June 17, 2026
“You better learn it fast, you better learn it young… ’cause someday never comes.”
- Creedence Clearwater Revival, 1972
So went the lyrics composed back during another era of rapid change and political upheaval; if only they were true. Throughout our society (and around the world really), including here in our lovely little (though less “little” than it once was) college town, people are reckoning with challenges that had always felt like problems we might have to face someday.
Well, “someday,” which for years and even decades felt more abstract than real, is now visible on the horizon.
The other day I found myself reading an article from Penn State President Neeli Bendapudi, then another from Provost Fotis Sotiropoulos. I followed those with a piece from Babson College and then returned to information about what is happening at High Point University. At first glance, these sources seemed to be talking about different things. Neeli was writing about curiosity, communication, collaboration, and lifelong learning, while Fotis emphasized “experiential learning” – creativity, ethical reasoning, and problem solving. Babson focused on entrepreneurial leadership, teamwork, and emotional intelligence. High Point has built a national reputation around leadership development, hands-on mentorship, and preparing students for life after graduation.
The sources were a study in contrasts. Penn State is a sprawling, world-renowned R1 land-grant university steeped in tradition, its 170-year history a model of academic rags to riches. Babson and High Point represent veritable upstarts by comparison, newcomers to the marketplace who have emerged as critical darlings for being agile and adaptive. Yet the more I pondered what I’d read, the more I felt they were all confronting the same future, one where economic, demographic, and technological trends combine to upend the fundamentals of modern higher education. This week’s news of an enrollment crisis at Syracuse University, a legacy-brand institution a bit too similar to Old State for comfort, drives home the urgency of these discussions. “Someday” is looming. Before long, I had notes scattered across my desk and a question I couldn’t shake: “What if we’ve been looking in the wrong direction?”
Oddly enough, that realization didn’t make me think about a classroom.
It made me think about my fraternity, my work-study experiences, and the small business I started as a student. It made me think about the people who challenged me, encouraged me, opened doors for me, and occasionally told me I was crazy. When I look back at my years at Penn State, those experiences shaped me every bit as much as the classes I took. Yes, the classroom equipped me with knowledge, but the experiences, from structured co- and extracurricular programs to the random life encounters that can only happen in a thriving college town, gave me the confidence to apply it.
What struck me about the messages coming from Penn State, Babson, and High Point is that none of them are ultimately talking about technology. They are talking about human development. They are talking about helping people learn how to work with others, solve problems, navigate uncertainty, communicate effectively, build relationships, and contribute to something larger than themselves. Technology, especially in the context of shrinking population and tightening belts, has simply provoked a long-overdue reckoning over where the value of a college education truly resides.
The institutions that thrive in the years ahead will not simply be the ones that deliver information most efficiently. Information has become abundant. The institutions that succeed will be the ones that help people develop judgment, confidence, relationships, and purpose. As someone who has spent years teaching students and working with entrepreneurs, I find that encouraging, because it reflects what I’ve seen firsthand. The most valuable experiences rarely come from passive listening alone. They come from active application: trying something difficult, joining a team, launching a project, taking a risk, serving others, failing occasionally, and discovering that you’re capable of more than you thought. Those experiences create something that is difficult to quantify and impossible to ignore.
The future of our region will ultimately depend less on how we deploy new technology and more on our ability to strengthen the connections between people. The communities that thrive will be the ones where residents feel welcomed, students feel connected, entrepreneurs feel supported, volunteers feel valued, and people of all ages find meaningful ways to participate. The more I study the tea leaves, the more convinced I become that the future belongs to places that help people belong.
“Someday” may not hit Happy Valley tomorrow, but its imminent arrival is no longer up for debate. We steel ourselves against its destructive potential by anticipating and responding to the threat. That process begins with doubling down on making this a place where people encounter experiences that shape and enrich the rest of their lives, and Connect Happy Valley will be here to lead the way.
