the production process and for psychological enrichment while performing otherwise mundane tasks (Burawoy, 1979). The games include work slowdowns that manipulate the piece-rate production process to maintain low quotas; conversely workers engage in production competitions to exhibit the prowess of individual workers, or to manipulated job rotations so newer workers are stuck on lower paying or tedious jobs (Burawoy, 1979). By playing the games, the workers compensate for the skill and control lost while still consenting to the basic rules and frameworks devised by management (Burawoy, 1979).

Burawoy (1979) drew his inspiration from the writings on consent of Gramsci

(1971), molding it to the labor process rather than the organizational level consent within the political arena. Gramsci described more complex and nuanced forms of control through force and persuasion, coercion and consent, domination and hegemony

(Burawoy, 1979). Hegemony is the process of negotiation wherein management secures control through workers active consent and participation in reinforcing the legitimacy of control (Adler, 2013; Turner, 2006). Burawoy (1979) asserted that the workers actively participating in the games of the production process reinforced consent to and coercion by management control. The games generate choices within narrow limits, giving the workers an illusion of personal control over their labor but also garnering more surplus labor for the corporations (Burawoy, 1979). Games shape the culture and context of the production process and exposes why workers would irrationally work harder than necessary, essentially exploiting themselves to generate surplus labor (Burawoy, 1979).

The games facilitate worker consent, eliminate most forms of overt coercion and continually reinforce managerial legitimacy, allowing for a “hegemonic organization of work” in the modern monopoly corporation (Burawoy, 1979, p. 195). The hegemony of the workplaces provides continual consent for the introduction of new technology.

Edwards (1979) took a sociological approach to study how new technology and efficiency has led to corporate restructuring and social organization. Edwards (1979) maintained that the neo-Marxist contention the continuous pursuit of capital accumulation by the capitalist results in the continuous conflict between employers and employees. In the pursuit of increasing profit and control, capitalists will continue to devalue, degraded and divide workers. Taking a historic approach, Edwards (1979) traced

how conflict and control transformed workplace organization at several corporations including American Telegraph and Telephone (AT&T), International Business Machines

(IBM), Ford Motors, General Electric (GE), Polaroid, Pabst Brewing, United States Steel, and International Harvester. Edwards (1979) asserted that consent to technological change was not automatic and the workers would contest the introduction of new technology. Edwards (1979) described the shop-floor as “contested-terrain”, where any management attempt to gain more control over the work process will be contested by the workers. Yet, Edwards (1979) asserted that technology was only proximate to and not the cause of the conflicts forcing transformation. Edwards (1979) contended the conflict arose from the capitalist need to control the production process to maximize profits and not some obsession with power or domination of the workers. The capitalist interest was to speed-up production and increase efficiency, in an effort to increase the profits that can be extracted from the work of the labor. Edwards (1979) defined control as the ability of managers to direct work tasks, evaluate the work done, and rewarding or disciplining workers (p. 18). Edwards (1979) stated capitalist managers exerted three forms of control. Edwards termed forms as simple, technical, and bureaucratic. Simple control was described as the power of managers to hire, bully, threaten, reward, and fire workers

(Edwards, 1979, p. 19). Simple control was the most basic, continuous, and underlying form of control that gave power to all other forms of control. Edwards (1979) claimed that while simple control existed to this day, it was inadequate as manufacturing and corporations grew through the twentieth century. Increased hierarchical and coordination efforts diluted the power of the direct supervisor to effectively control the workers through simple control alone. Edwards (1979) asserted that overtime, corporations

developed methods of organization to formalize and standardize control in “structural systems” of control. Edwards (1979) indicated that the corporations institutionalize control through the physical structure of the labor process, i.e. technical control, and through its social structure, i.e. bureaucratic control. Control became less visible and tangible through technical and bureaucratic control, as the corporate hierarchy control displaced direct supervisor control (Edwards, 1979).

Technological control was one way in which capitalist corporations increased control of the production process in the pursuit of increased profit (Edwards, 1979).

Edwards (1979) described technical control as using technology to plan the flow of work to maximize efficiency and profit from the labor of workers. Technical control was differentiated from simple mechanization in that the technology is embedded in the organization of production and altered the elements of control (Edwards, 1979). Simple mechanization was described as tools or electrical devices, such as an electric screwdriver, that simply increases the speed and reduces the effort of the worker, over the manual screwdriver (Edwards, 1979). Technical control occurred, according to Edwards

(1979), when the technology set the pace or sequence of tasks that the worker performed such as the assembly line which transcends the efforts of the individual and the direction of the immediate supervisor. Through technical control, the worker’s activities and productivity became directed and monitored by technology such as computers. Fewer immediate supervisors were needed as computer systems were preprogramed to direct and evaluate the quality of work (Edwards, 1979). Workers increasingly lost control over their work lives as they could no longer negotiate with their immediate supervisor on a daily basis but were now continuously directed and monitored by computer technology.

Edwards (1979) claimed, the oppressor was no longer easily identifiable behind the preprogrammed control device. The human hierarchy and the capitalist organization of production were hidden. The structure or organization of production was embedded in the technology. Technical control, as stressed by Edwards (1979), was structural within the human hierarchy of the capitalist organization.

Technical control, according to Edwards (1979), did not alter the disciplining and rewarding of workers. Supervisors retained the right to dismiss unreliable, rebellious, or inadequate workers assuming replacements workers were available (Edwards, 1979).

Making workers interchangeable was possible by deskilling jobs through mechanizations was the priority (Edwards, 1979). Once the jobs were deskilled, plentiful and less expensive unskilled labor were hired to operate the machines (Edwards, 1979). The unintended consequence of early industrial technical control was that the workers became more homogeneous and able to organize (Edwards, 1979). The unskilled workers were technologically linked by the assembly line, if a few workers stopped working, the assembly line stopped, and every worker effectively joined the strike (Edwards, 1979).

Linking workers increased the effectiveness of union worker organizing and the limitations of technological control was realized. Edwards (1979) asserted this shortcoming of technical control was overcome through bureaucratic control.

Bureaucratic control emanated from the formal structure of the organization much like technical control and contrary to simple control expressed in the interpersonal relationship between manager and worker (Edwards, 1979). Embedded in the social and organizational structure of the corporation rather than the physical aspects of production, bureaucratic control was expressed through the creation of job categories, work rules,

promotion procedures, discipline, and wage scales (Edwards, 1979, p. 131). Bureaucratic control institutionalized the definition and direction of work, evaluation of workers, distribution of rewards and discipline (Edwards, 1979). Bureaucratic control did not replace but rather reinforced hierarchical and technical control as well as circumvented the personal relationship between worker and direct supervisor (Edwards, 1979).

Bureaucratization was most prevalent in unionized and office environments where management sought to minimize the effect of unions and regain initiative. Edwards

(1979) asserts bureaucratic control was a greater transformative force in the workplace than the advent of technical control.

Edwards (1979) explained that “bureaucratic control institutionalized the exercise of capitalist power, making power to appear to emanate from the formal organization” (p.

145). Work rules were generated at a distance from the process of production within and delivered from the hierarchy of the organization. The oppressor was no longer the direct supervisor but some abstraction within the organizational hierarchy. Supervisors were circumvented, allowed only to apply the rules of the corporation and having had no part in making the rules, but were objectively exercising organizational power, not personal power (Edwards, 1979). The structure of the organization and system was made distinct from the supervisors and workers were isolated from each other through work rules and job categorizations, obscuring the capitalist and worker relationship (Edwards, 1979).

The capitalist’s power has been institutionalized, embedded within the bureaucratic structure of the corporate organization.

Edwards (1979) asserted that a structural view of control, indicating that bureaucratization became the effective control device of the capitalist. Edwards (1979)

explained that contrary to popular opinion, bureaucracy was not wasteful or slow but has maximized for the corporation the “ability to organize the routine, normal efforts of the workers…make workers’ behavior more predictable, and predictability brought with it greater control for the corporation…achieves for the firm a high level of standard performance” (p. 146). Edwards (1979) indicated that bureaucratic control forced workers to conform and perform to corporate criteria, completely alienating labor from the products or process of production.

Edwards (1979) went on to state, bureaucratic control demands workers exhibit proper behavior, demeanor, and affections beyond just the production of work. Edwards

(1979) found that bureaucratic control depended on individual workers to; obey company rules, be predictable and reliable, and internalize the corporation’s goal and values.

Corporations provided strong and systematic incentives to encourage the desired worker behavior (Edwards, 1979). Edwards asserted that management achieved the internalization of bureaucratic control and worker loyalty by rewarding seniority, which workers equated with job security as well as providing fringe benefits such as health insurance.

Cornfield (1987) approached labor-management relations from a structuralism perspective, “examining how industrial institutions and market conditions constrain the process and measures by which workers and managers attempt to control technological change” (p. xii). Cornfield (1987) reviewed the historic conflict between labor and management over the implementation and outcomes of new technology, determining management implemented technology to maintain profitability, while workers attempted to protect job security. Cornfield (1987) asserted that technological change has resulted in

two patterns of labor and management relations. The first pattern was management exercised unilateral control in the workplace. The strategies for control were job deskilling, technological control, and/or bureaucratic control, as described above in the summaries of Braverman and Edwards. The second pattern described by Cornfield (1987) was formal labor and management cooperation for which he offered an extended analysis. The difference in the instituted patterns hinged on union participation before the change and the macroeconomic conditions affecting the corporations (Cornfield, 1987).

Cornfield (1987) determined that industries that implemented unilateral control had experienced favorable economic conditions that facilitated technological change. The industries were not being economically pressured to implement technology and/or provided severance packages for technologically displaced workers (Cornfield, 1987).

Another characteristic was unions were rare in these industries so workers had little or no bargaining power for controlling the implementation of technology and the outcomes of technological change (Cornfield, 1987). The industries also had high employee turnover rates and few long-term employees, the employees were also mostly part-time workers who lacked any vested interest in the employer (Cornfield, 1987). This causal workforce maximized management flexibility in restructuring the workplace (Cornfield, 1987).

Industries with highly unionized workforces and faced macroeconomic adversity were more likely to have engaged in formal cooperation between labor and management over the implementation of technology (Cornfield, 1987). Unionization had stabilized employment in these industries; worker tenure was high due to seniority protections, worker turnover rates were also low, and therefore workers had a vested interest in the survival of the employer (Cornfield, 1987). The unionized workers also had power in

collective bargaining to demand participation in decisions over the implementation of technology, especially in the face of macroeconomic adversity (Cornfield, 1987). The macroeconomic adversity manifested from the globalization of markets which allowed for more foreign competition; automotive and steel industries were especially affected

(Cornfield, 1987). Government deregulation of industries, privatization of government services, and reduced government investment in research also created economic hardships in previous protected industries such as telecommunications and airlines

(Cornfield, 1987). Cornfield (1987) asserted that the formal labor-management cooperation emerged because both labor and management realized the necessity for technological innovation and collective bargaining provided an opportunity to maximize mutual interests instead of traditional adversarial interests.

Cornfield (1987) clarified that collective bargaining and cooperation were not opposites; in fact, his research indicated that collective bargaining appears to be prerequisite to formal cooperation as formal cooperation was rarely found in low unionized industries but was common in highly unionized industries. Cornfield (1987) emphasized that formal cooperation was more than labor-management consensus on employment issues. Formal cooperation referred to joint labor-management committees that act in an adversary or binding capacity on managerial decision making (Cornfield,

1987). Yet, Cornfield (1987) concluded that formal cooperation resulted from three common factors found in traditionally adversarial unionized industries: long-term vested interest in the survival of the employer, the ability to strike provided labor the power to demand participation in decisions, and the external economic threated motivated labor and management to realize the value of cooperation.

Effects of Technological Change

Rhoades (1998) indicated that the literature intended to illustrate the effect of new technology to upgrade or downgrade skill has been confusing at best. Disagreement in findings were evident within/between the technical determinists and labor process theory literature. Several researchers have suggested a middle ground between upgrading skill and deskilling, postulating that effects of technology are mixed (Spenner, 1983), or contingent on the context of the workplace (Form et al., 1988; Kelley, 1990), or a function of socio-technical evolution (Sorge, Hartmann, Nicholas, & Warner, 1983;

Sorge & Streeck, 1988; Warner, 1985), or a choice negotiated in the process of structuration (Barley, 1986; Burkhardt & Brass, 1990).

Spenner (1983) noted that the literature regarding how skill levels at work have changed has been equivocal. Spenner (1983) asserted that the research was often flawed in several ways. Spenner (1983) observed that in aggregate studies, those studying the effect of technology across multiple industries, an averaging effect between deskilling and enskilling occurred. Spenner (1983) indicated the labor workforce appeared to experience stability in skill levels when industries were aggregated. Spenner (1983) found that individual industry case studies gave more detailed pictures of skill transformations but also tended to be more prominent in the deskilling literature. Spenner

(1983) critiqued the previous theories and methodologies and provided a more comprehensive alternative suggestion for future research.

Spenner (1983) indicated that changes in skill could occur in two ways, work content and compositional shifts. Work content was described as “the technical nature of work and role relations surrounding its performance” (p. 826). Compositional shifts were

the changes to the distribution of workers through the creation or eliminations of skilled jobs (Spenner, 1983). Spenner (1983) determined that transformations of skill have occurred in either work content or compositional shifts alone or in contradictory directions. Spenner (1983) asserted that judgments of skill require evaluating content and compositional shifts.

Spenner (1983) was also very critical of the lack of a clear definition and measure of skill in the literature. Spenner (1983) questioned if the unit of measure is the worker who is skilled or the skill required for a job. Additionally, Spenner (1983) questioned if the meaning of skill was unidimensional through time or a multidimensional construct that was socially defined in the workplace. Upon review of the literature, Spenner (1983) proposed that skill was multidimensional and the meaning was socially constructed within the context of the workplace. Spenner (1983) clarified that skill should be defined as “a component of work structure and organization” (p. 827). Spenner (1983) gave three reasons for his definition of skill. First, skill has been ascribed as a possession of the worker which can be upgraded or downgraded based on socially constructed assumptions. Second, the consensus of research has been that the socially negotiated structure of the workplace has a greater effect on the worker than the individual skilled worker has on the structure of the workplace. Finally, the majority of the literature addressed the skill in jobs rather than the people, for example the research focused on skill requirements of jobs or changes in control over the production process.

Having described skill as multidimensional, Spenner (1983) clarified that two dimensions of skill stood out consistently across the literature. The two dimensions were skill as substantive complexity and skills as autonomy-control. Substantive complexity of

skill referred to the measures of independent action and thought required complete the work (Spenner, 1983). The autonomy-control of skill refers to the measures of closeness of supervision (Spenner, 1983). The relative repetitiveness of the work could also affect either measure of skill. Repetitive work was considered less skilled, as it required much less complexity and supervision and lacked much independent judgement or control.

With these measures of skill and a better understanding of the complex social structures and contexts in which skill was embedded, Spenner (1983) asserted that researchers could gain a more comprehensive and clear picture of the transformations of skill as technology changes.

Form et al. (1988) were also dissatisfied by the previous theorists and researchers regarding the impact of technology on work. Form et al. (1988) found that Braverman’s

(1998) deskilling and degradation of work by technological rationalization to be a pessimistic viewpoint. Bell’s (1973) viewpoint of technology as only upgrading in skills, leading to greater responsibility and professionalization of the workforce was deemed an overly optimistic approach. Form et al. (1988) also found lacking Spenner’s (1983) mix- effects model resulting in little net change in skill due to the continual upgrading and downgrading occurring within organizational structures. Form et al. (1988) proposed a contingency approach that argued that “the effects of technology on skill, authority relations, job autonomy, and work-related values were contingent upon the organizational and societal variables” (p. 311).

Form et al. (1988) acknowledged that the organizational and societal variables were not yet clearly specified but did suggest that additional scholars had demonstrated organizational and sociological relationships that support their contingency theory. For

example, Edwards (1979) was credited for having established that labor relations between workers and their supervisors varied by the enterprise’s size and type of technology as well as the diffuse controlling effects of bureaucracies. In addition, Form et al. (1988) stressed that while similar to Spenner’s (1983) mixed-effects argument, contingency theory demanded specification of the factors that created the divergent workplace outcomes and a rigorous methodology and analysis to determine the underlying organizational processes.

Form et al. (1988) applied contingency theory at three organizational levels: the individual, the department, and the establishment. The term establishment was used to more specifically denote to the organizational level at which change was implemented rather than the common terms such as firm, organization, or corporation. At the establishment level, Form et al. (1988) focused on employment levels, changes in workforce characteristics, changes in technology use, and the decisions regarding implementation of technology; the researchers found that the effects vary based on if the establishment was a subsidiary, the type of technology chosen, the organizational structure, and the market characteristics. At the department level, the focus was on authority and supervisory relations; they found that the effects would vary depending on the size of department, the type of technology chosen, and the place of the department in the establishment structure (Form et al., 1988). At the individual level, the focus was on the effects of technology on job skills, job autonomy, and work-related values; they found that the effects vary based on the type of technology chosen, the characteristics of the establishment, and the type of organizational structure in which the technology is embedded (Form et al., 1988). Form et al. (1988) concluded that organizations needed to

consider the effects of new technology on these three levels of inquiry to predict potential problems. In addition, workers need to know how technology would affect their skills, autonomy, and place in the workplace structure.

Kelley (1990), expanding upon the work by Form et al. (1988), also proposed that organizational contingencies mediate the impact of the implementation of new technologies in the workplace. Specifically, Kelley (1990) analyzed how workplaces differed between those that allowed workers to program automated machinery versus those workplaces reserved programming duties for supervisors, specialized technicians, or manufacturing engineers. Kelley’s contingency model explained the choice of job design was mediated by four variables: techno-economic forces, internal labor market structures, institutional mechanisms for governing the labor-management relationship, and the organizational context.

Techno-economic forces included the technical aspects of work organization and the variability of the product market (Kelley, 1990). Kelley (1990) found that workers were more likely to have programing responsibilities if small batches of specialty or high value products were produced. Kelley (1990) found that the primary economic pressure on management choices was variability of the product market. Specialty, variable, small batch (<10), highly customized products required a decentralization of control and broadening of job skills across new technologies to respond to a rapidly changing market demand (Kelley, 1990).

Internal labor market structures such as a seniority system, apprenticeship programs, and narrowly defined jobs, greatly impact management’s flexibility to assign work and broaden skill sets across new technology (Kelley, 1990). Kelley (1990) found

that the presence of a seniority system had the largest impact on workers not having programming responsibilities. Alternative forms of union and non-union labor- management relations and organizational structures tended to correlate with upgrading of worker skills (Kelley, 1990). Organizational differences such as plants with professional management, defined as requiring be bachelor degree holders, had the greatest rates of workers being allowed to program the machines, effectively upgrading the worker skills

(Kelley, 1990).

Kelley (1990) found that more labor-management cooperation in a small organization and workers were granted more decision-making and control over the manufacturing process. In small organizations, there was a relative absence of an extended bureaucracy and the conjoined bureaucratic control at all levels (Kelley, 1990).

This contrasted significantly with Kelley’s findings on large more complex organizations that tended to be constrained by a strong centrally controlled bureaucracy and established a rigid internal labor market structure governing labor relation.

The organization context was also generally determined by relative size and complexity. Contrary to established assumptions on labor relations systems and internal labor market structure developed from labor segmentation theory, Kelley (1990) found that the smallest, least complex organizations tended to offer the greater opportunities for worker upskilling. Reich, Gordon, and Edwards (1973) formulated and described labor segmentation theory as “a historical process whereby political- economic forces encourage the division of the labor market into separate submarkets, or segments, distinguished by different labor market characteristics and behavioral rules” (p. 359).

According to labor segmentation theory, factory work was a subordinate primary job.

Subordinate primary jobs were routinized jobs and the workers were expected to be disciplined, dependable, and responsive to authority and organizational goals (Reich et al., 1973). Professional positions were described as independent primary jobs that required creativity, problem solving, and self-initiating (Reich et al., 1973). Conversely,

Kelley (1990) found that in the small organizations he studied, the lines between management and workers tended to be less distinct and formalized. The small less complex organizations tended to decentralize control by encouraging informal and formal labor-management cooperation rather than hierarchical authoritarian structures (Kelley,

1990).

Kelley (1990) also found evidence that the presence of a union engaged in only adversarial collective bargaining relations without other formal labor-management cooperation consistently implied the workers did not engage in programming the new technology, effectively deskilling the workers. Kelley (1990) asserted that formal labor- management cooperation tended to offset the negative effects of adversarial unionism on the upgrading of worker skills. Formal labor-management cooperation often took the form of problem solving committees that worked on production process related issues rather than the traditional work conditions issues negotiated in collective bargaining.

Cornfield (1987) reported a similar positive relationship between labor-management cooperation and the upgrading of worker skill in his findings.

Kelley (1990) concluded that new technology alters the organization of work but the form or structure of the organization of work was not predetermined by the technology. Kelley’s findings illustrated that management’s choices of job design and

methods of work have been restrained by economic, organizational, and institutional structures. The greatest influencer of management choices was the organizational context.

Technological Change Mediated by Social Relations

Sorge et al. (1983) asserted that the whole thinking about automation and technology’s effect on work had to be revised. Sorge et al. (1983) asserted the research had not demonstrated a link between new technology and increased unemployment, full employment, economic growth, or economic decline. Based on this literature review,

Sorge et al. (1983) proposed several conclusions about the effects of technology. Sorge et al. (1983) stated that new technology had no characteristic specific effect, any effects noted came from the gradual and incremental development and modifications of current machinery rather than any specific new technology, technological effects were actually generated when economic and social factors were affected by technology development and application, and the effects of technology applications are part of a larger socio- economic debate rather than a characteristic of any specific technology. From these conclusions, Sorge et al. (1983) cautioned against accepting the pessimistic and optimistic literature regarding the effects of new technology.

Rather, Sorge et al. (1983) proposed a socio-technical conceptual framework for the analysis of the effects of technology. The model was intended to capture the

“interaction and interdependence of variables… in an evolution which produces novel constellations of variables” (p. 9). The constellation of technology, organization, and labor variables were viewed as emanating from a core of strategic decisions made by top management, shop floor supervisors, and workers. Sorge et al. (1983) claimed the model

captured all manner of socio-technical interactions and events generated by technical experimentation and innovation.

Sorge et al. (1983) specifically took issue with the theories of Braverman (1998) and Noble (1984). Sorge et al. (1983) specifically warned against prescribing to any deterministic approach whether technical, labor relations, or power based. Sorge et al.

(1983) asserted there were no technological imperatives to centralize or decentralize communication, information, or control. Nor was the implementation of new technology a power play between capitalist and labors or even more simply management and unions.

Sorge et al. (1983) also did not prescribe to technology ushering in Bell’s (1973) postindustrial society where factories were all automated and humans were left to pursue exciting informational work. Sorge et al. (1983) claimed that new technology, especially information technology, was distinctive in increasing the capabilities and the speed of communication, information storage, and control on a purely technical level. Sorge et al.

(1983) stressed the interpretations of the effects of technology have been confounded by the interactions of many factors or variables including the characteristics of the specific technology, the structure of the organization, and the treatment or training of labor.

Sorge et al. (1983) warned that new technology, even the microelectronics of the computer age, should not be seen as a revolution whether stated as a new industrial revolution or the information revolution. Sorge et al. (1983) did stress that the effects of new technology depend on where and how it was used but any predictions based only on a general understanding of the characteristics of the technology were problematic. The specific social and economic intentions and strategic decisions regarding the choice and application of the new technology were much more revealing.

Warner (1985) used the socio-technical approach proposed by Sorge et al. (1983) to present an overview of how microelectronics, i.e. computers, effected organizations, markets, employment, and worker skills and training. According to Warner (1985), society had moved beyond homogeneous mass markets which producing little variability in products and that had created inflexible factory automation, erosion of worker skill, and centralized planning. New technologies in either software or hardware have allowed markets to segment and offer greater varieties of goods and services at multiple market scales. In general, mass markets have become less homogeneous (Warner, 1985).

Warner (1985) claimed that rapid shifts in market demand and progress in microelectronic technology design have allowed for this ever-increasing variation in products and opening of new market. The increased variability in production and markets also created variable demand in the labor-market and rapidly shifting skill requirement, disrupting the traditional divisions of labor (Warner, 1985). The relatively differentiated and rapidly shifting market patterns along with advances in technology had created opportunities to make many new socio-technical strategic choices (Warner, 1985).

Warner (1985) predicted that the new markets and technology created a new potential and viability of automated small batch or at least non-mass factory production to serve the new markets. Warner (1985) stated that new technology allowed organizations to remain competitive in changing markets such that employment was improved by reducing jobs losses as well as creating new jobs. The new jobs also required upgrading of skills. New skills required training but were not uniformly provided by organizations based on several socio-economic factors (Warner, 1985).

Warner (1985) stated that technological change, skills, and training are interlinked yet the implementation of training systems was complex and confused by the socio- economic factors. Warner (1985) noted a conflict between the rapid technological change generating a need of more broadly trained engineers and workers with the historic high degree of specialization encouraged during industrialization. Warner (1985) identified this conflict as a socio-technical opportunity for a new management strategy to mitigate overspecialization in the workforce. Warner (1985) suggested that the rapid and wide spread of new technology and technical information molds new jobs skills and occupations. In turn, the new technology, skills, and occupations altered the organization within the historic parameters embedded in the organizational structure and context.

Warner (1985) asserted that training systems may not be able to adapt the rapid change of technology especially when considering the complexity of organizational social contexts and bureaucracies of large organizations. Warner (1985) described many training systems as ad hoc at best and veritable black boxes at worst. Warner (1985) proposed new models of training were necessary. Warner (1985) did predict from the socio-technical perspective that fewer people would be employed but at higher levels of skill unless we expend more private and public resources on training to improve the employment prospects of the less skilled.

Burkhardt and Brass (1990) studied the effects of the implementation of new technology, specifically a computer information system network, on organizational structure and power. Traditionally, structure or structuring referred to abstract, formal relations reflected in the units and positions within the organization that constrain day-today action in social settings (Barley, 1986; Burkhardt & Brass, 1990). Burkhardt and

Brass (1990) decided to approach structuring from a social network perspective organizational structure, defined as repeated patterns of action, interaction, behavior, and cognition among social actors (Mintzberg, 1979; Weick, 1979). To investigate the process of structural change, Burkhardt and Brass (1990) employed a contingency model which stated that a technological change provided an opportunity for restructuring.

Stability or change in the structure depended on the power and social network position of early adopter of the new technology (Burkhardt & Brass, 1990). If the early adopters were all central, powerful employees, the structure patterns would be reinforced and the structure remains stable. If less central employees became early adopters of the technology, then changes in the social structure and power within the organization will occur (Burkhardt & Brass, 1990).

According to Burkhardt and Brass (1990), normal incremental technological change accumulated until punctuated by a major discontinuity that represents a major breakthrough in a process or product. In this study, the discontinuity was the implementation of an enterprise-wide computer information system with which all employees had to engage to complete their work (Burkhardt & Brass, 1990).

Discontinuities in this model were classified competence-enhancing or competence- destroying, analogous to the previously described upgrading or downgrading of skill but on an organizational as well as individual level (Burkhardt & Brass, 1990). Competence- enhancing discontinuities build on previous knowledge held by the organization and consolidates organizational leadership (Burkhardt & Brass, 1990). Competence- destroying discontinuities based in unfamiliar technology has led to changes in the distribution of power and control, disrupting organizational structure (Burkhardt & Brass,

1990). Burkhardt and Brass (1990) stressed that any discontinuity caused uncertainty the possibility of change or stability in structure and power.

Power and influence within the organization was gained by early adopters of new technology and those with prior power to the implementation of new technology maintained their power in the organization (Burkhardt & Brass, 1990). Early adopters of the new technology quickly became more centralized within the organizational structure by facilitating implementation of the technology and training later adopters (Burkhardt &

Brass, 1990). Those with power prior to the new technology also had a better understanding of the organizational network and how to adapt to the change (Burkhardt

& Brass, 1990). Powerful central figures were also responsible and took credit for making the decisions regarding the technology changes, reinforcing their power and position in the structure (Burkhardt & Brass, 1990).

Burkhardt and Brass (1990) described the implementation of the new technology in their study as a competency-destroying process discontinuity. The process and mode of work significantly changed along with skills and knowledge needed for an individual to perform the same task as before implementation of the new technology (Burkhardt &

Brass, 1990). Yet, individual control over their work and influence within the organization increased as individuals gained access to the organization’s to centrally based information database and became more interconnected across the organization

(Burkhardt & Brass, 1990).

Burkhardt and Brass (1990) indicated the results of the study suggested technological change affected the organization on multiple levels. The implementation of the new technology increased the organization’s competitive advantage within the

industry (Burkhardt & Brass, 1990). Burkhardt and Brass (1990) asserted that individuals experienced an increased ease of communication and greater interconnectedness within the organizational structure. The power of an individuals within the organization was determined to be contingent on the individual’s ability to recognize and exploit technological opportunities to increase their influence in the organization, such as the early adopters (Burkhardt & Brass, 1990). Burkhardt and Brass (1990) concluded that changes in technology provided an occasion for restructuring of social interaction patterns and power within an organization.

Giddens (1979) critiqued the use of contingency theories of social life as being overly voluntaristic, assuming that people were open and able to freely make decisions and ignoring the history and structural context that constrains individual action. Giddens

(1979) also rejected the Marxist concepts that people were not aware of their true reasons for acting within the constraints of an organization as if only being a cog in the wheels of production. Giddens (1979) proposed that people intuitively have an intimate and wide- ranging knowledge of the organizations to which they belong and the institutional forces being played out. Giddens (1979) noted that for people to act in a socially acceptable manner they must have practical knowledge and discursive knowledge. Practical knowledge is knowing what behavior is socially acceptable at any given time or situation.

Discursive knowledge is knowing what is socially appropriate to say at any given time or situation. As part of society or any organization, individuals must know what to do and what to say to be a competent member within the organization’s social context (Giddens,

1979) Finally, people were found to be bound by the practical and discursive knowledge in specific ways such that their decisions and activities, connect and situate the people

within the society. Giddens (1979) went on to describe his theory of structuration, linking human action with structural forms in social analysis.

Giddens’ (1979) theory of structuration combined the functionalist notion of emphasizing unintended consequences of actions, often ignored in human action based theories, with the interpretive, phenomenological notions that human experiences and perceptions of social order were socially constructed (Barley, 1986; Giddens, 1979;

Johnson, 2000; Riley, 1983). Riley (1983) explained that the functionalist perspective stated culture was an organizational variable, something an organization has while the interpretive framework indicated culture as a pattern of symbolic discourse, something an organization is. Both the functionalist and interpretivist viewpoints delineated organizations as systems in a shared cohesive reality (Riley, 1983). From Giddens’

(1979) structuration point of view, actions were “constituted by and constituted of” the social organization such that the rules and resources people use in interaction form the structures of the organization therefore structures are the medium and the outcome of interaction (Barley, 1986; Giddens, 1979; Riley, 1983).

Rules and resources form the structures that individuals drew upon to gain meaning in interactions (Riley, 1983). Structures are also described as socially constructed; people interacting and reacting to each forms the social organization (Riley,

1983). Giddens (1979) concluded that structuration was the production and recursive reproduction of social systems. Social systems were therefore the result of the rationalization of social interaction (Giddens, 1979).

