3 Professors and a $24 Million Miracle
The Impossible Bet: How a Secret Insurance Policy Against Chinese Student Enrollment Collapse Saved the University of Illinois Millions During COVID—And the Student Journalist Who Almost Exposed It
Author’s note: This essay is opinion and commentary based on publicly available sources on matters of public concern. It relies on publicly available sources, principally Brown, Lane & Martin (2024) and contemporaneous reporting (e.g., Reuters, Aug. 17, 2020). Scene‑setting passages are narrative framing, not claims about anyone’s private state of mind. All factual claims are intended to be supported by those sources. If you spot an error, please email me and I will correct promptly. The people and institutions named here are discussed in their public, professional capacities. Nothing herein alleges unlawful conduct. This is not legal, financial, accounting, or insurance advice. This essay is offered for public discussion and should not be taken as a definitive factual record. See also the Legal Notice & Editorial Standards at the end.
THREE PROFESSORS AND A $24 MILLION MIRACLE
March 2020. Champaign, Illinois.
Jeff Brown looked out his office window, staring at the ghost town that was once the bustling heart of the University of Illinois. It was March 2020. The classrooms were empty, sidewalks deserted. No laughter, no chatter, no backpacks tossed carelessly aside as students sprawled on the grass. Just silence. Heavy, uneasy silence.
Across the globe, COVID-19 had closed borders overnight. Visa offices locked their doors, airports turned into ghost towns, and the vital stream of students from China, students who quietly accounted for more than twenty percent of the business school’s budget, slowed to a trickle. Panic spread through universities everywhere. Budgets tightened. Staff layoffs loomed. Hope faded.
In the eerie silence of that moment, Brown allowed himself a grim smile, feeling a profound, quiet gratitude.
Three years earlier, he'd placed a bet. A huge bet. An almost impossible bet, so innovative and untested that some had called it absurd. He'd fought skeptics, bureaucrats, and an intricate procurement system, even putting his reputation on the line. But now, it was about to save his university millions.
Yet Brown could not share this moment openly. He had to keep it private, like a secret letter tucked into his pocket.
Wait—We Insured Against What?
It began in September 2015. After his first faculty meeting as the newly appointed Dean of the Business College, Jeff spoke about an invisible risk: too much revenue depended on Chinese students. Any disruption—a political conflict, a visa crisis, an epidemic—could collapse the university’s carefully constructed finances.
Afterward, as faculty shuffled papers and chairs scraped against the floor, Tim Johnson, a quietly brilliant finance professor with a neatly trimmed beard, thoughtful eyes, and the calm intensity of someone who’d once navigated the high-stakes world of hedge funds, approached Jeff:
“Dean Brown,” Tim said gently, “Have you ever thought about hedging the China risk?”
Brown, an MIT-trained economist who’d advised the White House and spent decades researching insurance markets, annuities, and long-term financial decision-making, felt intrigued but skeptical. "I'd love to, Tim," he admitted, “but the market does not exist.”
Johnson’s eyes sparkled like someone savoring a private joke. “Not yet,” he said, “but it could.”
Within days, Tim Johnson and Morton Lane, a professor who had managed money at the World Bank, run a derivatives brokerage firm in Chicago, and helped pioneer the market for insurance-linked securities, sat down for lunch. Their careers had already defied typical academic trajectories. Both had lectured at the prestigious London Business School, though in different decades, and both understood firsthand how finance could create something powerful from insight, courage, and imagination alone.
As Lane and Johnson sketched out their audacious plan, Jeff Brown lent his full support. They soon realized their best chance was Lloyd’s of London, a market willing to insure anything, even Taylor Swift’s engagement ring. They convinced Andrew Martin, a broker with Besso, a Lloyd’s brokerage, to join their quest. Martin was known for pioneering innovative insurance deals after Hurricane Katrina.
For two painstaking years, they built the case brick by brick: navigating skeptical administrators, persuading cautious underwriters at Lloyd’s of London, and confronting layers of bureaucrats whose careers thrived on caution, whose instinct was always to say no, and whose greatest fear was stepping into the unknown. They pushed through endless procurement requirements and marathon Zoom calls across time zones. Their families saw less of them. They faced relentless skepticism from colleagues who insisted universities simply didn't do deals like this. Yet they pressed on, driven by a quiet sense of duty and a vision they couldn’t yet fully articulate, but felt deep in their bones was necessary.
