We all know the stereotype of the old person who lives in the past. As far as stereotypes go, though, there is truth in this one. Age causes people to reflect more because there is simply more to look at in the past than in the future when you’re old. Though I am only 21, my collegiate old age has impacted me in the same way. I’m a senior this year. The conveyor belt is implacably moving me and thousands of others forward and out the door. Hence, this is why I like to reminisce.
The thing I find myself thinking about the most, along with the missed opportunities and mistakes I’ve made, is what these years have actually amounted to. In other words, what did my time in higher education mean? To answer this question, though, you have to answer a deeper, more philosophical question, namely: What constitutes a meaningful college education? It is this question I wish to address today.
American universities have increasingly answered the questions above with career readiness, specifically in the STEM field. It is no secret that universities value a chemical engineer more than a classical studies major. Universities seem most interested today in preparing students for the job market.
Conversely, college students tend to see themselves as employees-in-training, here to learn the requisite skills and gain the requisite experience for success in a specific field.
This accounts for the infamy of the “What is the Good Life” course. Most of the criticisms I have heard directed at that class’s existence center on the premise that it is superfluous and actually inimical to what most students are in college for. Why talk about the nature of existence when there is code to be learned, chemistry courses to pass, business connections to be made?
In my view, though, a business connection is worthless if you don’t know why you’re on this earth. Whether What is the Good Life helps us to understand life’s purpose is not the point. The point is that it forces us to contemplate our humanity. It makes us think about more than getting a good job. It makes us weigh the possibility that good jobs might not equal good, meaningful lives. Kudos to UF for mandating it.
Some consider these classes and discussions to be a waste. I say they are exactly what college is for, and why college is useful. If all they can do is make you a better employee, then what separates them from a trade school? Both are committed to teaching their students specific job skills, such as accounting or mechanics; neither think an accountant or mechanic needs to know much about Plato or Tolstoy.
I am not advocating for everyone to study humanities. That would be hurtful to those who simply are not interested. Engineering and finance are perfectly legitimate and meaningful fields to dedicate one’s life to. We need good engineers and good investment bankers.
I am advocating, however, for colleges to care less about job preparedness and more about human preparedness. For we are not simply economic machines who need to learn how to be good employees, we are human beings who need to learn what being human means.
What would this type of college look like? I’m not entirely sure. But I venture to guess that this type of college would not justify its existence through metrics. It would not brag to prospective students about the high percentage of graduates who find jobs, or a graduate’s average starting salary. That is not how they would sell themselves because that is not how they would see themselves.
Rather, this type of college would tell prospective students that they should apply if they want to receive an enriching, nuanced and balanced education, heavy on human experience, light on job preparedness. This college would tell stories, not sell numbers. I imagine this type of college would make this pitch: Come here if you want to graduate a better human being.
If only I had another four years.
Scott Stinson is a UF English senior. His column appears on Mondays.