Barley (1986) was also dissatisfied with the technical determinism of classical structure concepts as well as the social structure being defined solely as social interaction,

patterns of action, or behavior and cognition as conceived by Weick (1979) and

Mintzberg (1979). Barley (1986) rejected the concept of structure being outside human endeavor and as a template for action as well as structure being an emergent property of action or a contour of human behavior. Barley (1986) proposed structure was both a constraint on and product of human endeavor. Thus, Barley (1986) proposed that structure was the result of human actions but people’s actions were shaped and constrained by forces beyond their control.

Barley (1986) formulated his proposal by combining negotiated-order theory (A.

Strauss, 1982; A. L. Strauss, 1978) and structuration theory (Giddens, 1979) based on the shared basic tenet that structure was both process and form. Negotiated-order theory postulated that events of everyday life were derived from the symbolic interactions between people (Barley, 1986). Negotiated theory defined social order as the product negotiations between interacting individuals as they attempted to define significance within situations (Barley, 1986). Yet, the scope and possible outcomes of the negotiations were constrained by the social constructs between individuals institutionalized by prior interaction (Barley, 1986).

Barley (1986) explained that both negotiated-order and structuration theory stated that social order was analogous to language. Barley (1986) clarified social order has specific rules and parameters much like language has formal grammar yet just as language is altered by everyday speech, social order was constantly altered or modified by actions of individuals. Meanings change in language as well as social order over time, in different contexts, and through new interpretations of interactions (Barley, 1986).

Barley (1986) asserted that the language analogy showed how the theories bridged the

gap between structure defined as deterministic, objective, and static and structure defined as voluntaristic, subjective and dynamic. The language analogy illuminated how the focus must be on processes that bind social order rather than define social order (Barley,

1986). Therefore, Barley (1986) proposed that “structure was the flow of ongoing action and set of institutional traditions or forms that reflect and constrain that action” and research should be focused on this interplay between institutional practices and human action to determine if the institutional structure is reaffirmed or modified (p. 80).

The interplay of human action and institutional practices was also described by

Barley (1986) as how the institutional realm and realm of individual action configure each other. Barley (1986) asserted this reconfiguring or structuring could reinforce organizational stability and/or initiate change. Barley (1986) proposed that structuring was driven by the interpretation of events by people, the differential access to resources of people, and the legitimizing frameworks of the social order. Structuring was also affected by the intended and unintended consequences of decisions made by the actor reacting to pressures that, at least initially, were external to the organization (Barley,

1986). Examples of external pressures, given by Barley (1986), were technical innovations and economic change.

Barley (1986) indicated that people construct their roles based on these patterns as structuring or restructuring occurred in response to change such as the implementation of new technology. Institutional structure was recreated to the degree people within the organization change their behavior and interpretations of interactions (Barley, 1986).

Barley (1986) termed these behavioral or interpretational changes in interaction as slippage between the institutional patterns and the changed demands of everyday

interactions surrounding the new technology. New technology that changed institutional patterns of communication, power, and authority created persistent slippage in institutional patterns (Barley, 1986). Barley (1986) proposed that persistent, repeated patterns of slippage lead to departures from prior institutional patterns, reconfiguring the institutional structure by integration of the new patterns into the norm.

Barley (1986) asserted that the relationship of the implementation of new technology to structuring was dependent on the social context of actions and interpretations of the effects of the new technology. Declaring that technology was nondeterministic, Barley (1986) indicated that technology was an object with no agency to act so technology’s effect on structuring was determined by how people incorporated technology into the social interactions and patterns of the organizations. Barley (1986) found that new technology was best viewed as an occasion for triggering social dynamics that either modify or reinforce the structure of the organization. The effects of new technology were found difficult to predict, as the social dynamics of organizations were multifaceted, varied with time, and reflected organizational specific contexts (Barley,

1986). Due to this complexity, Barley (1986) found in his study of medical scanners that identical technology implemented in similar settings resulted in different organizational structures.

Barley (1986) concluded that technology was an occasion for structuring change even if the outcomes were contradictory; in his study the process of structuring occurred at both clinical sites but resulted in different structural and social outcomes. Barley

(1986) warned that these results should not be interpreted as no-net-change as would be the tendency in large cross-sectional studies, the results effectively canceling each other

out. The important findings were in the complexity and uncertainty in determining how the new technology merged within the social system (Barley, 1986). Barley (1986) stated the effects of new technology on an organization was a product of how people renegotiated their roles within the social and organizational context of the organization in response to the technological change. Barley (1986) determined that technological uncertainty and complexity within an organization were social constructs that vary from organization to organization. Barley (1986) also realized, decision makers influence interactions during structuring but the structural consequences of decisions were frequently unanticipated. Barley (1986) summarized his proposed theoretical contribution as follows:

Structuring theory departs from previous approaches to the study of technology

by postulating that technologies are social objects capable of triggering dynamics

whose unintended and unanticipated consequences may nevertheless follow a

contextual logic. (p. 107)

Barley (1986) clarified that the effects of technology depend on the prior context of the process in which it was embedded. Barley (1986) proposed that the best methodology for studying structuring was construction of grounded population specific theories as the effects of technology were found to be dependent on specific context.

Barley (1986) concluded his study by admitting that structuring theory was a form of soft determinism because it involved searching for regularity over time in how structuring occurred based upon specific social processes or contexts.

Managerial Extension

Workers can become more highly skilled by learning to use new technology but if management either does not acknowledge or reward those skills the workers have not gained anything from the new skills (Mohseni, 1993; Prechel, 1993; Rainbird, 1988).

New technology also has the potential to increase managerial control over the workplace even when worker skills were increased (Kelley, 1990; Kling, 1991; Rhoades, 1998;

Vallas, 1993). Rhoades (1998) described new technology used to limit the discretionary decision making of workers and increase the ability of managers to monitor the production process as managerial extension.

Rainbird (1988) recognized that new technology was not neutral; changes can have positive and negative effects on workers. Rainbird (1988) asserted that some workers could benefit from increased flexibility, skill, and job security but other workers could end up deskilled and degraded. Rainbird (1988) advocated for unions to seek protections in contract negotiations, claiming new technology skills and demanding formal recognition. Rainbird (1988) warned, without new skill recognition new technology had allowed industrial restructuring leading to massive job losses.

Rainbird (1988) contended that new technology had the unprecedented ability to alter the nature of work. The introduction of new technology has allowed for the integration of systems, centralizing control over the pace of work and the monitoring of performance (Rainbird, 1988). All decision-making is centralized and the worker has lost ability to alter the production process (Rainbird, 1988). Human labor in the production process is degraded and often cut or casualized. Close monitoring and control of the process of production has allowed management to replace full-time employees with part-

time or temporary labor (Rainbird, 1988). New technology has allowed expanded managerial control over the production process.

Rainbird (1988) asserted that new working practices and greater flexibility of tasks was imposed on the remaining workers. Using the guise of increased job security, workers were cross trained on the new technology and encouraged to be flexible in their tasks and assignments. Rainbird (1988) warned that this leads to all workers being considered general workers and completely interchangeable. Skill is no-longer a defining characteristic among the workers. The worker has gained new skills and the scope of the job has expanded in operating the new technology but their position has been degraded.

Rainbird (1988) asserted that when new technology skill acquisition is not recognized, management’s control over the production process is extended, leading to casualization of the workers.

Prechel (1993) agreed that technology has the ability to centralize control over the production process. Modes of control over the process of production have traditionally concentrated on the production function and reducing worker discretion (Prechel, 1993).

Control of the production process was wrestled from the craftsman through the technological separation of conception from execution. Industrialization and assembly- line production captured the process of production and reduced worker skills to discreet tasks. Prechel (1993) argued that new information technology has extended managerial control and concentrated authority at the highest levels of the organization. Prechel

(1993) asserted that information technology has the ability to establish controls that ensure consensus and standardize decisions. Information technology extends control beyond the production process to include the technical and social organization of

production (Prechel, 1993). Information technology allows the highest levels of management to monitor not only production but also track production costs of discreet units within the process. Production level management decision-making ability is tightly constrained by pre-programed cost and budgetary perimeters. Prechel (1993) determined that information technology has allowed for the centralization of authority and decision- making at the highest levels of the organizational hierarchy, reducing the autonomy of not only workers but also of lower and middle management. Mohseni (1993) similarly argued that new information technology has extended managerial control over the creative process of scientists, engineers, and software designers as well.

Vallas (1993) carried out an extensive study of AT&T analyzing effects of new technology on production in the workplace. Vallas (1993) looked for evidence of deskilling and hegemonic control. Vallas (1993) found that when skills changed in response to new technology, tasks were merely redistributed, perpetuating the skilled force. A change in worker skills transformed the nature of work but did not result in deskilling or the devaluing and degradation of the worker. The division of labor was continuously being replicated (Vallas, 1993). Vallas (1993) cast serious doubt on hegemony theory as an accurate description of what he terms the politics of production.

At AT&T, Vallas (1993) found that the vast majority of workers did not readily consent to management’s power and authority over the process of production. To the contrary,

Vallas (1993) noted most workers harbored an oppositional consciousness toward management. The division of labor was clear to workers but new technology was not viewed as a threat, only the manifestation of technological progress. Vallas (1993) concluded that deskilling and hegemony did not fully explain his findings. Rather, Vallas

(1993) proposed management choose to increasingly marginalize the human role in production. Management has used information technology to continuously narrow and regulate the decision-making ability of the remaining workers, completely severing the tie between skill and control over the production process (Vallas, 1993). Workers have become ancillary to the automated centrally controlled production processes that function with minimal worker intervention (Vallas, 1993). The worker has been stripped of autonomy and application of skill, able to only act within a narrow range of technologically regulated controls. In this way, the extension of managerial control over the process of production is nearly complete (Vallas, 1993).

Theoretical Framework

2001, 2003; Shaiken, 1984; M. Wallace & Kalleberg, 1982), hegemony (Burawoy, 1979;

Cornfield, 1987; Edwards, 1979), and managerial extension (Mohseni, 1993; Prechel,

1993; Rainbird, 1988; Vallas, 1993) as well as the organization theory concepts of skill upgrading/enskilling (Bell, 1973; Blau et al., 1976), technical determinism (Adler, 1990;

Adler & Borys, 1989; Hirschhorn, 1984; Strassman, 1985; Zuboff, 1988), and contingency (Barley, 1986; Burkhardt & Brass, 1990; Form et al., 1988; Kelley, 1990;

Sorge & Streeck, 1988; Spenner, 1983; Warner, 1985). This framework is enriched and broadened by the theoretical principles based in academic capitalism (Slaughter & Leslie,

1997; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004), globalization (Levin, 2001a, 2005, 2006), and professionalism (Abbott, 1988; Brint, 1994; Rhoades, 1998).

Summary

Braverman (1998) described the neo-Marxist concept of the deskilling of labor.

Alternatively, neo-Marxist scholars discussed the management’s reluctance to adopt new technology that may threaten the legitimization of management but relent if the workers embrace the value and benefits within the predominant hegemony (Burawoy, 1979;

Cornfield, 1987; Edwards, 1979). Yet other organizational theorists embrace technological determinism, explaining that the continuous innovation in technology is inevitable and that technology has important effects on our lives but do not have definitive relationship to the social relations at work (Adler, 1990; Adler & Borys, 1989;

Hirschhorn, 1984; Strassman, 1985; Zuboff, 1988). Several other organizational theorists indicated the findings regarding the social relation effects of new technology are contradictory, suggesting the effects are contingent on confounding factors internal or external to the organization other than the new technology (Barley, 1986; Burkhardt &

Brass, 1990; Form et al., 1988; Kelley, 1990; Sorge & Streeck, 1988; Spenner, 1983;

Warner, 1985). The final concept involved what Rhoades (1998) termed managerial extension. This research indicated that workers performed work that is more skilled but

their discretionary decision-making is limited and the workers are continuously monitored via the new technology, thus management gains more control (Kelley, 1990;

Kling, 1991; Vallas, 1993). Additionally, the worker becomes more highly skilled or is required to gain skills but management either does not acknowledge or reward those skills (Mohseni, 1993; Prechel, 1993; Vallas, 1993). The connection between skill, rewards, and worker autonomy are socially constructed and politically negotiated

(Rhoades, 1998). Understanding the relationship between skill, rewards, and autonomy requires an analysis of the negotiated terms of labor (Rhoades, 1998).

(Rhoades, 1998). How instructional technology is negotiated and how it is implemented affects the traditional role of faculty. Instructional technology is a shift to a commoditization of learning, a marginalization of faculty, and an increased emphasis on competition, productivity and efficiency spurred by neoliberal demands for the corporatization of higher education institutions (Levin, 2001a; Rhoades, 1998; Slaughter

1990s remains the most recent attempt to capture those insights. In the last twenty years, technology has made significant advances into the world of academia. However, beyond

Rhoades’ 1998 study and a few subsequent research articles, little research has centered on its impact on faculty’s role and work.

Technology in higher education has the potential to decrease faculty control of instruction, increase faculty workload, and increase administrative discretion (Rhoades,

1998). Rhoades (1998) observes that technology expands managerial flexibility and increases managerial control over faculty and the curriculum. Paulson (2002) warns that technology eases the systematic unbundling of the faculty instructional role. Vernon C

Smith and Rhoades (2006) envision a virtual assembly line model for course creation and delivery if faculty members lose control of course delivery, pedagogy, and curriculum.

Technology is a shift to a commoditization of learning, a marginalization of faculty, and an increased emphasis on competition, productivity, and efficiency spurred by neoliberal demands for the corporatization of higher education institutions (Levin, 2001a; Rhoades,

1998; Slaughter & Leslie, 1997; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004).

(1998) maintains that higher education faculties have not been given adequate consideration in the research and those unionized faculties have been mostly ignored.

Rhoades has revisited the topic of technology and its treatment in faculty collective bargaining agreements briefly in articles and essays since the publication of his 1998 text,

Managed professionals: Unionized faculty and restructuring academic labor. Beyond the work of Rhoades and his collaborations, little is known about how community college and university faculty are addressing technology in collective bargaining agreements.

This present study replicates and extends the work of Rhoades (1998) on the production politics of teaching and technology, using the most recent available faculty collective bargaining agreements, extending beyond the collection of agreements available in the

Higher Education Contract Analysis System. In replicating Rhoades, the analysis seeks evidence of faculty enskilling, faculty deskilling, and/or managerial extension. This study updates and adds to the knowledge base within academia regarding the effect of instructional technology on the higher education faculty profession.

Chapter Three

Methodology

Introduction

This study replicates and extends the work on the production politics of teaching and technology completed by Rhoades (1998) in his seminal text, Managed professionals: Unionized faculty and restructuring academic labor. Rhoades (1998) analyzed the potential challenge by managers to wrestle control and ownership of the curriculum from faculty through the introduction of instructional technology.

Specifically, he examined faculty union contracts looking for provisions regarding the introduction of instructional technologies. Grounded in the sociological theories of deskilling, enskilling, and managerial extension, Rhoades (1998) considered “whether and how the introduction of new instructional technologies affects the social relations of work” (p. 8). Rhoades (1998) found that instructional technology may marginalize faculty as their role in the introduction of instructional technology was “largely peripheral” (p. 8). Based on his findings, Rhoades (1998) derived his own theory of marginalization. Full-time tenure-track faculty members were generally uninvolved in instructional technology beyond course delivery and the production of the course was relinquished to instructional technology specialists and coordinators (Rhoades, 1998).

Course ownership was called into question and demonstrated that course delivery was ripe for outsourcing to contingent and part-time faculty members, increasing the stratification of the faculty workforce.

This chapter discusses the qualitative methods used by Rhoades (1998) and the qualitative methods used by this study to trace provisions on instructional technology

throughout faculty collective bargaining agreements. This chapter includes the purpose of the study, the research questions, a description of the research design and rationale, a description of the Higher Education Contract Analysis System (HECAS) and the resources used to acquire the faculty contracts, a discussion of the researcher’s role as the instrument, the methods of data collection and data analysis, and a discussion of the study’s delimitations, assumptions, and limitations.

Purpose of the Study and Research Questions

This study aims to analyze the ways the implementation of instructional technology proscribes higher-education faculty work as coded in faculty collective bargaining agreements. This study replicates and extends the work on the production politics of teaching and technology completed by Rhoades (1998) in his seminal text,

2001; Krippendorff, 2004; Merriam, 2009). Collective bargaining agreements were collected from the HECAS database, state employee relations websites, and individual union webpages. A close reading and content analysis, replicating the thematic and rhetorical analysis conducted by Rhoades (1998), of faculty collective bargaining agreements focused on how the implementation of instructional technology affected higher education faculty was performed, The discussion and findings of this qualitative analysis updates and extends Rhoades’ (1998) findings on HECAS data contributing to the limited research on the effect of instructional technology on higher education faculty.

The study was guided by the following research questions:

1. To what extent do faculty have input and managers have discretion

regarding the general decision to introduce teaching technologies and the

specific choice of which technology to utilize?

2. To what extent does the use of teaching technologies suggest the possible

enskilling or deskilling of faculty, and to what extent does it involve

extending managerial discretion over pedagogy, curriculum, and faculty?

Research Rationale

Rhoades (1998) describes his analysis as grounded in the sociological research on professions and his methodology as such:

I conduct thematic and rhetorical analysis of contractual language regarding

various terms of faculty labor, concentrating on contracts’ themes, rhetoric,

specific terminology, and emphasis. My analysis is primarily a close reading and

systematic content analysis of the contracts. In addition, I conduct some statistical

analysis of the incidence of various provisions by institutional type and …by type

of faculty included in the unit. (p. 6)

Rhoades (1990) initially adopted a critical framework in his analysis on faculty contracts, grounded in the post-structuralism deconstruction methods of Derrida (1982) and the interpretive analytics process of Foucault (1972). In 1993, Rhoades focused his theoretical framework in the critical traditions of professionalization theory. Based in the work by Larson (1977), professionalization theory marked a break from functionalism and diverged from the neo-Marxist theories of power to the subtler monopolies of expertise and control over the domains of professional work (Macdonald, 1995; Rhoades,

1993, 1996). In 1996, Rhoades shifted his conceptual framework from the previous

critical perspective to a neo-functionalist system theory of professions ideology based on insights proposed by Abbott’s (1988) and Brint’s (1994) description of the internal stratification of expert professionalism.

Abbott’s (1988) model focused on the tasks of professional work and the negotiation of the control over those tasks rather than power struggles or monopolies of expertise. Abbott (1988) proposed that negotiations over jurisdictional interactions rather than confrontational power struggles determined control over professional work. The outcome of these negotiations served to establish jurisdictional boundaries between professional groups (Abbott, 1988; Rhoades, 1998). Brint (1994) also focused on the division or stratification of professionals and their political beliefs among and within professions without invoking a social trend (Macdonald, 1995; Rhoades, 1998). Brint

(1994) declared that the link between professions and any special position of exceptional social power or knowledge-based authority had ceased to exist. Professionals have retained the requirement to possess applied formal knowledge but have lost their distinctive voice and authority in the public political arena (Brint, 1994). The implication was that professionals no longer can act as social trustees to mitigate the excesses of the marketplace or influence society but are defined by it (Brint, 1994; Rhoades, 1998).

Rhoades (1998) modifies Abbott’s conceptual framework of jurisdictional negotiations between professions to also include jurisdictional negotiations between professionals and their managers. Rhoades’ (1998) focus shifted from the critical tradition of professionalism theory to the neo-functional systems approach, grounded in the workplace negotiations formalized in faculty contracts and focused on professional autonomy, constraint, managerial discretion, and the internal stratification between and

among different categories of faculty. Using the systems conceptual framework and grounded in previous professionalization theory, Rhoades (1996, 1998) sought to understand the politics of professional work through systematic content analysis of the formalized negotiations in faculty contracts.

Rhoades and Rhoads (2003) indicate that content analysis is “particularly appropriate for exploring discourse” and “not an unusual choice in higher education research” (p. 170). Content analysis is particularly well suited for studies involving large quantities of documents (U.S. General Accounting Office, 1996). Content analysis has been used extensively to examine and analyze documents such as faculty collective bargaining agreements (Delaney, 2009; Kater & Levin, 2004; Levin, 2001a, 2001b, 2005,

2006; Levin et al., 2006; Rhoades, 1990, 1993, 1996, 1998; Gary Rhoades, 2011; G

Rhoades, 2011; Rhoades, 2014, 2017; Rhoades & Maitland, 2000; Rhoades & Rhoads,

2003; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004; Williams & Zirkel, 1988). Beyond collective bargaining agreements, higher education scholars have used content analysis to study adult undergraduate students coverage in higher education journals (Chen, Kim, Moon, &

Merriam, 2008; Donaldson & Townsend, 2007), entrepreneurial frameworks in higher education journals (Mars & Rios-Aguilar, 2010), college marketing strategies (Hartley &

Morphew, 2008), college mission statements (Morphew & Hartley, 2006), and feminist representation in higher education journals (Hart, 2006).

This study employs qualitative content analysis. Qualitative content analysis is a systematic procedure for describing themes and patterns of meaning in the content of written text or documents (Berg, 2001; Krippendorff, 2004; Merriam, 2009). Berg

(2001), building on the work of Miles and Huberman (1994), notes that qualitative analysis involves the following steps:

1. Data are collected and made into text;

2. Codes are analytically developed or inductively identified in the data;

3. Codes are transformed into categorical labels or themes;

4. Materials are sorted by these categories, identifying similar phrases, patterns,

relationships, and commonalities or disparities;

5. Identified patterns are considered in light of previous research and theories, and

a small set of generalizations are established. (p. 240)

Berg (2001) argues that content analysis accomplishes the above stated steps in an effective qualitative analysis. Content analyses have also included counts of textual elements that provide a means for identifying, organizing, indexing, and retrieving data

(Berg, 2001). The collection of numeric as well as narrative data is used to discern substantial patterns (Altheide, 1987; Levin, 2001b). Thematic analysis of the text includes the consideration of the literal words and the context in which they are offered to develop a clearer understanding of the meaning of patterns (Altheide, 1987; Berg, 2001;

Levin, 2001b; Patton, 2002; Rhoades, 2001). Qualitative content analysis intends to document and understand the meaning of document content as well as verify theoretical relationships using basic qualitative principles to collect and analyze data (Altheide,

1987; Berg, 2001).

Data Collection

I started the qualitative content analysis process with the collection of as many current faculty collective bargaining agreements as possible. I centered my study on full-

time and part-time faculty at public two-year and four-year institutions of higher education across the country. I defined current contracts as those that are currently in effect or had been in effect as of January 1, 2012. Contracts are usually three to five years in duration and I wanted to allow for any delay in the submission and/or uploading to the

Internet based resources so I allow for a five-year lag time. My initial sample consisted of

277 faculty contracts. Of the contracts collected, ten did not have any references to instructional technology or related terms, leaving me with 267 contracts in my final analysis.

I extracted the faculty contracts primarily from the Higher Education Contract

Analysis System (HECAS) as well as Internet-based repositories. The HECAS is an

Internet-based repository for faculty collective bargaining agreements compiled by the

National Educational Association (NEA). The majority of contracts contained in HECAS are affiliated with one of the national faculty unions, the NEA, American Association of

University Professors (AAUP) or the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) (Levin,

2000; Rhoades & Maitland, 2000). In 1998, Rhoades worked from a CD-ROM copy of the HECAS database. HECAS has since been made available through an Internet based platform. The HECAS database is password protected and permission must be granted through the NEA or AFT to gain access. I was granted access to the HECAS after gaining the authorization of the President of the Ohio AFT affiliate organization, the Ohio

Federation of Teachers (OFT). The AFT Center for Collective Bargaining maintains the online contract database.

As of January 2017, the AFT version of the HECAS contains 2,888 current contracts for K-12 faculty unions, higher education faculty unions, support staff unions,

and classified staff unions. These contracts have all been in effect within the last ten (10) years. Elementary sorting and organizational searches can be performed in the HECAS.

The HECAS allows the user to search the full text of the contracts in the database by keyword, local name, local number, start date, end date, city, state, employer, bargaining unit size, load date, or the unique ID assigned to each contract. Keyword searches can be limited to search based on labor division, institutional characteristics, employee characteristics, labor union affiliation, and employment status. Additionally, the HECAS database search indicates the number of instances (hit counts) the keywords are found in the database search. Querying the contracts database using the parameters for higher education institutions, public, full-time and part-time employees, yields 323 contracts.

Curiously, if I limit the query to the parameters “higher education”, “public”, “faculty four-year college”, and “faculty two-year college”, an erroneous result of three (3) classified staff contracts is consistently returned. I am left to assume there are errors in the search algorithm or the query input function. HECAS allows for the download of search results into MS Excel worksheets. Returning to former query resulting in 323 contracts, I proceeded to cleanse the possible data set of contracts outside the scope of this study. I eliminated 108 contracts with employee characteristics such as classified staff, graduate employees, professional staff, vocational teachers, other healthcare professionals, and paraprofessionals or were private institutions misclassified as public. I was left with 215 contracts for public higher education faculty at two-year and four-year institutions. The 215 contracts included 64 with employee characteristics classified as faculty at four-year colleges and 151 with employee characteristics classified as faculty at two-year colleges.

The number of contracts does not directly correlate to individual institutions.

Upon reviewing the contracts, the states listed in Table 1 have organized part or all of their public colleges and universities into systems. In these cases, a single statewide contract is negotiated and applies to the entire faculty within the defined system. These systems vary in comprehensiveness from state to state.

The California State University system includes 23 institutions across the state for which there is one contract negotiated between all the faculties and the California State

University Board of Trustees in Sacramento but the California community college faculties negotiate institutional-level contracts with their respective boards of trustees located within the district. The Connecticut State University System includes 12 two-year institutions and four (4) four-year institutions under one statewide faculty contract but excludes the University of Connecticut, which has a separate faculty contract. The State

University of New York (SUNY) includes 27 four-year institutions, classified by the

SUNY system as University Centers and University Colleges, in its current statewide contract with the United University Professions – SUNY union (State University of New

York, 2016). The SUNY system also has an online repository of contracts for the community colleges with in its system. The SUNY community college faculties negotiate contracts with their respective institutional board of trustees rather being part of a statewide agreement. I found nine community contracts on the SUNY system website that are not included in the HECAS. The City University of New York (CUNY) institutions are not included in this study. In 2010, the CUNY institutions negotiated a memorandum of understanding that extended and modified the 2007-2010 contract. The delimitations of this study excluded the 2007-2010 contract and the memorandum.

Table 1

State University Systems with Multi-Campus Faculty Contracts

Number of institutions included in each contract State Four- year Two-year Total Alaska 3 3

California 23 23

Connecticut 4 4

Connecticut 12 12 Hawaii 10 10

Massachusetts 4 4

Minnesota 7 7

Minnesota 30 30 Montana 13 13

Montana 4 4 New Jersey 11 11

New York (SUNY) 27 27

Pennsylvania 14 14

Rhode Island 2 2

Rhode Island 6 6 South Dakota 6 6

Vermont 5 5

Total 129 52 181

The contracts also vary in the inclusiveness of bargaining units. Many bargaining units are exclusively faculty-based, so the contract applies to only that faculty at a given campus or institution. Other contracts include faculty, professional staff, support staff,

100

and/or graduate employees combined under one contract. Some contracts include full- time faculty and part-time faculty in one contract. Other contracts are exclusive to tenure track faculty; non-tenure track faculty have a separate contract with the same institution such as the University of Toledo. This study is focused on faculty so all contracts that include faculty in the bargaining unit were deemed relevant to this study and remain part of the data set.

Submission of contracts to the HECAS is voluntary and therefore incomplete. I supplemented my data through Internet searches for faculty collective bargaining agreements. In my home state Ohio, the majority of public employee contracts are available to the public on a database maintained by the Ohio State Employee Relations

Board (SERB). The Ohio State Employment Relations Board (2016) database includes links to copies of 24 higher education faculty contracts, ten (10) four-year college faculty contracts of which four were not submitted to the HECAS. The Ohio SERB database also includes 14 two-year faculty contracts, including seven that were not in the HECAS database. The State of New Jersey Public Employment Relations Commission (2016) also catalogs community college faculty contracts, with links to the most recent copies of contracts for 16 two-year institutions and two four-year institutions not found on

HECAS.

As a result of the snowballing effect of Internet searches for faculty contract resources, I found another aggregator of higher education faculty information. The

College and University Professional Association for Human Resources (CUPA-HR) produces an annual report of their survey results regarding higher education faculty salaries (Bichsel, 2016). As part of the survey, the responding institutions indicate if the

101

faculty and the institution engage in collective bargaining and are therefore subject to a negotiated contract. The CUPA-HR lists of responding institutions includes the name, state, and system structure of 96 public four-year and 58 public two-year higher education institutions engaged in collective bargaining with faculty. Many of the institutions listed are included in the AFT online version of the HECAS. After cross- referencing the CUPA-HR list with the HECAS search results, I found an additional three contracts from four-year institutions and 12 contracts from two-year institutions. Copies of the contracts are obtained by an Internet search using the institution name followed by the words “faculty contract”. The contract normally was part of the first few results using the Google search engine. An alternative method using the words “faculty union” after the institution name resulted in the union local website being listed in the Google search results. I found union local websites often have a link to the contract for the convenience of its membership.

Furthermore, my searches for individual contracts snow-balled me onto the

American Association of University Professors Collective Bargaining Congress (2016).

This website lists links to the AAUP chapters specifically engaging in collective bargaining, providing access to four more unique public two-year year faculty contracts and four more unique public four-year faculty contracts. The institutions are also in states not previously seen in the sources I previously mined: Nevada, Delaware, Maryland, and

Vermont.

The AFT also maintains an Internet based list of state and local affiliate websites but no new contracts emerged (American Federation of Teachers, 2016). A review of U.

S. Department of Education resources reveals no additional relevant information as the

102

most recent national study of postsecondary faculty was published in 2006, using data from a 2003 survey (Nevill & Bradburn, 2006). Finding predominantly duplicates of contracts in the later sources, I believe I have exhausted the publicly available sources of higher education contracts. I summarize my sources of faculty contracts in Table 2.

Table 2

Faculty Contracts Sources

Source Four-year Two-year

HECAS 64 151

CUPAHR 3 12

Ohio SERB 4 7

AAUP 4 4

NJ PERC 2 16

SUNY 1 9

Total 78 199

My intention for this study was to extend the data pool beyond the HECAS database used by Rhoades (1998). The faculty contracts identified from Internet sources includes 62 more data as well as extends the national range of the data. The HECAS based contracts offers data from institutions in 20 states and the U.S. territory of Guam.

The additional contracts expand the number of states represented to 26 including Alaska,

California, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Hawaii, Illinois, Iowa, Kansas, Maine,

Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New

Jersey, New York, Ohio, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Dakota, Vermont, and Washington.

103

Research Design

I began my qualitative content analysis by purposefully identifying faculty contracts with provisions related to instructional technology. The unit of analysis was a contract provision containing a phrase or substantive mention of an instructional technology stipulation. Finding relevant provisions within the contract was completed by exploratory keyword searches described in the data collection section. Examples of instructional technology keywords included terms such as telecommunications, distance education, online, virtual, eLearning, and Internet. Provisions that were returned that included keywords but were not applicable to instructional technology were disregarded.

