The purpose was part welcome, part pep talk. Joyce Judy, president of Community College of Vermont, greeted about 50 high school students and their parents on August 25, offering words of wisdom and encouragement: Don’t fret too much about the semester ahead. Take it one assignment at a time. Later, the teens dug into ice cream and broke into groups for tours of the school.
These were not ordinary high school students on a college visit — they were entering the state’s only community college as first-year students under a program that allows them to enroll in college in place of their senior year.
The decade-long arrangement is just one of the unconventional paths that Community College of Vermont, known as CCV, has employed to attract a student body of all ages — its average is 26 — to locations around the state. And it is a sign of the adaptability and pluck that have won CCV a reputation for success when many other colleges are struggling to draw students and pay the bills. For the past decade, annual enrollment has held steady at around 10,000 students, making it Vermont’s second-largest institution of higher learning. This fall, enrollment at CCV is on track to tick up by 9 percent, a minor triumph amid declining ranks of college-age students in the state.
Since its founding in 1970, the school has provided an accessible, low-cost path to higher education for thousands of Vermonters, giving some the skills they need to go directly into a hungry labor market and others a cheaper route to traditional four-year institutions that otherwise would have been out of reach.
CCV’s bent for practical training and offerings that appeal to a wide range of students help it stand out in a landscape where private colleges and public institutions, such as Vermont State University and even the University of Vermont, grapple with shifting demographics and wider societal skepticism over the worth of a four-year degree. UVM’s president, Marlene Tromp, last week confirmed earlier projections of a 7 percent drop in undergraduate enrollment at the state’s flagship institution.
CCV has come a long way from when offerings such as cosmetology and typing catered to women who met for class in church basements and public libraries. The college now boasts more than a dozen associate degree programs, including liberal studies, health science and information technology, plus 27 certificates for specific jobs, from bookkeeper to funeral director. Although CCV still mostly serves adult learners, it enrolls hundreds of high school students each year through a pair of programs, Dual Enrollment and Early College. Among its attendees are military service members and veterans, single parents, and new Americans. Even incarcerated people can take classes through a partnership with the state Department of Corrections.
Through all of its changes, CCV has sought to provide postsecondary education to any Vermonter who applies. The sticker price for a two-year degree is around $17,000 for Vermont residents — well below the cost for UVM and Vermont State, though on the high end when compared to community colleges in other states. More students than ever qualify for free tuition.
CCV tailors its course offerings every fall, spring and summer term, based on student interest. Administrators can immediately gauge whether they’re on the right track by the number who enroll.
All of its roughly 460 faculty members, who need at least a master’s degree, teach part time. Some are employed in the fields they teach, while others cobble together multiple gigs to make ends meet. The school also has a stable of financial aid and academic advisers.
“We have a structure where, if we don’t constantly innovate, we’ll be dead,” longtime president Judy said.
CCV’s role could grow at a precarious moment for the state’s workforce. More than 17,000 Vermonters are projected to retire each year during the coming decade, creating potentially large gaps in a range of critical industries, including health care, social services, education and business. But only about 5,300 Vermonters graduate from high school each year, and fewer than half of them seek higher education soon after. That’s left a small pool of young adults to fill jobs that need at least some postsecondary training.
If we don’t constantly innovate, we’ll be dead.
Joyce Judy
“I’ve been pretty impressed with the way [CCV has] been able to essentially keep an eye on what’s happening in the labor market … and to shift curriculum much more rapidly than other institutions to meet those labor market needs,” said Kevin Chu, executive director of the Vermont Futures Project, an arm of the Vermont Chamber of Commerce focused on economic growth in the state.
CCV’s continued success may hinge, in part, on factors outside of its control. Vermont’s investment in higher education, as measured by public spending, is among the lowest in the country, leaving colleges and universities to compete for limited state funds. Neither the public nor philanthropic support that have made the college more affordable are guaranteed for the long run. And whether students educated in-state stick around is hardly a given: Vermont ranks last in the country when it comes to holding on to college-educated young people produced by its institutions of higher learning.
Nonetheless, other schools could learn from CCV’s open-to-all approach, according to Vermont State Colleges System chancellor Beth Mauch, who oversees both CCV and Vermont State.
Moving into the future, there will likely be more people who need higher education at different stages in their lives, Mauch said. “As that need ebbs and flows, we’ve got to be that trusted partner … something CCV has been doing for 50-plus years.”
