In this third part of my reflections, I want to summarize
some of the things I’ve said before about higher education in the United States.
As I keep saying with evident embarrassment, I have not yet integrated these
reflections into a coherent narrative but perhaps some of you reading this blog
can take a step in that direction.
As I have many times observed, only 33% of adult Americans
have four-year college degrees. Inasmuch as the “six-year graduation rate” is
currently 55%, a little arithmetic tells us that perhaps 60% of Americans
enroll in a higher educational institution offering a four year degree, which
means that 40% do not even go that far beyond high school. Virtually all of the
discussion I see and hear about higher education focuses on a very small number
of elite institutions whose names are readily recognizable, but there are not
50 or 100 or 500 or 1000 bachelor’s degree granting institutions, there are
4500 or so in the United States. Any graduate of the least distinguished of
these institutions is in that 33% that has a college degree. Let us try to keep
this in mind as we go forward.
It was not always thus. The year that I applied to college –
1949, for admission in 1950 – only 5% of adult Americans (which to the statisticians
means 26 years old or older) had bachelor’s degrees. So few high school
graduates went on to college in those days that in New York City, where I grew
up, little kids entered elementary school and graduated from high school twice
a year, depending on whether their birthdays were closer to July or January. If
you are a December baby, as I was, that meant that you either had to wait six
months to go off to college or else accelerate somewhere along the way to pick
up the extra half year. In those days of course the elite colleges were very
difficult to get into. I went to Harvard, the most selective of all. Of the
large group of young men who applied for admission to Harvard that year, only
75% of us got in. (That is not a misprint. It really was 75%, not 7.5%)
In those days, you had to have a college degree to become a
doctor or a professor or even a high school teacher. You pretty much had to
have a high school degree to become a lawyer although there were alternative
ways of being admitted to the bar. If you think about it for a bit, it will be
obvious that many, if not most, of the high paid highly selective elite
positions in the economy, which today require an MBA, were filled by men (for
the most part) who did not have college degrees. I am not talking about the
1890s. I am talking about the 1950s, after the war, with the economy booming. (It
was in that time that the explosion of higher education took place, fueled in
part by the G.I. Bill. The Academy, which had been dominated by private
institutions, now saw public institutions expand dramatically and enroll a
preponderance of the ever larger numbers of high school students going on to
college.)
These days, we accept without question that what one learns
in college on the way to earning a degree is somehow essential for satisfactory
performance in the commanding heights of the economy. But that does not really
seem plausible when you think about it because when I was young those same
commanding heights were overseen by high school graduates. What first brought
this to my attention in a personal way was the discovery that my first wife’s
father, an extremely successful businessman who ended his career as a vice
president of Sears Roebuck and Company, had never finished high school. No, he
was not some phenom like Bill Gates. He was just a hard-driving reasonably
talented guy who made his way all the way up the corporate ladder without the
benefit of a BA.
There is no doubt that there are some things one learns in
college that actually can be useful on the job. Math, chemistry, statistics,
physics – that sort of thing. But literary criticism? Philosophy? Sociology? Economics?
Not so much. What college does for a young man or woman is socialize him or her
into a certain reference group of people and then sort them out as they try to
make their way in a steeply pyramidal job world with too few really good jobs
and too many lousy jobs. So long as that is the structure of the economy, some
way has to be found to sort all those competent people into too few good jobs,
but the sorting could just as well be done by calligraphy, as the classical
Chinese found, or the writing of bad poetry, as was the case in Prussia when
Marx was a young man.
Let us not get hung up on personal anecdotes. Almost 4
million Americans got BAs last year and I am sure that any story you want to
tell about what can be gained from a college experience is true of at least
several hundred thousand of them. But having spent all of my life in the
Academy, I can testify from personal experience that if a serious life-changing
engagement with the life of the mind were a prerequisite for a bachelor’s
degree, that figure of 4 million would shrink rather dramatically.
Enough of this for the moment. Tomorrow I shall try to put
these reflections into some sort of connection with one another.
My understanding of the old Chinese examination system is, roughly, that it sorted on the basis of knowledge of the Confucian classics. Calligraphy might well have been important, but there was a more substantive aspect, albeit one perhaps not all that directly connected in practice to the govt positions for which the examinees were competing.
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