I remained open to identifying new search terms as I reviewed the provisions and continued until no new provisions were returned.

This initial keyword search replicated the technique described by Rhoades (1998) and was the first step in a sequential analysis of the data. This initial step allowed the researcher to develop descriptive codes for categorization of the provisions (Rhoades,

1998). The first descriptive code developed by Rhoades (1998) and used in this study was the code “provision.” The contract provision code was used as an identifier for collective bargaining agreements that had any provisions present regarding instructional technology.

After identifying instructional technology related provisions, the second step in my sequence of pattern analysis was to segregate the provisions into the ten descriptive codes generated by Rhoades (1998). The à-priori codes for this study included: provision, deciding to use, training, skills/hiring, prorated pay, piece-rate pay, displacement, new

104

duties, course scheduling, and intellectual property (Rhoades, 1998). These à-priori exploratory and descriptive codes are summarized and defined in Table 3.

Table 3

Descriptive Start Codes

Descriptive Code Definition Provision Contract had provision speaking to instructional technology

Deciding to Use Contract clause regarding the general decision to utilize instructional technology or to select a particular choice in technology Training Contract clause contractually committing institutions to offer training in instructional technology Skills and hiring Selection of faculty to deliver courses with instructional technology based on skills or certifications Prorated pay Pay for developing and delivering course via instructional technology prorated according to faculty member's salary Piece-rate pay Pay for developing and delivering course via instructional technology is a negotiated flat rate or a stipend Displacement Reductions or retrenchment of faculty due to implementation of instructional technology New Duties Duties defined for utilizing instructional technology in addition to existing faculty duties Curriculum Control Control of course approval and assignment/scheduling of course, delivery style, and use of instructional technology Ownership Extent faculty member or institution owns the rights to curricular material

This first-level pattern coding separates the codes into discrete categories or future analysis (Miles & Huberman, 1994). Using pattern coding reduces the provisions data into more manageable analytic units, focusing the data collection for analysis, facilitating the integration of data by the researcher, and suggesting surface themes for

105

analysis (Miles & Huberman, 1994). Rhoades (1998) defines these codes by identifying the thematic patterns within the text of the provisions. These themes emerged after a close reading of the provisions (Rhoades, 1996, 1998). In my close reading of the provisions, I remained open to these à-priori codes as well as other codes and categories that would emerge from the new data.

I purposefully sampled the collected faculty contract provisions relevant to the research questions (Boyatzis, 1988; Krippendorff, 2004). During and at the completion of sampling, contract provision examples that represented the variations in contract provisions were selected for further in-depth analysis with the goal of eliciting findings grounded in the theoretical frameworks (Krippendorff, 2004).

Data Analysis

NVivo software allows all aspects of this qualitative research study to be managed in one place including source materials, data files, coding system, analytical thoughts, and analytical tools to visualize results (Stanford University, 2011). The NVivo software provides the tools and organizational structure to upload and build a relational database based solely on my selected data sources. I began by creating a new project in the software interface and uploaded the collect bargaining agreements as data sources. The collective bargaining agreements were collected within the NVivo software as internals: primary source materials relevant to the project and available for coding and analysis.

The collective bargaining agreements were initially categorized by institution type, public two-year institutions and public four-year institutions.

The relevant contract provisions were collected and sorted into the à-priori codes in the NVivo software in preparation for subsequent analysis. The NVivo software allows

106

for the storage of data into large folders based on the themes or topics the researcher determined appropriate for the proper sorting of the sources (Stanford University, 2011).

NVivo terms these codes or themes as nodes. A node is effectively a code in basic qualitative research terminology (Stanford University, 2011). Once a node is created, one can create node hierarchies in much the same way researchers have made code trees as they manually code on paper, moving from general topics to more specific topics

(Stanford University, 2011). The first nodes and sub-nodes in my node hierarchy were based on the à-priori codes listed in Table 3. As I immersed myself in the identified provisions of the faculty collective bargaining agreements, additional emergent codes were added to node hierarchy in NVivo. Nodes and sub-nodes were created, edited, and rearranged for clearer and finer categorization of contracts provisions within the NVivo project.

The above exploratory and descriptive pattern coding of the provisions is an organizational and intermediate step in the analytical process (Boyatzis, 1988; Miles &

Huberman, 1994). Through the constant process of reviewing and rewriting the code into applicable patterns, the development clusters of codes around meaningful phrases or themes begins to coalesce (Boyatzis, 1988; Miles & Huberman, 1994). Rhoades (1998) reduces the raw data of his descriptive codes into three clusters based on common themes for further analysis. The themes derived by Rhoades (1998) and replicated here were: deciding to use and selecting specific technologies, faculty job skills and autonomy, and faculty autonomy and managerial control. During revision and analysis, Rhoades (1998) reduces the codes of prorated pay and piece-rate pay into a combined code of remuneration. Rhoades further refines the previous code new duties to the code job

107

autonomy and the code curriculum to discretionary control of the curriculum. These code changes reflect finding the more nuanced wording of the provisions and were be more helpful in developing insights during further analysis (Boyatzis, 1988). I replicated these clusters in my analysis as well as remain open to additional or alternative clusters that would emerge from the new data. Rhoades (1998) identifies and discusses sample provisions in the contracts that were emblematic of the theoretical perspectives of deskilling, enskilling, and managerial extension. The themes and evidence Rhoades

(1998) found are discussed in chapter 5.

The initial codes found in Table 3 served as my à priori codes however, I recognized that not all of Rhoades’ categories might be relevant to the current text in collective bargaining agreements. Altheide (1987) explains that using initial coding categories can guide the study and merely reflects prior research informing observations and analysis. Boyatzis (1988) indicates that with proper development, the use of someone else’s codes increases interrater reliability, also described as rater-to-expert reliability.

The established codes lend validity to the replicated study (Boyatzis, 1988).

The frequency, variety, and number of times the instructional technology provisions are included in contracts gave me insight into the meanings and nuances within the data (Merriam, 2009). Counting and the use of à priori categorical protocols are ordinarily viewed heretical in basic qualitative research but analyzing such a large quantity of documents necessitates using a systematic process of analysis if not adherence to a rigid protocol (Altheide, 1987; Berg, 2001). Qualitative content analysis allows items to be counted and put into categories but also provides good narrative, descriptive information such as frequency of code term use in support of theoretical claims (Altheide,

108

1987; Berg, 2001; Levin, 2001b). The investigator remains the instrument not the categorical organization structure or the count (Altheide, 1987; Berg, 2001). Levin

(2001b) maintains that counting only ensures there is a substantial quantity of data to discern patterns buried within large samples. Thematic analysis of the patterns or frequency leads to finding meaning and understanding (Berg, 2001; Krippendorff, 2004;

Levin, 2001b).

Rhoades (1996) describes counting and the use of descriptive statistics as common practice in qualitative content analysis of collective bargaining agreements to assist in organizing the large volume document and in clarifying patterns in the samples.

To that effect, Rhoades performs a chi-squared analysis of the contract provisions found in his 1998 study, finding no significant relationship between the incidence of provisions and the institution type, two-year public or four-year public, therefore it was unnecessary to disaggregate the data for analysis. I also performed this statistical analysis to determine significant relationships existed between the incidence of provisions and the institution type within the current collective bargaining agreements.

Qualitative content analysis is a set of analytic techniques for the systematic analysis of the manifest and latent themes found in text (Berg, 2001; Boyatzis, 1988;

Krippendorff, 2004). Krippendorff (2004) describes qualitative content analysis as both exploratory and descriptive that qualitatively examined the merits of theoretical constructs. Rhoades (1998) uses qualitative content analysis to explore and describe instructional technology provisions in faculty collective bargaining agreements and examine the provisions through the lens of deskilling, enskilling, and managerial extension. In this study, I replicated and extended Rhoades’ (1998) analysis. The study’s

109

analysis was a sequential pattern search, moving from exploratory searches to descriptive coding, to thematic analysis grounded in deskilling, enskilling, and managerial extension.

In my analysis of the patterns and themes, I reflect upon theoretical frameworks of deskilling, enskilling, and marginalization to determine whether the text supported any of the theoretical perspectives.

The Researcher as the Instrument of Data Collection and Analysis

As the instrument of data collection, data analysis, and data interpretation, my assumptions, bias, views, and relationships to collective bargaining need to be brought to light. I grew up in a union household. Unionism was a formative part of my childhood; my father advocated for and went on strike in 1981 when I was 10 years old. It was the first strike in 114 years of the company ever since its existence. It made an impression on me. It was a defining moment for my family and remains a regular topic of discussion among my immediate family members. My father retired after 38 years from the same job though the company name and ownership changed several times after the strike due to corporate buyouts and mergers.

My personal union affiliations and experiences were not as consistent throughout my working life. At 16, I was required to join the United Food and Commercial Workers

(UFCW) as condition of employment at Revco Drugs, Inc. My one interaction with union officials involved a grievance regarding inequity of pay; I was told the company could do whatever they wanted. I soon quit and found a job at a non-union retail warehouse store, making more money and working with better managers. The UFCW was trying to organize a union the employees at my new job. During my interview for the new job, the managers asked me what my involvement was with the UFCW at Revco. I remember

110

telling the new managers that I had no use for the UFCW after they refused to acknowledge my grievance.

After completing my bachelor’s degree, I worked in several private-sector professional/management positions in union and nonunion environments. I have sat on both sides of the bargaining table in my adult career. I was never comfortable on the management side and was regularly disillusioned by the constant focus on profit over ethics. I considered myself lucky to move into an academic position at a community college.

I am currently an Assistant Professor at Terra State Community College and the

Vice-President of the Terra Faculty Association, my college’s local affiliate of the

American Federation of Teachers. I have been on the faculty’s negotiating team for two contracts while simultaneously serving as a Norwalk Catholic Schools Governing Board member, chairing the Staffing Committee.

Being directly involved in faculty union administration creates the potential for being biased to the needs of the faculty members. Yet, it also provides me with a frame of reference similar to the research perspective of a direct participant-observer. While I have not been a participant in the negotiation of all but one contract in the data set, I have seen and actively participated in the forging of contract language. This experience provides me with insight into how and why contract language is formulated during the process of negotiation. My experience informs my analysis by allowing me to relate to the provision language from personal experience to find meaning in the contract clauses.

Completion of this study fulfills the requirements for a Ph. D in Higher Education

Administration. A doctorate greatly increases my qualifications to move into

111

management positions that I have decided not to seek and declined to accept at my own institution based on the current organizational and social context. During this study, my idealism regarding the future of higher education has been tempered. Thus, I had many contradictions and complexities in my personal experiences with collective bargaining to reflect upon during my analysis.

I am the investigator and the instrument of analysis. Qualitative content analysis is embedded in constant discovery and constant comparison of the relevant data. The thematic stage is highly reflexive and interactive. The descriptive statistics and NVivo software assisting me in organizing the data and results but the interpretation and meaning resides with me and my reflection upon the theoretical relevance of the data. I strove to remain central to the process, but continuously moved between theoretical perspectives, data collection, categorization, coding, sampling, analysis, interpretation, and continuous reexamination. I remained open to new categories, patterns, trends, and themes emerging through my reflexive comparisons within, between, and among the instructional technology provisions in the collective bargaining agreements. The continuous reflexive process led to a more refined exploration and reconceptualization of the data as I reached saturation within the data.

Qualitative content analysis of this large sample took an extensive time commitment. The reflexive process required movement between, within, and among the collective bargaining agreements as I collected and analyzed the instructional technology provisions, I anticipated having to reexamine the individual collective bargaining agreements many times, as I collected data and categorize the provisions.

112

Beyond being the repository of the collective bargaining agreements, the NVivo software created an extensive audit trail of my categorizing, coding, and qualitative thematic analysis of the provisions found in the collective bargaining agreements.

Beyond the NVivo software files, I maintained electronic and printed copies of the collective bargaining agreements to create an inherently stable source of data; making recheck of the data and analysis easily assessable.

A preliminary study of the collective bargaining agreements in the HECAS helped me reflect on my research interests, spurred my review of the literature, and resulted in being the genesis for the study proposal. During the preliminary study, I was able to acquaint myself with the HECAS database by generating a basic descriptive analysis of the collective bargaining agreements. Based on my preliminary study, review of the literature, and the effort necessary to produce this proposal, I realized this present study would involve extensive engagement with the data and an extensive time commitment to develop a meaningful thematic analysis.

Assumptions and Limitations

I contend that the HECAS database is not comprehensive and has limited research capabilities beyond the keyword search. The HECAS system lacks any true tracking or data analysis tools necessary for the scale and requirements of this study. The HECAS does offer the convenience of having a ready collection of contracts; the system is lacking in traceability of the data and capacity for organization during analysis. Additionally, the

HECAS search algorithm has demonstrated errors and for lack of a better term, can be quirky. Through trial and error, I have found it best to make my queries using broad characteristics to identify a useable set of results. To increase accuracy, the data in the

113

contracts must be transferred to another system for analysis and tracking of the contract provision data or done manually using paper printouts. The capabilities of the NVivo software overcame these deficiencies after the contracts were uploaded into the system.

NVivo software is capable of more complex document search strategies, as well as, coding, categorization, analysis, and tracking capabilities as I immerse myself in the collective bargaining agreements. As a result, my assumption was that as a superior data- analysis software, NVivo would and did resolve issues related to the organization and analysis of voluminous textual data.

The contracts are voluntarily submitted to the HECAS system and I assume that those submitting the contracts have made every effort to upload complete, updated, and unaltered documents. The voluntary submission process can introduce a select-selection bias. Union locals or state affiliates that are consistent in submissions are overrepresented while other unions and state affiliates are underrepresented. The submission format also allows for the submitter to define the document characterization. Misunderstanding of the predefine characteristics is a likely source of error. This is one reason why I endeavored to seek additional sources for faculty contracts.

I would never be able to obtain all the faculty contracts for analysis. Not all faculty unions make their contracts publicly available online. Many do not actively maintain websites or alternatively, the website is maintained but is password protected.

Not all states allow higher education faculty to engage in collective bargaining. Public employees are exempt from the federal labor relations laws so it is up to states to enact legislation. Regionally the Southeastern United States, with the exception of Florida, lacks any appreciable collective bargaining at the higher education institutions.

114

Delimitations

I restricted my collection to contracts that are in effect or have been in effect within the past five years (2012-2017). Instructional technology has been implemented widely since 1998 and I wanted to have the most recent available data to capture the current trends for analysis and comparison. I have restricted the study to faculty contracts from public four-year and two-year higher education institutions. This study is inclusive of all public institution faculty contracts, including full-time, part-time, tenure-track and non-tenure track. I excluded faculty contracts with private not-for-profit higher education institutions. The private institutions that have retained faculty union representation are few compared to the number of public institutions and were not ordinarily included in the previous research. The contracts must all address instructional technology in some fashion to be included. If the instructional technology is not addressed in any appreciable way, the contract was not used in this study.

Summary

Rhoades’ (1998) conceptualization of higher education faculty as managed professionals and its sociological theoretical foundations frames my research. Rhoades

(1998) analyzed the faculty contracts for evidence of deskilling, enskilling, and managerial extension in relation to the implementation of instructional technology. In replicating Rhoades’ study, I focused on faculty collective bargaining agreements to discern the provisions changing due to instructional technology implementation. These provisions were collected, coded, and analyzed for evidence of enskilling, deskilling, and managerial extension, as described by Rhoades (1998).

115

This study was a qualitative thematic study of faculty collective bargaining agreements using qualitative content analysis to collect and analyze the data as applied by

Rhoades (1998). Data was gathered from the Higher Education Contract Analysis

System, AAUP chapter websites, state public employee relations websites, faculty union local websites, and state higher education system websites.

Rhoades (1998) found that faculty who have been marginalized by instructional technology risk losing autonomy, control over work, and job security. The higher education literature has focused on the course delivery quality, assessment, and acceptance of instructional technology in higher education. Beyond the work of Levin,

Rhoades, and their collaborations with other researchers, little is known about how faculty at public two-year and four-year institutions are addressing instructional technology in collective bargaining agreements.

116

Chapter 4

Analysis

Purpose of the Study and Research Questions

This study analyzed the ways the implementation of instructional technology proscribes higher-education faculty work as coded in faculty collective bargaining agreements. This study replicates and extends the work on the production politics of teaching and technology completed by Rhoades (1998) in his seminal text, Managed professionals: Unionized faculty and restructuring academic labor. This study employs qualitative content analysis as a systematic procedure for describing themes and patterns of meaning in the content of faculty collective bargaining agreement (Berg, 2001;

Boyatzis, 1988; Krippendorff, 2004). Collective bargaining agreements were collected from the HECAS database, state employee relations websites, and individual union webpages. A close reading and content analysis of faculty collective bargaining agreements focused on how the implementation of instructional technology affects higher education faculty is performed, replicating the thematic and rhetorical analysis conducted by Rhoades (1998). The discussion and findings of this qualitative analysis update and extend Rhoades’ (1998) findings on HECAS data, contributing to the limited research on the effect of instructional technology on higher education faculty. The study is guided by the following research questions:

1. To what extent do faculty have input and managers have discretion

regarding the general decision to introduce teaching technologies and the

specific choice of which technology to utilize?

117

2. To what extent does the use of teaching technologies suggest the possible

enskilling or deskilling of faculty, and to what extent does it involve

extending managerial discretion over pedagogy, curriculum, and faculty?

Data Analysis

My initial sample consisted of 277 faculty contracts of which 10 contained no reference to instructional technology, leaving 267 contracts for further analysis. The contracts collected represented institutions in 28 states and the U.S. Territory of Guam.

The distribution of contracts by state is listed in Table 4. Regionally, Midwestern states along with West and East coast states are represented. The Southeastern United States are underrepresented, with the exception of Florida. One explanation for the underrepresentation is the appreciably lower rate of union representation in the

Southeastern region of the United States.

As stated in the previous chapter, some of the individual contracts collected were statewide contracts. Statewide faculty contracts are negotiated with state boards of higher education and govern multiple institutions, campuses, and locations in four-year or two- year institution systems. Thus, state systems aggregate many institutions under one statewide contract, which in turn masks the total number of institutions represented in this study dataset. The statewide contracts and the number of institutions that each contract governs are listed in Table 5.

118

Table 4

States Represented in Faculty Contract Dataset

Institutional type State Four-year Two-year Total

Alaska 3 3

California 1 43 44

Connecticut 1 1 2 Delaware 2 2 Florida 6 7 13 Guam 1 1

Hawaii 1 1 Iowa 1 2 3 Illinois 5 24 29 Kansas 2 3 5

Massachusetts 1 3 4 Maryland 2 2 Maine 2 2 Michigan 12 15 27

Minnesota 1 1 2

Montana 6 3 9 Nebraska 2 1 3 New Hampshire 2 2 4

New Jersey 6 12 18 Nevada 2 2

New York 1 13 14 Ohio 13 14 27 Oregon 4 13 17

Pennsylvania 1 5 6

Rhode Island 1 2 3

South Dakota 1 1

Vermont 2 2 4 Washington 2 25 27 Wisconsin 2 2

119

Table 5

State University Systems with Multi-Campus Faculty Contracts

Number of institutions included in each contract State Four- year Two-year Total Alaska 3 3

California 23 23

Connecticut 4 4

Connecticut 12 12 Hawaii 10 10

Massachusetts 4 4

Minnesota 7 7

Minnesota 30 30 Montana 13 13

Montana 4 4 New Jersey 11 11

New York(SUNY) 27 27

Pennsylvania 14 14

Rhode Island 2 2

Rhode Island 6 6 South Dakota 6 6

Vermont 5 5

Total 129 52 181

The analysis of the contracts began with a keyword search replicating the technique described by Rhoades (1998) as a sequential analysis of the data. After loading the contracts into an NVivo project file, the contracts were searched using keywords

120

related to instructional technology. Examples of searched instructional technology keywords included terms such as telecommunications, distance education, online, virtual, eLearning, and Internet. I remained open to identifying new search terms as I reviewed the provisions and continued until no new provisions were returned. Using this exploratory keyword search, I was able to identify relevant instructional technology contract provisions containing a keyword. Provisions returned that included keywords but were not applicable to instructional technology were disregarded. The relevant provisions found were logically located within the contract sections that more broadly referred to instructional technology. Additional relevant provisions were identified in the contracts by closely reading the contract language adjacent to provisions found in the keyword search. A close reading of relevant sections within the faculty contracts allowed me to identify and collect relevant contract provisions as my data for further analysis.

Reflecting upon my close reading, I defined the unit of analysis as a contract provision containing a phrase, sentence, or paragraph with a substantive mention of an instructional technology. Relevant provisions referring to instructional technology were collected and stored in a node labeled “provision” in the NVivo software. This first descriptive code, provision, was the collection of all found relevant provisions. I remained open to identifying new search terms as I reviewed the provisions and continued until no new provisions were returned. In this process, two additional descriptive codes were found

After identifying instructional technology related provisions, the next step in my sequence of analysis was to segregate the provisions into the ten (10) descriptive codes generated by Rhoades (1998). The à-priori codes for this study included: provision, deciding to use, training, skills/hiring, prorated pay, piece-rate pay, displacement, new

121

duties, course scheduling, and intellectual property (Rhoades, 1998). I remained open to the emergence of additional codes not previously identified. Two additional codes did emerge as I coded the provisions. I refer to these new codes as evaluation and privacy.

The descriptive codes are summarized and defined in Table 6.

Table 6

Descriptive Codes

Descriptive Code Definition

Provision Contract had provision speaking to instructional technology Deciding to Use and Contract clause regarding the general decision to utilize Select Technology instructional technology or to select a particular choice in technology Training and Contract clause contractually committing institutions to offer Support training and support in instructional technology Skills and hiring Selection of faculty to deliver courses with instructional technology based on skills or certifications Remuneration Pay for developing and delivering course via instructional Prorated pay technology prorated according to faculty member's salary Remuneration Pay for developing and delivering course via instructional Piece-rate pay technology is a negotiated flat rate or a stipend Displacement Reductions or retrenchment of faculty due to implementation of instructional technology New Duties Duties defined for utilizing instructional technology in addition to existing faculty duties Curriculum Control Control of course approval and assignment/scheduling of course, delivery style, and use of instructional technology Ownership Extent faculty member or institution owns the rights to curricular material Evaluation Use of instructional technology in the faculty review process for continued employment, promotion, and/or tenure. Privacy Provisions regarding a faculty member’s expectation of privacy, management surveillance, and appropriate use of instructional technology

122

Results

The results of the qualitative contract analysis appear below along with the research questions of the study:

1. To what extent do faculty have input and managers have discretion

regarding the general decision to introduce teaching technologies and the

specific choice of which technology to utilize?

2. To what extent does the use of teaching technologies suggest the possible

enskilling or deskilling of faculty, and to what extent does it involve

extending managerial discretion over pedagogy, curriculum, and faculty?

To address research question one, I analyzed faculty contracts by category, focusing on specific references to faculty rights in deciding to use and select technology.

The extent that faculty have input, autonomy, or authority to choose instructional technology equipment, software, and applications provides insight into faculty- management relationships. Faculty without input into instructional technology use and selection are effectively being deskilled in that managers are dictating the mode and method of instruction. If faculty have the right to select instructional technologies and determine the appropriate uses of technology, there is evidence of enskilling. The amount of autonomy and opportunities for input the faculty experience in the use and selection of instructional technology gives insight into the professional status of faculty within higher education. As professionals, faculty input on decisions related to the effectiveness of new technology on student learning, a subject normally reserved as a faculty responsibility must be respected by the institutional management (Rhoades, 1998).

123

In addressing my second research questions I analyzed the remaining codes: training and support, skills and hiring, remuneration, displacement, new duties, curriculum control, and ownership, looking for evidence in the contracts’ language of enskilling, deskilling, or management extension. Enskilling evidence includes faculty receiving training and support to gain new marketable skills that are valued and reward by additional remuneration by the institution (Rhoades, 1998). Enskilling enhances the professional status of faculty by expanding the expertise required by new skills (Rhoades,

1998). Evidence for enskilling includes these new skills being influential in the hiring and placement of new faculty members. Evidence of deskilling includes contract provisions allowing the displacement of full-time faculty by less qualified part-time instructors or contingent personnel facilitated by instructional technology (Rhoades, 1998).

Evidence of deskilling includes a loss of curriculum control and control over course materials delivery and continued ownership (Rhoades, 1998). Evidence of deskilling are provisions making the full-time faculty less relevant to the delivery of course materials. The faculty are effectively deskilled if their role ends at providing course content, severing their connection to the student. The faculty are not needed for course delivery if technologists possess the skills needed to manipulate and present the materials via instructional technology.

Faculty paid to develop course materials at a piece-rate, a one-time stipend or flat- rate per course or student enrolled, commonly must cede control of the course materials to management upon completion of course development. The faculty risk becoming content providers with little control over the use and delivery of the course content. The loss of control over future course content, use, and delivery provides evidence for

124

deskilling. Management gains the ability to use the course materials and to task contingent, less-qualified, lower paid instructors with course delivery (Rhoades, 1998).

The originating faculty potentially loses connection and control of the course materials in the absence of contract provisions that maintain faculty curriculum control and ownership.

The additional categories that emerged in this study, evaluation and privacy, provide evidence related to enskilling and management extension. The provisions found in this study provide evidence that the use of instructional technology is now part of faculty evaluations for continued appointment, promotion, and tenure. An increased skill expectation is consistent with enskilling. The provisions also provide evidence for enskilling if the new skills are rewarded with increased professional status, remuneration, or autonomy. Alternatively, new skill requirement without reward or the professional discretion in the use of the skills indicates a loss of autonomy and an extension of management control. Faculty autonomy in the delivery of course materials and overall course control is threatened by the ease of management monitoring instructional technology facilitated courses. Emails, digital calls, video captures, and course management systems are capable of recording every faculty interaction. Contract provisions addressing faculty privacy expectations, restricting management surveillance and monitoring, and acceptable uses of technology provide evidence of managerial extension.

Rereading and reflecting on the provisions grouped in each descriptive code, I found differences in provisions that illustrated diverse intents and evidence between the provisions on the same topic. The analysis of the provisions categorized into eleven

125

descriptive codes continued by subdividing the coded provisions into more finely grouped subcategories. These subcategories reflected specific differences in the provision language or intent. The subcategories remain interrelated and part of the parent code but illustrate differing approaches to address the issues of the parent descriptive code. This further analysis is organized by descriptive code, with a discussion of the subcategories and the evidence of enskilling, deskilling, and managerial extension found in the provisions.

Provision. Of the 277 contracts collected, 10 did not have any references to instructional technology or related terms, leaving 267, equating to 96.4%, of the data set contracts containing provision regarding instructional technology. The 267 contracts consisted of 76 (28.5%) four-year institutions and 191 (71.5%) two-year institutions. A

Chi-square test of independence showed that there was no significant relationship between institution type and the incidence of a provision regarding instructional technology, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.34, p = .56.

Deciding to use, and selecting technology. Of the 267 contracts in this study that refer to instructional technology in some way, 61 (22.8%) contracts refer to the decision to use or select the types and sources of instructional technology. Of these 61 contracts,

18 (6.7%) are from four-year institutions and 43 (16.1%) are from two two-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship, between the institution type and provisions regarding deciding to use or select instructional technology, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.04, p = .84. The 61 contracts’ provisions referring to the decision to use and select instructional technology are divided between provisions that reserve the decision as a management right and provisions that

126

involve faculty discretion or input through a shared governance structure or other formal committee.

In 15 (5.6%) contract references, management specifically reserves the right within the contract to choose instructional technology or mandate a specific system. As an example:

Except as specifically limited by law the University shall have, in addition to all

powers, duties, and rights established by constitutional provision, statue,

ordinance, charter, or special act, the exclusive power, duty, and the right to take

such actions as may be necessary to carry out the mission of the University. Some

examples include…8. implement and provide technology in areas including, but

not limited to, distance education. (University of Alaska, 2015-2017, Article

12.2.)

Another example of such provisions is more direct, “The College shall determine the course management system to be used” (Nassau Community College - Florida, 2013-

2017, Article 9-4.3.). In other instances, the college considers faculty preferences, among other factors, but reserves the right to make all decisions in the use and selection of instructional technology, as is evident in the following provision:

The District reserves the right to offer courses in any medium it determines best

meets the needs of the student. The District may consider schedule, faculty

preference, student preference, historical patterns of class offering and available

technology in determining how a class will be offered. The District will utilize

available technology in evaluating non-traditional courses. (West Hills

Community College – California, 2013-2016, Article 20.1.)

127

Forty-nine contracts contain provisions allowing faculty input on the decision to use and choose instructional technology. This faculty input generally takes place through faculty participation on a committee or other shared governance body, as prescribed in the following contracts:

A college should establish an information technology committee to address issues

regarding the college's use of technology. Equal AFT and Academic Senate

faculty representation should be included on this committee. (Los Angeles

Community College, 2014-2017, Article 32.H.)

This Committee recommends action plans to support the technology needs and

technology users of the College in promoting student learning outcomes. This

Committee maintains currency in computer technology and academic applications

of computer technology for both students and faculty. The Committee also

identifies needs of technology planning, distance learning, and appropriate

training. Chair Elected by the Committee. Composition Four (4) faculty - one (1)

of whom shall be from a technology-related department, an equal number of

members appointed by the College President and one (1) additional voting

member selected by the Committee. (Guam Community College, 2010-2016,

Article VII.D.d.3.)

In limited terms within a singular case, faculty negotiated full professional discretion to decide on the use and selection of instructional technology, “The final determination as to which e-mail accounts and communications resources Faculty Members use shall be at the Faculty Member's professional discretion” (Coast Community College – California,

2015-2018, Article 12.3.a.).

128

There are instances of overlap within contracts in this category. Individual contracts possess terms that reserve the right of management to make the final decision but also contain provisions for faculty input on the decision to use instructional technology. The overlap of references does not necessarily indicate the contracts have contradicting clauses. For example, institutions commonly mandate the use of the adopted course management system, as is evident in the following provision:

Technical support is limited to AVCCD owned software, equipment, or

contracted services and is limited to AVCCD premises. All Distance Education

online/hybrid courses must be delivered using the course management system

adopted by the College. (Antelope Valley Community College - California, 2012-

2015, Article XVII.6.)

Yet, prior to adoption or institutional change in the course management system, faculty are included in a committee or at minimum have an option to provide input on decisions before an official change.

In recognition of the rapidity with which technology is changing, the District and

the Federation will negotiate all new issues related to distance learning should the

parties mutually agree to do so. (Antelope Valley Community College -

California, 2012-2015, Article XVII.14.)

The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institutional type and management reserving the right to choose instructional technology, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.56, p = .45, nor the presence of faculty input on the decisions, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.14, p = .71.

129

Training and support. This category includes contract clauses contractually committing institutions to offer training and support in instructional technology.

Institutions offering faculty training on instructional technology and valuing the new skill development provides evidence of enskilling. The expectation of faculty to obtain new skills independently without reward is evidence of deskilling and management extension.

