The Absent Stakeholder
Parents are paying six figures for a degree, but not showing up for the journey.
Parents are the ghost stakeholders of business school. They pay the tuition, sign the checks, maybe visit once. And then? Radio silence.
No follow-up on grades, class presence, or contribution. No engagement with how their young adults are actually showing up (or not). We’ve turned education into a black box—parents drop in money, wait a few years, and expect a polished professional to pop out. But without engagement midstream, that outcome’s becoming increasingly rare.
Business schools don’t help. There's zero structured parent involvement. We badge students for attendance like nightclub security guards, but the data goes nowhere. No alerts. No discussions. Just cover-your-ass compliance.
And the truth? Some students coast for years. They skip class, ghost teams, produce garbage, and stay mentally 16. I know. I teach them.
Parents are the only leverage left in a system where professors are outgunned, admins are too scared to act, and students know no one's watching. If schools had the guts, they'd create opt-in dashboards, quarterly reviews, maybe even personal development updates. But they don’t.
And it’s a shame—because this could actually work. Parental involvement doesn’t mean helicoptering. It means accountability. It means connection. The research is clear: when parents are informed and involved, students do better. But most parents don’t know how. The aggressive ones lash out because they feel powerless. The others hide behind “it’s their journey” like kids clinging to their mother’s dress. And schools? They gave up. Slapped around for overstepping a decade ago, they’re too timid to try again. But they should. One of my most memorable moments was back at INSEAD when they invited spouses for a day inside the program. Magic. I want that for parents. The school will want to wine and dine them all day, fine—I'll take two hours. In class. Real curriculum. It would be unforgettable. And it might just change the game.
So in the meantime, I’m testing my own system—quietly, informally. I ask students, both the stars and the strugglers, to phone their parents. Sometimes it’s planned, sometimes it’s “hey, is that your mom? Pass her to me.” And it works. I also take hundreds of photos throughout the course. Sure, for fun and memories. But it’s deeper than that. Students finally have something to show and tell. It lands. And from what parents tell me? It hits different.
Maybe the fix isn’t more pressure on students—but smarter ways to loop in the people they still care about impressing. The ones they call after a win. The ones they avoid when they’re coasting. Bring them in—not to meddle, but to witness. To connect the dots between effort and outcome. That’s not interference. That’s fuel.