Opportunity Knocks
On a Monday morning in early August, a dozen or so chemistry students sat in a fourth-floor classroom in CCV’s academic center in downtown Winooski, a modern brick-and-glass building that opened in 2010. Two large periodic tables of the elements adorned the walls. Beneath long counters, cabinets bore labels of lab equipment: beakers, flasks, cylinders. The instructor, Traci Jensen, projected onto the whiteboard some warm-up exercises related to gas pressure and molecular structure, then moved about the room as students pecked away on graphing calculators and jotted answers in notebooks.
One of those students, Theresa Mann, was in the final stretch of her associate degree in environmental science. When Mann, 57, graduated from high school in Connecticut, college felt out of reach, financially and academically. She moved to Vermont and for 25 years ran a successful residential painting business. But eventually, the work became too physically demanding, and she felt drawn back to the classroom to learn new skills.
Mann met with a financial aid counselor and learned that she was eligible for help under the 802 Opportunity program, which offers free tuition to Vermonters with an annual family income of less than $100,000. The program, launched in 2021, is a collaboration between the college and the Vermont Student Assistance Corporation, or VSAC, a nonprofit state agency that helps Vermonters plan and pay for college or career training. Applicants must first seek a federal Pell Grant worth up to $7,400; the state covers the rest.
Through all of its changes, CCV has sought to provide postsecondary education to any Vermonter who applies.
Mann “took a deep breath,” she said, and jumped back into school two years ago. She was nervous that she wouldn’t fit in but soon felt at home among her teachers, advisers and fellow students, several of whom formed a multigenerational study group that met on Sundays at the library. Mann excelled at her studies and was able to keep her business running while taking classes.
Working adults such as Mann were exactly the people that CCV and VSAC intended to reach when they launched 802 Opportunity in the aftermath of the pandemic, a time when many people were reassessing their career paths.
That population earned too much for need-based financial aid but not enough to afford higher education on top of household expenses, explained VSAC president Scott Giles. Since the state-funded program’s inception, nearly 1,600 grant recipients have earned credentials or degrees. The grants lessen the need for loans; more than three-fourths of CCV students now graduate without debt.
In addition to affordability, many adult learners say they are drawn to the flexibility of community college. After failing out of a four-year college and having a child, Ashley Andreas earned a business degree in 2016 at CCV’s White River Junction campus while her daughter was little.
The appeal, Andreas said, was that “it was in my community and not dorm-style living and not commuting.” She’s now executive director of Upper Valley Habitat for Humanity and serves on the selectboard in Hartford.
Erica Scott had tried four-year colleges three separate times before she enrolled at CCV at age 38. She was working as an office manager at Lamoille Home Health & Hospice in Morrisville when her boss told her she’d need a college degree to advance there. Scott’s first CCV course was an intensive 12-week class for which she had to create a portfolio that documented all of her professional experience, allowing her to start with a large number of college credits in hand. After that, she took online classes part time for several years while working. Earlier this year, she finished her associate degree in business. She’s now executive director of Lamoille Home Health.
At Scott’s graduation ceremony in June, her father — Vermont Gov. Phil Scott — spoke about his daughter’s education journey in remarks before approximately 500 graduates. As he handed Erica her diploma, followed by a hug, the governor beamed with pride.
“What I loved was, there was no stigma,” the younger Scott said about her experience at CCV. She especially enjoyed the wide mix of ages in her classes, from high school students to 70-year-olds.
“I never felt like I shouldn’t be there,” she said. “When they say they’re inclusive — they are.”
Staying Scrappy
It was a previous Republican governor, Deane Davis, who in 1970 established a commission to design a new model for higher education in the state. The goal: to bring classes to adult learners in their communities and hire instructors who were already working in local industries. The project’s director was Peter Smith, a 24-year-old Princeton University graduate from a well-connected Vermont family who was partial to experimentation in education and was later elected to Congress.
In CCV’s early years, free classes were taught by volunteers and convened in a hodgepodge of locations in central Vermont and the Northeast Kingdom. Around 150 students enrolled in the first semester with subjects — art appreciation, child development and consumer protection among them — that were designed primarily for a low-income, female audience. These details and more are chronicled in Kind of a Miracle: The Unlikely Story of the Community College of Vermont, a 2024 book by Weybridge author Doug Wilhelm.
By spring 1973, more than 1,200 Vermonters were taking classes at the newly named Community College of Vermont. A decade later, the college underwent a further expansion into Chittenden, Addison and Rutland counties. By the mid-1980s, it was serving almost 3,000 students across the state and had started developing a more cohesive identity and higher academic expectations.
