In a couple of weeks I will start taking a computer science course at Harvard, just a few minutes walk away from where I work at the National Bureau of Economic Research. It will be the first time my formal higher education has taken place outside of Duke. Not surprisingly, embarking on a new academic journey has brought old memories into focus.
It has also forced me to reconsider what the most general goals of higher education are. The United States is home to the world’s most prestigious and dynamic institutions of higher learning, but even places like Harvard and Duke face their fair share of challenges. Every good college or university strives to stretch the minds of its students, to encourage them to engage their global community and to expand the boundaries of human knowledge.
These are undoubtedly idealistic goals. But there is a practical component to American higher education as well: the enhancement of marketable skills. The struggles of this year’s graduating class to find good jobs have been well documented. The job market has forced many—especially new graduates—to question if the college experience is delivering on its promises, and others to question if college is worth all the money, time and effort.
Most statistics say college is a pretty good investment: The unemployment rate for college graduates is half what it is for non-graduates, and college graduates still tend to earn significantly more than non-graduates over their lifetimes. But those statistics don’t negate the stories one hears about new graduates drowning in debt or working in low-skilled, soul-draining jobs. Some college graduates will step into a bleak reality upon leaving school.
But even the jobless graduates will probably admit that there were good stories to temper the bad. For most, college remains the most fondly remembered time in life—the middle-aged look back on their college years with light in their eyes, the newest graduates with tears. In my opinion, the question we should be asking is not “is it worth it” but rather “how do we make it more worthwhile?”
The recession has called into question the utility of a college education, but colleges and universities are not reeling from an existential crisis. The crisis, if any, that higher education in America faces today is an epistemic one. The question is not “should we learn,” but what should we learn, and how? Administrators have devoted a lot of time and money to developing an answer to that question.
The result has been an explosive increase in the number of opportunities given to undergraduates. Studying abroad has become a right of passage. Being matched to an internship or some other rewarding summer experience is expected. Having state-of-the-art facilities in which to do research is assumed. American higher education really is the land of opportunity, but that is not necessarily a good thing.
Sometimes the pressure to seize an opportunity crowds out the process of developing goals. If studying abroad or getting an internship or doing research helps you to achieve your goals then, the experience is a good and useful one. But, if it is done haphazardly, or worse, with no goal in mind, then it is a distraction—seizing superfluous opportunities often times makes us feel like we have achieved something when in fact we have not. There are of course some opportunities that motivate us to create goals, DukeEngage, for example, might encourage a person to find a passion they never knew they had.
There are a lot of opportunities afforded to undergraduates, but the ones with the most merit are the ones that advance your goals—and the sooner the better. This is one area where a liberal arts education may lead people astray: Academic exploration is not just encouraged, it is required. That’s not a bad thing, In fact, the ability to explore is a necessary part of being an emerging adult. Findings in developmental psychology support this.
But they also acknowledge that exploration should have some direction, otherwise identity formation and the subsequent assumption of enduring responsibilities (saying to yourself that I am a person who wants to get married or wants to work hard) is delayed. The American system of higher education still struggles to give students the direction they need to succeed. All the inputs are there, but assembling a good student who is a freethinking global citizen is not straightforward.
When making changes to a college or university’s curriculum, administrators should acknowledge the limits of their control over a student’s development: some self-assembly is required. But it is also important that such assembly is directed—and administrators can do much more to provide direction. One thing that we could do better at Duke is mentorship. Mentorship goes beyond advising people what to do and how to fulfill requirements: It involves getting to know students, talking about their interests and finding ways to advance their goals.
It is just what young, multi-talented people need.
Paul Horak is a Trinity junior.
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