I went to Edinboro University of Pennsylvania for both my bachelor's and master's degrees, and it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Edinboro gave me an excellent education at a price that made higher education feel possible. It was not flashy. It was not elite in the way some people define elite. But it was real, affordable, and strong. I loved it enough to stay for graduate school, even though I had also been accepted to the University of Pittsburgh's Masters/PhD program in Speech-Language Pathology. I received a full ride for graduate school at Edinboro, and staying there was the right decision for me academically, financially, and personally.

That is why watching Edinboro become part of the generic PennWest brand has been so painful.

And now there is fresh evidence that this merger may have failed on its own terms.

The Numbers Tell Part of the Story

According to a new report, PennWest fell 4,800 students short of its enrollment projection for the 2024–25 school year and missed estimated tuition revenue by $53 million. The university had been projected to enroll 14,425 students and generate $154 million in tuition revenue. Instead, enrollment was 9,625 and tuition revenue was about $91 million. Chancellor Christopher Fiorentino acknowledged that while savings have occurred, they have not been as significant or as fast as originally projected.

For many alumni, current students, and local families, that does not feel shocking.

The Erasure of Identity

When Edinboro, Clarion, and California University of Pennsylvania were merged into PennWest, something important was lost. This was not just an administrative change. It was not just a logo swap. It was not just a cost-saving strategy on paper.

It was the erasure of identity.

Edinboro meant something. Clarion meant something. California University of Pennsylvania meant something. Those names carried history, pride, and trust. Alumni felt connected to them. Local communities felt ownership of them. Students and families understood what those schools were and what they offered.

"PennWest," by contrast, feels like an amalgam. A system. A brand exercise. A vague institutional shell that may make sense to administrators but never inspired the same confidence in the people who mattered most.

That matters more than higher education leaders sometimes want to admit.

People do not choose colleges based only on program lists and organizational charts. They choose colleges based on trust, reputation, familiarity, affordability, and the feeling that this is a place where they belong and can build a future. When you strip away a school's identity, you do not just change its stationery. You risk breaking that trust.

And once people lose faith, enrollment follows.

What Exactly Was Saved

Even the article's broader context makes that clear. A former Edinboro president, Julie Wollman, said trying to save money without closing campuses was always going to be extremely difficult and was "not likely to succeed in saving money" from the start. PASSHE's own spokesman acknowledged that the merger was never expected to reverse the decade-long enrollment declines at the three institutions, but rather to better manage the consequences.

That is an important distinction.

If the merger was not expected to restore enrollment, and if it has also weakened identity and public confidence, then what exactly was saved?

Yes, there have been some savings. The report notes PennWest achieved about $22 million in compensation savings by 2024–25, exceeding the original projection of about $8 million in annual personnel savings. The university has also reduced some debt through property sales. Officials point to online enrollment growth, transfer growth, adult learner growth, and a smaller recent enrollment decline as signs they are "trending in the right direction."

But those facts do not erase the larger problem.

What Happens to the Students

My concern is not just for alumni pride, though that matters. My bigger concern is what happens to the local students when they no longer have an easy, recognizable, affordable option for college.

What happens to the student from a working-class family who needs a nearby public university that feels financially possible?

What happens to the student who wants to become a teacher, speech-language pathologist, counselor, or nurse, but cannot take on massive debt and cannot move far away?

What happens to the rural or small-town family that once looked at Edinboro or Clarion and said, "That's a good school. That could be my kid's school"?

That is the real issue.

Regional Public Universities Were Never Just Backups

Regional public universities were never just backups. They were never just second-tier options for students who could not "do better." They were, and should still be, core engines of opportunity. They made college accessible. They prepared teachers. They trained clinicians. They supported local economies. They gave students a realistic path forward without forcing them into overwhelming debt.

And for many students, they were the option.

When Pennsylvania weakens those institutions, it narrows that path.

Strong Programs Inside a Weakened Brand

There are still great programs at PennWest. I do not doubt that. In fact, that may be one of the most frustrating parts of all of this. Programs can still be strong while the institution around them becomes harder to believe in. Faculty can still be excellent while the brand becomes weaker. Students can still work hard while the public starts to wonder whether the school itself is stable.

That uncertainty has a cost.

Students feel it.
Families feel it.
Communities feel it.
And eventually, the numbers reflect it.

Identity, Trust, and Community

The people making these decisions may have believed they were preserving access by avoiding campus closures and forcing a merger instead. I understand the financial pressures were real. Higher education is facing demographic decline, budget strain, and major structural challenges. But the PennWest experiment seems to show that you cannot simply blend three proud institutions into one generic entity and expect people to transfer their loyalty along with the administrative structure.

That is not how college identity works.
That is not how public trust works.
And that is not how communities work.

I Will Always Be Proud to Say I Went to Edinboro

It gave me an excellent education. It gave me opportunity. It gave me a graduate degree without burying me in debt. It gave me a place where I could grow into my profession and my future.

And I do not think Pennsylvania fully understood the value of what it had when it let that name disappear.

Because this was never just about Edinboro, Clarion, or California.

It was about what happens when a state stops protecting the kinds of colleges that make higher education possible for ordinary students.

And once those schools lose their identity, their trust, and their footing, it is not just the institutions that suffer.

It is the students who needed them most.