Long before Conclusive Systems existed, Richard Jensen was a professor trained in analytic philosophy and logic. His days were spent carefully considering arguments, rules, and structures, and his evenings were often spent discussing with students what they wanted their lives to become. That combination turned out to be the seedbed for a very specific obsession: degree audit.
As a student and later as a faculty member, Richard lived through multiple generations of degree audit practices. He knew what it felt like to be a student waiting and wondering if the classes you were taking would actually count. He also knew what it felt like to be the faculty advisor on the other side of the desk, trying to interpret cryptic printouts that did not match the catalog he knew by heart.
At Walla Walla University in the late 1990s, Richard advised humanities students with a focus on philosophy. The campus was using one of the popular electronic degree audit systems of the day. On paper, it sounded modern. In practice, it meant submitting audit requests, waiting for an overnight process to run, and then discovering that the results were incomplete or incorrect. Advising appointments turned into detective work. Richard spent more time correcting the audit than advising the student sitting in front of him.
To Richard, an inaccurate degree audit was worse than no audit at all. If you have to go back to the catalog and rebuild everything by hand, the “system” is not helping. It adds friction to a moment that should be about helping a student make good choices.
Those experiences convinced him that the problem was not only about the user interface. It was about how these systems reasoned about requirements. Over time, Richard came to believe that most tools took a brute-force approach to degree audit. They tried to jam courses into requirements by forcing people to figure out in advance all the possible ways courses could apply to every student situation, instead of understanding the relational structure of a curriculum and applying logic to it.
There had to be a better way.






