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Office Hours: Freshman Orientation, Part 1 of 2

"Thank you, Professor Theophilus. Harumph. People, we're going to take a 15" — he looked across the room to a woman who was shaking her head and gesturing at the clock — "no, a 10 minute break." Over a chorus of groans, he continued, "Rest rooms are down the hall to the right. Theophilus has agreed to answer questions, so know what you want to ask when you return."

The person speaking was Bob Loons, a friend and colleague at Post-Everything University. Bob was the organizer of this thing — an unofficial, "alternative" freshman orientation, sponsored and run by Christian professors with a little help from cooperative local churches.

Various people speak; I'm only one of them. I'd just finished a talk on what to expect during your first year of college. Bob switched off the mike and turned to me. "Harumph. Good attendance. Increased from last year."

I asked, "How many would you say? I'm no good at estimating crowds."

He smiled fiercely. "This year we made them pre-register. A hundred and eighty-one college students, most of them incoming freshman."

"Are you counting the older ones we invited to help out?"

"No, but I have those numbers too. Also 40 high school students. An equal number of parents." He took a sip of coffee. "Estimation. Bah. Give me real facts every time."

At precisely 10:15, he snorted, declared the break over, and called the group back to order. "All right, people. Questions?"

A tall fellow, about 17, raised his hand tentatively. He had bright eyes and dark stains on his fingertips. I thought he might have tangled with a fountain pen, until I remembered that people don't use them any more.

"I liked your talk," he said, "but why does everyone have to go to college? I mean, what if you have other plans for your life?"

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Earl. Earl Gray."

"Who says everyone has to go to college? I haven't."

"Well, my sister here does. She gets onto me about college all the time, and she's only a sophomore." I recognized the older girl seated next to him. She rolled her eyes heavenward with a Why me, Lord? look on her face. The audience laughed.

Turning to her I smiled and asked, "What do you say, Miss Gray?"

"I just say he needs to be able to support himself, Professor. These days you need a college degree for everything. That's what our Mom and Dad say too."

"Mr. Gray," I said, "I don't think everyone has to go to college. One of my greatest frustrations as a college teacher is teaching students who ought to be doing something else. But your sister has a good point: You need a career plan. What do you think you'd like doing?"

"I like fixing cars." That explained the fingertips.

"Working with your hands is honorable, Mr. Gray. Jesus was a carpenter. Today maybe He would have been an auto mechanic. I learned a trade myself. But cars aren't like they used to be, and fixing them isn't either. These days, to become a top-flight mechanic you have to go to technical school and get some classy certifications. Not many people have them, but those who do are in high demand. Does that make more sense to you than college?"

His face lit up. "Yeah!"

"Miss Gray, you're probably thinking 'I don't want my brother to be a grease monkey,' right?"

"You've got it."

"But if Earl does some research, develops a realistic career plan, proves that he can support a future family with his love of mechanics, and works out a fallback in case the auto industry caves in, will you back him up with your parents?"

She gave me a skeptical smile and glanced sidelong at him. "If he'd really do it."

"Mr. Gray, I think you've been given an assignment. Do you accept it?" He grinned and nodded. "Good. By the way, don't give up on your high school courses, because you're going to need that math and science. Don't close the door on college, either. You may be tired of school now, but some day you may want to go back and become, say, an automotive engineer. More and more people change careers. OK, problem solved. Next question?"

This one came from a young woman I call Marion the Librarian, partly because she's pursuing an M.A. in information management and partly because she looks the part. "Professor Theophilus, considering that you teach the liberal arts, I'm surprised to hear you supporting the view that the only reason for higher education is to get a job."

"Oh, no, that's not my view," I said. "In our day, one reason for a college education is to get a job, and you will never hear me call that reason contemptible. But it isn't the only reason."

"But you've just said that not everyone has to go to college. Don't you think everyone should develop his mind?"

"Yes, and by the way, that's a divine commandment: We are to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind. Everyone should strive to become a clearer, stronger, wiser thinker, for the glory and the service of God."

"Then how can you suggest that college is only for the few? Aren't you saying that some should develop their minds, but others shouldn't?"

