Privilege or Obligation?

Once a month, I engage with a group of colleagues in a breakfast conversation about a book we have all agreed to read this year: Souls in Transition by Christian Smith.  This book describes a study conducted by Smith and his colleagues in an effort to understand those things which inform emerging adults' attitudes toward and beliefs about spirituality and religious practice.  Our conversations are always animated and challenging, as we all have different areas of expertise and different points of view to bring to the table.  This morning, one of my colleagues reflected on a conversation he had with a student recently.  In a nutshell, the student expressed this posture toward his education: it is an obligation, not a privilege or an adventure.  He goes to class because he has to.  Who is making him do this?  No, not his parents or his teachers.  The force "making" him go to college is the social expectation that he will be a loser if he doesn't get a Bachelor's degree, and he'll be shut out of all the things American society has deemed good and valuable.

No wonder so many students experience their college classes as drudgery.  Obligation tends to wear us down.  It makes us feel burdened and resentful.  It makes us tired.  I'm not sure how to change this perception, but I think it is imperative that we do.  Otherwise, education has become just a giant machine to which our students are bound in servitude.

Getting Your Money's Worth

My students are evaluating the value/worth of a college education, so they have been brainstorming for good research questions and narrow subtopics that are part of this larger concern.  As a professor at a liberal arts college, I encounter students every semester who roll their eyes and insist that they shouldn't have to waste their time taking classes that are not directly related to "what I will be doing for the rest of my life."  Curiously, if I were to ask these students to tell me exactly what they expect to be doing for the rest of their lives, they cannot tell me.  Yes, they can offer a vague suggestion: I'm going to work in the music industry.  Or  I'm going to work in business.  Beyond that, they have no idea what specific job they plan to pursue, where they want to live, what specific skills or areas of knowledge their career ambitions will demand.  They just know that they shouldn't be bothered with learning anything that doesn't translate directly into a job skill.  My response is simple, and it probably sounds pretty callous.  "OK, then go get the job you already know how to do, and make your fortune."  Or secure the training you need for a highly prescriptive job and then get on with your life.  Or don't waste everyone's time and money--get a job and work full-time for a year or more.  If you change your mind about the value of a college education, particularly one that combines professional preparation with liberal arts exploration, then come back.  We will welcome you and with the same enthusiasm and hospitality that the wealthy father welcomed the prodigal son.

WriterProf: Eager to Read

It isn't always the case that I am eager to read the essays my students write.  Sometimes the process is as much a drudgery for me as it is for them.  However, this semester I am delighted to say that I can't wait to see the essays my composition students are researching/drafting right now.  They have chosen a wonderfully diverse range of topics, and they seem to have a genuine enthusiasm for the subjects they've selected for investigation. Writing is always hard work.  In fact, the more skilled we become, the better our command of the language, the more difficult the process becomes, primarily because we require more from ourselves.  We are less easily satisfied.

I do love the work I do here at Anderson University.  And I am grateful for this one, of many, ways that I get to enter students' lives every semester.  Their essays are a tiny window into their individual worlds.  And I am blessed that they lift the blind a few times each semester and let me peek inside.

Loving life in Indiana

Though I often grumble about the humidity and the predictable landscape and the prominence of Walmart superstores, I really do love life in Indiana.  I love the way the sky changes as each day recedes.  I love way leaves catch fire in the fall, burning the last bits of life in a gorgeous array of painterly colors: yellow ochre, and crimson red against the cerulean blue backdrop.  I love the gentle swell and pool of the fields I drive past when visiting my family back home and the family-run orchards and pumpkin farms that entertain school children every October.  And I love September, even on a day like today when it is cold and wet, because I know September doesn't last forever.  It will be gone quick enough, no matter how glorious or wretched its days.