The French Revolution began because people felt unheard by those in power. While Wellesley students probably don’t store guillotines in their closets, the moral of the story matters: when decision-makers freeze the broader community out, the consequences are rarely benign. Wellesley’s college government sees that fracture up close — and too often, students discover how little leverage we truly have.
While there will always be things for the administration to fix (students always request more days for reading period, more berries in the dining halls and ACs in dorms!), over my past two years here, I’ve seen the relationship between students and the administration grow increasingly strained, and many students now feel not merely dissatisfied, but unheard and unprioritized.
That tension sharpened with the recent closures of the Teacher Scholars Program and the Paulson Initiative. The latter, in particular, ignited widespread student outrage, not only because of what the Initiative represented, but because students were never formally informed of the decision. The news circulated among faculty first, without explanation or public justification offered to the broader community. What followed made the silence even more troubling. Despite a generous offer by Wendy Judge Paulson to fund the continuation of the Initiative, the College declined the donation. When asked to explain the refusal, Provost Courtney Coile cited donor correspondence confidentiality. Yet, according to reporting by The Wellesley News, Paulson herself was “outraged” by the College’s decision. That revelation all but confirmed what many students already suspected: the closure was not simply a matter of finances.
For many students, the moment felt eerily familiar. During the WOAW–UAW strike, communication followed the same pattern: the administration’s statements were careful, measured and notably nonspecific. Meanwhile, students faced consequences that were neither abstract nor delayed. Graduation timelines slipped into uncertainty. Visa requirements became precarious. Financial aid eligibility felt suddenly fragile. The language remained restrained even as the stakes escalated.
I entered my role on the Appointed Representative Committee of College Government believing that much of this growing discontent stemmed from miscommunication. Better dialogue could narrow the widening gap between students and administrators. What I learned instead is that even student representatives are often kept in the dark. Through my work on the Budgetary Affairs Committee, I now understand more about the financial pressures and competing demands the College faces. I do not believe these decisions are made lightly. But confidentiality restrictions prevent even representatives from sharing the reasoning behind the most important choices. In practice, that means students are asked to trust decisions they have no real ability to evaluate. And even with the limited access I have, I still do not know why the Paulson donation was rejected. If student representatives cannot access or communicate the logic behind the College’s most consequential decisions, then that crucial representation is constrained.
The recent open forum hosted by College Government showed that a large portion of the student body cares about the decisions the administration makes. However, even when we have the platform to express our dissatisfaction, it is far harder to reverse a decision than to help shape it.
Though students are treated with secondary importance by the administration, they are still at the core of the College, paying tuition and promoting Wellesley as an institution they represent in all fields imaginable. The decisions that affect our academic and professional opportunities should not be made behind closed doors, especially if they involve external parties like donors. Students hold power in outreach, visibility and public trust. The administration should use this power to achieve mutually beneficial goals now — rather than feeling students’ frustration later.
Contact the editors responsible for this article: Caitlin Donovan, Avery Finley
