The way that the IRS regulates nonprofit organizations is much in the headlines for all the wrong reasons. These headlines are a reminder that any nonprofit organization — including a private college — must make extensive disclosures to the IRS that are a matter of public record.

A must-have document for anyone doing research on a private university, or the privately incorporated arm of a public university such as a foundation,  is the annual IRS Form 990. These tax forms provide a detailed look at what an institution is spending, where its money comes, who’s running it, and much more.

There are now two new resources where requesters can turn when looking for the information that nonprofits share with the IRS.

Earlier this year, the IRS debuted a user-friendly database where highlights from all 990 forms have been extracted into a compressed downloadable file that, when opened, is searchable by field. So far, the database is useful mostly for running comparisons across multiple nonprofits as opposed to pulling data for a single nonprofit.

The nonprofit journalism site, ProPublica, has built its own searchable database, Nonprofit Explorer, that generates a link to the most recent 990 form and a highlight sheet with such statistics as what percentage of revenues the organization spends on compensating its top executives. Besides containing links to and highlights from 2012 filings, Nonprofit Explorer also links to another nonprofit database, Public.Resource.Org, where as many as 10 prior years’ of IRS 990 forms often are retrievable.

The IRS 990 form is indispensable when dealing with a non-public entity because of the limited ability to use public-records requests to get their data. While courts in a few states have said that foundations and athletic associations affiliated with state colleges must honor requests for open records, that view is not unanimous. Among the types of information that the 990 form will yield:

  • The compensation package (not just salary but retirement, housing allowances, “deferred compensation” and more) paid to the nonprofit’s highest-paid executives (which generally turn out to be football or basketball coaches).
  • The largest contracts that the nonprofit has with outside vendors. At a college, this typically includes food-service vendors, construction companies and law firms.
  • The scope of the nonprofit’s overseas operations.
  • Disclosure of any adverse financial events that might affect the stability of the nonprofit.

A remarkable number of organizations affiliated with colleges and universities are structured as nonprofit corporations, including teaching hospitals, college accrediting organizations, major athletic conferences, and the NCAA itself. Even the host committees for football bowl games typically are set up as nonprofit corporations, meaning their finances must be at least to some degree transparent.

Besides the new IRS database and the ProPublica database, 990 forms remain available (if the institution chooses to provide them) through Guidestar.org, a free online service that many donors use to do research before investing in a charity. And of course, the forms are supposed to be made available on demand directly from the institution itself.

 

College broadcast stations that commit minor paperwork lapses, such as failure to keep a complete licensure file on-site for public inspection, have been socked with fines as high as $9,000 in recent years — fines that can exceed the annual operating budget for the entire station. Finally, some relief is on the way.

The Federal Communications Commission’s “forfeiture schedule” (the way it calculates fines) is based on the size of the holder of the FCC license. That is almost always the college itself, not the sub-unit that operates the station. So a college radio station scraping by on $10,000 a year might end up paying a forfeiture based on the parent college’s $40 million budget.

But last Monday, the FCC came out with a new interpretation that will enable first-time violators to escape with “consent agreements,” paying small “voluntary” contributions rather than fines. The policy applies only to “documentation requirements” and not to substantive violations of FCC rules, such as broadcasting indecent material.

The turnabout came in a case against Iowa’s William Penn University, which was at risk of a $20,000 fine — more than three times the station’s annual operating budget — for failing to maintain up-to-date public files. Instead, the station was allowed to pay $2,500 and agree to a compliance plan.

In the order, the Commission took note of the “daunting fiscal challenges” that have led colleges to sell off their FCC licensed operations, at a cost of lost programming diversity and learning opportunities. The order acknowledged the unique challenges that student-run stations face in meeting their licensure obligations:

Student volunteers at these stations are young and unlikely to have had any work experience in regulatory compliance matters, particularly those involving the FCC requirements to which [educational] stations are subject. As students leave the school or assume other responsibilities that conflict with their time devoted to station activities, new student volunteers must be recruited and trained on an ongoing basis by the remaining students, often without any professional oversight other than that provided by faculty advisors.

