Anyone who follows the Chronicle of Higher Education has read this piece before. Not this literal post, but a review, editorial, book review, or special report with the same name and the same main question. A quick search on the site yields over 161 thousand results…
There have been a spat of recently commentaries in major outlets about how the prevalence of this question is indicative of a growing identity crisis in higher-ed. But higher-ed — like virtually every other industry — has always been in the midst of one crisis or another. To me, the persistence of the question indicates something else: its depth and relevance. Like every big question we can ask about our own individual lives — “Why am I here? What’s my purpose? What would it take to achieve happiness or contentment?” — the question of the purpose of higher-ed isn’t the sort of thing we need to definitively solve. But asking it, reflecting on it, debating it, keeping it alive…that’s something we should always be willing to do.
Over the past 8 days, this has been my main goal. I’ve traveled to Boston College, Harvard, Providence College, Princeton, and St. John’s College. Along with several other goals (I gave some talks, conducted some interviews for the new book, and consulted for and with several new and existing programs), the question I’ve carried with me to each of these institutions is: What is your purpose? What is the purpose of higher-education in the United States today? What follows are my fragmentary, mostly impressionistic reflections on the similarities and differences between each of these school’s answers.
Let’s start with the Boston schools…
At Boston College I spoke with faculty in the business school. I was learning about a program called Portico, which serves as a liberal arts gateway course that all freshmen studying business (nearly 550 per year) have to take in their first semester. The program served as a model as I was building the Sheedy Family Program, and I wanted to learn more about its inner-workings as we continue to think about this program’s future.
Portico is unique. It’s a class where freshmen studying business are asked to read Aristotle and Plato and Kant. Along with small groups of their peers (individual sections are capped around 16), a team of five teaching professors accompanies them through their most formative semester on campus, advising them academically, professionally, and personally. The outcomes are impressive, both in terms of student satisfaction and performance, and in the longer-term impacts the program seems to have. One of the students in the Sheedy Family Program, a senior, transferred from Boston College and took the Portico class in his freshmen year. He credits the program with a fundamental shift in the way he thought about business, his career, and his most basic values.
From this snippet, and from my tour around campus and informal conversations I had with some students, faculty, and staff, I think Boston College’s answer to the big questions are pretty similar to Notre Dame’s. College is a place to find solid footing for one’s future. This means thinking practically about one’s career path and prospects. And, once those things are more or less locked down, it means being exposed to the the liberal arts tradition in as much of its breadth as possible. Because time is limited, it may well be that this means acquiring a basic familiarity (a “literacy,” if you will) with important intellectual traditions. I wouldn’t expect the average BC grad to leave with detailed thoughts on whether Kant’s influence on western civilization was pernicious or progressive, but I suspect that they’d be able to say something true about Kantian ethics if pressed.
Harvard is a mall. In my estimation, it’s as much a cultural institution as it is a school. I had a difficult time distinguishing between students and tourists on campus, and spent most of my time on the campus visiting the numerous expensive shops and bookstores that lined the campus. The buildings are gorgeous, as are the common spaces, and I was told that there were many student spaces intentionally hidden from public. So perhaps there’s a thriving esoteric community hidden somewhere amongst the Disney-like campus. But I left suspecting that the student experience would feel disjointed and a bit anonymous. I left with the strong feeling that I would never want my kids to go there.
Let’s move south…
Providence College is a gem. Aside from its physical cohesiveness (it has an actual campus), its faculty seem to share a sense of mission. Student life feels communal, and its common spaces (indoors and out) are filled with students doing what you’d expect students to do; studying, playing frisbee, discussing life and the big questions.
In conversation with faculty, I sensed the value placed on undergraduate learning. Tenure requirements emphasize teaching excellence, and the teachers told me story after story about interactions they’d had with individual students. They are invested in these students’ growth, and I was inspired by the degree to which this investment manifested in their day-to-day concerns.
At Providence, college is for personal growth. And while, like BC or Notre Dame, there’s a clear emphasis on professionalization and career discernment, it’s clear that a PC grad will leave with a sense of the things that matter most in life. I was impressed.
Princeton feels like a real school. It might be because I was able to participate in a few activities while I was there — I sat in on a brunch discussion between professors in history and political science about current events in Israel and Palestine, I met with a college who is on fellowship in a Center out there, I chatted with my editor about the book I’m working on — but I sensed the presence of a real intellectual community while I was on campus. Students were everywhere, and were clearly engaged with their studies and extracurriculars. The campus is gorgeous. The whole thing had a University of Chicago vibe.
Finally, there’s St. John’s College. I’ve long wanted to make my way out to SJC, and have studied it indirectly (in conversations with grads, colleagues who have worked there, and through independent research). Nothing could have prepared me for the experience I had, however. Upon arriving on campus, I had an hour-long conversation with a student who was working at the campus bookstore. He was able to describe the curriculum to me, the pedagogy behind, and shared thoughts about some of the things he was studying in his classes and independent reading groups. I encountered students debating with one another, reading poetry, drawing mathematical diagrams on the omnipresent chalkboards that cover almost all available walls, and singing together. I did not see a single laptop or cellphone while I was on campus. I met with tutors to discuss their experience teaching the unique curriculum. I have never in my life experienced such a strong, unified sense of intellectual community. I didn’t want to leave.
I’m leaving this trip with so many thoughts; about curriculum, assessment, and student experience and wellbeing. I’ve been taking feverish notes and have sketched ideas for several different programs and interventions in Notre Dame’s own curriculum (and my own teaching). Seeing these universities one after another has given me so much to reflect on, and I’m sure I’ll be reflecting on these experience — and the big questions they raise — for years to come.
Deep(ish) Thoughts
Advertising is advertising, but a lot can be gained by seeing how school’s present themselves to the world. Consider the following videos and think about what they say about how each of these institutions would answer the question “What is College For?”
Parting Recs
Today’s recs are all going to be Princeton UP titles (since I visited PUP on my trip and got a chance to talk to the editors there about what they’re excited about).
What Do You Want Out of Life? by Valerie Tiberius. A great, good-life guide from a wonderful (Canadian / Minnesotan) philosopher.
Night Vision by Mariana Alessandri. A positive spin on life’s darker emotions. In this book, Alessandri argues that anxiety, depression, and other “dark moods” aren’t merely pathologies to be eradicated, but essential parts of the human experience. A wonderfully thoughtful read.
Parfit by David Edmonds. Why read about SBF or Elon when you can read about another eccentric genius who likely isn’t destroying the planet? This biography has made waves in academic philosophy, and I’m extremely eager to dive into it myself.
I’m obviously biased, but in conversation with Zena Hitz this week (a hero of mine, and an incredible philosopher and teacher) I realized something I’ve long thought: that Princeton UP is publishing the most interesting, creative, and groundbreaking philosophy titles of any major academic press. Look for my own title (coming out in the spring of 2025) on the philosophy of work. But, in the meantime, I’d definitely recommend keeping an eye on their catalogue.