The Hidden Curriculum in Psychology: Real Stories and Costs

When we think about education in psychology, the syllabus seems like the roadmap: lectures, readings, assignments, exams. But anyone who has spent time in classrooms, research labs, or conferences quickly realizes that a parallel set of lessons exists: lessons that aren’t written down but are crucial for success. This is the hidden curriculum, the unwritten rules of academic life.

Scholars describe the hidden curriculum as the implicit values, norms, and expectations that shape how we learn, work, and succeed in higher education (Jackson, 1968; Jerald, 2006; Sambell & McDowell, 1998; Semper & Blasco, 2018). In psychology, this often shows up in how students are expected to communicate, network, behave, and what to value - without ever being explicitly taught. 

While the idea may sound abstract, its impact becomes clear in lived experiences. Consider this story from an undergraduate psychology student I once taught:

An undergraduate student hears the messaging from peers and faculty that “graduate programs really want to see research experience.” Eager to impress, he signs up as a research participant in over a dozen psychology studies, not realizing that what actually matters is working with faculty as a research assistant. By the time he learns the difference, he feels behind his peers who were “in the know” earlier. 

This student demonstrates commendable work ethic, time management, and a genuine passion to be a participant in so many psychology students. Unfortunately, for all of his ambition and efforts, this is not what “being involved with research” refers to, and subsequently, his efforts will carry little value towards the graduate school admissions process. This is the hidden curriculum at work—knowledge that insiders assume is obvious, but outsiders have to stumble upon.

For undergraduate and graduate psychology students, the hidden curriculum often shows up in the gap between coursework and career preparation. Students may excel in exams and papers yet remain unaware of how crucial it is to build relationships with professors, attend office hours, join research labs, or volunteer in applied settings.

Another example: a first-generation student might not realize that asking for a strong letter of recommendation requires cultivating a relationship with a professor well in advance. This occurs frequently when a student believes a letter of recommendation is solely based on their assignment and exam grades in class. By contrast, a peer whose parent is an academic may already know how to strategically seek mentorship. The same institution, the same courses but two very different trajectories shaped by hidden knowledge.

Graduate school introduces a new layer of hidden curriculum. Syllabi might specify assignments and readings, but one may learn that research productivity and publications may carry more currency than GPA. The hidden curriculum also applies to academic conferences! I have had the pleasure of being with graduate students attending their first psychology conference. I have also first-hand seen these graduate students navigate the hidden curriculum of conferences. I have had eager students who were awake bright and early and attended the morning events and every event thereafter!  As one can imagine, they were exhausted and burned out by the time networking and social events came around. Many graduate students miss the unwritten rule: conferences are as much about networking as research. Other students were asked a variation of “Where are you from,” and would respond with their hometowns, when often these veteran conference goers are asking what institution or organization they are affiliated with. Imagine how disorienting that feels to succeed academically yet realize one is still on the outside of a conversation they don’t know is even happening.

I have certainly had my own experiences of running into the hidden curriculum. While in graduate school, I taught undergraduate students as an adjunct at a neighboring institution. At the time, I described this role on my CV as being an “adjunct professor.” During the process of applying for APA-accredited internships, I interviewed with a psychologist and faculty member at an academic medical center who stated I had misrepresented myself by describing my role as an “adjunct professor” as opposed to “adjunct instructor.” 

The hidden curriculum doesn’t end at graduation; it simply evolves. Early-career psychologists entering academic, clinical, or applied roles encounter new unspoken rules. For example, faculty members may learn too late that declining “optional” service opportunities (committee work, student advising) is not only acceptable but sometimes necessary to protect research time. Conversely, others may accept every request in an attempt to be collegial, only to find themselves overwhelmed and less competitive for faculty positions or promotions.

Across these career stages, the hidden curriculum shapes who advances smoothly and who struggles in silence. Those with family members in academia, or with mentors willing to share insider knowledge, may have a roadmap. Those from marginalized backgrounds (first-generation, low-income, international or underrepresented groups) often face the steepest learning curve.

In psychology, this matters not only for fairness but also for the health of the discipline. When capable students and scholars are pushed out by opaque rules, the field loses perspectives that could make research and practice more innovative and inclusive. At every level, students and professionals should ask themselves the following:

What unspoken rules did I learn the hard way? 

How might I make them clearer for others?

Psychology, as a field dedicated to understanding and supporting humans, has a responsibility to reduce unnecessary barriers. By telling stories, sharing insider knowledge, and teaching the lessons we once had to guess, we can ensure that future psychologists spend less time decoding hidden rules and more time advancing the science and practice of our discipline.

About the Author

Ahmar Zaman is an Assistant Teaching Professor at the University of Oregon. He has experience teaching, training, and mentoring undergraduate and graduate psychology students. Ahmar Zaman is the founder of Zaman Clinical and Forensic Psychology. Through this practice, he provides forensic-focused psychological evaluations and also provides consultation services for psychology students navigating graduate school admissions, internship and postdoc applications, and tailored consultation and advice for students wanting to specialize in clinical and forensic-focused careers.