What’s crucial about the FCC’s new forgiveness policy is that it applies only to stations that are entirely student-programmed and student-managed. To qualify for first-time-offender leniency, the station must employ no programming professionals other than a faculty adviser.

This is a compelling pocketbook argument in favor of student editorial control. It may be a difficult swallow for colleges, which often hesitate to relinquish programming discretion to students, since the owner of the license (generally the college’s board of trustees) has ultimate legal responsibility for regulatory violations.

The FCC has now expressed a clear preference for letting students make their own programming decisions. Consistent with that preference, the Commission should take the next step, as part of its ongoing reexamination of indecency enforcement standards, and extend comparable leniency to noncommercial educational stations run by students that broadcast the occasional four-letter-word during prime listening hours.

 

 

This morning, I learned that Elizabeth City State University in North Carolina is being investigated by the State Bureau of Investigation after city police discovered at least 126 reports of crimes since 2007 that campus police failed to investigate, including 18 reports of sexual assaults.

When I saw the news, I was immediately reminded of a series of public-records request that I and others at the SPLC have made in the past few months. We’re seeking to gauge how easy it is for student journalists and others to get access to public records about campus safety, and we’ve placed requests with dozens of schools across the country.

We’re also interested in learning more about the efforts individual schools take to comply with the Clery Act, the campus safety law that nearly all colleges are required to follow. We sent requests to some colleges selected purely at random, but we also sent targeted requests to some schools that reported remarkably low numbers of crimes.

Elizabeth City State University was one of those schools, which I picked out after learning it reported zero on-campus sexual assaults over the past 11 years. My request was for a variety of records — copies of annual security reports issued for the past two years, the names of students found responsible for crimes of violence, copies of confidentiality policies and records showing how the school compiles the annual report.

Nearly two months after my initial request, Elizabeth City State has provided only some of what I requested — annual reports and confidentiality policies. My requests for documents showing how the school compiles its annual report appear to have been overlooked, and my request for names of students found responsible for crimes of violence was denied, citing (incorrectly) the federal privacy law, FERPA. The school’s assistant general counsel, Alyn Goodson, informed me today that the school was working on processing my request for the remaining items and would be re-evaluating its decision to deny my request for names.

Among the lessons I’ve learned from this process:

  • Pay close attention to your instincts, and investigate further whenever something doesn’t pass the smell test. When I looked at the statistics that Elizabeth City State University has reported to the Department of Education since 2001, they seemed very low. The latest news from regarding the unexamined crimes shows that suspicion was well-founded, and that potentially dozens of crimes have occurred that were never included on the school’s annual reports.
  • Be persistent when requesting public records. The university’s first response to my request ignored several sets of documents I had requested. There are often innocent explanations for this, and many public officials are only too happy to take another look at your request — but you have to ask them to do so. On second review, I have received substantially more records from many of the schools we have sent requests to.
  • When records are denied, ask for the exemption in the state public records act that allows the documents to be withheld. When we have requested the names of individuals found responsible for crimes of violence or nonforcible sexual offenses, many schools have denied the request, citing FERPA, the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act. FERPA actually does not prohibit of this information, something we have found few schools seem to be fully aware of. See 20 U.S.C. Sec. 1232g(b)(6)(B). In any event, the obligation to disclose the records is under your state’s public records law, not FERPA. In many cases, the schools we have worked with have come back and decided to release the names. In the remaining cases, once I know why the school believes they do not have to provide the records, it makes it easier for us to know how to challenge the release.

The Elizabeth City State University example also highlights another lesson that is useful for student journalists to keep in mind: The allegations that ECSU police failed to investigate crimes for years only came to light after a student spoke up. Public records requests are a useful tool in learning more about whatever it is you are writing about, but it doesn’t beat on-the-ground reporting. Student journalists are in a unique position to cultivate sources with fellow students who have personally experienced campus crimes and the university’s response to their reports — good or bad. Their stories provide the context for the numbers and documents you receive elsewhere.

If you or your staff are interested in learning more about covering campus crime, check out the SPLC’s definitive guide, Covering Campus Crime. If you want to look at your school’s compliance with the Clery Act, our 10-step guide can help you get started.