It was around that time that Joyce Judy, the current president, began working at the college as a part-time adviser in Springfield and White River Junction.
Judy, now 70, grew up on a dairy farm in Plainfield, N.H., that her siblings still operate. Soon after her parents were married, Judy’s father fell off a horse, an accident that rendered him unable to walk and with only limited use of his hands. He went on to lead a full life, becoming a father of five who served on the local school board. Instead of dwelling on the hardship, Judy recalled in an interview, her parents found opportunities where they could and moved forward with their lives — a trait she sees among many students at CCV.
Even though Judy’s family had little money, “we never thought we were poor,” she said. “It’s a little like a community college budget … I never think that we’re a poor institution. We don’t have a lot of extra money to do things. But I also believe that people do their best work when their backs are against the wall.”
Judy’s first CCV job more than 40 years ago gave her a chance to do a little of everything — working one-on-one with students, hiring faculty, navigating financial aid. That eclectic experience served her well as she rose through the ranks, becoming CCV’s seventh president in 2009.
Those who work closely with Judy say her institutional knowledge and commitment to expanding educational opportunities for Vermonters are big reasons why CCV has thrived.
Judy “has deep passion for CCV and its students and a pretty global understanding of what is happening within higher education,” said Giles, the VSAC president. “If you’re looking to talk to someone and say, ‘What will higher education look like in the next five years?,’ Joyce is probably the first place that you go to engage in that conversation.”
In 43 years working at CCV, Judy has honed her ability to create partnerships that benefit Vermonters and the state as a whole, said Carolyn Weir, executive director of the J. Warren & Lois McClure Foundation, an affiliate of the Vermont Community Foundation and a major supporter of CCV initiatives. “She has led the community college through some big shifts in Vermont.”
Trade-offs
One thing that hasn’t changed over the years is the college’s exclusive use of part-time faculty — a contrast with four-year colleges, which tend to rely on full-time professors, many with doctoral degrees and decades of teaching and peer-reviewed scholarship, complemented by part-time adjuncts. The original rationale for CCV’s part-time arrangement stemmed from the college’s scattered presence around the state.
You couldn’t “hire one person to teach journalism and ask them to teach one section in Burlington and one section in Bennington,” Judy said.
The part-time model has allowed the college to employ instructors with hands-on expertise in their field, such as nurses, IT professionals and scientists, without having to provide them with health insurance or retirement benefits. It has also saved CCV a lot of money, but Judy said that is not the primary reason for the arrangement.
Former instructor Emily Casey, who helped form the college’s faculty union in 2018, said CCV has plenty of high-quality teachers, but she views the part-time model as unfavorable for faculty.
“It’s the gig economy,” said Casey, who is now a senior lecturer in the English department at UVM. “You have people there teaching at multiple places and [working] multiple jobs to make ends meet. It’s not a livable-wage job for Vermonters.”
The arrival of the union led to better pay for faculty members and more control over the classes they would teach, Casey said. But she said CCV needs to be better funded if it is to compensate faculty appropriately. The college, which doesn’t provide student housing or dining services, has an annual budget of around $33 million, $100 million less than Vermont State’s and a small fraction of the $457 million spent at UVM, which has around 10,800 undergraduates.
“I know they’re doing their best with what they have, and it’s very limited resources,” Casey said. “I really worry about promoting that model. I don’t think it’s the vision we should move to in our country.”
Another key component of that model is online instruction, which has increased dramatically on Judy’s watch. CCV dabbled in a more rudimentary version of computer-based instruction as early as 1996 and has offered some online classes for decades. But, as at many schools around the country, the pandemic supercharged the practice.
Currently, between 70 and 75 percent of CCV classes are taught online, compared to about 40 percent pre-pandemic. That offers learning opportunities to parents and caregivers, people with medical issues, or those who balance unpredictable work schedules, such as first responders and members of the military. And it jibes with CCV’s commitment to accessibility, Judy said. The college offers asynchronous courses that allow students to go at their own pace and hybrid classes that meet in person occasionally or give students the option of attending remotely.
Many of the CCV students and graduates interviewed for this story said easy access to online classes facilitated their pursuit of higher education. But others preferred in-person classes — and wished more were offered.
Mann, the 57-year-old recent graduate, said the online experience would likely improve if the college provided a class on basic computer skills for those like her who are unfamiliar with the technology.