Finally, on May 1, 2017, after hundreds of calls and negotiations, Illinois placed a groundbreaking insurance policy with Lloyd’s of London: a three-year, $61 million hedge against the sudden collapse of Chinese student enrollment1. If tuition revenue dropped by more than 18.75% due to a covered event, such as a pandemic or government action, the policy would trigger, and Illinois would receive a payout.
It was the university’s ultimate tuition airbag.
The Day the World Stopped Turning
Fast forward to March 2020.
COVID-19 did exactly what the policy anticipated. Revenue from China plunged. But just as Illinois filed the claim, the next crisis began, political rather than financial
The policy had a confidentiality2 clause, standard for the insurance world but explosive for a public institution subject to Illinois' FOIA transparency laws.
Illinois had compelling reasons to guard its policy’s secrecy. It was politically sensitive in the 2016 U.S. election year and early 2017, amid heightened debate over immigration and China policy; the university did not want disclosure misconstrued as “taking sides.”3
On campus, administrators likely panicked privately4, that’s my read of the moment, terrified that the crisis would expose their carefully maintained facades, the uncomfortable truth that beneath slogans of “shaping tomorrow’s leaders” and glossy brochures of smiling students engaged in intellectual exploration, their daily anxieties revolved around press releases, enrollment numbers, and image control. Internally, communications planning addressed how disclosure could be perceived and how to explain the policy’s student‑continuity purpose, while recognizing that FOIA can override contract confidentiality.5
Some probably wondered, with surreal sincerity, if the university was “betting against China,” as if they hadn’t long ago quietly conceded institutional values to financial pragmatism. Others likely worried donors, politicians, or students might think the university was prioritizing international students as sources of revenue at the expense of domestic applicants, as if money considerations hadn’t shaped admissions decisions.
The university knew exactly why this was dangerous: openly hedging a risk specifically tied to China could ignite fierce debates about fairness, privilege, and domestic opportunity.
Would American students and families accuse Illinois of putting lucrative international enrollments ahead of their own children?
How would donors react?
Would politicians accuse Illinois of betting against America’s global rival?
The political storm brewing behind closed doors was potentially more damaging than the financial risk they’d hedged against.
So intense was their fear of public backlash that Illinois communications officials quietly prepared talking points for difficult questions: Why single out China? Wouldn't recruiting elsewhere yield better returns? Exactly how many domestic students could replace lost enrollments from China? (per Brown, Lane & Martin, 2024).
Then came the FOIA request.
Reuters struck first, forcing some disclosure6.
Yet the resulting article in August 2020 barely mentioned the policy’s success, glossing over how the university had averted a devastating financial loss. Instead, to Dean Brown’s deep frustration, it fixated on the difficulty of renewing coverage amid a global pandemic.
But administrators still held their breath. Reuters was challenging enough. What if the next request came from the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times, or the Financial Times? How would they weather that storm?
Just weeks later, another email arrived, precise and targeted, seeking internal correspondence about the policy and its renewal. Staff likely felt the pressure of the workload. Who was behind this meticulously crafted FOIA request? An investigative journalist? A political operative?
When they traced the sender, the fear likely turned into incredulous laughter, as I imagine it, because, per the SSRN account, it was a student from the Daily Illini7, the university's own student newspaper. The kid had zeroed in with remarkable precision, requesting internal emails and detailed correspondence related to the policy, its renewal, and the university's political calculations.
Then, just as suddenly, nothing happened.
One email from a student had come within inches of breaking open one of the most carefully guarded financial secrets in the university’s history. But suddenly, inexplicably, the student went silent. Perhaps homework piled up, exams overwhelmed him, or he mistakenly thought the story too trivial.
That silence cost him dearly. If that student had persisted, he would have exposed the heart of how a public institution navigates geopolitics, finances, admissions fairness, and bureaucratic risk. He could have secured a top-tier journalism career overnight.