The training and support contract provisions discussed below are further subdivided and categorized into specific aspects of training and support. Provisions can be general, enumerating the basic office equipment and access to instruction technology systems to be provided by the institution. More specific provisions refer to what, when, where, and how technical support will be provided. Other clauses address specific training that must be voluntarily offered or will be specifically provided by the institution.

Ninety-two (34.5%) of the 267 faculty contracts contain a provision regarding training and support of the faculty in the use of instructional technology. Two-year institutions account for 67 (25%) of the contracts with the remaining 25 (9.3%) being four-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institutional type and having any contract provision regarding training and support, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.11, p = .73. I further subdivided the training and support provisions based on common themes within the provisions to more clearly understand what evidence for enskilling, deskilling, or management extension was present.

The common themes include provisions guaranteeing access and instructional technology equipment are enumerated in 35 (13.1%) contracts. Institutions are conceding

130

and formally recognizing faculty use and access to instructional technology is now a necessary part of higher-education that must be supported, as in the following provisions:

A well working environment promotes effective and sustainable teaching,

learning, service and research. Therefore, within the limits of available resources

and within the University’s discretion, the University acknowledges its

commitment to provide libraries, technology, classrooms assignments and

faculty support responsive to the needs of students and faculty to meet the

research mission and instructional/pedagogical needs of the departments,

consistent with high quality research and teaching at a nationally recognized

research university (University of Illinois – Chicago, 2015-2018, Article VII.A.)

The College shall assume, if preapproved, the charges associated with

correspondence, telephone, e-mail, or other forms of communication between

teacher and student(s) which may be incurred in the conduct of Distance

Education, whether incurred at a campus or off-campus location. (Henry Ford

Community College – Michigan, 2013-2018, Article XII.C.4.)

More basic instructional technology needs such as access to and use of a telephone, computer, and an institutional email account, are also addressed in faculty contracts. This set of provisions provides evidence that faculty unions and institutions are recognizing the need of full-time tenure track faculty, non-tenure track contingent faculty, and part- time faculty to have equal and continued access to instructional technology. The following example provision is from a nontenure-track faculty contract:

Technology and technological support will be made available, without charge, as

required by the Employee's employment obligations. This includes an MSU e-

131

mail account, institutional file space, and access to computing facilities

(including internet access). (Michigan State University – Michigan, 2014-2018,

Article 13.II.2.)

A unique and very specific provision that leverages known budget line items to guarantee continued equipment updates, support, along with financial support of adjunct faculty members is provided below:

The funds reserved for faculty computing [$300,000 annually] laboratory and

academic equipment [$204,000 annually] and adjunct faculty teaching

[$100,000] will remain in the budget annually for their intended purposes.

Faculty computing funds shall be allotted in their entirety for the purpose of

providing information technology to faculty members. The replacement process

for faculty computers will be managed by the Administration. The annual

$100,000 reduction of these funds from prior CBA will be allocated in FY14 and

FY15 to adjunct faculty teaching critical courses who have a strong history of

employment with the University of Montana. Documentation of this allocation

will be provided to the UFA by March 15, 2014 and March 15, 2015. (Montana

University System, 2013-2017, Article 4.220.)

The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institutional type and having any contract provision regarding providing instructional technology equipment and access, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.17, p = .68

Twenty-eight (10.4%) of the 92 contracts have provisions that provide assurances but no specific commitment to deliver instructional technology training and support for faculty. The language in these provisions is noncommittal and is often dependent on

132

whether funds can be made available, such as in the following example, “within the limits of available resources, the University shall provide technology, software, equipment, and personnel” (Youngstown State University – Ohio, 2011-2014, Article 31.3.). Other provisions are more specific in the instructional technology support that must be provided and by whom. Specific support positions and duties are described in the following provision example:

Each Instructional Designer under a regular appointment in the e-Learning

Department shall: A. Assist faculty or staff in combining emerging technologies

with instructional pedagogy to support the creation, development, management

and/or delivery of various courses, programs, and/or collegewide initiatives. B.

Assist in identifying, implementing and communicating the technical processes

that support the distance learning program’s infrastructure. C. All other related

duties as assigned.

Each Instructional Systems Support Coordinator under a regular

appointment in the e-Learning Department shall: A. Provide technical and

systems support for instructors and students involved in web-based instruction,

including hardware maintenance, software integration, and other applications used

in e-Learning technologies. B. Provide operational reports and statistics on e-

Learning course activity and course participation. C. Provide faculty training

and/or workshops on using e-Learning technologies. D. All other related duties as

assigned. (Owens Community College – Ohio, 2012-2015, Appendix D.)

The above support positions also offer evidence for the potential marginalization of faculty by the dependence on support personnel to deliver courses via instructional

133

technology. Conversely, other contract provisions stipulate instructional technology support tasks and duties that faculty will not perform, protecting the professional status of the faculty and segregating faculty duties from technical tasks. The implication is that the institution must provide support technicians to perform these tasks.

Classroom instructors are not required to set up, maintain, and repair College-

owned or leased equipment and/or software required for the delivery of distance

education courses. (Sussex County Community College – New Jersey, 2012-

2015, Article 29.E.)

Another contract provision specifically requires that permission must be granted by the institution prior to faculty using instructional technology support services.

The employee shall not make use of appreciable University support in the creation

or revision of instructional technology materials unless the University approves

such use in advance and in writing. (University of South Florida, 2010-2013,

Article 9.9.D.)

The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and contract provisions for instructional technology technical support, χ2 (1, N = 267) =3.18, p = .07.

In 27 (10.1%) of the faculty contracts, institutions agree that instructional technology training will be offered, made available, encouraged, or mandatory for the employee. The common language of the provisions includes vague training promises, lacking specific training content, duration, or competency required, as in the following examples:

134

To promote faculty involvement in non-traditional delivery systems that improve

student access to higher education, the College will, to the extent feasible, invest

in available training and development activities in the support of Online Learning.

(Elgin College – Illinois, 2014-2016, Article 4.11.)

In the event that a Faculty member develops and/or teaches, for the first time, a

distance education course, the Faculty member will receive appropriate

professional development and technical support assistance. (Kent State University

– Ohio, 2015-2018, Article XXI.5.)

Training and skill levels are often mandated for faculty by the institution even if no provision for specific institution provided training is delineated, “all faculty are expected to obtain and maintain appropriate skill levels for distance learning instruction”

(Terra State Community College – Ohio, 2015-2018, Article 8.09.). The requirement for the institution to provide training is often not clarified. In another contract, training is mandatory for the professional staff included in this combined counselors and faculty bargaining unit. There is no reference to faculty training in the contract. The training only reference is for full-time professional staff intending to teach a course using instructional technology.

Full-time professional staff teaching technology-enhanced courses will receive at

least fifteen (15) hours of professional development. Attendance at such training

is mandatory. In addition, advanced training will be offered to full-time

professional staff already using enhanced-technology. Advanced training is not

mandatory. For either introductory (basic) or advanced training, the full-time

135

professional staff will be compensated at twenty dollars ($20.00) per hour.

(Eastern Gateway Community College – Ohio, 2013-2016, Article XXVIII.P.2.)

In one case, faculty are eligible for training upon administrative approval. If approved, the faculty member is expected to pay course fees to the institution.

Employees who have received prior approval by the Vice President of Instruction

and Student Services may enroll in the four-credit course Teaching Online

Courses and the six-credit course Developing Online Courses. A course will be

offered each semester. Employees will pay fees for enrolling in the course per the

provisions of the Collective Bargaining Agreement. Successful completion of the

course includes the development or conversion of a face to face course to an

online or hybrid course that will become part of the FVCC online course bank.

The developed course will be the intellectual property of Flathead Valley

Community College. (Flathead Community College – Montana, 2016-2019,

Article 6.61.)

In the above provision, the faculty are being required to gain skills and to pay the institution for the privilege rather than being rewarded by the institution. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and the provisions assuring faculty support and training, χ2 (1, N = 267) =1.46, p =

.23, with five four-year institutions and 22 two-year institutions.

Contract language requiring the institution to provide specific instructional technology training, certification, and support is found in 23 (8.6%) faculty contracts.

These provisions state the specific training, certification, or support that shall be provided to the faculty.

136

The parties recognize that faculty effort spent in the development of instructional

technology, including but not limited to distance learning materials, and in

providing instruction in this manner is appreciably greater than that associated

with a traditional course. Therefore, when the University assigns faculty members

to develop or provide instruction through the use of instructional technology, the

University shall: (1) Make training and development resources available to faculty

members. (2) Provide clerical, technical, and library support in conjunction with

the assigned use of instructional technology. (Florida State University, 2013-

2016, Article 9.11.c.)

The College will provide appropriate training for faculty members who are

inexperienced in the delivery of on-line instruction and shall provide appropriate

professional development opportunities in order for faculty members to maintain

and refine on-line instructional skills. Training for faculty to become certified

through Instructional Technology and Distance Education ("ITDE") shall consist

of three steps, as follows:

(1) Training regarding on-line pedagogy. (2) Introductory and intermediate

training on the learning management system. (3) Self-assessment and course

development. (Lincoln Land Community College – Illinois, 2012-2015, Article

8.10.c.)

The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type, 3 four-year and 20 two-year institutions, and provisions requiring institutions to provide specific training and support, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 2.94, p =

.09.

137

Skills and hiring. The next set of provisions refers to provisions regarding rewarding skill in the use of instructional technology in terms of hiring and assignments.

I found 46 (17.2%) contracts with provisions requiring additional skills in hiring practices and/or prior to assigned use of instructional technology. The Chi-square test of independence showed that provisions requiring training or certification in the use of instructional technology prior to being assigned a course using instructional technology are significantly more prevalent at two-year institutions 41 (15.3%), compared to the five

(1.9%) four-year institutions, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 8.45, p < .01. A typical contract provision requires skills specifically referring to the administration of distance education courses such as the following:

Any Full-time or Part-time Faculty Member volunteering to teach an online or

hybrid course must complete the District approved training for such courses or

otherwise demonstrate his/her competence in providing online instruction. No

compensation will be provided for the training. (Copper Mountain Community

College – California, 2014-2017, Article XXVI.7.)

Assignments to teach an online course shall be based on the faculty member's

request, verification of the faculty member's Edison State College e-Learning

certification, or demonstrated proficiency in online instruction. The faculty

member who developed the course will be given primary consideration to teach

the online course contingent upon satisfactory evaluation. If the faculty member

who developed the course is denied the opportunity to teach the online course,

he/she will be given a professional development plan that when completed will

138

return them to their previous "primary consideration" status (Florida State

College, 2013-2016, Article 9.3C.).

Other provisions are less specific but give the institution great flexibility and discretion in determining the requirements necessary for faculty to teach courses using instructional technology such as the following:

The District will provide to a unit member the District's requirements for the use

technology for administrative functions at the time an assignment is offered to the

unit member. The unit member must be able to meet those requirements in order

to accept the assignment. Administrative functions may include, but are not

limited to class rosters, drop sheets, and grade reports. Syllabi are submitted

through the portal or via e-mail. (MiraCosta Community College – California,

2011-2014, Article 8.6.)

Contract provisions provide evidence that instructional technology skill requirements are becoming a required qualification when hiring new faculty. Eight

(3%)faculty contracts directly refer to instructional technology skill requirements for new faculty hires. The provisions terms indicate that instructional technology requirements are being phased in for new hires. Current faculty use of instructional technology is still voluntary at the present time. A representative example of such a provision follows:

At present, participation in the ITV delivery system is voluntary except for all

faculty

hired after September 1, 2000. Positions posted after this date may specify

expertise in and willingness to use ITV technology as a condition of employment.

139

For all other faculty, the decision not to participate in ITV courses shall not be

used in any evaluative manner. (Madison Area Technical College – Wisconsin,

2010-2014, Appendix K. III. A.)

Instructional technology skills are becoming a standard requirement such that the new skills are an expectation for employment but are not specially rewarded. The requirement of instructional technology skills reduces faculty autonomy and increases managements control over the profession. This is evidence of management extension. Six contracts with hiring requirements are from two-year institutions and the remaining two are with four- year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and instructional technology skills being a requirement for all newly hired faculty, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.05, p = .83.

Remuneration. The faculty contracts contain multiple provision types regarding pay for instructional technology course development and delivery, along with few addressing any future royalties. The provisions include compensating faculty based on some calculation prorated from their base pay or course credit based workload for course development and delivery. Other contracts offer piece-rate pay or one-time stipends for development and delivery of a courses using instructional technology. Piece-rate compensation systems are analogous to less-skilled hourly-wage or day-labor rates of pay and is evidence of deskilling. Prorated-pay agreements gives evidence that the faculty’s time and instructional technology skills are valued at the level of their respective professional compensation and is evidence of enskilling. All pay related provisions are aggregated under this category, remuneration, as Rhoades did in 1998.

140

As in Rhoades 1998 study, additional remuneration related to instructional technology skills or tasks is one of the most frequent contract provision types. This study found remuneration provisions in 125 (46.8%) of the faculty contracts. Only provisions for new duties have a higher count of contracts, with 126 found in this study. The Chi- square test of independence showed that there is a significant relationship between institution type and faculty remuneration, being more common at two-year institutions,

χ2 (1, N = 267) = 8.27, p < .01. This study found 25 (9.3%) faculty contracts at four-year institutions and 100 (37.5%) faculty contracts at two-year institutions containing provisions related to faculty remuneration for using instructional technology.

Of the 125 contracts, 42 (15.7%) contracts have remuneration provisions for the development and/or delivery of instructional technology facilitated courses at a prorated pay rate based on the faculty member’s salary or workload. Prorated pay provisions specific to the development of courses using instructional technology occurs in 23 (8.6%) faculty contracts, as one example:

A teacher preparing a Distance Education course shall be afforded up to four (4)

contact hours of contractual released time or up to four (4) contact hours of extra-

contractual assignment, at the teacher's option, during the College year

immediately preceding the semester during which the Distance Education course

is to be initially offered. (Henry Ford Community College – Michigan, 2013-

2018, Article XXII.C.)

Contract provisions specific to prorated pay for delivery of courses using instructional technology was found in 25 (9.3%) faculty contracts. The example presented here

141

mandates that faculty will receive the same salary/workload credit as traditional course faculty:

If an online course is taught by a full-time faculty member, compensation shall be

paid as regular load, independent study, voluntary overload or summer school

rate, whichever is applicable and accepted by the faculty member. (Elgin

Community College – Illinois, 2014-2016, Article 4.11 A. 4.)

The prorated pay or workload credit for delivery can also be variable based on the number of students participating in the course but is pay proportional to faculty members professional rate such as the following:

Compensation for distance education courses identified in Appendix F as Regular

ITFS, Enhanced ITFS and TV Plus shall use the following formula for a three-

credit course:

For courses with fewer than 20 students, 3 credits

For courses with at least 20 but fewer than 30 students, 4 credits

For courses with at least 30 but fewer than 40 students, 5 credits

For courses with at least 40 but fewer than 50 students, 6 credits

For courses with 50 or more students, 6 credits + faculty assistance (University of

Maine, 2015-2017, Article 12.B.)

Additional prorated pay for teaching a course with instructional technology for the first time is a common term in the provisions.

The first time a faculty member teaches a distance education course, regardless of

who developed the course; he/she will receive release time equal to ½ the number

142

of credit hours of the course with a minimum of 1 hour awarded. (Central Ohio

Technical College, 2013-2016, Article XIX.H.)

Six of the above discussed contracts have prorated pay provisions for both development and delivery of courses using instructional technology. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and prorated pay provisions in faculty contracts, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.00, p = .99.

Piece-rate pay provisions normally state a flat-rate payment or stipend for each course development or delivery using instructional technology. Piece-rate pay provisions found also include piece-rate pay at per-student rates for delivery. Piece-rate pay is analogous to less-skilled labor compensation systems. The faculty member is reduced from professional to work-for-hire labor. Piece-rate forms of remuneration provisions were found in 79 (29.6%) faculty contracts. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is a significant relationship between piece-rate pay provisions and institution type, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 6.36, p =.01. Piece-rate pay provision occur more frequently in faculty contracts at two-year institutions, with 65 (24.3%) two-year institutions and 14

(5.2%) four-year institutions being represented.

Piece-rate pay provisions, a flat payment or stipend, for online course development and/or major revisions of a course using instructional technology is found in

42 (15.7%) faculty contracts. Examples of representative provisions are presented below:

Faculty members shall be eligible for a $2500.00 stipend for the development of a

distance education course upon application to the Vice President of Academic

Affairs. Stipends approved by the Vice President of Academic Affairs pursuant to

this subsection shall be payable in two installments. $1000.00 shall be paid to the

143

faculty member for the development of the distance education course and

$1500.00 shall be paid to the faculty member after the course is first made

available to students for registration. (Nassau Community College – Florida,

2013-2017, Article 9.4.1.)

Course conversion to the on-line format will be compensated as a stipend at a rate

of two thousand dollars ($2,000) per course. Ongoing revision of courses is an

expectation of all faculty members (see D.6 DUTIES OF FACULTY

MEMBERS). Major revisions of shared courses may be compensated as a stipend

at a rate of one thousand dollars ($1,000) if the stipend is recommended by the

Associate Dean and approved by the Dean. Compensation for major revisions

should be approved in advance and will be considered if the revisions require

major tests/assignments, etc. (College of DuPage – Illinois, 2012-2015, Article

F.12.)

Piece-rate pay provisions for instructional technology course delivery are included in 17

(6.4%) faculty contracts. For example, the Sauk Valley Community College in Illinois

(2014-2017) faculty contract contains the following provision, “faculty who teach compressed video or Internet courses will receive a one-time $150 stipend per credit hour the first time a course is taught” (Article 4.N.) There is evidence that these stipends vary based on the instructional technology and that these stipends are being phased out of the contracts as the skills become a common expectation of faculty duties as seen in the following provision:

In addition to the salary set forth in A.1., faculty who teach online will receive

additional compensation. It is understood that this compensation is in lieu of an

144

increase to the salary schedule set forth in A.1 above. The compensation is set

forth below:

a. When an instructor teaches a CTV course, he/she will receive additional

compensation of $96.00 per credit hour per course.

b. When an instructor teaches an online course for the first time, the instructor

shall be paid additional compensation of $300 per credit hour per course.

c. After the instructor has taught an online course for the first time, he/she will

receive additional compensation of $48.00 per credit hour per course. Effective

July 1, 2016, instructors who teach online courses after the first time will not

receive any additional compensation for teaching an online course. (Chemeketa

Community College – Oregon, Article 23. A. 3.)

Additionally, 26 (9.7%) contracts contain provisions that base the size of the stipend on the number of students that enrolled in the course developed and delivered using instructional technology. In California at West Hills Community College (2013-

2016), faculty are compensated by class size as follows, “if on the census date, the enrollment is at 51 or more students, the faculty member will receive a stipend of $1250.

An additional $1250 stipend will be awarded for every ten students enrolled above the

50.” Other colleges pay additional stipends for each individual student over the agreed class size limit, as follows:

For Internet Courses, full class size will be 30 students except for the following:

for Foreign Languages the full class size will be 24, for Speech & English

Composition classes the full class size will be 20 and for Developmental English

classes the full class size will be 15. Compensation will be based on the 10th day

145

enrollment for the class. Classes may be overloaded if the Teaching Faculty

agrees, in which case the compensation will be $75 per student over the full class

size. If the Associate Dean and Teaching Faculty mutually agree, a class may run

with less than the full class size. (College of DuPage, 2012-2015, Article D.7.1.b.)

Being paid by the student head-count is the closest academic institutions can come to directly compensating faculty in a fashion analogous to factory labor mass-production piece-rate pay structures.

The faculty contracts included 19 (7.1%) with provisions that provide options between prorated pay, or piece-rate pay, or a mixture of remuneration types. An example of such a flexible arrangement is the following contract provision that leaves compensation to be negotiated between management and individual faculty members:

In consideration for the services to be provided by the course developer under this

CDA, the course developer shall receive either a stipend or release time. The

course developer and his/her department head and/or dean shall discuss and come

to mutual agreement as to what form of compensation—stipend or release time—

will be made. If a stipend, the course developer shall be paid $1,700.00 per credit

hour for the first year of this Agreement and this amount shall be increased

annually at the rate of the increase in the base salary as indicated in Section 14.2.

(Ferris State University – Michigan, 2015-2018, Appendix C. C.3.)

In addition to piece-rate and prorated pay for course development and delivery, the payment of royalties for future delivery by faculty other than the original faculty course developer or distribution of an online course outside of the institution is specifically

146

addressed in 10 (3.7%) of the contracts. An example of a contract provision that discusses distribution of royalties follows:

Generally, any net income derived from University owned electronic course

materials shall be divided, 50 percent to the author(s) and 50 percent to the

University. Net income, for the purposes of this policy, means gross income

minus costs of development and promotion, realized from the sale or licensing of

the electronic course material. (Montana State University, 2015-2017, Article

13.02.01.)

The provisions regarding royalties commonly include some division of income between the faculty member and institution as shown above if the instructional technology generated course materials produce income from distribution outside the home institution. Of the 10 contracts with provisions for instructional technology royalties, six are from four-year institutions and four are from two-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is significant relationship between institution type and provisions contain royalty terms for instructional technology facilitated courses, χ2

(1, N = 267) = 5.07, p = .02. The provisions related to royalties are more prevalent than expected in four-year institution faculty contracts. Payment of royalties is evidence faculty are being regarded as autonomous professionals and not purely employees whose labor is to be exploited.

Finally, in five (1.9%) of the faculty contracts, any extra compensation in any form for development or delivery of courses using instructional technology is flatly denied by the institution, such as follows:

147

Since developing educational media for all courses, including distance education,

is the responsibility of Faculty, the College is not required to compensate the

Faculty for the development of a distance learning course nor is the College

required to provide a workload reduction for the course development. (Monroe

Community College – New York, 2012-2015, Article 59. A.)

As in the above provision, the typical contracts’ provisions state that the use of instructional technology is now the part of the standard duties of the faculty. The faculty are expected to acquire instructional technology skills without reward. There is no significant relationship between the above provisions and institution type, χ2 (1, N = 267)

= 0.33, p = .56.

Displacement. Displacement refers to contract provisions that refer to reductions or retrenchment of faculty due to the implementation of instructional technology. The implementation of instructional technology has the potential to deskill and displace faculty, analogous to the way factory laborers are displaced by automation. Course content captured by instructional technology may allow faculty to be displaced by less- skilled contingent or part-time faculty and technologists that are more tenuously employed. In this way, management gains more discretion over the workforce as faculty are deskilled. Rhoades (1998) found displacement terms in 20.5% of faculty contracts.

148

institutions addressing displacement are more prevalent than expected. This provides evidence that faculty at two-year institutions are responding to displacement of full-time faculty by contingent and part-time faculty.

The most frequently displacement related provisions create contract terms limiting the class size of online and hybrid courses delivered via instructional technology.

Class size limitation provisions are included in 82 (30.7%) of the contracts reviewed, 73

(27.3%) contracts are from two-year institutions and nine (3.4%) are from four-year institutions. There is a significant relationship between two-year institutions and the use of class size limitations to address faculty displacement, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 17.78, p <

.000.

The most common provision in the contracts is to set a maximum number of students that shall be enrolled in the course delivered via instructional technology. The maximum number of students varies among the contract but a defining characteristic is that class size is limited to a definite number. The provisions are short and direct relative to other contract provisions found in this study. For example, the Pratt Community

College – Kansas (2013-2016) contracts states, “the Board agrees that the maximum class size for an online class is twenty-five (25) students” (Article V.C.5.). Other provisions are more complex, with maximum class sizes that vary for the first time a course is taught using instruction technology versus subsequent sections of the course or by the mode of instructional technology.

Seat limits for initial Internet courses shall be limited to fifteen (15) students per

section unless the faculty member agrees, in writing, to add additional seats.

149

Subsequent offerings will be capped at twenty-five (25) students, unless the

faculty member agrees, in writing, to add additional seats.

Seat limits for (Interactive Television) ITV courses shall be limited to thirty (30)

students per course delivered via ITV regardless of the number of sites to which

the course is delivered. The faculty member can agree, in writing, to add

additional seats. (Lake Michigan College – Michigan, 2014-2018, Article 14.2.)

A total of 42 (15.7%) faculty contracts contain provisions that set a maximum student headcount in instructional technology facilitated course, 41(15.3%) of which are two-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is a significant relationship between two-year institutions and maximum class sizes, χ2 (1, N = 267) =

16.65, p < .000.

The second most common way to limit displacement via class size, is to mandate that online and hybrid course enrollments will be proportional to traditional seated class sections. This type of provision was found in 31 (11.6%) faculty contracts. The following example is representative of such contract provisions:

Enrollment maximums for distance education courses will be no greater than for

the same or similar level course offered by that department or program unless

mutually agreed to by the faculty member, department head, and dean. This does

not exclude the possibility of setting the maximum enrollment lower than the

same or similar course offered by the department or program if agreed to by the

faculty member, department head and dean. (Northern Michigan University,

2016-2020, Article 6.7.6.)

150

Some such provisions contain limitation to account for traditional large lecture courses.

In such cases, provisions state that class size must be proportional to traditional seated classes but no larger than a defined maximum. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and instructional technology facilitated course class size being mandated to be proportional to traditional seated class size, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 2.62, p = .11.

Eleven (4.1%) contracts have terms regarding class size limitations that allow for individual negotiations between the faculty member and a college administrator, or defer the issue of class size to be determined by a committee. For example, at Fort Hood State

University in Kansas (2014-2016), “the appropriate faculty member and department chair, in consultation with the director of the Virtual College, will establish the maximum number of students to be enrolled in the courses and the chair will inform the Virtual

College accordingly.” The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and allowing faculty to negotiate class sizes for instructional technology facilitated courses χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.01, p = .93.

In four (1.5%) faculty contracts, all at two-year institutions, management has reserved the right to determine class sizes for instructional technology facilitated courses.

Miami-Dade College in Florida (2014-2017) states that for Virtual College courses, “the

College will set a reasonable class size limit. Faculty will be informed of the seat limit for courses at the time of course selection” (Article III.). These faculty contract provisions provide no protections from faculty displacement via increased class sizes for online and hybrid courses delivered through instructional technology.

151

Provisions that protect faculty from displacement include faculty reserving the right of first refusal to teach and/or develop online or hybrid courses. Right of first refusal provisions were found in 31 (11.6%) faculty contracts. The 31 faculty contracts include

26 (9.7%) two-year institutions and 5 (1.9%) four-year institutions. The protections for faculty are limited. The right of first refusal is commonly limited to a predetermined number of academic terms, academic years, or exclusively the first time the course is offered as in the following example:

In the first three academic years of the initial offering of a new DL course the

faculty member who created the new DL course(s) shall be given first preference

to teach up to two sections of the course(s) per semester including summer, if

offered. First preference will apply as long as all course offerings and curricular

needs within the department are satisfied. (University of Toledo, – Ohio, 2014-

2018, Article 25.5.)

The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and contract terms reserving the right of first refusal of instructional technology facilitated courses, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 2.62, p = .11.

Expanding on the first right of refusal by the originating full-time faculty, 19

(7.1%) faculty contracts also include seniority clauses, mandating new online or hybrid course development or delivery be offer to the senior most full-time faculty in the course discipline. A comprehensive example of such provision terms follows:

Available course sections for online courses will be assigned to current

originating instructors and current full-time faculty members first as per Article

152

15.1 of the contract provided that the faculty member has completed the required

training as specified in Article 6.26.h.

Any additional sections of online courses will be assigned to adjuncts in

accordance with the online course seniority list within a department, per Article

6.26.m.

A full-time faculty member lower on the seniority list or not currently on the

seniority list shall be assigned an online section over a more senior adjunct only

when the full-time faculty member needs to meet the contractual full-time load

specified in Article 15.1 provided that the faculty member has completed the

required training as specified in Article 6.26.h and there are no other sections

available for which the full-time faculty member is qualified to teach. (Onondaga

Community College – New York, 2014-2019, Article 6.26.g.)

Other provisions are not as comprehensive but contain language and intent similar to the terms stated above, establishing seniority rights and giving priority to full-time faculty over adjunct and contingent faculty. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution types and seniority contracts terms for instructional technology course development and delivery, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.55, p =

.46.

In addition to specific displacement related contract provisions, 30 (11.2%) faculty contracts include provisions documenting that it is not management’s intent to displace full-time faculty through the implementation or use of instructional technology.

Provisions vary in the strength of their protections for faculty. An example of a provision that offers clear protections for the bargaining unit members follows:

153

Teaching of Distance Education courses shall be on a voluntary basis unless

indicated as required in the position announcement under which the unit member

was hired. Online classes are excluded from over-enrollment. It is not the intent of

the District to displace full time faculty because of Distance Education courses.

No Distance Education work shall be offered to persons not employed within the

faculty bargaining unit. No work traditionally performed by unit members shall be

awarded to other institutions for transmission to Antelope Valley College District

students by electronic means without written agreement with the Union.

(Antelope Valley Community College – California, 2012-2015, Article 11.0.)

Another example contract provision is shorter and more direct, “there will be no reduction in the number of full-time faculty teaching positions as a result of distance learning classes being added to the class schedules” (Rock Valley Community College,

2016-2020, Article 6.16.2.).

Conversely, other faculty contracts acknowledge the potential for faculty displacement, state good intentions, on the part of the institution but fall short of actual guarantees or promises that faculty will not be displaced. The Massachusetts Community

College (2009-2012) faculty contract contains such a statement in Article I of the agreement, “the parties recognize that the use of distance education is not intended to reduce or eliminate course offerings of the Colleges or to reduce or eliminate bargaining unit positions at the Colleges.” The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and provisions stating instructional technology is not intended to cause faculty displacement, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 2.31, p = .13.

154

Of the contracts reviewed, 12 (4.5%) faculty contracts specifically restrict institutions from using third-party providers of instructional technology course content that can be developed or delivered by in-house full-time faculty. The restriction on the use of third-party course providers via instructional technology is a contract provision not found in Rhoades’s (1998) study. MOOCs, out-sourced course development, and the marketing of course templates by educational publishers were non-existent in 1998. An example of a provision seemingly directed at preventing the institution contracting with a

MOOC provider or similar outsourced course provider follows:

Distance Education courses transmitted by another institution shall not be offered

by SIUC at any site unless the Board and the other institution(s) enter into

reciprocal agreements (such as a consortium), and such co-operation in the

transmission of such Distance Education course(s) does not result in the

elimination of programs and/or Faculty. In addition, a Distance Education course

may be transmitted by another institution to an SIUC site in unique circumstances

provided that the course does not have the effect of eliminating a Faculty position

in the program and is not offered on an on-going and continuing basis. (Southern

Illinois University, 2011-2014, Article 8.06 b. 3.)

There is not significant relationship between institutional type and contracts provisions restricting the institutional use of third party course content providers for use with instructional technology facilitated courses, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.15, p = .70.

155

increase without a reduction of other workload, the net effect is a speeding up of faculty work production. Faculty are expected to complete the new duties and their current workload in the same amount of time. The continuous adding of new duties and responsibilities constrains faculty discretion over their time and workload, reducing overall faculty autonomy. Management control over faculty work is increased when they have the discretion to assign new duties without adjusting faculty compensation of pay or workload.

