Success in higher education translates not only to robust enrollment and growing programs but to supporting your students through their academic careers and helping them maximize their education—often by helping them feel they are part of a community. When this doesn’t happen, we spend a lot of time asking why students leave. The most honest answer is usually not dramatic. Students don’t disappear because of one bad exam, one awkward interaction, or one difficult semester. They leave because, over time, they stop feeling connected. They drift.
I’ve spent years working in student support, enrollment, and retention. What we have learned is that by the time a student shows up in crisis (academically, financially, or emotionally), the real work should have happened much earlier. The crisis is rarely the beginning of the story. It’s the end of a long silence.
This realization shapes the way I approach my work and my life.
In higher education, retention is not about convincing students to stay or reacting once things fall apart. It’s about making it easier for students to remain engaged before problems escalate. In practice, that means removing the friction to make staying connected easier than disengaging. Students persist when they feel known, when expectations are clear, when there is a visible path forward, when they are engaged, and when someone notices their absence before it becomes permanent.
This is how I approach my work every day. In practice, that means watching closely for early signs of drift.
I pay close attention to the students who suddenly stop responding to emails, miss a meeting, sound uncertain but don’t know how to ask for help, or get stuck navigating a process that feels overwhelming. The most effective intervention is not dramatic, but timely outreach. These small steps taken early prevent a small obstacle from becoming a crisis.
Jewish communities work the same way. We tend to define community by how we respond when something goes wrong: meals delivered, Tehillim groups, funds raised, hospital visits arranged. Those moments matter deeply, but they are not the full picture. By defining a community by crises, we miss the everyday small and ongoing events and connections that make a community thrive.
That insight translates directly to Jewish communal life. People don’t disengage because they don’t care. They disengage because they don’t know where they fit, don’t know what comes next, where to direct their efforts, or don’t feel missed when they step back. Community is healthy when it functions like a strong retention model.
Once we started seeing retention this way in higher education, the parallels to Jewish communal life became impossible to ignore. The same dynamics that help students stay engaged are the ones that help communities remain vibrant.
First impressions matter: Students often pick their program based on whether it feels like a good fit. Does it mesh with their lifestyle? Is the academic standard one they are comfortable with? Are the faculty and administration receptive and accessible? Fitting into communal life is no different. If the first experiences seem forced or insincere, people are less likely to return.
Retention depends on noticing absence early: In higher education, waiting until the middle of a semester to address disengagement is often too late to have any positive effect. I closely monitor student attendance and assignment submission—especially important for online courses—to ensure they remain part of the cohort and maintain their sense of belonging. The same is true in communal life. If a person is not visible for a few weeks, a simple check-in can mean the difference between drifting or remaining. A phone call is best, but if you are like me and don’t always have time for calls, a text message may send a similar message. Silence communicates more than we realize. As Simon and Garfunkel notably shared, the sounds of silence can be deafening.
People stay when they can see a path: Students continue in their program when they have a path and know what the next steps are. A simple advisor meeting or schedule adjustment can mean the difference between success and failure in one’s academic career. Monitoring registration shows you are actively involved in helping students stay on their path. In community life, vague invitations to community members tend to go unfulfilled. When inviting people, rather than stating “Let’s get together sometime,” propose a specific time and place. This turns the intention from abstract to real.
It takes a village: No retention effort succeeds through one office or person. It is a shared responsibility between administrative teams, faculty, advisors, and peers, each of whom has a distinctive role. Jewish communities are no different. The strongest communities are those where responsibility for welcoming, learning, and chesed is intentionally shared across a broad group of people, supported by strong leadership. Shared ownership strengthens connection and prevents burnout.
Community, whether academic or Jewish, is not built in moments of urgency. It is built through ordinary, consistent attention. Noticing absence early, making invitations specific, and sharing responsibilities are intentional choices that contribute to success and continued connection.
If we want academic programs or Jewish communities to thrive when people need them most, we must commit to this work long before a crisis arises. Retention, after all, is just another word for relationships. Those relationships live in classrooms, institutions, and communities. Strong communities are built by people who know how to notice and tend to them early.
Beth Chesir is Director of Student Success and Enrollment at YU Global. She works closely with students at the Ferkauf School of Psychology and Cardozo Law School.
