As Providence would have it, I know a lot of university professors. I admire them. I've often wanted to be a university professor. My life path perhaps makes that somewhat unlikely at this juncture, but I wanted to tell you why I felt so privileged to be among those who attended and completed university education. I have also completed graduate work, so I am doubly lucky.
I can't write anything like this without lamenting the fact that the purpose--and the very existence--of colleges and universities is in doubt. I do not intend to go too much into that, but it makes me sad when I think about it. What a noble profession, to be a teacher! It's not a surprise to me that so many aspiring teachers have big dreams about making a difference, because even if reality invades to show them that it's more difficult than they thought, the heart of teaching at any and every level, is the sharing of truth, and wisdom. If that doesn't inspire you, you shouldn't even think about being a teacher.
Honestly, I think the core of who I am was actually formed at the University. I've always been curious, and a good university education pairs curiosity with purpose. Knowing something doesn't matter, unless that knowing matters.
There were professors under whom I struggled. There may have been one or two that I thought I might not like, if we met outside of class. But to truly be a student is a great privilege. The tragedy is that some who teach do not enjoy and relish the role of teacher. There are some people who probably should have done something else. That lack of fit for the role can be a deficit in temperament or skill, but it is a tragedy in every case.
A professor of mine literally changed the course of my life. There's no way he could have known that his advice was so crucial, and it is possible that what he said should not have been so memorable to me, or to have carried so much weight with me, but we can't know the path we're going to take until we take it. If I had never returned to St. Louis, I would never have met some of the dearest friends which I now possess. Knowing that my first adventure in graduate school was aborted, sometimes I regret that experience, but then, would I be here in this place if I had not first been there? All signs point to "no."
Even beyond the human elements of being a student, the great usefulness of a university education is to possess the tools--both mental, and physical--for finding out the truth about almost any matter under the sun. Many people think that students are told what to think. That may be true in some places, but in my experience, the knowledge I gained fits into a context, the meaning of which to some extent I must decide. It is my view of the world that everything I claim to know fits. I know few if any people who believe exactly the same things as all of their professors, but even if I did agree with all my professors, my pursuit of truth, and my obligation to the truth, is mine and no one else's.
Much of the joy of being a student is in sharing the struggles of learning with those who are also struggling to learn. There is always a kinship in difficulty; there is a kinship in overcoming shared obstacles. There is a kinship in growing up, while also learning about the adult world, and trying to find one's place in it.
I suppose we will always have those who complain about the extended adolescence of young people, but I am fortunate that I'm not the same person that I was when I was 22, or even 25. That we have created spaces for people to make mistakes without undue catastrophe to themselves or others, and hopefully to learn from them, strikes me as something positive, not negative. It also strikes me that if the acquisition of knowledge gained at a university is a privilege that separates classes in our society, it means that we have lost a shared culture between the educated, and the skilled trades. We have lost that shared culture because we don't pay anyone enough to do anything. The resentment between them is probably caused by economics, but very few alleged conservatives are willing to do anything to prevent rich and culturally distant enclaves from persisting. There may be so-called "liberals" who are similarly resistant, but less economic stratification would lead to more cultural interactions of a healthy sort. The apparent dominance of numerous "progressive" absurdities is exacerbated by the economic stratification upon which it rests.
Anyway, I'm grateful for the continued success and advancement of my friends in their careers, and I believe that what they do is noble, and worth preserving. I'm especially thankful that in the end, I did not attend university to "get a job," though there is nothing wrong with that. Universities are about teaching and learning, and those things persist, and ought to persist, irrespective of the bottom line.
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