He never realized his own power. He blinked, and the moment vanished.
A life-changing moment, abandoned for routine homework. Sometimes, the biggest mistake of your life isn’t obvious until years later.
For every student reading this: Never underestimate your own power.8
When an idea grips you, when something doesn't quite add up, when a thought becomes a quiet obsession: pay attention. Take it seriously. Drop everything if you must, even classes, and follow your curiosity without hesitation. Don’t buy into the myth adults sell about your inexperience, your smallness, your insignificance. But as you just saw, one carefully targeted email from a student nearly exposed one of the university’s deepest secrets.
You have more power than you realize. Don't underestimate yourself or get sidetracked by routine tasks, clubs, or classes. A single email, one bold action, can shake institutions, force uncomfortable conversations, and permanently alter the course of your life.
Hit send.
The Renewal That Slipped Through
And then, the second tragedy struck, this time bureaucratic rather than biological.
As the policy neared renewal in late 2019, Andrew Martin, who had carefully arranged the original deal, secured even better terms. But the university’s newly appointed insurance director chose another broker, larger, more familiar, supposedly safer.
This decision significantly delayed the renewal process at the exact moment when swift action was crucial. Negotiations stalled. By the time the new broker initiated discussions, COVID-19 had already begun to spread worldwide, drastically shifting market conditions.
Consequently, renewal terms deteriorated dramatically: premiums jumped by 60%, coverage triggers became harsher, pandemic protections shrank, and COVID-19 was explicitly excluded. Eventually, even the diminished offer was withdrawn entirely, leaving Illinois financially exposed and potentially losing tens of millions in future protection.
A cautionary tale: in finance as in life, sometimes the safe choice is the most dangerous.
The Moment of Truth
Amid the chaos of 2020, the University of Illinois quietly began filing paperwork for the insurance claim that had seemed impossible just years before.
It wasn’t easy.
Claim adjusters, skeptical, meticulous, cautious, began scrutinizing every figure, every contract clause, every nuance in the university's financial statements. Meetings grew tense, the air thick with unanswered questions and mutual suspicion.
At one point, the claims accountants floated an alarming misunderstanding: that perhaps the policy only covered calendar-year losses rather than the university’s fiscal year. This might sound minor, mere semantics, but it was potentially catastrophic, slicing millions from the claim. Mike Devocelle from Engineering later described it vividly: it was as if they'd bought flight insurance for an afternoon airplane ride, only to discover mid-flight that coverage ended at 3 PM, leaving passengers to fend for themselves. The university’s flight, he emphasized, began at the start of the semester, not midway through.9
An urgent meeting was convened.
Lane, Brown, Devocelle, and Johnson gathered in a conference room, tension etched on their faces. Lane had meticulously consulted Andrew Martin beforehand. After hours of careful review, the university’s interpretation (fiscal/academic‑year measurement) was accepted, and the claim advanced to mitigation and settlement discussions.
It was a crucial victory, though hardly their last obstacle.
Next, adjusters demanded proof of the university’s efforts to mitigate losses.
The response was remarkably creative: Master’s programs allowed students stranded in China to begin remotely. Deposits, typically lost if a student didn’t enroll, were now honored for the following year. The university even forged partnerships with institutions in China, enabling stranded freshmen to start their degrees abroad. The sheer scale of adaptation was staggering. Faculty and staff spent countless sleepless nights reconfiguring classes, bending established rules, and reinventing education itself, all while managing their own pandemic-induced anxieties.
After a meticulous, exhausting review, the insurers finally made their offer. Internal debates emerged. Should the university push for a slightly higher payout? After careful thought, the university concluded that the offer was fair.
It was time to accept.
On August 10, 2021, Jeff Brown received a quiet, understated email from the university’s insurance director:
We have received the $10 million advanced partial payment for the tuition loss claim.
The balance of the claim was received shortly thereafter, for a total, a few dollars shy of $24 million.
(per Brown, Lane & Martin, 2024)
The message seemed calm, almost mundane. But to Brown and his colleagues, it landed like thunder, a resounding confirmation of their courage, persistence, and foresight.
