In education, work comes first

As registration rolls around and the process of schedule crafting begins again, it’s easy to be reminded of the advice that many of us may have received from teachers, parents and speakers upon graduation from high school. At that time, when it seemed that everyone fancied themselves experts on the matter, it was not at all rare to encounter the sort of sidewalk philosopher who cautioned against any sort of pre-professionalism, and recommended instead a course load conceived with an open mind, and with plenty of time left for meeting people and “getting involved around campus,” whatever that may mean.

This type of ill-conceived dogma is not confined merely to casual conversation, however, but works its way into slightly more institutional interactions as well. By the end of the college tour process, the anecdote on the part of the ever-original tour guide concerning the arbitrary choice of a class outside of their area of interest as a result of limited options which then inspired a change of their major became just about as tired as the one about how their professors had them over for dinner on multiple occasions.

Last year, at a local high school graduation, author, historian and current president of the University of Richmond Edward L. Ayers, an intelligent and accomplished man by any measure, spouted the same sort of rhetoric, urging the young college-going crowd to make time for things other than their studies. It seems that individuals at all levels of the collegiate experience are heavily favoring this approach, which must be at least a little unsettling to some.

For one thing, imagine (if you must, as perhaps you are too familiar already with the scenario) the predicament of the student who has been chiefly advised by people in professional educational capacities to focus on open-mindedness and free time in choosing classes, and who now finds himself several years into his college education and at a severe disadvantage as it applies to curriculum, major and graduate school requirements. Now, this isn’t really the strongest argument against the kind of advice in question, as any individual student should be responsible enough to educate himself on his requirements even without the help of those around him. Still, though, that student must feel some dissonance arising from the messages he’s been given. Certainly the time spent languishing in experimental coursework was nice, but the stress foregone is now knocking at the door and demanding to be paid in full. It’s that sort of inevitable retribution, conveniently left out of all those early conversations, for something that was too good to be true in the first place.

And it makes it tougher to get the job done in more ways than one. Even when a student decides that it’s time to leave behind his extraneous pursuits and hone in his focus on a chosen area of study, there’s no guarantee that he’ll find himself in the position to take the classes that he needs. The registration system at Duke does not necessarily ensure a preferential allocation of classes in a specific discipline toward students of that discipline. This, in conjunction with the wide swath of students dipping their toes into classes from department to department, makes it even more difficult to fulfill the requirements set upon the student.

In the end, though, these are not the real issues. Students can see for themselves when they need time to dabble and when instead it’s time to hit the grind. If they’re forward thinking enough, and if they can establish a conversation with a professor before registration, they can probably make their way into the classes they need as well. The problem with all of this chatter is the conceit at the bottom of it.

By reassuring students that neither plans nor paths are essential early on in their college experience, adults in positions of discipline are promoting a period of early indulgence that is antithetical to the principles that typically lead one to be successful in any serious endeavor. It is not aimless wandering and introspective revelation that bring a person to the genre of accomplishment that he seeks, but rather an ethic for sustained work. And this is no profundity; in fact, it is instilled in us from the time that we are young, when we are taught first to finish our homework and then to play, and not to take our dessert until after we’ve eaten dinner.

Is there a time for wandering without, as the saying goes, being lost? Certainly, and it is not in dispute that valuable personal growth lies in stepping outside of the comfort zone. But let that be the delayed gratification, the reward for fulfilling requirements and reaching goals, and the motivation for doing now what others will put off until tomorrow.