In this study of faculty contracts, 126 faculty contracts (47.2%) include a reference to additional or changed duties related to the implementation of instructional technology. Duties discussed relate to faculty teaching loads, office hours, sick days, academic freedom, and faculty-student interaction. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and contract terms related to new duties for faculty through the implementation of instructional technology, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 1.10, p = 0.29.

The effect of instructional technology uses to deliver courses on faculty workload calculations is the subject of 57 (21.3%) faculty contracts. Forty-six (17.2%) of the faculty contracts included provisions that consider courses taught using instructional technology are equivalent to traditional seated course sections when calculating faculty workloads. An example of such a provision follows:

The normal basic teaching load for a full-time instructor is fifteen (15) lecture

hours per week plus five (5) office hours (60-minute hour); however, there are

many variations which are deemed to meet the fifteen (15) lecture hour's standard

load. The load value for online and hybrid courses shall be the same as for courses

156

in traditional format. (Glendale Community College – California, 2012-2016,

Article VI.4.)

Eleven (4.1%) contracts include provisions for faculty and management to negotiate the credit awarded toward faculty workload requirements for teaching courses using instructional technology. The following is an example of such a provision:

Individual workload assignments including ITV/distance shall be made by the

department, division or other appropriate unit chairperson or director in

consultation with the individual unit member and the department, division or

other appropriate unit subject to the approval of the chief administrative officer or

his or her designee and shall be reasonable. There shall be no unreasonable

increase or decrease in an individual's total workload during the term of this

Agreement. (University of Maine, 2015-2017, Article 11 C. 3. a.)

Of the 57 provisions regarding the calculation of faculty workload and the use of instructional technology, this study found the provisions in 43 (16.1%) two-year institutions faculty contracts and 14 (5.2%) four-year institutions faculty contracts. The

Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between workload calculations and institution type, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.54, p = 0.46.

Instructional technology allows faculty and students the ability to engage course materials regardless of time and space within the limitations of the course set by the instructor. Similarly, management recognizes that faculty can and are expected to engage students via instructional technology whether faculty are on-campus and off-campus at a given moment. Without acknowledging increased faculty availability through instructional technology, 52 (19.5%) faculty contracts reference specific faculty

157

accountability requirements for office-hours and sick-time for faculty teaching using instructional technology. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and faculty contract provisions regarding office-hour and sick-time requirements, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 2.70, p = 0.10.

Of the 52 contracts, 25 (9.3%) of the faculty contracts have prescriptive in-person on-campus office-hour requirements for faculty teaching primarily or completely online courses using instructional technology. Of the 25 faculty contracts, 22 are from two-year institutions and three are from four-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and prescriptive requirements for office-hours, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 3.67, p =.06. Examples of prescriptive office hour requirements in contract provisions follow:

In order to satisfy their contractual obligation to the College, faculty assigned

distance learning courses as part of their normal workload will schedule the

appropriate number of hours of "contact" time on their work schedule. If the

methodologies employed to teach a distance learning course do not require faculty

to be in a specific classroom at a specific time, the faculty member typically will

schedule the time in their office as part of the twenty-five contact and office hours

required by the CBA. However, flexibility in scheduling a portion of the twenty-

five contact and office hours at alternate locations must be approved by the

immediate supervisor according to provisions described in Articles 6.03 and

9.01.B. (Pensacola Community College, 2012-2015, Article 18.04 B.)

Office Hours Faculty members who teach a Distance Learning course may

schedule up to one office hour (sixty minutes) each semester using electronic mail

158

and/or Internet as the medium for communicating with students. Faculty members

who teach three (3) or more Distance Learning courses may schedule up to two

(2) office hours (120 minutes) each semester using electronic mail and/or Internet.

Faculty members who will conduct office hours via electronic mail and/or the

Internet must provide the Division Dean and the department chairperson with the

e-mail address that will be provided to students as the "office address." The e-mail

address must be provided by the faculty member to all students, either

electronically or in writing, no later than the first scheduled class session. The

College shall make every effort to schedule faculty who are teaching multiple

Distance Learning courses for no more than three days of traditional on-campus

classes during the work week. Faculty will maintain an online office hour on the

fourth day to be available to communicate with students, and make themselves

available for all other contractual obligations. (Morris City College – New Jersey,

2011-2014, Article IX D.8.)

Conversely, 19 (7.1%) faculty contracts contain provisions that grant faculty autonomy in the scheduling of office-hours when the majority of their teaching load is not in-person and is delivered primarily via instructional technology. These 19 faculty contracts consist of 17 two-year institutions and 2 four-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and contract provisions with permissive office hours terms, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 3.23, p =.07.

These permissive provisions allow faculty to hold office-hour in proportion to in-person sections and at the faculty member’s discretion, such as the following contract provision examples:

159

Faculty will self-manage a work week to insure they are carrying out designated

responsibilities including teaching assignments, reasonable accessibility to

students via multiple modalities (e.g., in-person, phone, or email), service

assignments, office hours (on campus or online) and sustaining a campus presence

separate from teaching hours.

If the college has reasonable grounds to believe a faculty member is not working

sufficient hours to perform the duties described in this section, the college shall

have the right to detailed, written outlines of the member’s schedule. (Kirtland

Community College – Michigan, 2016-2018, Article X.A.7.)

E-mail, online chat rooms, video chatting, audio chatting, and other types of

electronic communication may supplement regular office hours but may not be

used to replace opportunities for face-to-face meetings. However, a Member with

all distance-learning teaching in a given term may schedule virtual office hours

only, provided the Member is reasonably available in person, upon request, to

students and advisees, and also reasonably available for service responsibilities.

(Wright State University – Ohio, 2014-2017, Article 7.5.3.)

Instructional technology allows faculty to deliver and engage students in an asynchronistic methodology of online and hybrid courses. Institutions have negotiated provisions in 14 (5.2%) faculty contracts requiring faculty to be accountable for time in online courses if they report sick and do not come on-campus on a given day. The Chi- square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and faculty contract provisions holding faculty accountable for taking sick-time while teaching an online course, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.38, p = .54.

160

If a faculty member is absent and misses all obligations for a day, such as

scheduled class(es), office hour time (including online office hours) and/or

scheduled meeting(s)/event(s), he/she will have eight (8) hours of health and

injury leave deducted for the day.

If a faculty member is absent for some, but not all of his/her obligations for the

day such as scheduled class(es), office hour time (including online office hours)

and/or scheduled meeting(s)/event(s), he/she will have four (4) hours of health

and injury leave deducted for the day. (College of Lake County – Illinois, 2014-

2018, Article 41.A.)

One faculty contract does acknowledge that instructional technology can mediate lost time due to illness, as follows:

In instances where the faculty member is teaching online and can demonstrate

they completed a material part of the course online during a sick day (more than

checking e-mail), that faculty member will only be charged 4 hours. The

responsibility will remain on the faculty member to establish the completion of a

material part of the course during the sick day. (North Central State College –

Ohio, 2014-2017 Article 22.01.b.)

Some contract provisions seek to limit faculty use of instructional technology.

The intent of the provisions is to assure faculty are physically present on the campus and teaching at least some classes in-person. This study found 30 (11.2%) faculty contracts with provisions limiting the number of online or otherwise instructional technology facilitated courses a faculty member is permitted to teach each semester, effectively restricting faculty autonomy and discretionary use of time.

161

Normally, all contract and regular faculty shall teach part of load on campus.

Assignment to full annual load online shall be determined on a case-by-case basis.

When a request for full annual load online is made, the division dean or

appropriate administrator shall forward the request, and make a recommendation,

to the Vice President of Instruction who, in consultation with the Vice Chancellor

of Human Resources, shall approve or deny the request. Except when extenuating

circumstances exist and are approved by the college President and the Vice

Chancellor of Human Resources, no contract or regular faculty shall teach full

annual load online in consecutive academic years. (Foothill Community College –

California, 2013-2016, Article 34.8.)

The provisions commonly have a workload percentage limit for instructional technology facilitated courses in order to ensure faculty presence on campus, such as the following:

Faculty are eligible to teach no more than 50 percent of their full-time yearly

teaching load as distance education courses per academic year, with a maximum

of two-thirds (2/3) of that 50 percent in any one semester. Seminar hours may not

be used in these calculations. (Nassau Community College – Florida, 2013-2017,

Article 9.7.5.)

The percentages in the provisions varies from 33% to 67% but the implied intent to make full-time faculty spend time on campus is similar in all the provisions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is a significant relationship between two-year institutions and faculty contract provisions capping the number or percentage of online courses taught by faculty each term, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 10.48, p = .001. Twenty-nine of

162

30 faculty contracts are from two-year colleges that limit the number or percentage of online courses that comprise an individual faculty workload.

This study found that using instructional technology is specifically stated as being voluntary for faculty in 33 faculty contracts (12.4% of all contracts). The contracts provisions are short, usually a one-sentence provision in the faculty contracts stating that teaching using instructional technology modalities is voluntary, or that the faculty member shall not be forced to teach a course using instructional technology. One example of a more comprehensive provision addressing the voluntary use of instructional technology follows:

No Faculty member shall be required to teach using computer-assisted teaching

and/or learning or other innovative delivery techniques, including distance

learning, unless the use of such instruction and/or techniques is among the

objectives of the course being taught or part of the course design as approved by

the Department. Refusal to teach using such instruction and/or techniques shall

not itself be a cause for negative evaluation except in cases where such instruction

and/or technique is among the objectives of the course being taught or part of the

course design as approved by the Department. (Community College of

Philadelphia, 2011-2016, Article XXIV.B.)

The common exception to voluntary clauses relates to whether the course content specifically requires the use of instructional technology or whether the faculty member is hired to teach using instructional technology modalities, i.e. the faculty member’s job description specifically requires them to use instructional technology. Of these 33

(12.4%) contracts, 25 are from two-year institutions and eight are from four-year

163

institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and faculty contract provisions stating online teaching using instructional technology is voluntary for faculty, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.33, p

= .57.

Faculty contracts’ provisions reinforcing the rights of academic freedom while using instructional technology are similar to expectations for traditional instruction. This provision is specifically stated in 11 (4.1%) faculty contracts. The following is the most comprehensive provision regarding the extension of academic freedoms to forms of social media as well as in the use of instructional technology:

Bargaining unit faculty are entitled to full freedom in research and in the

publication of the results, subject to the adequate performance of their other

academic duties; but research for pecuniary return should be based upon a prior

understanding with the authorities of the institution. The principles of academic

freedom and freedom of inquiry shall be interpreted to include freedom of

expression in both traditional print and newly emerging electronic formats such as

the creation of digital images, web sites, or home pages.

Bargaining unit faculty are entitled to freedom in the classroom (including

the virtual classroom) in discussing their subject, but they should be careful not to

introduce into their teaching controversial matter that has no relation to their

subject. (University of Akron – Ohio, 2013-2015, Article 9. 2-3.)

Nine of the contracts come from four-year institutions and two of the contracts are from two-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is a significant relationship between four-year institutions and faculty contracts provisions

164

guaranteeing academic freedom while using instructional technology, χ2 (1, N = 267) =

16.04, p < .000.

Nine (3.4%) faculty contracts have provisions with specific requirements for faculty to interact with students via instructional technology on a periodic basis and/or for a minimum period of time. The requirement for interaction with students via instructional technology is comprehensive but subjective and not prescriptive as in the following example:

Regular Effective Contact with Students: The definition of regular effective

contact includes regular and substantive student interaction with the instructor that

is initiated by the instructor, and is included in the grade. Activities may include

group or individual meetings, orientation and review sessions, supplemental

seminar or study sessions, field trips, library workshops, telephone contact, online

correspondence, voice mail, e-mail, or other activities. Regular effective contact is

an academic and professional matter pursuant to Title 5, Section 53200. (Cabrillo

Community College – California, 2013-2016, Article 11.2.2.14.3.)

Other contract provisions are more prescriptive in the amount of time and/or frequency in which faculty should interact with students via instructional technology.

Faculty teaching an on-line course would be expected to spend at least sixteen

(16) hours of interaction per semester with students enrolled in an on-line course

for each contact hour of the course for which they are receiving load. (Kellogg

Community College – MI, 2011-2014, Appendix A. 10.4.)

Since interactivity is at the heart of successful online classes, instructors shall

interact with students no less than twice a week. Prompt and appropriate

165

interaction with students shall form a part of the instructor's evaluation, and may

be used as a determining factor by administrators in assigning online classes.

(Barstow Community College, 2014-2017, Article 7.14.5.)

Dictating faculty-student interaction adds new duties for the faculty member that were not required in traditional classroom instruction. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and contract provisions requiring faculty to interact with students via instructional technology, χ2 (1,

N = 267) = 1.38, p = .24.

Control over curriculum provisions is found in 48 (18%) of the faculty contracts reviewed, 35 (13.1%) are from two-year institutions and 13 (4.9%) are in place at four- year institutions. The contracts often have several references regarding development and or delivery of courses via instructional technology. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between the type of institution and contract provisions related to control of the curriculum, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.05, p = .81.

In 24 (9%) of the faculty contracts, management reserves the exclusive right to approve course development using instructional technology and assign faculty to deliver courses via instructional technology. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between the type of institution and management

166

reserving the right to control instructional technology course development and delivery,

χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.31, p = .58. In some cases, management’s discretion is explicit and final such as “the development and teaching of Online Learning courses are assigned and approved in writing by the dean/supervising administrator” (Elgin Community College -

Illinois, 2014-2016, Section 4.11.). The decision may involve multiple steps, requiring the faculty member to complete a course request, obliging the faculty to do much of the preparatory work for the course work before the management decision will be entertained.

Faculty who wish to develop an online, hybrid or teleweb course shall make a

request to the Vice President of Academic Services (or another academic

administrator designated as his/her representative for this purpose). This proposal

shall consist of 1) a request to develop the course in an online format, 2) a

summary of all projected development activities and materials, and 3) a

description of any commercially prepared materials to be used in the course.

The Vice President of Academic Services (or another academic

administrator designated as his/her representative for this purpose) has the right to

reject a proposal, but must give reasons in writing to the faculty member for any

such rejection. (South Suburban College, 2012-2016, Section 6.18.B.2.)

Discretion over course development and delivery using instructional technology has also been moved to professionals and offices outside the traditional governance structures or management hierarchy. Mandated additional approvals for course development using instructional technology is illustrated in the following provision:

The development of any course to be offered through distance education must be

167

approved in advance by the Distance Education program office, the Vice

President for Academic Services, and be annotated as appropriate for distance

education on the official course outline of record and approved through the

established policies and procedures of the Curriculum Committee. (Imperial

Community College – California, 2012-2013, Article 17.14.1.)

In the above provision, the professional discretion of faculty is usurped by the Distance

Education Office and the Vice President for Academic Services by having the right to reject development of a course before submission to the traditionally faculty dominated curriculum committee. All of the above provisions provide evidence of an extension of management control that does not necessarily exist for the development of traditional courses. Control over access and use of instructional technology allows management to be become gate keepers over course development.

In 20 (7.5%) of the faculty contracts, faculty retain greater discretion over course development and delivery in provisions related to curriculum control. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institutional type and faculty retaining discretionary control over course development and delivery using instructional technology, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.13, p = .72. The faculty reserve control over the curriculum through various methods in the contract provisions. The most direct way is maintaining the ability to specifically reject teaching a course via instructional technology as exhibited in the following faculty contract provision:

A Faculty member may reject a Distance Education course as part of his/her

assignment if he/she has a bona fide pedagogical objection to teaching the

assigned course by Distance Education. Prior to rejecting such course, the Faculty

168

member shall notify his/her Chair/Director and discuss the objections to

determine whether a mutually agreeable arrangement can be reached. If no such

agreement can be reached, the Faculty member shall notify his/her Chair/Director

of such rejection and receive an alternative equivalent assignment. (Southern

Illinois University, 2010-2014, Section 8.06b.5.)

Alternatively, faculty maintain control over the curriculum by mandating a review by the faculty-lead shared governance structures or by faculty committees within the course discipline to decide whether a course should be developed and delivered via instructional technology. The following is an example of such a provision:

Instructional Technology Decisions

26.3.1 Per LRCCD Policy 3412, the LRCCD Academic Senate has the primary

responsibility for the recommendations to the Board regarding curriculum and

matriculation issues. As such, only those courses and programs approved through

the agreed upon curriculum and matriculation decision processes will be delivered

by distance education.

26.3.2 The faculty of the Los Rios Community College District is primarily

responsible for the decisions related to the use of instructional technology in the

courses and programs offered in the District's colleges and locations.

26.3.3 The counseling, library, and health services faculty are primarily

responsible for decisions related to the use of technology to provide their

respective student services.

169

26.3.4 The decision to offer any portion of a course in distance mode shall be

voluntary. (Los Rios Community College – California, 2014-2017, Articles

26.3.1-4.)

The use of established shared governance structures resists the extension of management control based on instructional technology modality. In yet another form of contract provisions, faculty have maintained control over instructional technology use in the curriculum by negotiating provisions mandating the formation of joint faculty and management committees to study the effects of instructional technology. The following provision is representative of such clauses found in faculty contracts:

Innovative Modality Committee

In order to facilitate the development of new modalities and innovative ideas that

enhance learning, an Innovative Modality Committee (IMC) shall be established

which shall be comprised of four (4) teaching and one (1) non-teaching faculty as

selected by the LLCFA president. All faculty appointments will be on a three-year

rotating term.

Additionally, five (5) staff/ administrators will be selected by the appropriate vice

presidents.

The IMC will oversee education regarding innovative ideas, develop

procedures for creation and approval of ideas, and will make decisions on the

approval and re-approval of the innovative modality. Initial approval may be up to

three (3) years. Innovative modalities may include but are not limited to Massive

Open Online Courses (MOOCs), flipped classrooms, and synchronized online

learning. Interactive video-based,

170

online, and hybrid courses are not automatically deemed as being innovative.

(Lake Land Community College – Illinois, 2013-2016, Article II.8.)

These committees offer opportunities for discussion and mutual agreement regarding the use of instructional technology in future course development and delivery. The faculty have maintained input into the use of instructional technology but do not have independent discretionary control.

Finally, 13 (4.9%) faculty contracts maintain that regardless of the final delivery mode of the course, the development and approval of the course shall follow traditional committee and college policies. There is no significant relationship between institutional type and instructional technology facilitated courses being approved through traditional course processes and policies, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.04, p = .85. The following comprehensive provision punctuates how all courses must comply with traditional college policies regardless of the mode of delivery:

The same standards of course quality and evaluation shall be applied to DE,

including any parts of a hybrid course conducted through DE, as are applied to

traditional classroom courses. The professional obligations of faculty outlined in

articles 8, 13, and 14, apply to faculty whether they teach DE of face-to-face

courses. In addition, all DE must comply with the Americans with Disabilities

Act, section 508 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, section 11135 of the California

Government Code, Title IV, Financial Aid, and all local and state Curriculum

Committee guidelines (e.g., CCCCO, Distance Education Guidelines, articles

55205, 55207) (Hartnell Community College – California, 2013-2016, Article

22.A.4.)

171

The above provision illustrates a neutral course of action where the college administration and faculty have not gained or lost any discretion in the development, delivery, or assignment of the course.

Ownership. Rhoades (1998) operationalized the ownership code as the extent to which the faculty member or institution owns the rights to curricular material. In this study, 109 (40.8%) of faculty contracts contained provisions directly related to ownership or intellectual property rights to course materials generated during the development of a course delivered primarily through instructional technology. The ownership provisions refer to faculty ownership, copyright law, institutional oversight, joint ownership, and restrictions on the distribution of course material. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between the institution type and the ownership provisions, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 2.72, p = .10.

In 61 (22.8%) of the faculty contracts, ownership rights are clearly and directly granted to the faculty of instructional technology facilitated courses created by independent efforts not using institutional support. An example of such a contract provision is provided below:

Employees who develop or substantially revise instructional materials for an

online course without extra compensation, course release, or without the use of

FIU Online instructional design services provided by the University maintain full

ownership of those online courses. (Florida International University, 2011-2014,

Article 10.B.iii.4.)

Materials for which a bargaining unit member owns intellectual property rights,

and used by that bargaining unit member or others in an interactive television or

172

online course offering, shall be considered as provided on a one-time-only basis

unless provided otherwise by written prior agreement with CMU. (Central

Michigan University, 2016-2019, Article 22.3.)

These provisions maintain faculty professional status as independent experts, not entirely subject to management control even in an era of academic capitalism. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and faculty maintaining all ownership rights for independent efforts, χ2 (1, N = 267) =

0.73, p = .39.

Thirty-five (13.1%) faculty contracts specifically reference copyright law or previous college policies that exempt course materials from institutional claims on intellectual property. The provisions commonly indicate that the institution shall not exercise any rights over course materials, including those created using instructional technology, as long as the institution did not provide substantial support. A few representative examples of such provisions follow.

All matters regarding the creation, ownership, distribution, and dissemination of

intellectual property are governed by the terms of Regents policy on Intellectual

Property, RP-4.4 (RP 94 06/01/2002). Relative to Section 5.2 and 5.2b it is

understood that online and other modes of distance course delivery and

development generally do not constitute the substantial use of University

resources, and that instructional materials developed by a faculty member in the

process of delivering the course shall be the property of the faculty member.

(University of Nebraska, 2015-2015, Article XV.3.)

Traditional Academic (or Scholarly) Copyrightable Works - works created as

173

Independent Faculty Effort and at the Creator's initiative for traditional academic

purposes. Examples include, but are not limited to… educational courseware

(including web-based and other electronic based materials, both digital and

analog, used on campus or in distance learning)…These kinds of traditional

academic/scholarly works are excluded from claims of University ownership as

long as they are not Works Made for Hire, were not developed with Significant

University Support, were developed with University Resources Usually and

Customarily Provided, and are used solely for the purpose of assisting or

enhancing the Faculty member's workload assignment. (Southern Illinois

University, 2011-2014, Appendix C.2.C.)

The Chi-square test of independence showed that intellectual property provisions exempting instructional technology created course materials from institutional ownership are significantly more prevalent at four-year institutions (20) rather than two-year institutions (15), χ2 (1, N = 267) = 16.27, p < .000.

Conversely, institutions claim all rights to ownership of course materials in 39

(14.6%) of the faculty contracts if the institution has paid the faculty member to develop the course.

A faculty member who develops course material as a project authorized or

directed by the College shall not retain ownership of course outlines and general

materials relating to the course. These materials are the sole property of the

institution. Lecture notes and other instructor produced materials such as, but not

limited to, discussion questions, course-specific applications, quizzes, and exams

174

shall be considered the property of the instructor. (Nassau Community College –

Florida, 2013-2017, Article 9.2.1.)

A faculty member may choose to receive compensation to develop a new online

course. If so, and the course is loaded on to the College server, ownership of the

materials resides with the College. The College may then use the course content

and materials during the instructor's tenure and after the instructor leaves the

College. (Highland Community College – Illinois, 2014-2015, Article R.1.)

Unless specifically exempted, the course materials are considered works-for-hire by the institution and, therefore, all rights and intellectual property is owned by the institution.

The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship between institution type and institutions claiming intellectual property rights over works- for-hire course materials created with instructional technology, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.00, p

= .97.

Joint ownership provisions are found in 24 (8.9%) faculty contracts. In these provisions, the ownership and permissions are defined as mutual rights. Uses of course materials outside the institution and how any profits or royalties from the sale of course materials from the sale will be shared have been negotiated as in the following examples:

Unless otherwise specified in the written agreement, if the College and faculty

member(s) share ownership of intellectual property, royalty distribution rights

shall be as follows: one hundred percent (100%) of royalties or other profits shall

be distributed to reimburse the College and/or faculty member(s) for documented

expenses of creation and production of the material. Reimbursements shall be

divided proportional to the documented expenses until all such expenses are

175

completely reimbursed. The remainder of any royalties or other profits shall be

distributed fifty percent (50%) to the College and fifty percent (50%) to the

faculty member(s) who share the ownership rights. (Cascadia Community

College, 2012-2015, Article 17.03.02)

If the University-supported distance education materials are subsequently

externally marketed, it is understood that the creator(s) and the University will

share in any net revenue, based on an agreed-upon revenue sharing arrangement,

with no restrictions on the use of such revenue. (Cleveland State University,

2014-2017, Article 32.3.B.).

Some contract provisions do not address ownership or intellectual property rights over faculty work in general other than specific restrictions on the use of course materials developed using instructional technology. Of the contracts reviewed, 41 (15.4%) faculty contracts include restrictions on the institution distributing instructional technology facilitated course materials to other institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship with either institution type, χ2 (1, N =

267) = 1.57, p = 0.21. One of the clearest of such restrictions prohibits institutions distributing the course materials for use at other institutions. included in the Nassau

Community College faculty contract, “distance education courses developed at Nassau

Community College may not be offered at other institutions” (Nassau Community

College, 2013-2017, Section 9-2.2.). Other provisions do not specifically prohibit the distribution of course materials to other institutions but do require faculty permission or notification before the institution can distribute course materials.

176

The College may not sell, lease, assign or transfer interest in these instructional

materials without permission of the faculty member, nor will the College

knowingly allow other faulty to plagiarize or appropriate such materials. (Article

34.B.2.)

Other faculty and institutions have negotiated time limited restrictions on the use of course materials, the restrictions can apply to the faculty member as well as the institution. For example:

If the Work in question is the creation of a new online course by the faculty

member receiving Substantial District Resources, both the District and the faculty

member are automatically restricted in their use of such course for an initial two-

year period. During this two-year period, the District agrees that no other District

employee will use the course. During this same period, the faculty member agrees

that he/she will not use the course in any manner other than within his/her District

employment. Any exception to this automatic two-year restriction by either party

must be documented in an Intellectual Property Rights Agreement form. (Butte-

Glen Community College, 2013-2015, Article 20.C.4.)

The College agrees not to rebroadcast any Distance Education course or

instructional material, which may have been developed with that capacity, three

(3) years subsequent to the completion of its development, without written

approval of the teacher(s) who developed the course/material. (Henry Ford

Community College, 2013-2018, Article XII.B.8.)

177

This study found that nine of the above-referenced 41 faculty contracts restrict the use of course materials until the institution can notify the faculty member that the institution is selling the course materials to a third party.

Evaluation. This study found two categories of contract provisions regarding instructional technology that were not present in the 1998 Rhoades study. The first of these is termed evaluation. Evaluation contract provisions describe how the use of instructional technology is included in the faculty employment review process. The evaluation processes described in the provisions vary but include promotion and tenure reviews, management reviews, student course evaluations, peer reviews, and review via recordings.

Contract provisions regarding instructional technology inclusion in a faculty evaluation process are present in 95 (35.6%) of the faculty contracts. The 95 faculty contracts include 20 (7.5%) four-year institutions and 75 (28%) two-year institutions. The

Chi-square test of independence showed that instructional technology use in faculty evaluations contract provisions are significantly more prevalent at two-year institutions

(75) rather than four-year institutions (20), χ2 (1, N = 267) = 3.98, p < .05.

Evaluation of instructional technology use directly tied to a promotion and/or tenure review process is found in 41 (15.4%) faculty contracts. Examples of such provisions follow:

The goal of the online course evaluation process is to ensure that the online

courses being taught are similar in scope, quality, and requirements as the same

courses taught in a traditional format. Further, the evaluation is meant to develop

the skills of online instructors and for the methods, techniques, and best practices

178

in online instruction to be shared among peer faculty members. To that end, the

online evaluation process is designed primarily to review and improve the online

course delivery and content. However, for teaching faculty members who

regularly teach online courses as part of their teaching load, the online course

evaluation should be used by the evaluation team as an additional peer review of

teaching in the contract, regular or tenure review facets of faculty evaluation,

though it may not take the place of the formal classroom observations as

described in Articles 10 and 11 of this agreement. District administrative officers

have the same rights to informal review of online instruction as they possess for

traditionally delivered instruction. (Imperial Community College – California,

2012-2013, Article 10.7)

Faculty participation in Distance Education courses assigned under Article 8 of

this Agreement shall be recognized as appropriate academic activity and shall be

given due consideration in Faculty evaluations for merit and tenure and promotion

review. (Southern Illinois University, 2011-2014, Article 8.06.B.4.)

In order to be promoted from P3 to P4, the applicant must demonstrate one or

more of the following criteria…b) New or increased use of technology… (Nassau

Community College – Florida, 2013-2017, Article 59.7.3.)

Two-year institutions account for 31 (11.6%) of these faculty contracts, leaving 10

(3.7%) attributed to four-year faculty contracts. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship with either institution type and provisions including instructional technology in faculty promotion and tenure evaluations, χ2 (1, N =

267) = 0.9, p = 0.53.

179

Management reviews and evaluations of faculty instructional performance using instructional technology is found in 31 (11.6%) of faculty contracts. The contract provision language commonly equates management access and review of instructional technology facilitated courses with classroom observations. Examples of required management reviews of instructional technology use in contract provisions follow:

The College will evaluate faculty members involved in online instruction

using College-approved evaluation instruments suited for this delivery modality.

The College will require faculty who teach online courses to provide course

access to their supervising Dean at the onset of instruction. If requested to do so

by the supervising Dean, the Edison Online division leadership will provide data

on online courses taught by faculty in their area (examples: completion rates,

success rates, student course evaluation information). (Edison Community

College – Florida, 2013-2016, Article 9.4.A.)

An announced classroom observation, by physical or virtual means, of each

Lecturer Faculty by the Department Chair, Program Coordinator, or their designee

shall occur at least once per review period. The Chair or their designee (e.g., the

Associate Chair or Program Coordinator) will provide a written assessment of the

Lecturer Faculty's teaching to him/her. The assessment will be included in his/her

personnel file within two weeks of the assessment. (University of New

Hampshire, 2015-2017, Article 13.3.1.2.)

Twenty-four (9.0%) of the faculty contracts are from two-year institutions and seven

(2.6%) are from four-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship with either institution type and the inclusion of

180

management reviews of instructional technology in the faculty contracts, χ2 (1, N = 267)

= 0.60, p = .44.

References to student evaluation of faculty instructional technology use is found in 30 (11.2%) faculty contracts. The provisions generally mandate that faculty must give students an opportunity to evaluate the faculty member’s use of instructional technology such as the following example.

At the election of the probationary faculty member, student evaluations may be

prepared on-line during class or via hard copy during class on the instrument

attached hereto and made a part hereof as Appendix C. Student instructional

evaluations for use in online courses shall be on the instrument attached hereto

and made a part hereof as Appendix D. These evaluation instruments shall be

subject to amendment from time to time by agreement of the Faculty Association

and the Board. (Lincoln Land Community College – Illinois, 2012-2015, Article

9.2.C.3.)

The evaluation is normally a standardized form, delivered on paper or electronically, that allows the student to rate whether the faculty member: was knowledgeable and prepared for online instruction, encouraged students to ask questions and participate in online learning activities, provided effective online contributions and sites, maintained online course environment conducive to learning, communicated clearly, was accessible for individual communication, and provided course materials online regularly and on time. Nineteen (7.1%) faculty contracts are from two-year institutions and 11 (4.1%) are from four-year institutions. The Chi- square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship with either

181

institution type and the inclusions of contract provisions allowing student evaluation of instructional technology use, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 1.12, p = .29.