Those funds, compensating for the lost tuition of roughly 800 absent students10, meant staff could keep their jobs, classes could continue, and countless dreams could remain alive.
The airbag had deployed.
The impossible bet had paid off.
The Ending—For Now
Today, looking back, we must admire the courage, brilliance, and sheer stubbornness of Jeff Brown, Tim Johnson, and Morton Lane. These three professors, with quiet determination, challenged bureaucracy, financial skeptics, and cautious insurers. They saw an invisible risk and built a financial fortress against it. They showed it is possible, even within rigid bureaucratic structures, to innovate boldly, patiently, and successfully.
Professor Johnson tragically passed away in 2023. Yet his legacy shines as brightly as the $24 million that saved the university when disaster struck.
But their story also leaves us haunted by questions such as:
How can public institutions balance innovative financial strategies that require confidentiality with public accountability?
How do we fairly balance opportunities for domestic students against universities’ increasing financial dependence on international enrollments?
How can brilliant professors and ambitious students escape from the suffocating grasp of institutional bureaucracy designed to crush the courage to innovate, take risks, and act boldly, within systems seemingly built precisely to suppress these very impulses?
These questions matter. Illinois must confront them, and so must every public institution and university in America.
But above all, remember this: courage matters. Innovation matters. Transparency matters. Your actions matter, far more than those in power would ever admit.
And that brings us back to the Daily Illini student. He came inches from exposing this powerful truth. But he blinked, distracted by routine, by classes, by life.
Life-changing moments rarely announce themselves. They are quiet, subtle, and easy to miss.
And yet, that is precisely the point. From a single decision, acted on or abandoned, whole institutions can be shaken, or left unchanged.
Because Illinois taught us something bigger than hedging tuition or navigating politics. It showed us that ordinary people, professors, students, dreamers, and innovators, can achieve the extraordinary, if only they dare to act.
Today, the campus quad lies quiet again, peaceful and serene. Yet beneath that silence lies this extraordinary story of innovation, of courage, of heroism, regret, bureaucracy, and, ultimately, hope.
Don’t forget it. Hold it tight. Keep it alive. Remember it.
Jeff Brown certainly will.
And perhaps Tim Johnson, wherever he may be, is smiling gently, knowing financial engineering11 did indeed work in practice.
References
Primary source
Brown, J. R., Lane, M., & Martin, A. (2024). Illinois’ Chinese Revenue Hedge: The Backstory of the University of Illinois’s Successful Insurance Program. SSRN / public PDF. (Policy structure; premium; triggers; confidentiality/FOIA; claim timeline; $10M advance; total “a few dollars shy of $24M”; renewal sequence.)
Selected further reading (as cataloged in the SSRN paper’s appendix)
Barlyn, S. (2020, Aug. 17). Reuters: Insight—U.S. university insured Chinese student tuition… then COVID‑19 hit. (Covers FOIA‑derived details and renewal difficulty.)
Inside Higher Ed; Times Higher Education; MarketWatch/WSJ; Insurance News; The PIE News; Yahoo Finance; PBS segment with Robert Frank (2018–2020 coverage of the policy’s existence and context). (See SSRN Appendix “Published News Articles and Additional Notes.”)
Legal Notice & Editorial Standards.
Nature of the Work. This publication is a work of narrative nonfiction on a matter of public concern. It contains the author’s opinions, value judgments, and interpretations based on disclosed and believed‑to‑be reliable sources, including public records, reporting contemporaneous to the events described, and the author’s own analysis. Certain scenes are reconstructed, and some dialogue is paraphrased for clarity; organizational details may be condensed for readability.
No Defamatory Meaning Intended. Nothing herein is intended to assert, and should not be read as asserting, provably false statements of fact about any identified person. Evaluative terms (e.g., “bet,” “airbag,” “bureaucracy”) are rhetorical hyperbole and protected opinion made in a public‑debate context. References to individuals are used for identification in an editorial context; no disparagement or accusation of unlawful, unethical, or incompetent conduct is intended.
Sources & Calculations. Figures, examples, and back‑of‑the‑envelope math (e.g., tuition equivalents, premium illustrations) are approximate and for explanatory purposes only; they are not audited financials and should not be relied upon for investment, legal, or accounting decisions.
