Ask a teen what they want to be when they grow up, and there’s a fair chance being an influencer is on their list.
Digital media and the people who star in it have been cultural mainstays for teens’ entire lives, so creating social media, video or podcast content seems a natural, albeit nontraditional, career path. And now they can earn a college degree in that very field.
Arizona State University recently launched a new bachelor's degree in content creation, offered through its Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication. The curriculum overlaps with that of ASU's mass communication and media studies degree, with the major departure being a slate of specialized electives on podcasting, studio production and on-camera presence.
ASU’s announcement was met with swift criticism from many sides — from people who feel content creation is not a legitimate profession to those who question the value of a college degree in launching a social media career.
But the ASU program is not the first of its kind.
And the university, which declined an interview request about the new program, is not the first to offer content creation courses.
Universities, eager to compete for a shrinking student population, are rolling out new majors intended to prepare students for today’s careers. Whether they lead to jobs can be up for debate.
Many higher education institutions have started offering classes focused on the burgeoning content creation industry over the past couple years, and several have certificate or minor programs. Syracuse University, Quinnipiac University and Colorado State University offer minors, and St. Bonaventure University announced a content creation major last winter.
To Brooke Erin Duffy, a communication professor at Cornell University, these college programs represent an inflection point. During the past year, Duffy said, institutions in education and beyond have been acknowledging content creation as a viable career path — even if the term “influencer” itself hits a nerve.
On social media, influencers are everywhere, sharing shopping recommendations and lifestyle content or promoting beliefs about health or politics. Because even influencers with relatively small followings have loyal audiences, brands also often pay them to talk about products.
The image of a prototypical influencer, Duffy said, is usually a “young girl who is snapping selfies and just reaping in tremendous rewards for seemingly not doing anything.”
But that’s not the reality for many content creators, who are working on media production, audience retention strategies, brand partnerships and business relationships associated with their online presence.
“It is a time-consuming, labor-intensive job that often doesn’t pay well — at least in the beginning,” Duffy said. “But a lot of that gets concealed behind … this assumption that it’s a dream job.”
Even if someone has the skills to make it in content creation, it isn't easy to break in.
Social media is already a crowded field, and it's going to get even more competitive in the coming years, said Max Willens, a principal analyst at Emarketer who covers the creator economy.
Emarketer forecasts that social media creator revenue in the U.S. will climb above $20 billion this year, but Willens said it’s important to contextualize what that means for individual creators.
“The overwhelming majority of that money is not going into creators’ pockets,” he said, even though their content and their followers form the foundation of the lucrative field.
Influencers can earn money from social media platforms, which reward high engagement, and some earn commission if people buy a product they're promoting. But the largest share of influencers' earnings comes from sponsored content — getting paid to talk about a brand or product. Willens said he expects the amount brands spend distributing and amplifying creator content will eventually surpass the amount creators earn making it.
The idea that a specialized college degree will “suddenly turn people into viral content machines deserves a bit of a reality check,” Willens said.
Duffy noted that becoming an influencer often is perceived, incorrectly, as a path to get rich quick. Colleges that introduce content creation degrees may be hoping to attract new students — and their parents — who are looking for “a job that will pay off,” Duffy said. “Whether or not it does is another story.”
A degree's price is also a factor: At ASU, base tuition for Arizona residents is about $12,000 per academic year, excluding scholarships, but the total cost of attendance can exceed $37,000 after factoring in room, board and other fees. For students from outside of Arizona, tuition is more than $35,000 and the total cost of attendance is around $60,000 before scholarships.
While many content creation students may be hoping to become viral sensations, Phoenix-based creator Aiesha Beasley said she could see programs like ASU’s being valuable even to those without that dream.
“Having a digital presence and a personal brand is very important nowadays,” Beasley said. Building a platform and sharing that personal brand online can help a person network and gain entry to settings they may not have had access to otherwise, she said.
Beasley, who has been a full-time content creator for three years after more than a decade posting online, works with small businesses to help optimize their social media presence. She noted that ASU's courses would teach several transferable skills in fields such as communications and marketing.
Content creator and actor Sammy Cristerna graduated from Arizona State University this spring with a degree in sociology and political science, but said he “absolutely” would have taken classes in the content creation program and considered the major if it had been available.
The courses, Cristerna said, would have been useful in learning how to negotiate brand deals, maximize monetization opportunities and cultivate and keep an audience. Some of those skills can be self-taught through experience, he added. Still, “it’s nice to have that formal education.”
The one thing Cristerna said he isn’t sure will translate in the classroom is personality.
To connect on camera, a person needs to have “good energy,” he said. “That’s hard to teach.”
The Associated Press’ education coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.
FILE - This Nov. 14, 2008, file photo shows the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication at the downtown campus of Arizona State University in Phoenix. (AP Photo/Ross D. Franklin, File)
FILE - An entrance to the Arizona PBS offices in the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication in Phoenix is seen, May 2, 2025. (AP Photo/Katie Oyan, File)
ARLINGTON, Iowa (AP) — Farmer Tim Burrack had concerns about the Republican nominee for Iowa governor — and he wasn't the only one.
The conservative voter from northeast Iowa said he didn't know Zach Lahn before the political newcomer “came out of nowhere" with a surprise GOP primary win over the candidate endorsed by President Donald Trump. So when Lahn came to his farm last week, Burrack questioned him on his approach to agriculture.
“I hit him pretty hard,” said Burrack, who was considering whether to vote for Lahn in November or not vote at all.
It wasn't the first skeptical audience for the self-described “change candidate” in the state led by Republicans.