Faculty have negotiated contract provisions that state that the use of instructional technology, the refusal to use instructional technology, or reviews of instructional technology courses will not be included and/or reflect negatively on their performance evaluation. Protection from negative evaluations related to instructional technology use is found in 26 (9.7%) faculty contracts. Examples of such provisions are provided here:

Participation by members of the bargaining unit in OLCs, whether as part of

regular teaching load or as overload, will be strictly voluntary. The decision by a

member of the bargaining unit not to participate will not be used in any evaluative

manner. (Bucks County Community College, 2010-2014, Article IV.E.)

Course reviews of newly developed/developing online learning courses will be

conducted by trained staff in the Office of Instructional Design and Delivery upon

timely notification to the faculty member. Any faculty member teaching an online

learning course may also request a course review. The faculty member has the

right to be present during the course review; however, such request cannot unduly

delay the review. The purpose of the review is to ensure high quality standards for

all online learning courses. The review will not include course content and

manner of organization, nor the subject of communication between faculty and

their students. The course review will not be used toward evaluation of a faculty

member for reappointment, tenure or promotion. (Onondaga Community College

– New York, 2014-2019, 6.26.d.3.)

182

Another form of protective provisions mandates that reviews of courses using instructional technology must be substantially similar to reviews used in traditional courses, such as in the following example:

Evaluation of Internet-based courses shall follow the same procedure and

evaluation standards as per the existing collective bargaining agreement.

Academic and individual freedom will apply as with existing modes of course

delivery. (Broome Community College – New York, 2012-2015, Article 50.)

Twenty-two faculty contracts are from two-year institutions and four faculty contracts are from four-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship with either institution type and provisions protecting faculty from negative evaluations regarding instructional technology, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 2.42, p = .12.

Nine (3.4%) faculty contracts address the use of recordings of faculty as they use instructional technology for evaluation purposes. The provisions uniformly prohibit the use of electronic monitoring or recorded video for purposes of evaluating faculty performance of duties and instruction. Seven of these faculty contracts are from two-year institutions and two contracts are from four-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship with either institution type and provisions prohibiting the use of recordings in the faculty evaluation process, χ2 (1,

N = 267) = 0.18, p = .67.

Privacy. The second category found in this study but not in the 1998 Rhoades study is termed privacy. Privacy provisions in the faculty contracts address faculty expectations of privacy when using instructional technology in the performance of their professional duties. The privacy provisions include terms regarding: privacy in the

183

classroom setting and in interactions with students via instructional technology, management access to faculty instructional technology accounts, the surveillance or recording of faculty, prohibited use of instructional technology, and institutions reserving the right to monitor faculty without notice or permission.

Privacy provisions are found in 61 (22.8%) faculty contracts, 45 (16.9%) are from two-year institutions and 16 (6.0%) are from four-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship with either institution type and provisions addressing instructional technology privacy, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.19, p =

.66.

Of the 61 contracts with privacy provisions, 31 (11.6%) address privacy recording faculty in the traditional classroom or when using instructional technology to deliver a course. The provisions generally prohibit the recording of faculty without their permission. The provisions do state permissible reasons to record a faculty member such as for student study and review, to assist students with documented disabilities, or faculty self-evaluation related to personal professional development efforts. The provisions commonly call for the permitted recordings to be destroyed after a defined time period, such as within two weeks after the conclusion of the course. A representative provision is provided below:

Media recorded for/from a distance learning course are for student use, and may

not be used for any commercial purpose. Media of a distance learning course may

not be used in the evaluation of a faculty member without the faculty member's

consent. Unless there is an extraordinary reason for preserving the media, all

media of a given distance learning course will be destroyed within two weeks of

184

the course completion. In such case, the faculty member must be consulted and a

new deadline mutually agreed upon by which the media will be destroyed. Media

may also be retained if the right and title to ownership of the tapes has been

negotiated in advance by the faculty member and the College. (Oakton

Community College – Illinois, 2008-2012, Article V.B.7.)

Two-year institutions account for 26 (9.7%) of the privacy provisions and four-year institutions account for the remaining five (1.9%) faculty contracts. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship with either institution type and provisions restricting the recording of faculty in the classroom, χ2 (1, N = 267)

= 2.62, p = .11.

In 21 (7.9%) of the faculty contracts, provisions allow management to access, monitor, and surveil faculty instructional technology accounts and/or student interactions only when management has cause. Cause is commonly defined as a reasonable suspicion of inappropriate use of instructional technology, to investigate a verifiable complaint, or other legally required causes such as open records requests. These provisions are typically worded in general, open-ended terms such as the following clause:

Faculty will have a reasonable expectation of privacy in their offices, desks, voice

mail, e-mail, other electronic technology, and other personal materials. This right

does not supersede the rights of the College under its administrative policies to

provide a safe working environment or uphold local, state, and federal laws and

regulations that govern the use of public equipment, furnishings, buildings, and

college campuses. (Columbia Basin Community College – Washington, 2012-

2014, Article 6.6.)

185

Other contract provisions are explicit and legalistic in describing the situations in which the college management can access faculty instructional technology accounts, such as the following:

The only extraordinary circumstances in which University personnel may read or

otherwise access faculty email or faculty computer files without the permission of

an individual faculty member are as follows: (1) when ordered to do so by a court;

(2) when ordered to do so pursuant to a subpoena or other legally enforceable

order; (3) when the email or computer file is a "public record" as defined in ORC

149.43 and a proper request is made; (4) when required to comply with the law;

(5) when in the normal operation and maintenance of the University's computer

facilities, staff of the Information Services and Technology department (or their

staff analogues in other units of the University) inadvertently or inevitably open

or otherwise briefly access an electronic mail message or computer file; (6) when

emergency entry is necessary to preserve the integrity of the University's

computer and network facilities or to preserve public health and safety;

(7) when the University has reasonable cause to believe that a "litigation hold" is

necessary based upon knowledge by University Legal Counsel of the presentment

of a claim or of a potential cause of action impacting the University. In such an

instance, University Legal Counsel will so advise the affected faculty member.

Following receipt of such notice, it is the faculty member's legal responsibility to

maintain copies of all email, computer files and other relevant electronically

stored information until such time as the litigation hold is released, the litigation is

completed or the retention time requirements under the university's records

186

retention policy are met, whichever comes last; or (8) when the University has

reasonable cause to believe that a faculty member may be violating the law.

(Cleveland State University – Ohio, Article 11.5.A.)

Conversely, other contract provisions provide evidence that faculty seek to prohibit the surreptitious surveillance of faculty by the management via any electronic device, such as the following:

All work spaces shall be free from eavesdropping devices, whether mechanical or

electronic, unless all faculty member(s) affected give explicit consent to such

eavesdropping. For the purposes of this Article, eavesdropping shall include

recording, photographing, observing and/or listening. (Palomar Community

College – California, 2014-2016, Article 20.8.2.)

Sixteen (6%) of these contracts are from two-year institutions and six (2.2%) contracts are from four-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship with either institution type and provisions granting management access with cause to faculty instructional technology accounts, χ2 (1, N =

267) = 0.02, p = .90.

Contract provisions outlining the specific uses of instructional technology and institutional computer services prohibited by the institution are found in 12 (4.5%) of the faculty contracts. The following provision is a representative example of institutional prohibitions for faculty using instructional technology.

Unreasonable or excessive use of District time, facilities, equipment, or supplies,

including District computing resources, for purposes other than the performance

of their assigned duties and professional responsibilities or official CCSF

187

business. The District provides computing resources for use as academic

professionals and for business use as District representatives, and not for personal,

financial or other gain. Reasonable personal use of District computing resources is

permitted when it does not consume a significant amount of those resources and

does not interfere with the performance of the user's job or other District

responsibilities. (San Francisco Community College, 2013-2015, Article 8.I.1.1.)

Four-year institutions account for five of these contracts and two-year institution faculty contracts account for the remaining seven. The Chi-square test of independence showed that provisions prohibiting certain uses of institutional technology are not significantly related four-year institution faculty contracts or two-year faculty contracts, χ2 (1, N =

267) = 1.08, p = 0.30.

In eight (3.0%) faculty contracts, the institution clearly states that it retains the right to monitor and restrict faculty use of instructional technology with little notice and without faculty permission. The following example provisions delineate the institutions right monitor and surveil faculty use of institutional technology:

All Employer electronic and telephonic communications systems or other

business equipment are the property of the Employer, and are to be used solely for

job-related purposes, except as otherwise expressly set forth in this Agreement.

The use of these systems or business equipment shall be consistent with the

Employer’s business interests. The Employer reserves the right to monitor,

retrieve, and/or take possession of such systems or equipment, including but not

limited to internet usage history and printing, reading, listening to and/or viewing

all resident data on College equipment, in accordance with the Employer’s

188

communications policies, including any revisions to these policies, provided these

policies do not violate the specific terms of this Agreement. (Southwestern

Community College – Oregon, 2009-2012. Article 4.12.)

Faculty acknowledge the right of the College to log technology use, monitor

fileserver space utilization by users, examine user files, and monitor phone

conversations. The College acknowledges its responsibility to respect the

confidentiality of faculty communications with students, colleagues, and

administrators. (Highland Community College – Illinois, 2014-2015, Article

II.D.7.)

Two-year institutions account for five of these contracts and three contracts are from four-year institutions. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is no significant relationship with either institution type and provisions that allow institutions to monitor and surveil faculty via instructional technology, χ2 (1, N = 267) = 0.33, p =

.57.

Summary

This study analyzed the ways the implementation of instructional technology proscribes higher-education faculty work as coded in faculty collective bargaining agreements. Replicating the work of Rhoades (1998), this study employed qualitative content analysis to describe the themes and patterns of meaning in the content of faculty collective bargaining agreement regarding instructional technology. Collective bargaining agreements were collected from the HECAS database, state employee relations websites, and individual union webpages. A close reading and content analysis of contract

189

provisions from faculty collective bargaining agreements focused on how the implementation of instructional technology affects higher education faculty work.

This study found 267 faculty collective bargaining agreements with provisions related to instructional technology. These provisions were further categorized, coded, and broken into sub -codes for analysis. Contracts’ provisions referring to the decision to use and select instructional technology were divided between provisions that reserve the decision as a management right and provisions that involve faculty discretion or input through a shared governance structure or other formal committee. The training and support contract provisions discussed were subdivided and categorized into specific aspects of training and support such as: enumerating the basic office equipment and access to instruction technology, how technical support will be provided, and specific training provided by the institution. Provisions regarding rewarding skill in the use of instructional technology were subdivided into provisions requiring skills prior to hiring and requiring skills prior to assignment of current employees. The faculty contracts contained multiple provision types regarding pay for instructional technology course development and delivery including: future royalties, prorated pay, and piece-rate pay.

Contract provisions addressing faculty displacement were subdivided into the following: class size limits, management discretion in assignments, right of first refusal by faculty, faculty seniority rights, stated good intentions, and restrictions on third-party use. New duties provisions discussed relate to faculty teaching loads, office hours, sick days, academic freedom, and faculty-student interaction. Curriculum control provisions discussed control over course development, approval, and assignment of instructional technology based course. The curriculum control provisions were subdivided into

190

following sub-codes: management reserves discretion, faculty reserves discretion, instructional technology committee control, or traditional shared governance committee control. The ownership provisions referred to faculty ownership, copyright law, institutional oversight, joint ownership, and restrictions on the distribution of course material. Contract provisions discussing evaluation of instructional technology use included: promotion and tenure reviews, management reviews, student course evaluations, peer reviews, and evaluation through recording. The privacy contract provisions included terms regarding: privacy in the classroom setting and in interactions with students via instructional technology, management access to faculty instructional technology accounts, the surveillance or recording of faculty in the classroom, prohibited use of instructional technology, and institutions reserving the right to monitor faculty without notice or permission.

191

Chapter Five

Findings

Introduction

This study analyzes how instructional technology proscribes higher-education faculty work as coded in faculty collective bargaining agreements. This study replicates and extends the work on the production politics of teaching and technology completed by

Rhoades (1998) in his seminal text, Managed professionals: Unionized faculty and restructuring academic labor. This study employs qualitative content analysis as a systematic procedure for describing themes and patterns of meaning in the content of faculty collective bargaining agreement (Berg, 2001; Boyatzis, 1988; Krippendorff,

2004). Collective bargaining agreements were collected from the Higher Education

Contract Analysis System (HECAS) database, state employee relations websites, and individual union webpages. A close reading and content analysis of faculty collective bargaining agreements focused on how the implementation of instructional technology affects higher education faculty is performed, replicating the thematic and rhetorical analysis conducted by Rhoades (1998). The discussion and findings of this qualitative analysis was guided by the following research questions:

1. To what extent do faculty have input and managers have discretion

regarding the general decision to introduce teaching technologies and the

specific choice of which technology to utilize?

2. To what extent does the use of teaching technologies suggest the possible

enskilling or deskilling of faculty, and to what extent does it involve

extending managerial discretion over pedagogy, curriculum, and faculty?

192

To address research question one, I analyze faculty contracts by category, focusing on specific references to faculty rights in deciding to use and select technology.

Main Findings

My main findings are briefly presented here followed by a more extensive discussion of the results in the next section of this chapter. My analysis guided by my research questions resulted in five main findings. First the absolute number and percentage of faculty collective bargaining agreements with provisions has extensively increased over the last 20 years, as would be expected. Second, this study found evidence that the organizational context effected the frequency of negotiating instructional technology provisions as proposed by hegemony and contingency theorists. The instructional technology contract provisions skills and hiring, remuneration, and displacement are significantly more prevalent in two-year faculty contracts, p < .05. Also, contracts provisions regarding ownership are significantly more prevalent in four-year faculty contracts, p < .05. Third, two additional provision categories emerged during the analysis of the faculty contracts, evaluations and privacy. The emergent provisions provide support for the continued marginalization of faculty. Fourth, the provisions found provide evidence in supporting the argument that new technology effects are dependent on the social context of an organization and the implementation of instructional technology is an opportunity for restructuring the social and organizational context of

193

higher education institutions. Finally, the contract provisions in this study reinforce

Rhoades’ concept of managerial extension; the marginalization of faculty to the periphery of the higher education organization and traditional faculty duties are being assigned to contingent faculty and non-faculty professionals.

Table 7

Instructional Technology in the Contracts

Descriptive code Rhoades (1998) Present study N % N % Provision 78 37.0% 267 96.4% Deciding to use 12 15.4% 61 22.8% Training 9 11.5% 92 34.5% Skills and hiring 2 2.6% 46* 17.2% Evaluation 95 35.6% Remuneration 28 35.9% 125* 46.8% Displacement 16 20.5% 113* 42.3% New duties 11 14.1% 126 47.2% Privacy 61 22.8% Curriculum control 13 16.7% 48 18.0% Ownership 17 21.8% 109** 40.8% * significant relationship between frequency of provision and two-year institutions, p < .05 ** significant relationship between frequency of provision and four-year institutions, p < .05

Using the most recently available faculty collective bargaining agreements and by extending the collection of contracts beyond those available in the HECAS, this study found an extensive increase in the number and percentage of faculty contract provisions regarding instructional technology. As shown in Table 7, Rhoades (1998) found that the faculty contracts lacking in provisions regarding instructional technology. Rhoades found

37% (78) of the available faculty contracts contained provisions regarding instructional technology with only remuneration provisions (36%) being found in greater than 25% of

194

the contracts addressing instructional technology. In this study, 96% (267) of the faculty contracts found contained at least one provision regarding instructional technology. The provisions regarding remuneration, displacement, new duties and ownership were found in greater than 40% of the faculty contracts. These provisions coincide with the most prevalent contract provisions, although at lower percentages, in the 1998 study.

The provisions regarding deciding to use instructional technology increased from

15.4% to 22.8% but this means there is still no evidence in greater than 75% of faculty contracts that faculty have a role in decisions about instructional technology. To make matters worse, five of the current provisions state management has the right to make all instructional technology decisions. The remaining provisions allow but generally minimize the input of faculty to bureaucratic committees that are predominately comprised of managers and non-faculty professionals. Therefore, in response to research question one, the evidence points to faculty having little input on decisions regarding instructional technology and that management has much greater discretion and control over the selection and use of instructional technology. The absence of provisions cedes rights to management. Yet, it is entirely possible that the selection of instructional technology has not been a contentious issue between faculty and management that requires negotiation. It is possible current policies and committees structures grant faculty considerable input into selection process but are not formalized into provisions within the contract. Alternatively, the faculty may have tried to formalize provisions but were unable come to an agreement with management. The contracts are silent so there is little evidence faculty having increased input. Based on the evidence found, faculty are being

195

marginalized within the organization by management and their role is being replaced by non-faculty professionals.

The percentage of contracts having provisions regarding training has increased three-fold from 11.5% to 34.5% but this still leaves nearly two-thirds of faculty contracts silent on instructional technology training and support. The contract provisions regarding skills and hiring have increased from 2.6% to 17.2% but is still the smallest provision category. Faculty hiring criteria requiring instructional technology skills are still in a small minority of contracts and are found disproportionately in two-year institution faculty contracts. This remains very weak evidence for enskilling. Remuneration remains one of the most prevalent types of provisions. In this study, new duties provisions are more common than remuneration by a couple of contracts. Remuneration provisions increased in terms of percentage of provisions, from 35.9% and 46.8%, due to a disproportionate increase of provisions at two-year institutions for development or delivery of distance education paid piece-rate or with a stipend. Similarly, displacement provisions have also increased in terms of percentage of provisions for the same reason, a disproportionate growth of provisions at two-year institutions. The curriculum control provision percentages remained relatively unchanged from 16.7% in 1998 to 18% in the present study. The deskilling effects of separating course development and delivery has continued to be prevalent in the contract provisions. The continued marginalization of the faculty is evident in provisions describing the expanded course approval policies and procedures as well as the expansion of non-faculty instructional technology professionals who have greater discretionary control over instructional technology. Finally, this study found the percentage of provisions regarding ownership of courses delivered via

196

instructional technology has nearly doubled from 21.8% to 40.8%. The expansion can be attributed to a disproportionate negotiation of ownership provisions at four-year institutions over the last 20 years.

As noted above, significant differences in code frequency in relation to institution type were also found in four of the eleven code categories. These significant differences between provision frequency and institution type support the theoretical contention that effects of new technology are contingent on the organizational context (Edwards, 1979;

Form et al., 1988; Kelley, 1990; Spenner, 1983).

Provisions regarding instructional technology skills and hiring credentials are still in a small minority of faculty contracts but there is significant relationship between the frequency of skill and hiring provisions and two-year institution faculty contracts. This significant relationship provides evidence in support of instructional technology effects being contingent on the organizational context. Two-year institutions have been quicker to implement instructional technology and facilitate distance learning. Two-year institutions also employ a higher percentage of contingent faculty than four-year institutions. Full-time faculty at two-year institutions are under increasing pressure to accommodate the increased use of instructional technology and compete with contingent faculty. It is possible negotiating skill requirements codifies full-time faculty value and potentially increases job security.

Remuneration provisions increased in terms of percentage of provisions, from

35.9% and 46.8%, due to a disproportionate increase of provisions at two-year institutions. Rhoades expected to find a relationship between remuneration and two-year institutions, especially after finding the provisions are predominated by piece-rate pay

197

structures. The contention was that faculty at four-year institution were more professionalized and would be expected to negotiate prorated terms of pay. Yet, the 1998 data did not yield any statistical evidence of a relationship between pay structures and institution type. This study did find that remuneration provisions are more prevalent in two-year institution faculty contracts. The faculty at two-year institutions are in constant competition with the contingent faculty who are the new faculty majority. The contingent faculty normally work on piece-rate pay structures, being paid per course or per school term. The contingent faculty willfully accept any additional work and pay. The two-year faculty are also less frequently negotiating provisions regarding intellectual property rights and future royalties. Four-year faculty have a longer tradition of intellectual property rights and are more likely to forgo immediate compensation for the opportunity for future gains from their research and work. Two-year faculty do not have generally have intellectual property experience and prefer to be paid at the time the work product is delivered. The full-time faculty are faced with this piece-rate pay organizational context when they negotiate pay structures for work such as developing or delivering a new instructional technology facilitated course. Therefore, the significant relationship between piece-rate remuneration provisions and faculty at two-year institutions is likely explained by the organizational context.

Displacement provisions have increased over the last 20 years. Similarly, displacement provisions have also increased in terms of the percentage of provisions.

Overall, this study found significantly more frequent displacement provisions in two-year institution faculty contracts. Two-year full-time faculty face increasing displacement pressure from contingent faculty who are the new faculty majority. Rhoades (1998) found

198

even when displacement was addressed, management retained discretion in the use of part-time faculty or the expansion of instructional technology without creating new full- time faculty lines, giving support for collective deskilling and marginalization of the faculty. Faculty at two-year institutions are experiencing greater deskilling and marginalization pressures by displacement. This provides evidence that with the implementation of instructional technology, there is a relationship regarding the displacement of full-time faculty by contingent faculty and the organizational context of the institution.

The expansion of instructional technology over the last twenty years has increased the interest of the faculty and management to define the terms of potential economic gains internal and external to the institution. As stated above, the faculty at four-year institutions have a longer history of negotiating intellectual property rights, so not surprisingly, they have more frequently included instructional technology ownership provisions in their contracts. Rhoades (1998) specifically noted he was surprised not to find this relationship in his study but as he also said, his study was about five years too early and his dataset too small. This significant relationship between ownership provisions and four-year institution faculty is more evidence supporting the contention that the effect of implementation of instructional technology on the social relations of faculty work is contingent on the organizational context of the institution.

The additional categories that emerged in this study, evaluation and privacy, provide evidence related to enskilling and management extension. The evaluation provisions document the negotiated terms regarding the use of instructional technology in faculty evaluations for continued appointment, promotion, and tenure. If applied in a

199

voluntary and cooperative manner the evaluation of increased skills is consistent with enskilling. The provisions provide evidence for enskilling if the new skills are rewarded with increased professional status, remuneration, or autonomy. Alternatively, new skill requirement as a new expectation, without reward or the professional discretion in the use of the skills, indicates a loss of autonomy and an extension of management control.

The privacy provisions provide evidence that faculty autonomy in the delivery of course materials and overall course control is threatened by a loss of privacy in communication and in the classroom. Emails, digital calls, video captures, and course management systems are capable of recording every faculty interaction. The ease of management monitoring faculty via instructional facilitates greater control over the faculty work. Contract provisions addressing faculty privacy expectations, restricting management surveillance and monitoring, and acceptable uses of technology provide evidence of managerial extension.

Given the greater quantity and variety of instructional technology provisions in this study compared to Rhoades, the data resulted in contradictory evidence for deskilling and enskilling but consistently yielded evidence in favor of managerial extension. As summarized on Table 8, this study found faculty contract provisions in five categories that supported both enskilling and deskilling but there is evidence supporting managerial extension in every category. This study finds the contract provisions faculty are negotiating do not form a uniform agenda or cohesive response to the potential for enskilling, deskilling, and managerial extension through the implementation of instructional technology. The evidence found in this study for both deskilling and enskilling is consistent with contingency theory that indicates the effects of the

200

implementation of new technology on the social relations of work are often contradictory when studied on a larger scale (Spenner, 1983).

Contingency theory suggests that implementation of any new technology does not have one deterministic effect on all organizations. The contradictory evidence between institutions for enskilling and deskilling is the result of the faculty and management negotiating the social relations of work within the individual social and organizational context of each institution (Form et al., 1988; Kelley, 1990; Spenner, 1983). An organization’s social context is contingent on confounding factors internal and external to the organization, such as labor markets, economic variability, organization size and complexity. (Barley, 1986; Burawoy, 1979; Cornfield, 1987; Edwards, 1979; Form et al.,

1988; Kelley, 1990; Sorge & Streeck, 1988; Spenner, 1983; Warner, 1985). Each side is reacting to the potential for change and loss of control within the social context.

Kelley (1990) asserted that management choices have the greatest effect on whether the organizational context promotes enskilling or deskilling. The faculty negotiate provisions cooperating with management goals and values in exchange for short-term job security or conversely protective provisions intended to limit management’s discretion over faculty work (Barley, 1986; Cornfield, 1987). Permissive contract provisions that grant faculty greater discretion over their work indicate management has chosen to foster a cooperative relationship with faculty (Kelley, 1990).

Alternatively, management can choose to engage in an adversarial relationship with faculty, negotiating prescriptive provisions; increasing bureaucratic and technical control over faculty work to limit faculty discretion and autonomy (Barley, 1986; Edwards,

1979). In return, faculty attempt to negotiate terms to protect discretion and control over

201

their work (Kelley, 1990). Thus, faculty contract provisions are an indicator of the organizational social context of that institution (Kelley, 1990). Faculty negotiating the instructional technology provisions have an opportunity to either reinforce or modify the social and organizational context (Barley, 1986). Therefore, the contradictory evidence for the enskilling, deskilling, and marginalization in the provisions are a product of the organizational and social context of each institution.

202

Table 8

Summary of Study Findings

Rhoades (1998) Present study evidence found in support of evidence found in support of enskilling deskilling managerial enskilling deskilling managerial extension extension Deciding to use and select technology Deciding to use X X Managers have discretion - managerial extension Control decentralized to faculty - enskilling Faculty job skills and autonomy Training X X X X Training programs present - enskilling No training or skill development - deskilling/managerial extension Skills and hiring X X X X X Skills are a selection requirement - enskilling Skills are not a requirement* - deskilling/managerial extension Evaluation X X X Skills are meritorious - enskilling Skills expected without reward - deskilling/managerial extension Remuneration X X X X Prorated - enskilling Piece-rate - deskilling/managerial extension Displacement X X X Displacement/retrenchment justified* - deskilling Protections limit displacement* - limit deskilling Faculty job skills and managerial control New duties X X X X X Added to existing duties - deskilling/managerial extension Voluntary or academic freedom - enskilling Privacy X Surveillance restricted -limit managerial extension Management right to surveil - managerial extension Curriculum Control X X X Managerial discretion - managerial extension Separate development/delivery* - deskilling Ownership X X X Faculty retains control of courses - limiting deskilling Managers gain ownership* - managerial extension * denotes provision strongly influences the hiring of contingent faculty

203

Rhoades (1998) combines the descriptive codes into three clusters based on common themes for further analysis. The themes derived by Rhoades (1998) and replicated here are: deciding to use and selecting specific technologies, faculty job skills and autonomy, and faculty autonomy and managerial control. The privacy category of provisions corresponds to the faculty autonomy and managerial control cluster. The evidence for enskilling, deskilling, and managerial extension found in this study are summarized in Table 8 and discussed below.

Overall this study found evidence that supports Rhoades’s contention that the connection between skill, rewards, and worker autonomy are socially constructed and politically negotiated and faculty roles are not as central within the higher education organization (1998). Similar to Rhoades (1998), this study finds no consistent support for deskilling or enskilling of faculty through the implementation and use of instructional technology. This study reinforces Rhoades’ argument that the faculty role is being marginalized through bureaucratic and hierarchical processes that reduce faculty control over work. Faculty input is diluted within the institutions. Non-faculty professionals and mangers are appropriating traditional faculty roles. Management surveillance is eased via technology and even though faculty are more skilled they are losing discretionary control over their work. Even the few enskilling provisions tended to be more protective of faculty autonomy than management being permissive of faculty control. This study found little evidence of clear enskilling or deskilling but the contracts provisions consistently supported evidence for managerial extension by the marginalization of the faculty. In general, faculty are attempting to protect and maintain their traditional jurisdictions of input and control but management is successfully negotiating provisions that marginalize

204

the faculty role within the higher education institution. Being that management choices have the greatest effect on the social context of the organization and those choices are memorialized in the contract provisions, the evidence found in this study supports the contention that faculty are being marginalized and serve at the behest of the management and therefore, faculty are truly managed professionals.

Discussion

Rereading and reflecting on the provisions grouped in each descriptive code, I found differences in provisions that illustrated contradictory intentions between the provisions on the same topic. The analysis of the provisions is categorized into eleven descriptive codes continued by dividing the coded provisions into more finely grouped subcategories. These subcategories reflected specific differences in the provision language or intent. The subcategories remain interrelated and part of the parent code but illustrate differing approaches to address the issues of the parent descriptive code. This further analysis is organized by descriptive code, with a discussion of the subcategories and the evidence of enskilling, deskilling, and managerial extension in the following sections.

Provision. This study found that 96% (267) of the faculty collective bargaining contracts collected contained at least one provision regarding instructional technology. In

1998, Rhoades found 37% (78) of the contracts he reviewed addressed some aspects of instructional technology. Clearly, instructional technology has become an issue of concern to faculty and higher education administrators over the last 20 years. The frequency of these provisions confirms that instructional technology is a topic of concern that is being actively negotiated by faculty and management in higher education

205

institutions. The negotiated provisions illustrate the potential for deskilling and enskilling described by (Kelley, 1990; Rhoades, 1998). Management choices during the negotiation of technology have a large effect on the outcome of the contract provisions (Kelley,

1990). The contract provisions negotiated between the faculty and management reflect the organizational social context of the higher education institution (Kelley, 1990).

Deciding to use. Rhoades (1998) found little evidence of contractual provisions for faculty involvement in the decision making over the choice of technology or the decisions to use technology. Rhoades found 12 (15.3%) contract provisions regarding the decision to use or select instructional technology.

In this study, 61 (22.8%) faculty contracts address the decision to use or select instructional technology. Of these contracts, 49 (18.3%) contain provisions that ensure faculty have input on instructional technology. These provisions provide evidence that faculty has not lost its control over working conditions in regards to instructional technology but the evidence in support of enskilling is tenuous.

Based on the contract provisions found in this study, faculty input is assured but they are normally one stakeholder voice within a larger bureaucratic committee structure.

Faculty input is tempered by the input of instructional technology professionals and administrators. Faculty now play an advisory role within the organization rather than as a professional with discretion to make instructional technology decision and choices. The provisions provide evidence in support of a gradual marginalization of the faculty role to the periphery of a large organization (Rhoades, 1998).To reinforce this point, this study found only one provision that granted faculty full discretion over a technology decision; faculty were given full discretion over their preferred method of email communication.

206

Yet, 15 contract provisions specifically reserved all rights exclusively for the management when choosing instructional technology systems.

Training and support. Training was described as a positive indication of possible enskilling of faculty but was noticeably absent in the vast majority of contracts in 1998 (Rhoades). Rhoades found nine (11.5%) contract provisions in his 1998 study that supported faculty training in instructional technology. Rhoades stated these provisions did not provide much evidence in support of enskilling as the vast majority of contracts never addressed instructional technology training. This study found 92 (34.5%) contract provisions regarding training and support of faculty using instructional technology; there was no significant relationship between these contract provisions and institution type. The percentage of provisions has increased three-fold but this still leaves nearly two-thirds of faculty contracts silent on instructional technology training and support.

Of the provisions found in this study, 35 (13.1%) specifically assure faculty of training and support in the use of instructional technology. These contract provisions offer tacit guarantees, containing qualifiers such as “within the limits of available resources” and “at the administration’s discretion.” Other provisions guarantee access to telephones and email systems to communicate with students that one would assume is a given. It seems these privileges would be the current minimum requirement for faculty to complete their work but that might not be the experiences of contingent faculty without permanent office space. These provisions either address the concerns of contingent faculty or may be relics of previous contract negotiations when email use and instructional technology access was not universal.