No Confidential or Non‑Public Information. The author does not knowingly disclose confidential, proprietary, or trade‑secret information. Any contracts, claims, or negotiations referenced are discussed at a high level based on public‑interest reporting and analysis.
No Professional Advice. This publication is for commentary, education, and storytelling. It is not legal, investment, accounting, or risk‑management advice. Readers should consult qualified professionals for advice tailored to their circumstances.
Trademarks & Affiliation. All trademarks and service marks are the property of their respective owners. Mention of companies, institutions, or markets (e.g., Lloyd’s of London) does not imply endorsement, affiliation, or sponsorship.
Right of Reply & Corrections. The author welcomes documented corrections or clarifications. Please send substantiated requests to juandavidcampolargo@substack.com; verified material inaccuracies will be reviewed in good faith and, where appropriate, corrected or noted in a post‑publication update.
Public‑Interest & Opinion Context. The subject matter concerns public institutions, finance, and higher‑education governance. The statements herein are made in the context of ongoing public debate and are presented as fair comment and protected opinion on disclosed facts.
Reservation of Rights. © 2025 • Juan David Campolargo. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced without permission, except for fair‑use quotations with attribution.
Let me give you a more detailed explanation of what happened.
In May 2017, Illinois’ Gies College of Business and Grainger College of Engineering bound a three‑year Lloyd’s policy with a $61M aggregate limit (pandemic sub‑limit $36M). It paid from the first dollar once two things were true:
(1) the year‑over‑year drop in subject tuition revenues exceeded 18.75%, and
(2) the loss was caused by a covered event (e.g., a WHO‑declared pandemic, visa restrictions, comprehensive sanctions, or verified travel warnings due to political violence/war).
Premium ran about $424,000 per year (publicly reported), roughly 69 bps of limit. The contract was losses‑occurring, with losses measured on the fiscal/academic year, not the calendar year, as described by Brown, Lane & Martin.
Confidentiality clauses are common in certain insurance lines where disclosure can distort incentives.
Consider kidnapping insurance: if kidnappers know you're insured, the ransom skyrockets, and the entire purpose of the coverage collapses.
The policy only works if no one knows it exists.
SSRN discusses the 2016 political environment (including immigration rhetoric) and why the University wanted discretion to avoid any appearance of “taking sides,” even though the hedge pre‑dated the election. (Section 3, pp. 9–10.)
The SSRN narrative explains that the policy included confidentiality language and that Illinois FOIA can still compel disclosure from public bodies. It also notes that the University’s communications office prepared talking points for potential media questions, and recounts a Reuters records request in 2020 and a later Daily Illini student request that wasn’t pursued. (See “Confidentiality,” pp. 22–24; “Covid‑19 and Claim,” p. 29; and Appendix item 20.)
Confidentiality, FOIA reality, and talking points.
The SSRN “Confidentiality” section explains the contract’s confidentiality language, the reality that FOIA can compel disclosure for public bodies, and that the University’s press office circulated talking points for potentially hostile questions. pp. 22–24.
Starting in early 2018, media attention quickly piled up: first the Wall Street Journal, followed by roughly twenty trade write-ups, including Times Higher Education, MarketWatch, and Insurance News, as well as Lane’s appearance on PBS with Robert Frank. Earlier reporting by Inside Higher Ed, highlighting universities' reliance on Chinese tuition, had already set the stage, clarifying exactly why the hedge mattered so much.
UIUC wasn’t the only one. Other universities called, worried about the same dominoes and asking whether the market would insure their version of the risk. Reuters reported other schools (Tufts, Emerson, RISD) considered similar coverage
A quiet, new category had been born.
Who was this student? I was curious too.
I searched available FOIA logs but did not locate the specific request described by the authors; pointers welcome.
I wanted to know what he's doing now, or why he dropped the story. But I did not find a FOIA request that matched the description.
I even tracked down one promising candidate and reached out; he was cool and very interesting, but could not confirm if it was him.
New corollary in the Jailbroken Guide to the University: Want to meet interesting people on campus? Look up who's filing FOIA requests—they’re guaranteed to be fascinating.
