Some Observations on the Spanish Education System

As someone who conducts graduate level research at a Spanish University interacts with undergraduates from Spain and other EU countries, I often find myself reflecting on the strengths and weaknesses of the American and European university systems. Clearly, my own ideas on the benchmarks that mark the signs of an adequate undergraduate experience stems from my stints at a large research institution (Northwestern University) and a small liberal arts college (Macalester): small classes with regular contact with professors as well as an administration that enables academic departments and career development services to carry out their own initiatives were instrumental in advancing my professional and intellectual development.

In light of these experiences, my time at La Universidad de Carlos III has offered very little insight into the nature of the undergraduate/graduate experience in Spain and the EU. Most of the time, I work from home as I write my paper, read articles from JStor and Academic Search Premier, review Spanish legislation and case law on Arazandi/Westlaw, and set up interviews over the phone with Spanish labor unions, pro immigrant NGOs, and government ministries. In other words, my research is a solitary enterprise that sees me making regular trips to campus every few weeks to borrow books and make copies of academic journals. Given that my professor has left the university for a post with the Ministry of Equality, moreover, I no longer visit campus for our regular meetings. Instead, we meet at his office in downtown Madrid to discuss my work.

Most of my understanding of the Spanish education system emerges from my research on the system of governance of government programs established by the Spanish Constitution of 1978. Like health care and other government programs, the Spanish education is a decentralized system of institution and programs that remain under the control of the 17 Communidades Autonomas, Autonomous Communities, which are analogous to US states. Under the Spanish Constitution, the Spanish state provides funding, legal oversight, and some general guidelines for the operation of these programs. The state cannot extend its reach beyond these functions, a symbolic gesture that reflects the Post Franco Spanish political culture's aversion to a strong centralized government.

Beside this information and the stories about primary and secondary education that I hear from my Fulbright friends, I knew very little about the actual experiences of Spanish undergraduate students. Consequently, I find the comments of other Spanish university students particularly insightful when thinking about these issues. Over the last few months, two comments from conversations with two girls at the Universidad de Complutense de Madrid, the largest university in Spain, have stood out. Allow me to repeat them:

The first comment came from a young woman who was a journalism student at the university and a roommate of the individuals in the Fulbright program. At a coffee shop in Lavapies, the predominantly immigrant neighborhood in Madrid, she explained to me and my friends that the journalism program revolves around theory with very little emphasis on practical experience in its curriculum.

As a former Northwestern student with friends at the prestigious Medill School of Journalism, I asked her if the university gave its students the opportunity to intern with papers around the city. (For those of you unfamiliar with Medill, the school requires all undergraduates to take a quarter internship with a newspaper, magazine, or radio and/or television station to gain professional experience in the field of journalism.)

She said the University did not provide its students with programs to work in professional newsrooms over the course of the six year curriculum. In fact, the school's newspaper was a national publication produced by a group of student and professional journalists from various institutions in Spain. If a student wanted to find an internship, she would need to find a newspaper willing to take on an intern. Otherwise, she must wait until the end of her six year undergraduate career for her 'practicas,' a period of a few months where she will work with a news organization before entering the labor market and applying for her first journalism position. ('Practicas' is a general term for the period after graduation where a Spanish graduate interns with an organization before their post-graduate job search.)

As she finished describing her undergraduate experience so far, she said that the lack of experience and the focus on theory left her incredibly frustrated and bored with her work. To be sure, she appreciated the fact that the Communidad de Madrid provided her with a very inexpensive undergraduate education. Still, the experience left her wondering whether she would have enough experience to find a job in a country mired in a major economic crisis.

The second observation came from an undergraduate who was conducting her own biological research at the same institution. Although she was happy with her overall progress in her work, she was frustrated that the University did not provide her with a set of professors who could give her an opportunity to network and collaborate with other individuals conducting similar research in other countries. "We don't have many international professors, that's the problem," she explained.

She subsequently tied this problem to provisions in Spanish immigration laws that required all long term immigrants who received licenses/advanced degrees from foreign institutions to 'homogenize' their credentials through enrollment in a Spanish university or professional school in order to work at a Spanish firm (e.g law) or teach in a Spanish institution. I should note that this provision does not apply to visiting professors; the Spanish immigration regime that regulates the movement and rights of immigrants actively promotes efforts to attract visiting professors and students from other parts of the world. In order to live and work in Spain, however, the regime has consistently required immigrants to undergo this process since the first immigration law, LO 7/1985.

The student subsequently concluded that the number of international professors in a Spanish University is lower than other EU member states due to these factors, creating an insular academic atmosphere that failed to expose students to other points of view. She added that this type of academic environment consistently prevented Spanish university students from gaining work in other parts of the world, namely the United States.

As I noted above, I have little exposure to the Spanish University system. That said, the second observation certainly does raise questions over Spain's immigration policy. If the country wants to maintain a strong presence in the EU and world affairs, why would it impair the movement of qualified individuals to its academic and professional institutions? Put in another way: what factors propelled the appearance of these types of policies and provisions in Spanish immigration law? What factors keep them in place? While my topic revolves around undocumented immigration, I find myself reflecting on these types of questions over the course of my research on the Spanish Government's attempts to develop immigration.