Aided by technological advances, government agencies are constantly inventing new ways to collect information — and it was only a matter of time before “drone surveillance” made it way onto college campuses.

Last week’s announcement that the University of Alabama-Huntsville had acquired a fleet of unmanned aerial vehicles with an eye toward equipping them with police security cameras undoubtedly sent a shiver through public urinators and weed cultivators everywhere. For journalists, however, every new method of recording what happens on the campus of a public university is another potential target for a public-records request.

So let’s fast-forward to the distant sci-fi future — say, six months from now. Huntsville skies are buzzing with low-flying surveillance drones, and journalists want to see what these robotic snoops have been recording. Can they?

State open-records laws entitle the public to review and copy any record, however broadly defined, that memorializes information gathered or kept in the course of a government agency’s business. State courts have regularly determined that the video from government-operated surveillance cameras qualifies as a public record.

For instance, an Arizona appeals court ruled in 1995 that television journalists could have access to police video from surveillance cameras at the scene of a double-homicide (although not the tape from a camera showing the police evidence locker, which might have compromised its security). More recently, a district court in Iowa likewise decided that security-camera footage of a City Hall altercation (poetically, one in which the mayor was arguing with two requesters over public records) was a public record.

(While the law of access to video records is relatively well-established, potential exceptions abound. At least one North Carolina attorney has argued that, under that state’s law, a videotape made for crime-prevention purposes may be withheld from disclosure even if the tape depicts no criminal activity.)

Based on how colleges typically respond to requests for much lower-tech records, at least some will try to conceal drone-captured surveillance video from requesters. Is there any legal basis to refuse?

“Personal privacy” is a non-starter. In a 1986 case involving a police fly-over that led to a marijuana bust, the U.S. Supreme Court determined that homeowners do not have a reasonable expectation of privacy in being free from aerial scrutiny of their backyards. It would be pretty audacious for a college to claim that its clandestine videotaping of students is perfectly fine, but producing that video to a requester would invade privacy.

“Pending police investigation,” on the other hand, might sometimes be a legally viable objection. At least one recent court ruling, in New Jersey, found that police could lawfully withhold surveillance-camera footage capturing an arrest that was the subject of an ongoing internal affairs investigation into complaints of excessive force.

If government agencies start doing borderline creepy and invasive things with domestic surveillance drones, the least they can do is let the public see what they’re up to. Literally.

New federal guidance about what constitutes sexually harassing speech on college campuses appear to expand the definition of “harassment” to include harmless references to sexual topics, even those in student media.

Two federal agencies, the Department of Justice and the Department of Education, announced a settlement last week in their investigation of the University of Montana-Missoula, which was accused of responding lackadaisically to campus sexual assaults. The investigation expanded beyond sexual violence into a wider-ranging inquiry into UM’s policies on sexual harassment.

As part of resolving the Montana case, the agencies came out with an open letter to UM President Royce Engstrom that is intended to serve as guidance to other colleges as well. That letter presents a muddled view of what qualifies as sexually harassing speech, and it desperately needs clarifying to spare innocent speakers (including journalists) from overzealous campus discipline.

The federal government has authority over sexual harassment on college campuses under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act and Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972. Essentially, if a campus exhibits indifference to complaints of gender-based harassment, and the Department of Education finds the harassment was so serious that it created a “hostile environment” interfering with the complainant’s ability to obtain an education, then the Department can impose fines. (And the target of the harassment can also take the college to court and seek money damages.)

The May 9 letter — signed by the heads of the Justice Department’s civil rights division and the Department of Education’s office of civil rights — takes issue with the way that UM’s sexual harassment policy defines “harassment.” Here is the part of the letter of utmost concern for journalists, artists and anyone else on a college campus whose work might deal with edgy sexual themes offensive to sensitive audience members:

Whether conduct is objectively offensive is a factor used to determine if a hostile environment has been created, but it is not the standard to determine whether conduct was ‘unwelcome conduct of a sexual nature’ and therefore constitutes ‘sexual harassment.’ … [T]he United States considers a variety of factors, both from a subjective and objective perspective, to determine if a hostile environment has been created.