If you’re reading this and you're thinking, “Wait, I can actually do this and finish this project,” you absolutely can.
Ready-to-send FOIA email:
Subject: Subject: FOIA Request — Admissions Mitigation (2015–2021): Standards, Waivers, Remote Starts, China‑Partner Intake
To: FOIA Officer, University of Illinois at Urbana–Champaign
Hello,
Under the Illinois Freedom of Information Act (5 ILCS 140), I request electronic copies of documents related to the "Specific Loss of Tuition Fee Revenue" insurance policy purchased for the Gies College of Business and the Grainger College of Engineering.
Date Range: January 1, 2015 – December 31, 2021.
Custodians (not exhaustive): Gies College: Jeff Brown, Shelley Campbell Grainger College: Andreas Cangellaris, Mike Devocelle, Kevin Pitts Central/System: Office of Risk Management, Robin Kaler External Brokers: Wells Fargo/USI, Besso/Optex, RT Specialty, Marsh
Documents Requested:
- Complete insurance policy (including terms, triggers, sub-limits).
- Premium invoices and proof of payments.
- Claim notifications, loss calculation methods, and related correspondence.
- Renewal correspondence and discussions (2019-2020).
- Internal communication plans related to the policy, FOIA requests, or media inquiries.
- Emails and attachments containing keywords: "Specific Loss of Tuition Fee Revenue," "Lloyd’s," "pandemic," "18.75% trigger," "Reuters," "Daily Illini," "FOIA."
Format Requested:
- Emails in original formats (.pst, .msg)
- Documents in original formats (.xlsx, .docx, searchable PDFs)
If you claim exemptions, please provide a detailed log. Notify me if fees exceed $50. However, I request a public interest fee waiver.
Please confirm receipt within the statutory 5-day response period.
Thank you,
[Your Name]
[Your Contact Information]
Would this be rejected? I don’t know. Knowing them, probably.
Try again and again and again. Be narrower, more specific, until you can piece the puzzle together. If you want some clues, read this Illinois' Chinese Revenue Hedge: The Backstory of the University of Illinois's Successful Insurance Program.
The authors likely omitted some details from the paper. By closely examining timelines and roles outlined in their analysis, we can identify high-probability document trails that will help piece together the puzzle.
A few prime FOIA targets:
Admissions policy drafts & approvals on emergency standards: temporary English‑proficiency alternatives, test waivers, conditional admission, bridge/semester‑zero, and remote‑start rules, especially for China‑blocked applicants (ties to the actions noted on p. 28).
Data briefs quantifying tradeoffs: admit rates, yield, GPA/test distributions, domestic vs. international seat effects (the paper raises the “are domestic spots displaced?” optics explicitly on p. 6).
MoUs/agreements with the China partner campus and any remote‑instruction logistics (mentioned outcomes on p. 28 → underlying agreements should exist).
Board/Provost decks that pitch mitigations alongside the hedge slides (we have risk/finance decks; see Section 4, pp. 16–18, so expect a parallel admissions slide path).
Legal reviews: counsel notes on FERPA redaction boundaries and use of deliberative‑process exemption vs. releasing final policies. (They discuss FOIA risks; legal memos almost certainly exist, pp. 9–10, 23.)
FOIA playbook & press strategy: longer talking points, Q&A, and approval chains (p. 23 references a circulated description + responses).
Claim spreadsheets & forensic reports (the paper reproduces a Range of Claim Values draft table image on p. 27; request the native files + email threads around fiscal vs. calendar fights).
Admissions deferral + deposit policy memos (they “deemed deposits good for the following year,” p. 28, there will be a written policy).
Names/units to include (from the paper): Jeff Brown, Andreas Cangellaris, Kevin Pitts, Mike Devocelle, Paul Ellinger, Eileen Ryan, Tina Harlan, Robin Kaler, Shelley Campbell, Tessa Hile, Daniel Green, plus Office of Undergraduate Admissions, Graduate College, Enrollment Management, Registrar, International Student & Scholar Services, Provost’s Office. (All named roles appear as actors in adjacent decisions across pp. 12–21, 23, 27–30.)
