In the course of a few generations, four years at college have begun to morph from a luxury for the American elite to a rite of passage. According to U.S. Census data, 4.6 percent of Americans had completed at least four years of college in 1940; the number rose to 27.7 percent in 2005. This phenomenon-which has condemned more and more trophy-chasers to three years of law school-even has a name: degree creep.
This same desire for differentiation has sent students scrambling for an even more preposterous pedigree: the double major. The well-rounded student needs, so the story goes, to concentrate in one "frivolous" subject and one "serious" one. As a result, we are plagued with a deluge of wistful second majors in English-and begrudged first majors in economics.
Trinity students, here is a secret: it really, really doesn't matter what you major in. No matter what your parents tell you-it's a fact. Want to go to law school? Do well on the LSAT and in all of your courses. Med school? Just get orgo and the rest of the sciences out of the way. Investment banking? You'd probably do best to play a varsity sport. Beyond a certain threshold-which a Duke degree probably lifts you above-the business world cares much more about personality than anything else. The sole exception to this rule is if you want a Ph.D. right out of college, which is only for the most devoted of young scholars anyway.
What does matter in college, and what it seems fewer students recognize, is taking intellectual risks. The double major-which Duke students use as a hedge against both unemployment (the econ degree) and crassness (the lit)-rules out this chance. Double majors believe they are expanding their horizons by pursuing more than one discipline. But in reality, these students simply pigeonhole themselves into two highly specified ones.
One can crunch the numbers in a variety of ways, but the result is essentially the same: a double major roughly halves the number of classes a Duke student has to pursue an academic adventure. Ten courses-the bare minimum for second majors-may not sound like a great loss for an extra line on the resume next to "B.A." But it is.
It is hard, while in the Gothic Wonderland, to realize just how rare an opportunity it is to have world leaders in virtually every field willing to share their knowledge. Outside Duke, life can be monotonous; the only chance you'll probably have to pursue anything intellectual outside of work comes from books. Ask yourself: do you really think an extra accounting class is going to impress anyone? Do you think you'll even remember it in a year?
Duke's other specialty-undergraduate research-exacts almost as great a toll. Some students, especially those in the sciences or set on pursuing a Ph.D., have a legitimate need to pursue independent studies. Competitive medical schools and graduate schools do expect undergrads to have a hand in some lab work.
But an apparently growing number of students are doing extracurricular research for the sole purpose of being different. I ask you: why? It's really the law of diminishing returns in action. The time spent studying esoteric minutiae in one subject could be far better spent starting at square one in a new field. (Or, better yet, it could be time spent pursuing the real joys of undergraduate life.)
Some undergraduates seem to regard survey courses as unworthy of their time. But setting aside this arrogance, these students might find a perfect opportunity to gain a glimpse of a totally different world-perhaps one viewed through the eyes of a cultural anthropologist, an astronomer or an Eastern philosopher.
Ultimately Duke students-and perhaps faculty and administrators-need to reevaluate their idea of the undergraduate academic experience. The notion of narrow and focused education, often research-oriented, is seductive. But 18-year-olds shouldn't have to wed themselves to a single discipline, or positively chain themselves to two of them. It is the double major, more than anything else, which drives this overspecialization.
A broader, truly liberal education-driven by stronger core curriculum requirements, but fewer major requirements-would be better for everyone. Forget "pre-professional" Just take a look around instead.
Andrew Gerst, former managing editor of Towerview, graduated from Duke in 2006 and now lives and works in Washington, D.C. His column runs every other Monday.
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