AbiolaLapite's column "Good Education" (Sept. 25, 1995) presents a faulty view of educational goals. He rejects "practicality" because it sacrifices personal fulfillment to the whims of society or, worse yet, to dreaded market forces. However, he also argues that colleges should never hope to produce well-rounded students, but should permit each to study the area of his choice to the exclusion of all other academic fields. He is wrong on both points.
Lapite first argues that the difficulty in determining society's long-term needs makes all majors equally useful. Since Euclid and Isaac Newton were not motivated by "practical necessity," he reasons, neither should anyone else.
However, both men practiced the scientific and technical fields that Lapite dismisses, and both were also broadly educated. Their contributions to geometry and physics were neither "abstruse" nor "impractical."
Lapite also errs by generalizing from the experience of these great minds to the average college student. I would provide a host of counter-examples who have studied "impractical" fields and failed, but no one has bothered to record their names. The truly brilliant may excel in any field they choose -- the rest of us have to be practical.
Next, Lapite criticizes practical disciplines because their justification rests on altruistic grounds rather than on individual happiness and enlightenment. Most intellectuals feel the opposite -- that law students, for example, are more concerned with their own personal success than their contribution to society. Most law students probably agree.
Lapite's position deals with only one element of happiness to the total exclusion of material comfort, which is even more essential. Abraham Maslow, for example, places physical needs and security on the bottom of his hierarchy, including more cerebral matters only as psychological luxuries.
Lapite also entirely discounts the possibility that some people might actually enjoy mathematics, economics, science and other such fields and pursue them for non-fiscal reasons. Most successful individuals do something that provides both enjoyment and a decent living.
Finally, some interests simply must be relegated to the "hobby" category. Ideally, I would be a Redskins studies major and watch reruns of Super Bowl XVII for a living. If not enlightened, I would certainly be happy. But since this prospect is unrealistic, I have to prepare myself for a career and watch football on weekends. In practice, this is exactly what happens to many "impractical" majors; witness the labor market for waiters and waitresses in Manhattan's theatre district.
For all but the extremely well-off, an Ivy League education is not simply an intellectual adventure. It is, of necessity, an investment, because most cannot afford to spend $100,000 on any entertainment item, however noble.
Lapite goes on to take issue with the alleged "credentialism" of Dartmouth's distributive requirements. By rejecting attempts to broaden students' education, he discards the essential nature of a liberal-arts college, making it no different from a vocational school.
His assertion that many great scientists and mathematicians operate in specialized fields is irrelevant. The purpose of a college education is to provide a base of general knowledge in addition to preparing students for a career. (Interestingly, the example he uses is the quantum physicist Paul Dirac, yet another practitioner of a "practical" scientific field.)
Nobel-winning scientists are also citizens and humans as well as specialists. If they are unable to perform any one of these functions, their education is indeed "substandard" despite their professional achievements.
Moreover, Lapite offers no evidence that these men ignored art or literature in their undergraduate education. Most undergraduate schools do not offer sufficiently specialized programs in any field that students must forsake all other disciplines to complete their major.
If distributive requirements result in dissatisfaction and cynicism by students and professors, it is only to the extent that students try to skirt the requirements by taking meaningless courses and professors accommodate them by offering such courses. Students who use the distributives as an opportunity to take challenging, interesting classes are rewarded.
Whether these courses produce "converts" is also beside the point. Their goal is to at least give students an appreciation of other areas, even if they choose to concentrate on something else.
Ultimately, the choice of a major is an individual decision. If some students prefer to trade off some earnings potential to study what they enjoy, Dartmouth should not discourage them; neither should it deter other students from choosing more practical studies. All Dartmouth diplomas, however, should reflect a broad, truly liberal-arts education.