Lahn won the June primary even though an “entire establishment was set up against me,” he said. He criticizes politicians in both parties, accusing them of being bought by corporate interests. His bid for governor will test how an anti-establishment conservative fares with a general electorate — and with traditional Republicans — a decade after Trump’s own brand of populism reshaped the GOP.
While Iowa Republicans have an electoral advantage, Lahn entered the general election with a lower public profile than his Democratic opponent, state Auditor Rob Sand. Democrats see an opportunity to win this cycle in once-competitive Iowa, where high costs, health clinic closures, manufacturing job losses and a struggling agricultural economy weigh on voters.
Lahn talks about bringing a “different message” to Iowans who aren't satisfied with the trajectory of Iowa's small towns, public education or cancer rates, even after years of Republican control of state government. But only three months before Election Day, Lahn acknowledged he needs to keep getting out in front of people to address their questions and concerns.
“I think, for the most part, a lot of people just have never heard my message,” Lahn said after the event at Burrack's farm in Arlington. “The more we’ve met with people, the more they understand where our priorities lie, the more they say, ‘We are with you.’”
Some of Lahn's ideas challenge the Republican Party's status quo. Among them is his approach to agriculture and embrace of the “Make America Healthy Again” movement, which has prompted questions in the state that's among the nation's top producers of corn, soybeans, red meat and ethanol. Lahn promotes regenerative farming; emphasizes a link between high nitrate-loaded water and cancer; and questions the safety of agrochemicals.
Before Lahn took the stage in Arlington to talk agriculture, farmer Lance Lillibridge, a former president of the Iowa Corn Growers Association, told the couple hundred Iowans there that the goal was to “get the air clear."
In front of a huge American flag and sandwiched between two freshly washed John Deere tractors, Lahn said, “We farm a bit weird” on his own Iowa acres, growing oats, alfalfa and einkorn along with corn and beans.
But he told the crowd he wants to fund farmers’ efforts to diversify their operations, not force Iowans to farm like him. He said targeting “big ag” means filing antitrust lawsuits against corporate conglomerates that sell seed and fertilizer and taxing out-of-state investors consolidating Iowa acres, not stepping on family farms. He wants to see more incentives to improve water quality but wouldn’t try to outright ban agrochemicals.
Burrack, like Lahn, says that they won’t agree on everything. But after talking with Lahn, he called himself a supporter.
At another stop, a few dozen faces crowded at the back of a coffee shop in Hampton, Iowa, just after the lunch rush. Many of them were familiar with each other but less so with the candidate they came to see. Among them were Jay and Sally Van Wert, retired farmer and teacher, who said Lahn seemed like a nice guy, but they didn't know much else.
Several Iowans attending some of Lahn's first publicly advertised events since the primary said they only knew what they’ve seen in advertisements from Sand's campaign. The ads call Lahn a “part-time Iowan" and reference dozens of occasions where Lahn piloted his private plane to and from Kansas since launching his campaign.
“Is he going all the time to Kansas?” asked Larry Streicher, 84, a Republican farmer in the front row in Arlington. “We don’t know anything about him.”
Lahn said he left Iowa for college like so many others but wanted to come home, amplifying a nostalgia for Iowa culture and heritage that resonated with voters, not unlike Trump's “Make America Great Again” message.
He left Iowa again to start a private school funded by the Koch family, which opened in Kansas in 2018. He co-founded the school with his now-wife, Annie, who had been married to Chase Koch, son of conservative billionaire Charles Koch.
Lahn told the crowds he and Annie moved into their Belle Plaine, Iowa, homestead in 2023 after finishing renovations. Lahn bought the farm that had been in his family for a century but sold it after his great-grandmother died.
Douglas Puffett, a farmer from Strawberry Point and member of his county’s GOP central committee, said Lahn's story is like so many other Iowans’ and his vision for Iowa is driven by what drew him back.
“That’s how you inspire the next generation,” said the 40-year-old, who appreciates that Lahn, also 40, is young and has young kids.
Lahn has explained that trips to Kansas are due to his blended family, which includes children from his and Annie’s previous marriages. He doesn't comment on whether he would travel or use taxpayer resources to do so if elected governor, saying it would not impact his ability to govern.
Puffett, who attended Lahn’s Arlington event, thinks 10 years of Republican trifecta have given Sand an opening to appeal to people who might be unhappy with the “Republican establishment,” he said, but Lahn “stacks up really nice” with his calls for reform.
“I think it’s time to kind of roll over the leadership of the Republican Party here in Iowa," he said.
Gov. Kim Reynolds’ decision to not seek a third term gave Republicans their first wide-open primary since 2010, and five candidates were on the ballot. Lahn overtook U.S. Rep. Randy Feenstra by less than a percentage point, or about 1,650 more votes.
Lahn told crowds that he only met Reynolds after the primary, a signal of his distance from Iowa politics. Speaking at the state party’s fundraiser in July, he joked about all the donors who “haven’t been returning my calls” all being in one room.
Since his primary win, Lahn has met with party leaders and Iowa's prominent industry groups. His campaign spent the summer ramping up fundraising, staff and organizing infrastructure.
State Rep. Bobby Kaufmann, who is the majority leader of House Republicans, said there may be some differences of opinion or “curiosities, not concerns" about Lahn's positions, but added that's always the case.
Kaufmann met Lahn earlier this year, voted for him in June and said there's been a “full embrace” of the nominee. He said Lahn is not a traditional candidate, but that's what makes his campaign energizing for Republicans who are “constantly craving new leadership."
“I think it began back in 2016 with President Trump,” Kaufmann said. “Republicans don’t rest on our laurels."
Zach Lahn, Republican candidate for Iowa governor, speaks to local residents during a meet and greet, Tuesday, Aug. 4, 2026, in Hampton, Iowa. (AP Photo/Charlie Neibergall)