The words “objective” and “subjective” are the key here. Conduct is “objectively” sexual harassment when a reasonable person would perceive it to be harassing. Conduct is “subjectively” sexual harassment if the complainant thinks it is, regardless of whether the complainant is being rational.

Federal courts have said repeatedly that both standards — the objective and the subjective — must be satisfied for a college to be held liable for maintaining a hostile environment: The complainant must actually feel harassed (subjective) and that feeling must be reasonable in light of the sensibilities of a normal person (objective). The Fourth Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals correctly explained this legal standard in the case of Jennings v. University of North Carolina, involving a former soccer player’s sexual harassment claims against members of the UNC coaching staff:

Harassment reaches the sufficiently severe or pervasive level, as required for liability under Title IX, when it creates an environment that a reasonable person would find hostile or abusive and that the victim herself subjectively perceives to be abusive.

By its May 9 pronouncement, however, the Department of Education seems to be saying something quite different: Speech can be sexually harassing even if a reasonable listener would not take it that way. Reasonableness, the letter indicates, is only one of “a variety of factors” and is not an essential prerequisite for speech to constitute harassment. And nothing in the DOE letter indicates that speech must be targeted toward a particular victim before it qualifies as harassment — it’s conceivable that just seeing an unwanted sexual message on a movie poster, a T-shirt, or the side of a bus could fit the Department’s elastic notion of “harassment.”

That leaves speakers, writers and performers in an unfairly tenuous position. It’s difficult enough to anticipate how reasonable listeners might react adversely to discussions or depictions of sex. It’s not realistic to anticipate how an unreasonable person will respond, and to be expected to tailor speech so that even an irrationally hyper-sensitive person would not take offense.

“The federal government has put colleges and universities in an impossible position with this mandate,” said First Amendment lawyer Greg Lukianoff, president of the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education, which has denounced the Engstrom letter.

It is a bedrock principle of First Amendment law that government regulators cannot be given unfettered discretion to decide what speech is punishable. Even if those running college disciplinary systems act with optimal self-restraint – and experience strongly suggests they won’t – just the existence of an open-ended license to punish will worsen what is already on many campuses a highly intimidating environment for journalistic speech.

If just one audience member decides that a column or cartoon referring to sex is “unwelcome,” then its creator will be at risk of disciplinary action. That means the thinnest-skinned reader with the most overactive imagination gets to decide what is appropriate for the entire rest of the campus to read. Invariably, such a rule will be readily misused as a tool of retaliation by readers or administrators disgruntled with student media.

This is not a hypothetical fear. At the University of Montana itself, an irate law professor went on an (unsuccessful) crusade demanding that college administrators shut down a student’s sex column. More recently, student newspaper editors at the University of Missouri were threatened with disciplinary action over an April Fool’s parody edition containing a slur about lesbians that many readers found offensive.

Just this year, a college administrator in Utah used a foreboding bit of legal-ese — “hostile work environment” — when justifying his decision to remove a sex column from the student newspaper, and administrators at a college in New Mexico shut down the entire journalism program in response to a sex-themed edition of the newspaper. Although both colleges quickly backpedaled when their behavior provoked a public outcry, last week’s federal pronouncement is bound to give more such administrators ammunition to go after journalists.

Even those who are not motivated by ill intent toward the media may be frightened by the prospect of Title IX liability, and the accompanying adverse publicity of being a campus that tolerates sexual harassment, into making illogical censorship decisions.

Some of the worst managerial misjudgments at colleges and schools are justified by the avoidance of microscopically small risks of legal liability. Even though no school or college has ever been fined in the 39-year history of FERPA, the federal student privacy law, the risk of FERPA fines routinely is cited as a justification for absurdly over-classifying documents as “confidential education records” in defiance of state open-records laws — even when withholding the information jeopardizes public safety.

Given colleges’ well-documented history of overreacting to FERPA — a federal statute that has never been enforced — it takes little imagination to anticipate the excesses that will ensue in the name of avoiding sanctions under Title IX, which actually is enforced and actually does result in colleges (occasionally) being taken to court.

