Then versus Now
From the glass-ceiling atrium to the conference rooms, the Harman Building is nothing if not cutting-edge. It’s put to good use by the thousand-plus employees, all working in sync to keep everything running smoothly. Technology enables it all. Whether it's customer support calls or digital course design, we couldn’t do what we do without digital tools.
It’s a far cry from our beginnings.
Over a century ago, when BYU Continuing Education was still in its early years, lifelong learning looked a bit different. Let’s dive into the past and see how it has informed our future.
The Night School Hustle
In the early 1900s, BYU faculty weren’t just instructors; they were essentially missionaries of adult education. With enrollment in night school courses low and tuition considered steep at $5, faculty took matters into their own hands. They divided up Provo by ward boundaries and personally visited local congregations, promoting classes directly to prospective students. Tuition was slashed to $1.50, new subjects were added, and the evening classrooms, once nearly empty, began to fill. What began as a desperate last resort turned out to be a surprisingly successful strategy.
And while the classes themselves may have been modest, arithmetic and bookkeeping, they reflected a principle that we’ve strived to follow ever since: meet learners where they are. Whether that meant knocking on doors, rearranging schedules to fit the lives of factory workers, or today’s digital options, BYU Continuing Education educators have been student-focused since the beginning.
Education on Horseback
While most BYU instructors spent all their time on campus, some rode stagecoaches between counties. Take John C. Swensen, a professor who, in 1905, accepted an invitation to teach American History to Church leaders in Castledale, Utah. The journey required an overnight train ride to Price, followed by a long, less-than-luxurious carriage ride across snowy roads to reach the final destination. In a novel-worthy twist, he shared that stage with an unknown fellow passenger who turned out to be a University of Utah professor sent to teach the same course. (Swensen, it turns out, had been officially accepted by the community; the other professor hadn’t.)
Another year, Swensen taught economics to a group of farmers, only to discover they weren’t much interested in theory; they just wanted to know how to raise the price of wheat. While he couldn’t solve that particular dilemma, his willingness to travel and teach near and far embodied the essence of BYU Continuing Education.
These instructors weren’t cloistered away in their offices, sharing knowledge with a lucky few. They were braving bad roads and worse weather to bring learning to people who needed it. In short, they were inspiring lifelong learning to benefit the world, and so do we.