Professors and Students

There was a time in which societies put teachers on a par with warriors, philosophers and mathematicians. All were highly respected by the societies in which they practiced their arts.

In the society in which I practice my art, only the warriors seem to have survived with their virtue intact. I wonder if this is because, in the case of teachers anyway, at one recent point in our history, persons like me, from outside the walls of ivy were allowed, thanks to GI Bills and the like, to become initiated into this once-sacrosanct ground?

I worry about the future of this business we call higher education. Professors are not viewed as professionals by most people, in the U.S. at least. We are viewed with suspicion as being left-leaning slackers who do not add value to society. Colleges and universities are viewed as providing tickets for employment at best, and as extensions of high school at worst. University and college administrators are grasping at business fads and metrics to try to save their institutions. Entrepreneurs, believing there is money to be made (and there is), are swarming like flies over the weaker of the colleges, buying, revamping, dumbing down when necessary, and focusing on next quarter’s bottom line.

My worries are offset by almost 40 years of experience with students, that entity that defines the industry. I still teach. I have not seen a substantial change in skills levels, motivation, or abilities in my students over these years. When I hear that “they don’t make students like they used to” comments, I smile a bit, cringe a bit, and think of a freshman English class I took in 1963. Dr. Obojski was intent on making us ignorant hillbillies less ignorant, not only about English, but about the world in general. One day he gave a current events quiz. At the next class, he strode into the room, put down his pipe, took out his pocket watch and threw it on the desk (it broke), and yelled at the top of his voice, “Pablo Picasso is not a god-damned tennis player” (professors could smoke and cuss back then when it served to make a point—it did with me since I may very well have been one of the folks who said this on the quiz).

Some students do in fact see their first year in college as grade 13; some did when I started school in 1962. Some students do in fact see undergraduate and graduate education as providing employment tickets; some also did in 1962. What actually happens to the students, after they enter college is the crucial issue, and one upon which professors have the most impact. I reflect with pride on my former students, watching their eyes light up, being present for “aha” experiences, and watching these bright students excel, not only academically, but professionally and personally. Most professors have these same reflections.

If professors behave as though students are cogs in the machine that produce the professors’ paychecks; if we get so caught up in our own stories that we forget why we exist professionally; or if we are depressed because we never became professors at one of those ivied institutions, to the point of ignoring the students we serve, everyone loses.

Most professors don’t. Students are why professors exist. They—the students and professors—provide me with an optimism about the future that offsets my pessimism related to the business of higher education in general, with its social engineers, managers, and bevies of fools.