Student media on college campuses should uniquely be, and historically have been, laboratories for the testing of boundaries and taboos. Even 40 years ago, the Supreme Court told us that an “underground newspaper” circulated on a college campus that contained a political cartoon depicting the Statue of Liberty and Lady Justice being raped was constitutionally protected speech beyond the government’s authority to punish. In light of what colleges are now being told by the federal government, one reader’s complaint about that cartoon would be enough to provoke a harassment investigation.

Of course, a Department of Education penalty inconsistent with First Amendment standards would be thrown out of court on constitutional grounds, eventually. But that would be of little practical usefulness to a college student who is expelled as a harasser for circulating a sex-themed political cartoon.

It is laudable to want to make campuses safer and more welcoming places, but a campus where government officials have essentially limitless authority to punish speech is the opposite of “safe.” The Department of Education and Department of Justice are charged with enforcing civil rights, and the civil right to be free from government punishment for the content of speech should be paramount among them.

College campuses face a difficult balancing act in responding to excessive drinking by underage students. Punish too little, and you send the message that dangerously illegal behavior is tolerated. Punish too much, and you deter the student who was sexually assaulted while under the influence from reporting the attack, fearing expulsion for drinking.

There may not be a single “right” balance, but the issue is worthy of greater discussion on every campus — and public records can be the starting point for that conversation.

First, find out if your college has an “amnesty policy” that exempts students from discipline if they acknowledge they’d been drinking before being assaulted. Many colleges do. Here’s an example from the University of Florida, which says it will not charge students with violating the student conduct code if they come forward for medical attention, or to report a sexual assault, having consumed drugs or alcohol illegally.

Although campus amnesty policies are not binding on local police, who may still bring criminal charges even if the campus refrains from bringing disciplinary charges, some state laws also provide a safe harbor for those who seek help in alcohol- or drug-related emergencies. The advocacy group Student for Sensible Drug Policy reports that four states (Colorado, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Texas) have banned criminal prosecution of underage drinkers who seek medical assistance for over-consumption.

People on campus often are unaware that a law or school policy protects against adverse consequences for admitting alcohol or drug use, so it’s a valuable service for student media to explain the exact boundaries of that protection and regularly remind people that it exists.

It’s also a valuable service to question why no policy exists. Student journalists at Elon University’s campus newspaper, The Pendulum, recently took an in-depth look at the underreporting of sexual assault on their North Carolina campus, and cited the lack of a formal amnesty policy as one of many reasons students might be reluctant to come forward. (The head of Elon’s violence prevention office said she has an “understanding” with the student disciplinary office, but it isn’t committed to writing or well publicized.)

The way colleges punish underage drinking is a story not just for its own sake, but also to highlight the lack of consistency as to the way schools report imposing discipline.

Last month, Ohio’s Newark Advocate used public records to examine the extent of binge drinking at Denison College and at comparable Ohio schools. Advocate reporters quickly discovered enormous variations in the frequency of arrests and disciplinary actions reported at seemingly similar colleges. The variations raised questions about (a) whether enforcement really varies wildly depending on the policies of the college and its police department or (b) whether the seeming inconsistency resulted from colleges filing inaccurate disclosure reports.

Under the federal Clery Act, colleges must publicly report each year on the number of drug and alcohol arrests on campus, as well as the number of disciplinary sanctions imposed for drug or alcohol infractions. The disciplinary statistics tend to vary so wildly among campuses — a college with 2,000 students will have more substance abuse cases than a college with 20,000 — that the discrepancies can’t logically be explained by differences in students’ behavior alone. Either enforcement policies must differ, or some schools’ reporting practices must be deficient.

Because the Clery statistics were known to be questionably reliable, the Advocate did something especially clever — getting public records from the local fire department reflecting the number of times students from local colleges were transported to hospitals (or to the student health center) for alcohol-related conditions.

This is an example of how journalists even at private colleges can take advantage of open-records laws to inform the public — by figuring out which state, county or city agencies interact with their private institution. Private colleges need not respond to state open-records requests, but a county fire department most certainly must.