Jensen, the chemistry instructor, said she prefers teaching in person so that she can interact with students and watch them working together. At the same time, she said, she has learned new skills from teaching online, such as how to make good informational videos and design effective computer-based activities. Fern Fryer, a longtime humanities instructor, said weekly discussion forums employed in her online classes require everyone to participate and respond to others’ comments. She finds that format allows students to express their ideas in greater depth.
Students who come to campus can find a wide range of support in and out of the classroom. The college partners with United Way’s Working Bridges program to connect students with resources for childcare and housing. Several years ago, CCV used philanthropic dollars to start a program that provides students up to $500 for emergency expenses, such as car repairs, rental assistance and medical issues. A student resource center in the Winooski building offers free snacks, drinks and frozen meals to take home. A “library of things” lends out a host of useful items, including a kitchen mixer, a rice cooker and jumper cables. A bulletin board is filled with flyers advertising support groups, free services and health care resources.
Jess Gokey, a 41-year-old health science student who hopes to become a nurse and staffs the resource center, said she’s always impressed by the younger students who are attending school while working and helping their families.
“They’re kids,” she said. “I’m amazed at what they’re balancing.”
The Youth Market
Collin Clair’s parents didn’t attend college, and, in his early days at Vergennes Union High School, he wasn’t convinced that higher education was worth the money or would prepare him for a job. But during his junior year, he learned from a school counselor about CCV’s Early College program. He could enroll in place of his senior year of high school, then finish his associate degree for free through a philanthropic program available to students who successfully complete Early College.
“Sign me up,” he remembers thinking at the time.
Clair is among 2,000 high school students who have studied through the Early College program since the legislature created it about a decade ago. That law, Act 77, also expanded an option known as Dual Enrollment, which allows high school juniors and seniors to take two college classes for free, most commonly at CCV.
Clair was also part of a smaller group — of about 130 high school students — who continued on and received their associate degree from CCV at no cost through the Free Degree Promise. The McClure Foundation, an education-focused nonprofit, began that program in 2022 and has vowed to support it at least through the 2028-29 school year.
Though high school students still represent a small percentage of CCV’s overall student body, their ranks have grown steadily over time, mirroring national trends for community colleges. To spread the word, the college has recruited students to speak to other young people about their experiences. At the recent ice-cream gathering at CCV, Cailie Ballard and Allie Hamilton — both heading into their second year — gave survival tips to the new Early College cohort.
“College is totally different than high school. You have to take the initiative in all the communication, in all of your classes,” Hamilton told the group. When an assignment is difficult, “you have to talk to your teachers, set up a meeting … because they won’t say anything to you.”
Nabina Basnet learned about CCV when representatives visited Winooski Middle & High School to talk up their offerings. Basnet, who came to Vermont from Nepal a decade ago, wants to be a traveling nurse. She’s planning to study health science for two years at CCV, then transfer to a four-year school for a bachelor’s degree.
Giles, VSAC’s president, said that route is increasingly appealing for young people.
“Fifteen years ago, if you talked to families, they would view the early parts of a traditional education as an opportunity to explore your interests,” Giles said. Now, however, “that feels like a fairly risky prospect. We are hearing more families talk about using CCV as a place to begin to get that clarity.”
Molly Silvia of Shelburne is hoping to become a speech-language pathologist or clinical psychologist one day — careers that require a graduate school degree. Enrolling in CCV for free, then transferring to a four-year college with two years of credits under her belt, seemed a practical way to “save money up front,” she said. Her CCV schedule allowed her to continue participating in theater at high school and stay connected to classmates. She is starting her second year at CCV and has already begun talking to admissions officers at colleges in Boston about transferring credits.
About a third of students who complete a degree or certificate at CCV go on to enroll in four-year colleges; that share is higher when it comes to recent high school graduates. Agreements between CCV and other colleges, including UVM and Vermont State, smooth the process. According to a UVM spokesperson, around 100 CCV students have transferred there each year since 2023. A separate transfer program allows CCV grads to easily shift their credits to private four-year institutions, including Norwich University and Champlain and Saint Michael’s colleges, and to qualify for a broader range of financial aid options than traditional transfer students.
About a third of students who complete a degree or certificate at CCV go on to enroll in four-year colleges.
Chelsea Tatro graduated from UVM with a degree in history this spring after arriving from CCV with an associate degree. Tatro plans to work as a substitute teacher in Milton this year while studying for her license to teach history in high school. It was tricky to get used to in-person classes at UVM after learning mostly online at CCV, she said, but she thinks her community college training served her well.