I smiled. "I didn't say college is only for the few. But you're making two assumptions that I don't share. The first is that everyone who goes to college does develop his mind — and that, to my sorrow, isn't true. The other is that a person who doesn't go to college can't develop his mind — and that, to my consolation, isn't true either."

I thought I would take a chance. "Mr. Gray?"

Deep in a murmured conference with his sister, he was startled to be interrupted, but recovered and said "Yes?"

"Do you mind if I put you on the spot again?"

"No, go ahead."

"Do you read?"

"Probably not as much as I should."

"But do you?"

"Sure. When I get the time." He grinned. "Which I do. My Mom and Dad aren't big on Ninnytender and watching television. And I can't work on cars in the dark."

"What's the last book you read without being assigned to read it by your teachers?"

"Without an assignment? I guess that would be, um, The Lord of the Rings."

"You do mean the book? Not the movie?"

"I mean the book, yeah. Actually three books."

"Have you talked about The Lord of the Rings with your friends?"

"Lots."

"Have you talked with them about other books?"

"Um, well, not lately. Sometimes."

"Thanks." I turned back to Marion the Librarian. "Mr. Gray has read one great work of literature lately without an assignment from his teachers. It's a good choice: J.R.R. Tolkien, the author, was a serious Christian, and the book is full of Christian themes — like mercy, justice and sacrifice; like duty, loyalty and betrayal; like temptation, fall and redemption."

"That's only one great book," she said dourly.

"That's one more than most of the college students I meet have read lately — and I mean with an assignment from their teachers. Many college students don't read at all. Hardly any college graduates do."

Somebody's father spoke. "If colleges and universities are in such bad shape, then is there any reason to send our children to them at all?"

"Certainly there is. I'm not trying to begin a stampede out of the colleges and universities. My desire is their reform. Yes, modern higher education has lost sight of its ideals and is going through dark times. Even so, if I thought college was useless I wouldn't be a college teacher. It's still possible to get a real education; it just doesn't happen automatically. You have to plan for it."

A green-eyed girl on the side of the room spoke up. She was one of the older college students, about 21. "What do you mean, 'plan for it'?" she said. "Do you mean choose the right school?"

"That, certainly, but also something else. I mean that even if you have chosen the right school, it's not enough just to go there, study hard, and pursue your major. You can do that, get all As, and still not be truly educated. Once upon a time, the general education requirements of most colleges and universities guaranteed that no matter what your major, you would be challenged to think about 'the permanent things,' the great issues of civilization. It has been decades since that was the case."

"Isn't that what those requirements are for?"

"That was their original purpose," I replied, "but they have fallen from it. At most schools, general education requirements have been watered down into 'distribution' requirements — 'Take a little of this and a little of that, we don't care what, no one knows why.' Even when the great books are taught, they are often taught with contempt; even when the great questions are raised, the teacher often has an ideological axe to grind."

"What's the solution?" she asked.

I answered, "To become educated in our time, you have to assign general education requirements to yourself, because your school will no longer do it for you." I made a few suggestions, then added "And you have to seek out those increasingly rare teachers who can be suitable mentors."

"Why do you call them increasingly rare?" said a tall guy who looked vaguely familiar.

"Because they are products of the very educational system in which they teach. To become a teacher you have to know a lot about some field — but unfortunately, you don't have to become wise. Do you see the problem?"

From the back of the room came a loud noise. I recognized it as Bob Loons clearing his throat again. "Theophilus," he said, "you haven't yet addressed the question that I hear most often from Christian students, not to mention their parents."

"What is it?"

He lifted a challenging eyebrow, in secret mockery of my own mannerisms. "Considering the times, do you recommend that Christian young people go only to Christian colleges? You see what I'm getting at. Should they avoid secular wastelands like the one where we teach?"

C O F F E E  S H O P

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How important is a college degree?

Join the discussion!

A ripple of laughter passed across the room, growing livelier when I took off my glasses and leaned on the rostrum.

"Well, Bob," I confessed, "you ask a good question."

NEXT: THEO'S ANSWER