207

In 28 (10.4%) of the provisions, training and support will be provided if, and only if, the limited resources of institution allow the possibility and if the instructional technology support staff find the time along with their many duties. These contract provisions do not even offer a tacit guarantee. The contract provisions offer the institution management maximum flexibility to provide training and support, or not, depending on whether managers decide to provide the budget and if they deem the instructional technology support staff is not too busy with administrative tasks. The general lack of training and support provisions and the lack of guarantees in the contract provisions found give evidence in support of the eventual deskilling of faculty and management gaining more control over course development and delivery via instructional technology.

The training and support contract provisions also provide evidence in support of the marginalization of the faculty role. The provisions indicate training and support is provided by instructional technology professionals also employed with the institution to complete faculty work using instructional technology. Before the instructional technology was ubiquitous, faculty did not require specific training to use the chalk board and the pencil sharpener in the classroom. Faculty were self-sufficient in their role delivering lectures. The faculty are now dependent on instructional technology professionals for access, support, and continuous training on instructional technology updates to develop and deliver their courses. In one contract provision found in this study, the faculty specifically negotiated, requires that faculty will have no responsibility for the instructional technology found in classrooms; instructional technology support staff will manage and maintain the classroom instructional technology. The faculty that negotiated this provision may have the illusion of control over their work by refusing to learn how to

208

manage and use the new instructional technology. Yet, the faculty is deskilling themselves. Other contract provisions, management reserves all rights to control access and use of instructional technology, forbidding support for the development and delivery of courses without explicit written permission. Adversarial language within contract provision language such as prescribing responsibilities, reserving rights, or protecting traditional roles, provides evidence in support of deskilling (Kelley, 1990)

In 10.1% of the contract provisions, training is required to be offered as needed and is mandatory before faculty can use instructional technology to develop or deliver a course. The contract provisions generally outline the specific training content, duration, and competency required by the faculty. Mandatory and specific training provisions imply a requirement to train without being overly prescriptive for management and faculty. Delineating training requirements reduces the discretionary choices of both faculty and management. If the institution management wants faculty to use instructional technology to develop and deliver a course, the faculty must be trained in the skills according the requirements of the contract provision. In most cases the contract provisions provide evidence is support of enskilling. Yet, mandatory training can also become a limited resource and a source control if the training is only offered at management’s discretion rather than at the faculty’s behest. This provides evidence in support for managerial extension of control, the faculty gains skills but management control over faculty work increases (Vallas, 1993). In the case of Flathead Community

College, training is mandatory before faculty can be approved to develop and deliver a course using instructional technology but the college requires faculty to pay for the training classes.

209

In 8.6% of the contracts, contract provisions offer evidence for enskilling of faculty via training and instructional technology support. The provisions state the training will or shall be offered with no qualifiers that allows the institution the flexibility to not provide training and support. This is much stronger language that is more legally defensible in a grievance procedure. These provisions demonstrate a commitment by the administrators to provide the resources necessary for training and support. Faculty skills are increased without ceding control over their working conditions.

Skills and hiring. In 1998, Rhoades found two contract provisions regarding instructional technology skill requirements for faculty. Rhoades proposed upgraded skills were not rewarded or much less required due to the lack of provisions regarding skill in

1998. Going forward, Rhoades (1998) proposed that if instructional technology skills were not required for continuing faculty positions or hiring new faculty, it could lead to deskilling and ultimately the replacement of full-time faculty with less qualified part-time faculty.

This study found 46 (17.2%) contract provisions regarding faculty instructional technology skill requirements. As in 1998, skill requirements remain a relatively small percentage of contract provisions compared to the other categories of provisions in this study. The contract provisions regarding instructional technology skills requirements in this study do reinforce the requirement for skill attainment of faculty. Unfortunately, the faculty are not being specifically rewarded for instructional technology skills.

Instructional technology skills are an additional requirement for faculty employment. In requiring specific instructional technology skills, training or certification, management gains greater control in hiring faculty and granting permission to develop or deliver a

210

course via instructional technology. Management has discretion and flexibility in determining the requirements necessary for a faculty member. The requirement of skills does not enhance the faculty autonomy and discretion over their work when management determined skills are the new minimum to be hired or maintain a faculty position. The faculty member is required to gain new skills but management control increases. The skill and hiring provisions found in this study provide evidence in support of deskilling and managerial extension as described by (Vallas, 1993). There is significant relationship between the prevalence of these contract provisions and two-year institutions providing evidence in support of the effects on new technology are contingent on the organizational context (Kelley, 1990).

Evaluation. Provisions regarding the evaluation of instructional technology use and skills for faculty promotion, tenure, and employment reviews emerged as a new category. This study found provisions regarding the evaluation of instructional technology use by faculty in 95 (35.6%) of the faculty contracts. The provisions were significantly more prevalent at two-year higher education institutions. This is consistent with the skills and hiring category above. If instructional technology skills are being required for employment at two-year institutions, it is logical that the management would continue to evaluate those skills after hiring the faculty member.

In 41 (15.4%) of the provisions, instructional technology skills are specifically mentioned in in promotion or tenure review processes delineated in the contracts. In these cases, the instructional technology skills are recognized as faculty skills that are equivalent or additional to traditional considerations for faculty merit. In these provisions, there is evidence in support of enskilling. The new skills are given equivalent

211

or extraordinary credit toward promotion or tenure. The new skills are rewarded by management.

Conversely, the provisions that reference instructional technology skills in annual faculty reviews by management are worded as a new expectation in 31 (11.6%) of the contract provisions found in this study. The provisions make it clear that the use of instructional technology is not considered a voluntary. The faculty at these institutions have lost the discretion to decide how to development and deliver their courses. The use of instructional technology is not only an expectation but the data and analytics collected by the instructional technology systems, such as course completion rates, success rates, and student evaluations, is more readily available to the manager than ever before. What once was voluntary is now mandatory but no rewards are earned for acquiring the new skills. The faculty member has gained new skills but the new skills are not rewarded. In these provisions there is evidence to support Vallas’ (1993) theory of managerial extension, the faculty member has been enskilled but management control has increased.

Nearly an equal number of provisions, 26 (9.7%), specifically prohibit management from using reviews of instructional technology developed and delivered courses from negatively affecting faculty performance evaluations. These protective provisions maintain faculty autonomy in the use of instructional review and enables productive peer reviews. Yet, protective provisions are manifest of a distrust of management motives (Kelley, 1990). The protective provisions are generated within the social context of the organization. Protective provisions indicate the faculty perceive the choices management makes tends to lead to deskilling based on the social context of the organization (Barley, 1986; Form et al., 1988; Kelley, 1990).

212

Remuneration. Discussion of all pay-related provisions are aggregated under this category, remuneration, as Rhoades did in 1998. Rhoades (1998) found 28 (36%) provisions regarding pay, the largest number of any of his provision categories. Rhoades determined from his evidence that faculty are not being rewarded as professionals through pay, and, therefore not being enskilled. This study found 125 (46.8%) faculty contracts provisions regarding remuneration. The faculty contracts contain multiple provision types regarding pay for instructional technology course development and delivery, along with few addressing any future royalties. The contract provisions for instructional technology course development and delivery include prorated compensation terms; calculated to be proportional to the faculty member’s normal respective pay or as a proportional workload release time based the faculty member’s normal course load. Other contracts offer piece-rate pay, flat-rates, or one-time stipends for development and delivery of a courses using instructional technology. Piece-rate compensation systems are normally equivalent to the pay scales for part-time contingent faculty (Rhoades, 1998).

Piece-rate compensation parallels compensation systems more commonly used for less- skilled hourly-wage or day-labor rates of pay. Piece-rate compensation contact provisions are evidence is support deskilling. Prorated-pay contract provisions indicate faculty time and instructional technology skills are valued at the level of their respective professional compensation and is evidence of enskilling.

Prorated pay provisions for development and/or delivery of courses using instructional technology are included in 42 (15.7%) of faculty contracts. Prorated pay respects the position and experience of the faculty by compensating them at rate comparable to their current pay scale. The faculty are rewarded as professionals for their

213

skills. This provided evidence that the institution values the faculty time and effort spent using instructional technology comparable to all previous and current tasks. Prorated pay is therefore evidence of the institution rewarding enskilled professionals.

Piece-rate forms of remuneration provisions were found in 79 (29.6%) faculty contracts. Piece-rate pay provisions normally state a flat-rate payment or stipend for each course development or delivery using instructional technology. Piece-rate pay provisions found also include piece-rate pay at per-student rates for delivery. Piece-rate pay is analogous to less-skilled labor compensation systems (Rhoades, 1998). The faculty member is reduced from professional to work-for-hire labor comparable to contingent faculty pay rates. The use of piece-rate pay systems is significantly more common at two- year institutions where the use of contingent faculty is also more common. Piece-rate compensation contract provisions provide evidence in support of deskilling.

The piece-rate payment provisions are phrased as flat-rate incentives paid to faculty for development and deliver courses via instructional technology. These flat-rate incentive payments are not paid in appreciation of skill but rather as incentives to cooperate with management initiatives. The one-time incentive is used to motivate the faculty to learn how to develop and deliver a course using instructional technology skills but thereafter using instructional technology is considered a normal part of faculty duties.

No additional incentives are offered to develop and deliver subsequent courses using instructional technology. The faculty may think they are making a beneficial choice by gaining new skills but eventually those skills are exploited, increasing faculty productivity without increasing faculty compensation. Expecting faculty to continually develop and deliver courses using instructional technology without additional

214

compensation is a form of speeding-up the productivity of faculty work (Edwards, 1979).

The flat-rate compensation provisions are a game used by management to incentivize faculty cooperation, give the faculty the illusion of choice, and encourage internalization of management goals and values to reinforce the organizational hegemony (Burawoy,

1979; Cornfield, 1987; Edwards, 1979). Other institutions take it further by paying incentives based on student head-count in the courses. Being paid by the student head- count is the closest academic institutions can come to directly compensating faculty in a fashion analogous to factory labor mass-production piece-rate pay structures. The faculty member is paid for productivity, the number of students in the class, not for professional faculty skills or expertise.

Alternatively, fewer faculty contracts, 19 (7.1%), provide provisions that allow the faculty member and their manager to negotiate pay, incentives, or release time for taking on the added tasks of instructional technology courses. These provisions provide evidence supporting enskilling; faculty autonomy and control over their work is being respected; assuming that the provisions reflect reality and faculty have a negotiable position outside the contract language. It has been my experience that provisions that allow individually negotiable terms generally benefit the management goals at the expense of faculty autonomy. These provisions negotiated into the contract allow for maximum flexibility for management. The individual faculty member loses the collective leverage of the contract negotiations. The only leverage the individual faculty member is to decline the instructional technology course assignment, at the risk of being labeled uncooperative.

215

In five of the contract provisions, evidence in support of managerial extension, as defined by Vallas (1993), is found in this study. The provisions clearly state that faculty are expected to use instructional technology to develop and deliver courses and no compensation or reward will be offered. The use of instructional technology is considered another duty of faculty to be assigned by management. The faculty are expected to gain instructional technology skills but are not rewarded and management’s discretion over faculty work is increased.

Displacement. Displacement refers to contract provisions that refer to reductions or retrenchment of faculty due to the implementation of instructional technology. The implementation of instructional technology has the potential to deskill and displace faculty, analogous to the way factory laborers are displaced by automation. Course content captured by instructional technology may allow faculty to be displaced by less- skilled contingent or part-time faculty that are more tenuously employed. In this way, management gains more discretion over the workforce as faculty are deskilled.

This study found provisions regarding displacement in 94 (35.2%) two-year institutions and 19 (7.1%) four-year institutions, totaling 113 (42.3%) of the faculty contracts collected. The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is a significant relationship between two-year institutions and displacement provisions in their faculty contracts. The faculty contracts from the two-year institutions addressing displacement are more prevalent than expected. This provides evidence that faculty at two-year institutions are responding to displacement of full-time faculty by contingent and part-time faculty and therefore experiencing greater deskilling pressures.

216

Displacement provisions and the deskilling pressure has increased in the last 20 years. Rhoades (1998) found displacement terms in 16 (20.5%) of faculty contracts.

Rhoades (1998) found when displacement was addressed, management retained discretion in the use of part-time faculty or the expansion of instructional technology without creating new full-time faculty lines, giving support for collective deskilling of the faculty. Overall, the same results are found in this study.

The provisions found in this study try to resist the deskilling and displacement of full-time faculty positions. The most common provision tactic is to limit the class size of courses delivered via instructional technology by setting a maximum number of students or requiring class size to be equivalent to a seated course section. Class size limitations are found in 82 (30.7%) faculty contracts and are significantly more prevalent in the two- year institution contracts. By limiting class sizes, the faculty are effectively trying to control the pace of their work. Assuming the faculty member workload is calculated by credit or contact hour, the number of students is not normally a consideration unless the institution using large lecture halls. Instructional technology delivered courses are not limited by physical classroom space for students. The institution could combine what would be have to be multiple seated sections into one super course section delivered online. This is equivalent to speeding up the assembly line of faculty productivity

(Edwards, 1979). The institution increases productivity by paying the faculty to deliver a course via instructional technology that includes many more students than a traditional seated course section. Restricting instructional technology class sizes provides evidence in support of faculty resisting the deskilling pressures of instructional technology.

217

This study found provisions allowing class sizes to be determined by a committee or in negotiations outside the collective bargaining agreement occurs in 11 (4.1%) faculty contracts. As stated before, the initial impression is the faculty member is being granted the greatest flexible to negotiate their work. This is only true if the institution management respects the faculty member as a professional and works in good faith after the collective bargaining agreements is closed. Ultimately, the faculty member has no power in individual negotiations and is only one stakeholder within a bureaucratic committee structure. Faculty are given the illusion of input, discretion, but are potentially being manipulated to internalize management goals and values (Burawoy, 1979;

Cornfield, 1987; Edwards, 1979; Kelley, 1990).

In four (1.5%) contracts, this study found the management reserves the right to determine class sizes for instructional technology delivered courses. The faculty have no protections from the deskilling forces of speeding up of work and displacement. This is evidence in support of deskilling of the faculty.

Aside from class size limitations, provisions that protect faculty from displacement include faculty reserving the right of first refusal to teach and/or develop online or hybrid courses. This study found right of first refusal provisions in 31 (11.6%) faculty contracts; no significant relationship was found between these provisions and institutional type. Right of first refusal provisions give faculty a modicum of professional discretion over their work. The protections for faculty are limited. The right of first refusal restrictions are commonly limited to a predetermined number of academic terms, academic years, or exclusively for the first time the course is offered. This provides evidence in support of the fact that faculty are aware and resisting the potential for

218

deskilling and displacement posed by instructional technology but were not able to negotiate stronger protections. The faculty are negotiating to reduce the potential or at least delay the deskilling effects and eventual displacement by less-skilled contingent labor.

Another way faculty protect themselves from displacements is by the negotiation of seniority provisions into the contracts. This study found 19 (7.1%) faculty contracts that included seniority clauses. The provisions generally mandate new instructional technology course development or delivery be offered to the most senior full-time faculty in the course discipline. Cornfield (1987) found evidence that seniority clauses do increase worker tenure and reduce worker turnover, indicating that such clauses can reduce deskilling and displacement. Yet, Kelley (1990) noted that seniority clauses do not incentivize faculty with seniority to engage in instructional technology and have a negative effect on new skill attainment, providing evidence in support of deskilling.

Management achieves the internalization of bureaucratic control through worker loyalty by rewarding seniority, which workers equate with job security, providing evidence in support of systematic structural control (Edwards, 1979),

In addition to specific displacement related contract provisions, 30 (11.2%) faculty contracts include provisions stating that it is not management’s intent to displace full-time faculty through the implementation or use of instructional technology.

Provisions vary in the strength of their promises and protections for faculty job security.

For example, some faculty contract provisions acknowledge the potential for faculty displacement, state good intentions to the contrary on the part of the institution but fall short of actual guarantees that faculty will not be displaced. These provisions read as

219

small consolations for what both sides are not quite ready to admit what will happen in the near future. Good intentions are irrelevant if the management deems it inevitable, due to internal or external economic pressures.

The final protection faculty have instituted are restrictions on third party providers or users of courses developed using instructional technology. Of the contracts reviewed,

12 (4.5%) faculty contracts specifically restrict institutions from using third-party providers of instructional technology course content that can be developed or delivered by in-house full-time faculty. The restriction on the use of third-party course providers via instructional technology is a contract provision not found in Rhoades’s (1998) study.

MOOCs, out-sourced course development, and the marketing of course templates by educational publishers were non-existent in 1998. These provisions are clearly intended to limit the deskilling and displacement of the faculty.

New duties. Rhoades (1998) indicates that the implementation of instructional technology creates the opportunity for management to also implement additional responsibilities and new duties for faculty using instructional technology. If faculty duties increase without a reduction of other workload, the net effect is a speeding up of faculty work production (Edwards, 1979). Faculty are expected to complete the new duties in addition to their current workload for the same compensation. The continuous adding of new duties and responsibilities constrains faculty discretion over their time and workload, reducing overall faculty autonomy. Management control over faculty work is increased when managers have the discretion to assign new duties without adjusting faculty compensation or workload. Instructional technology that increases faculty duties without

220

recognition and reduces faculty autonomy supports evidence of deskilling and managerial extension theory (Rhoades, 1998).

The effect of instructional technology course delivery on faculty workload calculations is the subject of 57 (21.3%) faculty contracts. Forty-six (17.2%) of the faculty contracts included provisions that consider courses taught using instructional technology are equivalent to traditional seated course sections when calculating faculty workloads. Eleven (4.1%) contracts include provisions for faculty and management to negotiate the credit awarded toward faculty workload requirements for teaching courses using instructional technology. These contract provisions preserve the status quo regarding faculty workload and may even indicate increased faculty autonomy over their work if the management negotiates in good faith with the individual faculty member.

There is no support for managerial extension in these contract provisions.

Instructional technology potentially allows faculty and students to have the ability to engage course materials regardless of time and space within the limitations set by the instructor. Similarly, management recognizes that faculty can and are expected to engage students via instructional technology whether faculty are on-campus and off-campus at a given moment. Without acknowledging increased faculty availability through instructional technology, 52 (19.5%) faculty contract provisions specify faculty

221

accountability requirements for office-hours and sick-time for faculty teaching using instructional technology.

Of the 52 contracts, 25 (9.3%) of the faculty contracts have prescriptive in-person on-campus office-hour requirements for faculty teaching primarily or completely online courses using instructional technology. These provisions provide evidence that the managers are not comfortable with the potential autonomy that instructional technology may grant to faculty. Prescriptive provisions are evidence in support of deskilling and structural systems of control (Edwards, 1979; Kelley, 1990). These provisions reflect management attempts to make faculty obey the bureaucratic rules, be predictable and reliable, and internalize institutional concepts of the faculty role (Edwards, 1979). Clearly these provisions provide evidence in support of managerial extension by attempting to constrain faculty autonomy and discretionary use of time and place granted by instructional technology. Faculty teaching using instructional technology are not restricted to a specific classroom, their office, nor even any place on campus and can still be actively engaging and interacting with students. These prescriptive provisions reveal the potential that the faculty/management relationship is adversarial which provides evidence in support of deskilling (Kelley, 1990).

Conversely, 19 (7.1%) faculty contracts contain provisions that grant faculty autonomy in the scheduling of office-hours when the majority of their teaching load is delivered via instructional technology. These permissive provisions allow faculty to hold office-hours in proportion to in-person sections and at the faculty member’s discretion.

These provisions recognize the potential flexibility granted by using instructional technology and respects the faculty as responsible professionals. These provisions

222

provide evidence in support of an organizational social context of cooperation and mutual respect. Cornfield (1987) proposes that cooperative relationships between workers and management increases the likelihood that enskilling is occurring.

As stated above, instructional technology allows faculty to deliver courses and engage students at flexible times and locations. Faculty and students are not required to physically meet at any given place or at any given time. Yet, managers have negotiated provisions in 14 (5.2%) faculty contracts requiring faculty to be accountable for time lost if they report sick and do not come on-campus on a given day even if they use instructional technology to engage students. In contrast, this study found only one faculty contract provision that specifically acknowledges instructional technology can mediate student interaction when a faculty member is physically absent from campus due to illness. These provisions provide evidence that the organizational context at these 14 institutions are stuck in narrowly defined structural systems of control (Edwards, 1979).

The management is extending control over faculty autonomy as if the faculty were hourly laborers that punched a time clock to track the sale of their labor. The contract provisions read as if the management of these institutions are obsessed with ensuring compliance with work rules and maximizing employee predictability, reliability, and accountability.

These provisions provide evidence in support of deskilling. The management intention is to negotiate systematic control over faculty work and maintain control over the pace of production (Edwards, 1979).

Other contract provisions seek to limit faculty use of instructional technology.

The intent of the provisions is also to ensure faculty are physically present on the campus and delivering some course within the traditional structural systems of control of the

223

higher education institution. This study found 30 (11.2%) faculty contracts with provisions limiting the number of online or otherwise instructional technology facilitated courses a faculty member is permitted to teach each semester. These provisions effectively restrict faculty discretion over their work and use of time. The provisions commonly have a workload percentage limit for instructional technology facilitated courses in order to ensure faculty presence on campus. The percentages in the provisions varies from 33% to 67% but the implied intent to force full-time faculty spend a predetermined amount of time on campus is common in all these provisions. New instructional technology modalities of course delivery are potentially a disruptive force that changes the distribution of power and control within the institution (Burkhardt &

Brass, 1990). Traditional work rules and processes breakdown when workers no longer are constrained to the conformity of traditional working conditions. From a management perspective faculty are unpredictable and unreliable workers especially if they are not physically present for the management to manage (Edwards, 1979). As stated regarding the provisions above regarding office hours, the management is attempting to maintain the systems of control that are potentially disrupted by instructional technology

(Burkhardt & Brass, 1990; Edwards, 1979). These prescriptive and adversarial provisions provide evidence that management is deskilling faculty by controlling faculty professional autonomy potentially granted by instructional technology (Kelley, 1990).

The Chi-square test of independence showed that there is a significant relationship between two-year institutions and faculty contract provisions capping the number or percentage of online courses taught by faculty each term. Twenty-nine of 30 faculty contracts are from two-year colleges that limit the number or percentage of online

224

courses that comprise an individual faculty workload. The management at two-year institutions are generally more mistrusting of their faculty outside the traditional systems of control (Levin, 2006). This is not surprising as two-year institutions hierarchy and bureaucratic systems of control closely imitate the industries they serve rather than traditional academic shared governance models (Levin, 2001a; Levin et al., 2006). This provides evidence in support of finding two-year institution management especially concerned about any potential gains in faculty autonomy through the use of instructional technology disrupting the current distribution of power (Burkhardt & Brass, 1990).

This study found that using instructional technology is specifically stated as being voluntary for faculty in 33 (12.4%) faculty contracts. The contracts provisions are generally short, usually a one-sentence provision in the faculty contracts stating that teaching using instructional technology modalities is voluntary, or that the faculty member shall not be forced to teach a course using instructional technology. The common exception to voluntary clauses relates to whether the course content specifically requires the use of instructional technology or if the faculty member was hired specifically to teach using instructional technology modalities. The voluntary provisions provide evidence that these institutions respect the autonomy of the faculty and provides evidence in support of enskilling; assuming there is no retaliation for not volunteering.

The provisions found regarding academic freedom, state academic freedoms are the same when using instructional technology or teaching traditional courses. These provisions were found in 11 (4.1%) faculty contracts. Nine of the contracts come from four-year institutions and two of the contracts are from two-year institutions. The Chi- square test of independence showed that there is a significant relationship between four-

225

year institutions and faculty contracts provisions guaranteeing academic freedom while using instructional technology. Clearly, faculty at four-year institutions are more concerned about maintaining academic freedom protections when using instructional technology and is not unexpected because faculty at four-year institutions have longer tradition of academic freedom negotiation than faculty at two-year institutions (Levin et al., 2006). It is possible that these 11 faculty bargaining units are keenly aware of the potential for increased surveillance on instructional technology platforms. Having to negotiate these academic freedom provisions provides supporting evidence for at least the fear of managerial extension of control over faculty work.

Nine (3.4%) faculty contracts have provisions that have specific requirements for faculty to interact with students via instructional technology on a periodic basis and/or for a minimum period of time. A few provisions state the requirement for interaction with students via instructional technology is at faculty discretion; leaving it up to the faculty member to determine what is the appropriate amount of interaction between the faculty member and student. The majority of these contract provisions are prescriptive in the amount of time and/or frequency in which faculty should interact with students via instructional technology. In either circumstance, dictating faculty-student interaction adds new duties for the faculty member that were not a stated requirement in traditional seated classroom instruction. This provides evidence that instructional technology has provided an opportunity for management extension of control over faculty work.

226

professional duties. The privacy provisions include terms regarding: privacy in the classroom setting and in interactions with students via instructional technology, management access to faculty instructional technology accounts, the surveillance or recording of faculty at any time, prohibited uses of instructional technology, and institutions reserving the right to monitor faculty without notice or permission.

Privacy provisions are found in 61 (22.8%) faculty contracts, 45 (16.9%) are from two-year institutions and 16 (6.0%) are from four-year institutions; there is no significant relationship between these provisions and institution type. Of the 61 contracts with privacy provisions, 31 (11.6%) address privacy recording faculty in the traditional classroom or when using instructional technology to deliver a course. The provisions generally prohibit the recording of faculty without their permission. The provisions do state permissible reasons to record a faculty member such as for student study and review, to assist students with documented disabilities, or faculty self-evaluation related to personal professional development efforts. The provisions commonly call for the permitted recordings to be destroyed after a defined time period, such as within two weeks after the conclusion of the course. These provisions protect faculty autonomy in the classroom and in their interactions with students. Management extension of control is limited through these provisions. What we cannot know from the text of the provisions is whether the provisions are proactive or a reaction to a perceived potential for surveillance or from past experiences.

227

of inappropriate use of instructional technology, to investigate a verifiable complaint, or other legally required causes such as open records requests. Management has also negotiated provisions in 12 (4.5%) faculty contracts outlining the specific uses of instructional technology prohibited by the institutions. These provisions generally prohibit the use of instructional technology systems for personal gain or for viewing pornography. These provisions describe situations in either open-ended general terms or explicit and legalistic terms situations in which the college management can access faculty instructional technology accounts. These provisions document the existing legal duty of the management to investigate improper or abusive relationships between faculty and students or other inappropriate work behavior. If surveillance is only used when legally necessary these provisions do not provide evidence in support for deskilling, enskilling, or management extension. Yet, these provisions formally recognize the potential to use instructional technology as a new systematic structural control by increasing and easing management’s access to information through surveillance

(Edwards, 1979). Yet, these specific provisions do not restrict, control, or prohibit normal faculty work or autonomy. Prohibitions on inappropriate relationships with students and other inappropriate behavior at work was prohibited long before technology become a factor in the workplace. Negating the variations in enforcement over time as it has little to do with technology and more to do with internal or external social factors. The only real change is the ease of access and recording of wrongdoing doing an investigation. I do see this as a potential extension of management control if the surveillance via technology is abused by management.

228

Accordingly, instructional technology has the potential to increase the ease of eavesdropping by management to monitor and increase control over faculty work. This creates the potential for a greater concentration of control and authority over the actions of faculty (Prechel, 1993). Faculty autonomy is reduced if faculty fear repercussions or retaliation by eavesdropping management who can more easily micromanage and track every discretionary decision made by faculty. Eavesdropping or even the fear of eavesdropping creates an atmosphere of paranoia that creates a surreptitious extension of management control over faculty work (Mohseni, 1993). This study found, 22 (8.2%) contract provisions intended to prohibit the surreptitious surveillance of faculty by the management via any electronic devices. Investigating a complaint of an inappropriate faculty/student relationship or other illegal activity is different from management eavesdropping on digital phone systems, classes, or routinely monitoring emails for manipulative and unethical reasons. Management that regularly uses surreptitious eavesdrops on digital communication and instructional technology is seeking information to gain a tactical advantage in the negotiation of faculty work. Management can use the information to manipulate faculty negotiations as well as intimidate faculty. Continuous surveillance can be used to accumulate evidence for justification to terminate a faculty member that has fallen out of favor or is deemed uncooperative with management. These provisions provide evidence that faculty have experienced or strongly fear management extension of control of work through surreptitious eavesdropping of digital communication and instructional technology.

Even more convincing evidence supporting management extension of control through surreptitious surveillance are the eight (3.0%) faculty contracts provisions found

229

in this study that clearly state the institution retains all rights to monitor and restrict faculty use of instructional technology with without faculty permission nor any notice.

Curriculum control. Rhoades (1998) defined curriculum control as the discretionary control of course approval and assignment or scheduling of the delivery of courses. The issue is to what extant does management exercise discretionary control over course development, approval, and assignment versus to what extant faculty exert control over course development, approval, and assignment (Rhoades, 1998). This study found control over curriculum provisions related to instructional technology in 48 (18%) of the faculty contracts reviewed, 35 (13.1%) are from two-year institutions and 13 (4.9%) are in place at four-year institutions; no significant relationship was found between these provisions and institution type. The individual contracts often have several references regarding development and or delivery of courses via instructional technology.

In 24 (9%) of the faculty contracts, management reserves the exclusive right to approve course development using instructional technology and assign faculty to deliver courses via instructional technology. Rhoades (1998) termed these deem clauses as the management deems what is needed and what is approved. The approval may involve multiple steps, requiring the faculty member to complete a course request, obliging the faculty to do much of the preparatory work for the course work before the management decision will be entertained. Often, provisions indicate management’s discretion is explicit and final. The implementation of instructional technology has created the opportunity for greater managerial control through these new technocratic and bureaucratic processes (Edwards, 1979; Form et al., 1988). Faculty gain new skills but

230

control over work has increased. These provisions provide evidence in support of managerial extension

Just as Rhoades (1998) predicted, discretion over course development and delivery using instructional technology has been moved to non-faculty professionals and offices outside the traditional shared-governance structures or organizational hierarchy.

As illustrated in the examples provided in chapter four, the professional discretion of faculty is usurped by instructional technology non-faculty professionals and managers, such as the Distance Education Office or the Vice President for Academic Services, by granting them the right to approve or reject development of a course before submission to the traditionally faculty dominated curriculum approval process. All of the above provisions provide evidence of an extension of management control that does not exist for the development of traditional courses. Control over access and use of instructional technology allows management to be become gate keepers over course development and faculty become increasingly deskilled and peripheral to the process as described by

Rhoades (1998).

In 20 (7.5%) of the faculty contracts, faculty retain discretion over course development and delivery in provisions related to curriculum control. The faculty reserve control over the curriculum through various methods in the contract provisions. The most direct way is maintaining that the use of instructional technology to develop and deliver a course is completely voluntary. Worded more strongly faculty reserves the right the reject teaching a course via instructional technology. Alternatively, faculty also maintain control over the curriculum in provisions mandating the course review and approval is conducted by a faculty-lead shared governance structures or by faculty committees within

231

the course discipline. The use of established shared governance structures resists the extension of management control over faculty work.