Tatro got the impression that some of her high school classmates viewed a community college education as inferior, she said. But she saw little difference in the quality of instruction between UVM and CCV, especially in introductory classes, which are typically much smaller at the community college.
“It irks me when some people try to rat out community college,” Tatro said. Students there are “trying to do the same thing you are: learn and better themselves.”
What the Future Holds
The COVID-19 pandemic led to a steep decline in students at community colleges across the country, a hole from which many are still trying to dig out. But CCV, bolstered by strong, stable leadership and a well-timed infusion of both public and philanthropic dollars, was able to keep its enrollment steady. That’s left it on solid footing as it steps into the future as a source of needed workers.
Between an aging population and a dearth of young people, Vermont has a serious workforce problem. To address the anticipated exodus of retiring workers, the state will need to inject an average of 13,500 people into the labor force annually for the next 10 to 15 years, according to the Vermont Futures Project.
That will mean attracting more workers to the state. But it will also hinge on cultivating homegrown talent, something many think CCV is well positioned to do.
In a labor market with open positions in an array of fields, it makes sense for people unsure of their professional interests to use CCV to explore different careers and earn relevant credentials, rather than commit to a narrow, four-year channel, said Chu of the Vermont Futures Project.
CCV could also serve an important role in helping small companies train their workers in order to remain competitive in a future shaped by artificial intelligence, Chu said. Moreover, many of the college’s certificate and degree programs lead to jobs that are likely to be “more prevalent, resilient and less likely to be disrupted” by AI, he said, including in social services, health care and education. Those areas are among Vermont’s “most promising jobs,” according to an annual report from the Vermont Department of Labor and the McClure Foundation, even though they aren’t particularly lucrative ones in a state with a high cost of living.
Between an aging population and a dearth of young people, Vermont has a serious workforce problem.
That’s the route that Natalie Geoffroy is hoping will pay off. She went directly to the college after high school, earning an associate degree in health science and a medical assistant certificate in 2024. For the past two years, Geoffroy has worked at the Hardwick Area Health Center, where she takes patients’ vital signs, draws blood and gives shots — all skills she learned at community college. Eventually, Geoffroy said, she hopes to go back to school to become a registered nurse. A new, nearly $1 billion federal grant for rural health will allow CCV and Vermont State to expand their offerings in nursing and mental health care.
Mauch, in two and a half years as Vermont State Colleges chancellor, said she’s been encouraged that the legislature and governor have supported initiatives at CCV and Vermont State. Yet Vermont remains at the bottom nationally when it comes to the share of the state budget spent on higher education, making it difficult, she said, for CCV to invest in technical training that requires the expensive equipment found at some other community colleges. Mauch hopes CCV can tap into the federal rural health funds to launch a certificate program in sonography, a program that requires a hefty up-front investment.
The federal Pell Grants that play a key part in financing lower-income students are secure for the next two years. But their future is clouded by a budget shortfall that could reach $17 billion, a gap that Congress will need to address. On the positive side, Vermont plans to apply for a new federal grant for short-term, career-focused training that could prove advantageous for CCV.
The college is also expanding its work in the state’s correctional facilities. For several years, it’s offered free classes to inmates and Department of Corrections staff. This year, the college received a $2.9 million, three-year grant to create a program aimed at preparing incarcerated people for life after prison through job training, with a focus on manufacturing. The grant from a national nonprofit will also fund “navigators” who will help those recently released from prison continue their education and connect with resources.
The quest for ways to reach more Vermonters, especially those who have “checked out for whatever reason,” has helped set CCV apart, Judy said. She would love to see the state make community college free for everyone without a bachelor’s degree, as Massachusetts did in 2024.
“Vermont doesn’t have many people, so we’ve got to make sure everyone is operating at their full potential,” Judy said.
Mann, the painter turned student, is well on her way. This fall, she’ll continue her studies at UVM’s Rubenstein School of Environment and Natural Resources, entering as a junior and aiming for a bachelor’s degree. She’s received scholarships that will cover nearly all of her expenses.
Before attending CCV, “I didn’t know I would be capable of any of this,” Mann said. “You just don’t know until you try.” ➆
The original print version of this article was headlined “College Try | At a time when many universities are struggling, Community College of Vermont is providing a practical, affordable education to a wide range of students”
This article appears in September 2 • 2026.
Got something to say?
Send a letter to the editor and we'll publish your feedback in print!