Sexual assault and binge drinking are front-burner safety issues for every college campus, and journalists equipped with curiosity and a working knowledge of public records laws can help lead a well-informed discussion of these problems.

 

Ever wish you had one of those electronic manatee tracking collars to keep tabs on where government officials are going — the ones who are always “out of the office” or “in meetings” and unavailable for interviews?

Well, until they start microchipping college presidents (note: that would be great), journalists will have to settle for the next best thing: Appointment calendars.

Last week, a Pennsylvania court decided that reporters for the Associated Press are entitled under that state’s open-records act to complete copies of Gov. Tom Corbett’s schedule.

The governor’s office had released partial copies, with 28 “private” meetings blacked out. But the Pennsylvania Commonwealth Court ruled that the public is entitled, under Pennsylvania’s Right to Know Law, to the calendars in their entirety.

Lawyers for the governor tried to use a squishy loophole in state open-records law that allows agencies to withhold documents that might compromise the “deliberative process.” The court, however, found that a mere calendar entry did not give away anything confidential about internal deliberations.

That is an important ruling not just for access to calendars, but access to all sorts of documents that agencies routinely try to conceal. It might be legitimate to withhold a preliminary draft of an unfinished document that contains the author’s notes — that is a “deliberative process” document. But Pennsylvania law, like all state open-records laws, presumes that the public should have the maximum possible access and that any exceptions to access should be narrowly interpreted. That is, appropriately, what the Commonwealth Court did April 23 in Office of the Governor v. Scolforo.

What works for the governor of a state should work equally for the chief executives of public colleges and universities as well. Journalists covering public colleges should have ready access to the president’s schedule, and should take advantage of that inside glimpse behind otherwise-closed doors.

For years, the independent student newspaper at the University of Georgia, The Red & Black, has published a cheekily titled feature — “Where’s Mikey?” — that reproduces President Michael Adams’ appointment calendar.

Having a copy of a college president’s appointment calendar can be journalistically useful for all sorts of reasons.

  • Seeing the meetings on the president’s calendar tells you (a) who has the president’s ear and (b) what types of issues the president is working on. If the athletic director is coming to his office three times a month, then something’s up in the athletic department. (And if the athletic director is never coming to the president’s office, then maybe there’s nobody watching the store.)
  • Presidents serve in many external capacities that at times can compete for their attention. For instance, many of them serve on the boards of corporations, at times receiving enormous “honorarium” checks that raise questions about their independence and about whether the university has their full attention. If the president is spending five days a month at corporate board meetings, it’s legitimate to ask whether the college is being run by a part-timer.
  • At times of trouble on campus — crime, scandal, financial disaster — it’s comforting to know that the president is in the office managing the crisis, not attending a conference in Aspen at the height of ski season. (Journalists recently used travel records — like appointment calendars, a matter of public record at a state university — to document that the president of the University of Hawaii has spent nearly one year of her four-year tenure traveling away from the office.)

And there is one additional benefit that can’t be ignored. A remarkable number of college officials have turned camera-shy, hiding behind public-relations spokespeople and refusing to grant interviews even to their own student media. If the college president is being purposefully evasive, journalists should be unashamed to show up at the president’s next public appearance and confront him — politely, and with video rolling — with the questions he refuses to sit down and answer.

(Bonus story idea: Get the most recent 12 months’ worth of presidential appointment calendars. Count up how many times you can tell that the president held a sit-down meeting with actual students. Write about what you find.)

 

In February, the Supreme Court heard oral arguments in a case involving requests for public records from out-of-state residents.

Monday, the court issued its unanimous opinion in the case, McBurney v. Young, finding that state laws that limit the access of records to state residents are constitutional. The right to access public records is not “‘fundamental’ privilege … of citizenship,” wrote Justice Samuel Alito.

“The Court has repeatedly stated that the Constitution does not guarantee the existence of FOIA laws,” Alito wrote. “Moreover, no such right was recognized at common law or in the early Republic. Nor is such a sweeping right ‘basic to the maintenance or well-being of the Union.’”