With all of that in mind, here’s another FOIA request email you can send:
Subject: FOIA Request — Admissions Mitigation (2015–2021): Standards, Waivers, Remote Starts, China‑Partner Intake
To: FOIA Officer, University of Illinois at Urbana–Champaign
Hello,
Under the Illinois Freedom of Information Act (5 ILCS 140), I request electronic copies of records concerning admissions mitigation strategies considered or implemented when international students were unable to arrive (2015‑01‑01 to 2021‑12‑31).
A. Custodians/units to search (non‑exhaustive):
Provost’s Office; Office of Undergraduate Admissions; Graduate College; Office of the Registrar; Enrollment Management; International Student & Scholar Services; Gies College of Business (e.g., Jeff Brown, Shelley Campbell); Grainger College of Engineering (e.g., Andreas Cangellaris, Kevin Pitts, Mike Devocelle, Tessa Hile, Daniel Green); University/System finance and risk (Paul Ellinger, Eileen Ryan, Tina Harlan); Strategic Communications (Robin Kaler). (These names/units appear in the university’s own IRH history narrating related decisions.)
B. Records requested (native format where available):
1) Policies, drafts, approvals, talking points, and slide decks about admissions‑mitigation for disrupted international arrivals, including: • temporary changes to GPA or English‑proficiency cutoffs; acceptance of test alternatives (e.g., remote/online tests); GRE/GMAT waivers; conditional admission, bridge/pathwayterms; remote start or spring‑start options; deferral and deposit policies. (The university’s account references mitigation options and actual actions such as spring entry, partner campus in China, and deposit policies.)
2) MoUs, agreements, or memos related to the China partner campus/remote instruction arrangement and any associated admissions criteria for those cohorts. (The arrangement is described in the internal history.)
3) Data summaries or analyses comparing domestic vs. international admit rates, yields, and any evaluation of seat displacement concerns or standards changes. (The paper flags this as a “touchy” admissions topic.)
4) Communications plans/talking points/Q&A prepared by Strategic Communications about admissions optics, standards, or international/domestic balance. (The internal account notes pre‑drafted comms lines.)
5) Emails/memos among the above custodians containing any of: “mitigation,” “admissions standards,” “lower standards,” “waiver,” “conditional admit,” “English proficiency,” “TOEFL,” “IELTS,” “Duolingo,” “GRE,” “GMAT,” “remote start,” “spring intake,” “bridge,” “pathway,” “deferral,” “deposit,” “China partner,” “Daily Illini,” “Reuters,” “FOIA.”
6) Calendars & meeting materials (invites, agendas, slides, notes) for meetings on admissions mitigation in 2015–2021.
C. Format & search:
- Produce emails in .pst/.mbox or .eml/.msg with full headers + attachments; other documents in native or searchable PDF.
- Search email, shared drives, collaboration tools, and mobile devices used for official business, consistent with FOIA.
- Segregate and release non‑exempt portions of any record and provide an exemption index for any withholdings.
If any item is considered unduly burdensome, please identify the specific portion and propose a reasonable narrowing; I will confer promptly.
- Please provide rolling production and notify me if fees exceed $50. However, I request a public interest fee waiver.
FOIA generally requires a response within 5 business days (with a permissible extension upon written notice). If you deny any portion, please cite the specific exemption(s) and the name/title of the person responsible, and advise of my right to review.
Please confirm receipt and a tracking number.
Thank you,
[Your name/contact]
(Basis: the university’s own written history discusses the sensitive standards question (p. 6), actual mitigation actions (p. 28), pre‑drafted comms (p. 23), and FOIA risk (pp. 9–10, 29).)
Is that it, or do we have more? Let me give you two more (small but high-yield) FOIA requests you can send:
FOIA log + Daily Illini request (Fall 2020): ask for (a) the Daily Illini request, (b) internal routing/clarifications, (c) any draft responses or legal notes, and (d) the FOIA log entries around Aug–Oct 2020. (Alluded to as “detailed and more specific,” Sept 2020, p. 29.)
I tried to find that request in the FOIA logs, but I couldn’t find it. So asking for it would be a good idea.