In yet another form of curriculum control contract provisions, faculty maintain some control over their work and input into decisions by mandating the formation of joint faculty and management committees to study the effects of instructional technology.

These committees offer opportunities for discussion and mutual input regarding the use of instructional technology in future course development and delivery. The faculty have maintained input into the use of instructional technology but do not have independent discretionary control over the curriculum. This provides support for managerial extension by the marginalization of faculty as described by Rhoades (1998). Rhoades (1998) indicated that faculty were moved to a more peripheral role as instructional technology offices and non-faculty professionals become more involved in course development and delivery which provides support for deskilling and managerial extension theory.

Ownership. For Rhoades (1998), the majority of contracts do not adequately protect intellectual property rights for materials captured by instructional technology.

This study finds ownership provisions have become more prevalent over the last twenty years but are still not adequate nor consistent in protecting faculty rights over their work.

Rhoades (1998) operationalized the ownership code as the extent to which the faculty member or institution owns the rights to curricular material. In this study, 109

(40.8%) of faculty contracts contained provisions directly related to ownership or intellectual property rights of courses developed or delivered through instructional technology. More specifically, the ownership provisions refer to faculty course

232

ownership, copyright law, institutional oversight, and restrictions on the distribution of course material.

In 61 (22.8%) of the faculty contracts, ownership rights are clearly and directly granted to the faculty of instructional technology facilitated courses created without using institutional support. These provisions maintain faculty professional status as independent experts and they own the product of their independent efforts. In this way, faculty work is not entirely subject to management control. Yet, ownership is tenuous in an era of academic capitalism. If faculty receive support from the institution in any way then the complete ownership of their work is called into question. What constitutes an independent effort and substantial institutional support is not clearly defined. If the faculty member’s work could bring a considerable income to the institution, could the institution deem even basic accommodations such as office space, use of institutional computers, printing, and office supplies be considered support?

Provisions covering copyright and the ownership of faculty work are not only more common, the provisions are more comprehensive in the faculty contracts from four-year institutions. Faculty at four-year institutions have a longer history and more experience in the protection of faculty work products such as research and published texts (Slaughter &

Rhoades, 2004). Faculty at two-year institutions have less opportunity and experience to engage in copyrightable research or publishing (Levin, 2001a). The faculty are extending

233

these traditional protections and limiting the extension of management control over work produced using instructional technology.

Thirty-five (13.1%) faculty contracts specifically reference copyright law or college policies that exempt course materials from institutional claims on intellectual property. The provisions commonly indicate that the institution shall not exercise any rights over course materials, including those created using instructional technology, as long as the institution did not provide substantial support.

Conversely, institutions claim all rights to ownership of course materials in 39

(14.6%) of the faculty contracts if the institution has paid the faculty member to develop the course. Unless specifically exempted, the course materials are considered works-for- hire by the institution and, therefore, all rights and intellectual property is owned by the institution. These provisions support the managerial extension argument that faculty are being enskilled but management is extending their control over faculty work.

Some contracts do not address ownership or intellectual property rights over faculty work in general but do contain provisions with specific restrictions on the use of course materials developed using instructional technology. Of the contracts reviewed, 41

(15.4%) faculty contracts include restrictions on the institution distributing instructional technology facilitated course materials to other institutions. The provisions negotiated vary in strength. One provision specifically prohibits the distribution of course to other institutions but most provisions do not specifically prohibit the distribution of course materials to other institutions. The provisions generally require faculty permission before the institution can distribute the instructional technology developed course materials.

This study found that nine of the above-referenced 41 faculty contracts restrict the use of

234

course materials until the institution notifies the faculty member that the institution is selling the course materials to a third party. Faculty and institutions have also negotiated exclusive use time-limits before the institution can distribute course materials captured by instructional technology. The above negotiated restrictions on the use of courses developed by faculty using instructional technology limit management extension and protect the enskilling effects on faculty work. These provisions give some indication that faculty have recognized the potential for exploitation of their work by using instructional technology and have negotiated protections.

Implications for Practice

This study’s findings offer guidance to faculty collective bargaining negotiation teams across different institutions. Management will argue that restrictions on management control or permissive provisions guaranteeing faculty autonomy are not needed based on the current organizational social context. Faculty need to remember that social contexts change based on the choices made by the management. Cooperative relationships with administration management in which both sides enjoy a modicum of flexibility in their work to achieve their goals can change with one retirement, promotion, or a presidential job search.

Faculty need to review and examine collective bargaining agreements outside their current organizational context before negotiating or conceding to contract provisions. Faculty need to consider the current and potential future social context of their institutions and plan for the worst while hoping for the best. Reviewing other faculty contracts will help faculty negotiators to realize what potential threats and protections found outside their current experience. Faculty need to consider that the social context

235

can change over the course of a negotiated contract. A change in management with more adversarial interpretations of flexible contract provisions that were negotiated during a cooperative organizational context can be detrimental to faculty (Barley, 1986).

Management choices have the biggest influence on organizational context (Kelley, 1990).

Management will try to negotiate greater control under the guise of innovation and the need for increased flexibility to respond to external economic forces and faculty negotiators need to remain vigilant (Cornfield, 1987; Edwards, 1979; Kelley, 1990).

Faculty need to be proactive rather than reactive in collective bargaining negotiations to protect faculty discretion and control over work. Faculty contract provisions that protect or are permissive of faculty autonomy must not be ceded in negotiations. The faculty negotiators encourage cooperation but must be careful to limit management choices.

Jurisdiction over the curriculum is not a given and must be protected. Faculty should not rely on accreditation bodies as the sole protection for faculty control of the curriculum.

Faculty must resist displacement by contingent faculty, negotiate strong provision regarding the working conditions of current contingent faculty, and be supportive of contingent faculty union organizing efforts if legally allowed in your state (Rhoades,

2017).

Faculty can also negotiate provisions beyond the norm or those found above.

Faculty should reflect on how instructional technology or its application could make their job easier. Faculty could negotiate the rights to register student advisees or at least have the autonomy to add students to their class without having to engage the intuitional bureaucracy. At minimum, faculty should have the discretion to override prerequisites and other academic holds that hinder student enrollment and completion. Another

236

provision that is rarely found in faculty contracts is a guarantee the students will receive training on instructional technology and have access to technology help beyond the faculty member. Student training in the use of the online library resources is also a topic that could be covered in a student orientation course and would reduce the faculty burden and time spent availing students of the resources available to them. Anything that potentially reduces new duties being heaped onto faculty workloads is a topic that can be negotiated.

Recommendations for Further Research

Faculty members operate on different principles and standards than traditional labor or professional definitions and merit individual treatment in the literature (Kezar &

Sam, 2010; Rhoades, 1996). Collective bargaining agreements are integrated into institutional policies and processes (Rhoades, 1998). How instructional technology is negotiated and how it is implemented affects the traditional role of faculty. Instructional technology is a shift to a commoditization of learning, a marginalization of faculty, and an increased emphasis on competition, productivity and efficiency spurred by neoliberal demands for the corporatization of higher education institutions (Levin, 2001a; Rhoades,

1998; Slaughter & Leslie, 1997; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). Specific and explicit instructional provisions in contracts illuminate faculty concerns (Rhoades, 1998). Despite the potential of collective bargaining agreements to provide insights into the faculty contract professions and the impact of instructional technology on it, we cannot understand the complete nature of how the final contract provisions were agreed upon.

This study as well as Rhoades’ continuing work are only a snapshot of the social context of the institutions and the faculty negotiating the contracts. More in depth ethnographic

237

studies of individual institutions exploring how the faculty and/or management negotiates and arrives at the agreed contract provisions are needed. Understanding the complexity of an individual institution’s organizational and social context will shed light on the idiosyncrasies among institutions. Also, a more in-depth examination of the individual coded provision’s language and meaning is needed to truly comprehend the intentions of the negotiators.

This study attempts to present a national representation of faculty collective bargaining agreements that examined potential differences based on institution type.

Deeper explorations of differing organizational contexts can offer further insights. This study categorized the institutions into two distinct organizational contexts, two-year and four-year public institutions. Further discrimination by organizational context is possible, even within the dataset of the present study. Comparisons of faculty contracts based on organizational contexts such as institutional size, rural versus urban location, state system versus individual institution contracts, tenure versus non-tenure track, and full-time versus part-time contracts, just name a few, can offer greater insights onto the social contexts of higher education institutions and the production politics of teaching and technology.

Conclusions

Overall Rhoades (1998) found more support for deskilling theory than enskilling theory but found the most support for the marginalization of faculty to the periphery of the higher education organization. Rhoades (1998) interpreted faculty as being professionally marginalized from the production process by the restructuring of the

238

higher education organizational and social context. This study expanded on Rhoades

(1998) through five main findings.

This study found an extensive increase in instructional technology provisions within and between faculty contracts over the last 20 years. Rhoades found 37% (78) of the available faculty contracts contained provisions regarding instructional technology. In this study, 96% (267) of the faculty contracts found contained at least one provision regarding instructional technology. The provisions regarding remuneration, displacement, new duties and ownership were found in greater than 40% of the faculty contracts. These provisions coincide with the most prevalent contract provisions in the 1998 study, although at lower percentages.

Similar to Rhoades, I also found little definitive support for either deskilling or enskilling. The greater quantity of instructional technology provisions illuminated the possibility for provisions supporting enskilling and other provisions supporting deskilling in the same category. The provisions found are not consistent within, among, or between the contracts. There is evidence that the enskilling, deskilling, and marginalization effects found in the provisions are a product of the organizational and social context of each institution. Furthermore, the provisions protecting faculty discretion over their work generally read as reactionary to the real or perceived threats of instructional technology within the organizational or social context. Faculty need to be more proactive than reactive in defending the discretionary control over their work within the organizational and social context of their institution.

The above finding is consistent with the contention that given a large enough sample size, instances of both enskilling and deskilling will be found and effectively

239

cancel each other out (Kelley, 1990; Spenner, 1983). As a result, the findings regarding the deskilling and enskilling effects of instructional technology seem contradictory, suggesting that the effects of the new technology are contingent on other confounding factors internal or external to the organization (Barley, 1986; Burkhardt & Brass, 1990;

Form et al., 1988; Kelley, 1990; Sorge & Streeck, 1988; Spenner, 1983; Warner, 1985).

This study found evidence supporting the contingency theory argument that effect of instructional technology is dependent on the social and organizational context of an institution and the implementation of instructional technology is an opportunity for restructuring the social and organizational context of higher education institutions.

The more extensive contract provisions in this study reinforce Rhoades’ concept of managerial extension; the marginalization of faculty to the periphery of the higher education organization and traditional faculty duties are being performed by contingent faculty and non-faculty professions. Similar to Rhoades (1998), this study found that the negotiated provisions rarely put hard restrictions on management actions but rather normally limit or delay the negative consequences of instructional technology decisions.

The emergent provisions regarding evaluations and privacy also provided support for the continued marginalization of faculty. Many provisions allow management to dilute, bypass, or otherwise marginalize the impact of faculty to the periphery of the institution, allowing the continued hiring of contingent faculty and non-faculty professional staff to assume faculty duties. The rise of contingent faculty becoming the new faculty majority and the lack of provisions protecting faculty discretion indicates faculty have not been successful in fending off management’s demands for flexibility and continue to be managed professionals.

240

References

Abbott, A. (1988). The system of professions: An essay on the division of expert labor.

Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Adler, P. S. (1990). Marx, Machines, and Skill. Technology and Culture, 31(4), 780-812.

doi:10.2307/3105907

Adler, P. S. (2013). Marx and organizational studies today. In P. Adler (Ed.), The Oxford

handbook of sociology and organizational studies: Classical foundations (pp. 62-

117). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.

Adler, P. S., & Borys, B. (1989). Automation and skill: Three generations of research on

the NC case. Politics & Society, 17(3), 377-402.

doi:10.1177/003232928901700304

Altheide, D. L. (1987). Reflections: Ethnographic content analysis. Qualitative

Sociology, 10(1), 65-77. doi:10.1007/bf00988269

American Association of University Professors Collective Bargaining Congress. (2016).

List of AAUP-CBC chapter websites. Retrieved from

https://www.aaupcbc.org/about/aaup-cbc-chapters

American Federation of Teachers. (2016). AFT state federation and local affiliate

websites [List of website links]. Retrieved from http://www.aft.org/about/state-

and-local-websites

Armstrong, P. (1988). Labour and monopoly capital. In R. Hyman & W. Streeck (Eds.),

New technology and industrial relations (pp. 143-159). Oxford, UK: Basil

Blackwell Inc.

241

Barley, S. R. (1986). Technology as an occasion for structuring: Evidence from

observations of CT scanners and the social order of radiology departments.

Administrative science quarterly, 31(1), 78-108. doi:10.2307/2392767

Bell, D. (1973). The coming of post-industrial society. New York Basic Books.

Benjamin, E. (2006). Faculty bargaining. In E. Benjamin & M. Mauer (Eds.), Academic

Collective Bargaining. (pp. 23-51). New York: American Association of

University Professors and Modern Language Association.

Berg, B. L. (2001). Qualitative research methods for the social sciences (4th ed.).

Boston: Allyn & Bacon.

Bichsel, J. (2016). Overview: 2015-2016 faculty in higher education salary report.

Research report. Retrieved from http://www.cupahr.org/surveys/fhe4.aspx

Blau, P. M., Falbe, C. M., McKinley, W., & Tracy, P. K. (1976). Technology and

organization in manufacturing. Administrative science quarterly, 21(1), 20-40.

doi:10.2307/2391876

Bolman, L. G., & Deal, T. E. (1997). Reframing organizations. San Francisco: Jossey-

Bass Publishers.

Boyatzis, R. E. (1988). Transforming qualitative information: Thematic analysis and

code development. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, Inc.

Braverman, H. (1998). Labor and monopoly capital: The degradation of work in the

twentieth century (25th Anniversary Edition ed.). New York: NYU Press.

Bray, N. J., Harris, M. S., & Major, C. (2007). New verse or the same old chorus?:

Looking holistically at distance education research. Research in Higher

Education, 48(7), 889-908. doi:10.1007/s11162-007-9054-7

242

Brint, S. (1994). In an age of experts: The changing role of professionals in politics and

public life. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Burawoy, M. (1979). Manufacturing consent: Changes in the labor process under

monopoly capitalism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Burawoy, M. (1996). A classic of its time [Review of the book Labor and monopoly

capital: The degradation of work in the twentieth century, H. Braverman & P. M.

Sweezy]. Contemporary Sociology, 25(3), 296-299. doi:10.2307/2077434

Burkhardt, M. E., & Brass, D. J. (1990). Changing patterns or patterns of change: The

effects of a change in technology on social network structure and power.

Administrative science quarterly, 35(1), 104-127. doi:10.2307/2393552

Chen, L.-K., Kim, Y. S., Moon, P., & Merriam, S. B. (2008). A review and critique of the

portrayal of older adult learners in adult education journals, 1980-2006. Adult

Education Quarterly, 59(1), 3-21. doi:10.1177/0741713608325169

Cihon, P. J., & Castagnera, J. O. (2008). Employment and labor law. Mason, OH:

Cengage Learning.

Clark, B. R. (1984). Faculty Organization and Authority. In R. Birnbaum (Ed.), ASHE

Reader in Organization and Governance in Higher Education. Lexington, MA:

Ginn Custom Publishing.

Cornfield, D. B. (1987). Workers, managers, and technological change: emerging

patterns of labor relations. New York: Plenum Press.

Cummings, W. K., & Finkelstein, M. J. (2012). The changing academic profession in the

USA. In W. K. Cummings & M. J. Finkelstein (Eds.), Scholars in the Changing

243

American Academy: New Contexts, New Rules and New Roles (Vol. 4).

Dordrecht: Springer Netherlands.

Del Favero, M., & Bray, N. J. (2010). Herding cats and big dogs: Tensions in the faculty-

administrator relationship. In J. C. Smart (Ed.), Higher education: Handbook of

theory and research. Dordrecht: Springer Netherlands.

Delaney, S. (2009). Distance education terms in faculty collective bargaining

agreements. (Doctoral Dissertation), University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Retrieved

from https://books.google.com/books?id=__DLnQAACAAJ

Derrida, J. (1982). Of grammatology. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Donaldson, J. F., & Townsend, B. K. (2007). Higher Education Journals' Discourse about

Adult Undergraduate Students. The Journal of Higher Education, 78(1), 27-50.

doi:10.1080/00221546.2007.11778962

Edwards, R. (1979). Contested terrain: The transformation of the workplace in the

twentieth century. New York: Basic Books.

Form, W., Kaufman, R. L., Parcel, T. L., & Wallace, M. (1988). The impact of

technology on work organization and work outcomes. In G. Farkas & P. England

(Eds.), Industries, Firms, and Jobs: Sociological and Economic Approaches (pp.

303-328). Boston, MA: Springer US.

Foucault, M. (1972). The archaeology of knowledge: Translated from the french by AM

Sheridan Smith. New York: Pantheon Books.

Garson, B. (1988). The electronic sweatshop: How computers are transforming the office

of the future into the factory of the past. New York: Simon and Schuster.

244

Giddens, A. (1979). Central problems in social theory: Action, structure, and

contradiction in social analysis. Berkley: University of California Press.

Gramsci, A. (1971). Selections from the prison notebooks (Q. Hoare & G. N. Smith,

Trans. Q. Hoare & G. N. Smith Eds.). New York: International Publishers.

Green, K. C. (2013). Massive open online courses (MOOCs) and other digital initiatives.

Journal of Collective Bargaining in the Academy, 0(8), 9-15.

Hamer, N. (2008). Faculty collective bargaining agreements: Compromising

professionalism or aiding it. Saarbrucken, Germany: VDM Verlag.

Hart, J. (2006). Women and feminism in higher education scholarship: An analysis of

three core Journals. The Journal of Higher Education, 77(1), 40-61.

doi:10.1080/00221546.2006.11778918

Hartley, M., & Morphew, C. C. (2008). What's being sold and to what end? A content

analysis of college viewbooks. The Journal of Higher Education, 79(6), 671-691.

doi:10.1080/00221546.2008.11772123

Hirschhorn, L. (1984). Beyond mechanization: Work and technology in a postindustrial

age. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press

Hutcheson, P. A. (2000). A professional professoriate: Unionization, bureaucratization,

and the AAUP. Nashville, TN: Vanderbilt Univ Press.

Johnson, A. G. (2000). The Blackwell dictionary of sociology: A user's guide to

sociological language. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell.

Kater, S., & Levin, J. S. (2004). Shared governance in the community college.

Community College Journal of Research and Practice, 29(1), 1-23.

doi:10.1080/10668920390276849

245

Kelley, M. R. (1990). New process technology, job design, and work organization: A

contingency model. American Sociological Review, 55(2), 191-208.

doi:10.2307/2095626

Kezar, A., & Sam, C. (2010). Special Issue: Non-tenure-track faculty in higher education-

-theories and tensions. ASHE Higher Education Report, 36(5), 1-91.

doi:10.1002/aehe.3605

Kling, R. (1991). Computerization and social transformations. Science, Technology, &

Human Values, 16(3), 342-367. doi:doi:10.1177/016224399101600304

Krippendorff, K. (2004). Content analysis: An introduction to its methodology (2nd ed.).

Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.

Larson, M. S. (1977). The rise of professionalism: A sociological analysis. Berkeley:

University of California Press.

Lee, J. J., Cheslock, J., Maldonado-Maldonado, A., & Rhoades, G. (2005). Professors as

knowledge workers in the new, global economy. In J. C. Smart (Ed.), Higher

education: Handbook of theory and research (pp. 55-132). Dordrecht: Springer

Netherlands.

Levin, J. S. (2000). What's the impediment? Structural and legal constraints to shared

governance in the community college. The Canadian Journal of Higher

Education, 30(3), 87-122.

Levin, J. S. (2001a). Globalizing the community college: Strategies for change in the

twenty-first century. New York: Palgrave.

Levin, J. S. (2001b). Public policy, community colleges, and the path to globalization.

Higher Education, 42(2), 237-262. doi:10.1023/A:1017929400319

246

Levin, J. S. (2005). Faculty in the U.S. community college: corporate labour Management

in Education, 19(3), 8-11. doi:doi:10.1177/08920206050190030201

Levin, J. S. (2006). Faculty work: Tensions between educational and economic values.

The Journal of Higher Education, 77(1), 62-88.

doi:10.1080/00221546.2006.11778919

Levin, J. S. (2007). Nontraditional students and community colleges : the conflict of

justice and neoliberalism (1st ed.). New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Levin, J. S., Kater, S., & Wagoner, R. L. (2006). Community college faculty: At work in

the new economy (1st ed.). New York: Palgrave

Light, D., Jr. (1974). Introduction: The structure of the academic professions. Sociology

of Education, 47(1), 2-28. doi:10.2307/2112165

Macdonald, K. M. (1995). The sociology of the professions. London: Sage Publishers Inc.

Maitland, C., Rhoades, G., & Smith, M. F. (2009). Unions and senates: Governance and

distance education. NEA Almanac of Higher Education, 75-84.

Mars, M. M., & Rhoades, G. (2012). Socially oriented student entrepreneurship: A study

of student change agency in the academic capitalism context. Journal of Higher

Education, 83(3), 435-459. doi:10.1353/jhe.2012.0015

Mars, M. M., & Rios-Aguilar, C. (2010). Academic entrepreneurship (re) defined:

significance and implications for the scholarship of higher education. Higher

Education, 59(4), 441-460. doi:10.1007/s10734-009-9258-1

Marx, K., & Engels, F. (1888/2005). The communist manifesto (F. Engles, Trans.). In A.

Lutins & J. Tarzia (Eds.). Salt Lake City, UT: Project Gutenberg. (Reprinted

from: From the English edition of 1888, edited by Friedrich Engels).

247

Merriam, S. B. (2009). Qualitative research: A guide to design and implementation. San

Francisco: Jossey-Bass.

Miles, M. B., & Huberman, A. M. (1994). Qualitative data analysis: An expanded

sourcebook: SAGE Publications.

Mintzberg, H. (1979). The professional bureaucracy. In Organization and governance in

higher education (pp. 50-70). Englewood, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

Mohseni, N. (1993). The labor process and control of labor in the US computer industry.

In B. Berberoglu (Ed.), The Labor Process and Control of Labor: The Changing

Nature of Work Relations in the Late Twentieth Century (pp. 59-77). Westport,

CT: Praeger.

Morphew, C. C., & Hartley, M. (2006). Mission statements: A thematic analysis of

rhetoric across institutional type. The Journal of Higher Education, 77(3), 456-

471. doi:10.1080/00221546.2006.11778934

Nevill, S. C., & Bradburn, E. M. (2006). Institutional policies and practices regarding

postsecondary faculty: Fall 2003. First Look. (NCES 2007-157). Washington DC:

National Center for Education Statistics Retrieved from

https://nces.ed.gov/pubsearch/pubsinfo.asp?pubid=2007157.

Noble, D. F. (1984). Forces of production. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc.

Noble, D. F. (2001). Digital diploma mills: The automation of higher education. New

York: Monthly Review Press.

Noble, D. F. (2003). Digital diploma mills. In B. Johnson, P. Kavanagh, & K. Mattson

(Eds.), Steal this university: The rise of the corporate university and the academic

labor movement (pp. 33-47). New York: Routledge.

248

Ohio State Employment Relations Board. (2016). Current contracts [Database with links

to contract documents]. Retrieved from

http://www.serb.state.oh.us/sections/research/WEB_CONTRACTS/WebContracts

.htm

Patton, M. Q. (2002). Qualitative research & evaluation methods. London: SAGE

Publications.

Paulson, K. (2002). Reconfiguring faculty roles for virtual settings. The Journal of

Higher Education, 73(1), 123-140. doi:10.1080/00221546.2002.11777133

Prechel, H. (1993). Transformations in hierarchy and control of the labor process in the

post-fordist era: The case of the US steel industry. In B. Berberoglu (Ed.), The

Labor Process and Control of Labor: The Changing Nature of Work Relations in

the Late Twentieth Century ( Berch Berberoglu ed., pp. 44-58). Westport, CT:

Praeger.

Prechel, H. (1994). Economic crisis and the centralization of control over the managerial

process: Corporate restructuring and neo-Fordist decision-making. American

Sociological Review, 723-745.

Rainbird, H. (1988). New technology, training and union strategies. In R. Hyman & W.

Streeck (Eds.), New Technology and Industrial Relations. Oxford: Blackwell.

Reich, M., Gordon, D. M., & Edwards, R. C. (1973). A theory of labor market

segmentation. The American Economic Review, 63(2), 359-365.

Rhoades, G. (1990). Calling on the past: The quest for the collegiate ideal. The Journal of

Higher Education, 61(5), 512-534. doi:10.2307/1981974

249

Rhoades, G. (1993). Retrenchment clauses in faculty union contracts: Faculty rights and

administrative discretion. The Journal of Higher Education, 64(3), 312-347.

doi:10.2307/2959930

Rhoades, G. (1996). Reorganizing the faculty workforce for flexibility: Part-time

professional labor. The Journal of Higher Education, 67(6), 626-659.

doi:10.2307/2943815

Rhoades, G. (1998). Managed professionals: Unionized faculty and restructuring

academic labor. Albany: State University of New York Press.

Rhoades, G. (2001). Managing productivity in an academic institution: Rethinking the

whom, which, what, and whose of productivity. Research in Higher Education,

42(5), 619-632. doi:10.1023/a:1011006511651

Rhoades, G. (2007). Technology-enhanced Courses and a Mode III Organization of

Instructional Work. Tertiary Education & Management, 13(1), 1-17.

doi:10.1080/13583880601145496

Rhoades, G. (2011). Faculty Unions, Business Models, and the Academy's Future.

Change, 43(6), 20-26. doi:10.1080/00091383.2011.599299

Rhoades, G. (2011). Whose educational space? Negotiating professional jurisdiction in

the high tech academy. In The American academic profession: Transformation in

contemporary higher education (pp. 92-110). Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins

University Press.

Rhoades, G. (2014). Professors Acting for the Public Good. In G. G. Shaker (Ed.),

Faculty Work and the Public Good: Philanthropy, Engagement, and Academic

Professionalism (pp. 109).

250

Rhoades, G. (2017). Bread and roses, and quality too? A new faculty majority negotiating

the new academy. The Journal of Higher Education, 88(5), 645-671.

doi:10.1080/00221546.2016.1257310

Rhoades, G., & Maitland, C. (2000). Negotiating technology: Support personnel in higher

education. Journal of Collective Negotiations, 29(3), 207-219. doi:

10.2190/8CP3-TXBC-M37N-31CU

Rhoades, G., & Rhoads, R. A. (2003). The public discourse of US graduate employee

unions: Social movement identities, ideologies, and strategies. The Review of

Higher Education, 26(2), 163-186. doi:10.1353/rhe.2002.0035

Rhoades, G., & Sporn, B. (2002). New models of management and shifting modes and

costs of production: Europe and the United States. Tertiary Education and

Management, 8(1), 3-28. doi:10.1080/13583883.2002.9967066

Riley, P. (1983). A structurationist account of political culture. Administrative science

quarterly, 28(3), 414-437. doi:10.2307/2392250

Schuster, J. H., & Finkelstein, M. J. (2006). The American faculty: The restructuring of

academic work and careers. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Shaiken, H. (1984). Work transformed: Automation and labor in the computer age.

Lexington, MA: Lexington Books.

Shella, A. J. (2010). Negotiating distance learning: How is distance learning in higher

education addressed in faculty collective bargaining agreements? Paper presented

at the Association for the Study of Higher Education Indianapolis, IN.

http://www.ashe.ws/files/Past%20Conferences/2010%20ASHEFINALSCHEDUL

E.pdf

251

Slaughter, S., & Leslie, L. L. (1997). Academic capitalism: Politics, policies, and the

entrepreneurial university. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Slaughter, S., & Rhoades, G. (2004). Academic capitalism and the new economy:

Markets, state, and higher education. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Smith, V. C. (2008). The unbundling and rebundling of the faculty role in e-learning

community college courses. (Ph.D.), The University of Arizona, United States --

Arizona. Retrieved from

http://search.proquest.com/docview/304683842?accountid=36486 (3315310)

Smith, V. C., & Rhoades, G. (2006). Community college faculty and web-based classes.

Thought & Action, 22(2), 97-110.

Soley, L. C. (1995). Leasing the ivory tower: The corporate takeover of academia.

Boston: South End Press.

Sorge, A., Hartmann, G., Nicholas, I., & Warner, M. (1983). Microelectronics and

manpower in manufacturing. London: Gower.

Sorge, A., & Streeck, W. (1988). Industrial relations and technological change: The case

for an extended perspective. In R. Hyman & W. Streeck (Eds.), New technology

and industrial relations (pp. 19-47). Oxford, UK: Basil Blackwell.

Spenner, K. I. (1983). Deciphering Prometheus: Temporal change in the skill level of

work. American Sociological Review, 824-837.

Stanford University. (2011). Using NVivo for qualitative data analysis. Retrieved from

https://web.stanford.edu/group/ssds/cgi-

bin/drupal/files/Guides/UsingNVivo9_0.pdf

252

State of New Jersey Public Employment Relations Commission. (2016). Public sector

contracts. Retrieved from http://www.perc.state.nj.us/publicsectorcontracts.nsf

State University of New York. (2016). Community college contract agreements.

Retrieved from http://www.suny.edu/hr/cc/contract-agreements/

Strassman, P. (1985). Information payoff: The transformation of work in the electronic

age. New York, NY: The Free Press.

Strauss, A. (1982). Interorganizational negotiation. Journal of Contemporary

Ethnography, 11(3), 350-367. doi:10.1177/089124168201100306

Strauss, A. L. (1978). Negotiations: Varieties, contexts, processes, and social order. San

Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass Inc

Townsend, B. K., & Twombly, S. B. (2001). Community colleges : policy in the future

context. Westport, Conn.: Ablex.

Turner, B. S. (Ed.) (2006) The Cambridge dictionary of sociology. Cambridge, UK:

Cambridge University Press.

U.S. General Accounting Office. (1996). Content analysis: A methodology for structuring

and analyzing written material. ((GAO Publication No. PEMD-10.3.1)).

Retrieved from http://www.gao.gov/products/PEMD-10.3.1.

Vallas, S. P. (1993). Power in the workplace: The politics of production at AT&T.

Albany, NY: SUNY Press.

Wallace, L. (2007). Online Teaching and University Policy: Investigating the Disconnect.

Journal of Distance Education, 22(1), 87-100.

253

Wallace, M., & Kalleberg, A. L. (1982). Industrial transformation and the decline of

craft: The decomposition of skill in the printing industry, 1931-1978. American

Sociological Review, 47(3), 307-324.

Warner, M. (1985). Microelectronics, technological change and industrialised economies:

an overview*. Industrial Relations Journal, 16(3), 9-18. doi:10.1111/j.1468-

2338.1985.tb00521.x

Weick, K. E. (1979). The social psychology of organizing. Reading, MA: Addison-

Wesley.

Williams, G. B., & Zirkel, P. A. (1988). Academic penetration in faculty collective

bargaining contracts in higher education. Research in Higher Education, 28(1),

76-95. doi:10.1007/BF00976861

Zuboff, S. (1988). In the age of the smart machine: The future of work and power. New

York: Basic books.

254