The court’s decision is a disappointment for media organizations, many of which, including the Student Press Law Center, filed briefs in support of the two plaintiffs. Only a handful of states currently restrict access to residents, but the ruling could prompt others to reconsider their public records laws.

For an analysis of the court’s legal arguments, check out Lyle Denniston’s analysis at SCOTUSblog.

A Western Michigan University undergraduate says he was thrown out of school and banned from college premises after being hospitalized for clinical depression.

Jackson Peebles told the Western Herald that, even after his own physician gave him a note clearing him to return to school, WMU initially refused to readmit him, alleging he violated a student conduct code against “[c]ausing physical harm to self or others,” although he neither attempted suicide nor threatened anyone else. (Peebles is now back on campus taking classes part-time.)

The college’s reaction may sound extreme, but it is in fact consistent with “involuntary withdrawal” policies that exist, largely unknown, on the rulebooks of many American campuses.

While it is uncontroversial that a college can remove a student who presents a danger to the safety of others, it is less universally accepted that a college can — or should — remove a student who is suspected of wanting to harm himself.

In a 2009 report, the state of New Jersey’s mental health division expressed reservations about “involuntary withdrawal” as a response to suicidal thoughts, noting that removal from college often separates troubled students from their best source of social support and affordable counseling.

What’s more, expelling a student for exhibiting mental illness may well run afoul of federal disability protections. The Department of Education has found at least two colleges to be in violation of Title II of the Americans with Disabilities Act (or its companion statute, the Rehabilitation Act) for forcibly removing students on the basis of suicide risk, with little documentation that they presented a danger to campus safety.

The SPLC conducted a public records audit of colleges nationwide in 2010 to obtain copies of these withdrawal policies. Notably, many institutions with “involuntary withdrawal” policies on their books actually denied having them. This demonstrates two bedrock principles of open-records reporting. First, don’t take an initial “no” for an answer. Second, phrase your requests for records using as many synonyms and descriptive terms as possible, so that the agency can’t wriggle out of producing documents through an ultra-literal interpretation of your request (“Why no, we don’t have a ‘suicide withdrawal policy,’ we just have this ‘involuntary withdrawal policy for suicidal people.’”).

Reviewing the college’s policy on involuntary withdrawals should be a once-a-year exercise in all student newsrooms. At public institutions, journalists should go further and also ask to see statistics as to how often these policies are invoked, and with what result (e.g., for how long is the student removed, and how many succeed in winning reinstatement or in challenging their removal). Statistics with students’ identifying information removed cannot lawfully be withheld on the grounds of “educational privacy,” no matter what some college attorneys may insist.

Finally, explaining the process by which an expelled student may challenge the college’s decision is itself a public service. Due process requires that, if emergency circumstances do not allow for advance notice and a hearing before a student is removed from a public college, the student must be given a prompt post-expulsion hearing with an opportunity to confront his accuser and clear his name. If the institution is not providing that minimal level of procedural fairness, then it not only is exhibiting questionable sensitivity to those with mental health issues, but also violating the law.

 

Earlier this month, the Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication approved a unanimous resolution urging schools to refrain from censorship made lawful by the Supreme Court’s 1988 ruling in Hazelwood School District v. Kuhlmeier. 

Now, another group of journalism educators is speaking out against censorship of scholastic journalism. On Tuesday, the Journalism Education Association’s board of directors unanimously approved a resolution endorsing AEJMC’s stand.

“As the leading scholastic journalism education group, we must stand tall and scream at injustice,” JEA President Mark Newton said in a statement. “Make no mistake, the Hazelwood Supreme Court decision and its subsequent interpretations are an injustice to education, students, advisers and the First Amendment.”

The disapproval of the nation’s leading journalism educators is of legal significance because the Supreme Court declared in Hazelwood that schools could lawfully censor their students’ “curricular” speech to advance legitimate educational concerns. The JEA and AEJMC are now on record declaring that dampening the discussion of controversial issues should not be recognized by courts as a legitimate educational objective that can justify censorship.

JEA has more than 2,500 members and is the largest association for scholastic journalism teachers and advisers. Read the JEA resolution here.