Communications Kit: request the full talking points/Q&A packet circulated by Robin Kaler about how to answer press questions on the hedge, China optics, and (by implication) admissions. (The paper notes this packet was circulated, p. 23.)
Because they might try to withhold information, here are their anticipated objections (and how you can counter):
Student‑identifiable info (FERPA): fine—ask for aggregate and de‑identified.
Deliberative draft claims: push for final policies, final data tables, factual portions of memos, and meeting materials actually used.
NDA arguments: their own paper admits FOIA can override an NDA at a public university (pp. 9–10). Quote that back if needed.
This is just one example, one small case. Imagine...
This case is just one illustration. Imagine how many secret or undisclosed activities universities might be engaging in right now.
Greater transparency leads to better decisions and healthier institutions.
I’ll give you a historical example so you can be aware of how much is, indeed, possible. It will show you how powerful persistence and meticulous questioning can be.
In the 1970s, Chuck Hansen wasn't your typical government researcher or historian. He was obsessed with understanding exactly how America had developed its nuclear arsenal, something the government kept tightly under wraps. Armed only with the Freedom of Information Act, Hansen embarked on a seemingly impossible mission. He didn't have insider connections or high-level clearances; all he had was relentless curiosity, patience, and determination.
Hansen sent out FOIA requests repeatedly, strategically targeting multiple government agencies. Each agency had its own way of classifying documents, redacting details differently. This meant each agency released slightly different parts of the same puzzle. Rather than accepting defeat when confronted with heavily censored documents, Hansen cleverly pieced together each tiny fragment like assembling a giant mosaic. Over the span of 30 years, his tenacity slowly revealed a surprising picture: he had constructed what is now known as the most comprehensive public collection of information on America's nuclear weapons program. Hansen’s work, documented meticulously in the six-volume Swords of Armageddon, exposed historical truths and showcased the raw power of relentless questioning and sheer persistence.
Why tell you this story? Because you have the power to use these same tools—curiosity, FOIA, the internet, the media, persistence—to drive real accountability not only at your university but also in the wider world. Leadership should always be held accountable, questioned rigorously, and pushed towards transparency.
Think of it like this: an adult would never walk up to another adult at a dinner table and snatch food off their plate. It would cause an immediate confrontation. But with a small child, some adults think nothing of it: taking away their food, dismissing their questions, or spinning little lies “for their own good.” The difference isn’t in the act, but in the assumption that "children" won’t push back. Universities often behave the same way, assuming students won’t demand answers or resist. But the truth is, they should.
Universities shouldn't be the powerful figures that students fear; rather, universities should have a healthy respect, even a slight fear, of their students' potential to know what they want and to demand transparency and accountability.
You possess the power to keep leadership in check and ensure decisions are made with integrity, fairness, and openness. Don’t hesitate, don't underestimate yourself, use the tools at your disposal to hold those in charge responsible. A university that's held accountable is not only better run, it shapes better leaders, builds stronger communities, and creates a brighter future for everyone.
They count on your silence, busyness, and indifference. Give them attention.
They expect compliance. Give them resistance.
They assume your limits. Give them persistence.
And become what they fear most, someone who knows their power and turns it into change.
“Mid‑flight at 3 PM” metaphor & fiscal vs. calendar measurement.
The SSRN narrative describes the forensic accounting dispute over calendar vs. fiscal/academic‑year measurement and records Devocelle’s “mid‑flight/3:00 pm” analogy; it also notes that the fiscal/academic‑year interpretation prevailed. pp. 27–29 (esp. p. 28).
In simple terms, the university received tuition equivalent to 800 students by paying premiums equal to the tuition of only ~15 students per year. Public reports place annual premium near $424,000; as a back‑of‑the‑envelope illustration, that’s roughly the tuition of ~14 students at it~$30k each.
$24,000,000÷$30,000=800 student-years.
15 students × $30,000 = $450,000 per policy year.
Fat tails, optionality, and why this is an interesting financial engineering tool.
This illustrates Nassim Taleb’s concept of fat tails and being long volatility: you pay a modest, predictable premium for the right to an enormous payoff when rare, nonlinear events, Black Swans, occur.
Here’s another “modest proposal.”