By Teresa Fang, Stentorian Editor-in-Chief
Two weeks ago, Dr. Jeff Lichtman, Dean of Science at Harvard University, began his research talk with five claims, each answering the specific question, “What is school for?” Together, the five claims expanded on education in the 21st century, stemming from a variety of philosophical considerations throughout his 50 years of teaching.
If you consider that almost everyone in the world (or at least, in this country) has access to a phone, “nearly all knowledge is at one’s fingertips,” which is the first claim Lichtman makes. I agree. I also agree with his fourth point, on behalf of educators: “The peril of education in the information age: because of the glut of information, professors are necessarily teaching an ever-smaller proportion of the extant data.” But the fifth point raises a series of questions as Lichtman questions the ways in which educators “fail” their students. Of these five claims, as someone who cherishes the value of education, I was curiously intrigued by his thoughts.
Rather than dissect his claims, I would like to summarize his argument, which he does himself quite nicely:
“First, irrelevancy. The subjects we [educators] teach are irrelevant to your ultimate career plans. For example, in medical school, you don’t use calculus. A doctor uses 0% of the calculus knowledge they learned in school.”
After presenting his points, Dr. Lichtman asked the audience of high school student researchers if they disagreed with anything he said. I was already responding to his points mentally, so I took the first microphone immediately. “Why is that a failure?” I asked. When I emphasize the importance of school, like Dr. Lichtman, many people echo similar claims that most of what you learn in school will not be applicable in the real world or that they will forget nearly everything they once learned. But I say the answer depends on what type of learning we’re referring to: the type on the whiteboard or the type beyond the whiteboard.
“Second, prematurity. When the courses are relevant, we [educators] hardly explain why they are, so you can’t focus on what is important as it is presented long before you might use this material, maybe 5-10 years later.”
I might not remember that Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492 in twenty years when I’m trying to interview people for a job hiring. But I will definitely remember a friend saying, “you should design the poster art because you’re good at art, and I’ll write the content in the meantime.” I learned that designating tasks to an appropriate individual with the perfect skillsets will finish our task faster so we can finally eat our meals during lunch break.
You may forget the curriculum, but you won’t forget the experience. Learning to judge one’s ability to fulfill certain responsibilities and justifying your selection are examples of knowledge that do matter. Perhaps, these are skills you might need that separate you from a good candidate for your dream job versus the ideal candidate for the responsibilities of the job.
“Third, preoccupation with the right answer. Perhaps the most important failure is that the whole science enterprise [sic] is just a continuation of the secondary school preoccupation getting the correct answer on exams, problem sets, and homework assignments. Regurgitating an expected answer has little to do with the real world, where the ‘right’ answer is unknown.”
Besides calling the entire occupation of researching science an “enterprise” (throwback to my previous piece on ncssm.edu’s misrepresented marketing of students) as if the sole purpose of research is to generate economic value, I think the preoccupation with the “right” answer is a universal failure that permeates through all subjects, not just in STEM. We endure numerous “irrelevant” courses in history, English, physics, and math, not because we intend to become an academic jack-of-all-trades (go on, make your snarky “erm, actually”s), but to develop our method of thinking and reasoning. Will I ever need to prove the Pythagorean theorem using geometry postulates when I’m in my late-30’s? No. But will I ever need to make a claim, learn how to support it with evidentiary facts, and arrive at a logical conclusion? Yes. I think me writing this article proves that I can.
Thus, school is for teaching you how to think. Not what to think, but how to think. You are getting your critical thinking in, your collaboration skills, and most importantly, the connections you might need later in life, aka your support system or your potential business partners. Indeed, you could think of this column as the sequel to my article “Settling the debate between STEM and the humanities.” Do I wish that more people were aware that “Frankenstein” is more than just a classic Victorian novel but a commentary on Marxism, Freudian psychoanalysis, and much more? Or that Emerson and Thoreau are two completely different people camping around the same pond? Of course, I’d love if America’s level of general knowledge of literature, and social studies, or just being more news-savvy about the world was more proficient, but I do not think that it is equivalent to trashing the entire education system.
“Last but not least, the fear of failure. Solving a problem often requires showing all reasonable ideas fail. Failure is a necessary part of finding a solution.”
School is not a promise of success and prosperity, but I do think that Dr. Lichtman and others are approaching school with misjudged expectations. He makes many sound and fair points, and undeniably, it’s important that students learn the curriculums they are taught in the classroom. But they shouldn’t walk away with report cards and memorized flashcards. They should be walking away with new and improved models of thinking and an arsenal of approaches for the real, structure-less world.
It’s undeniable that the quality of our education system, federally and at NCSSM, is flawed. Nonetheless, there is still value in it. But if you measure the value of school based on test scores and grades, then I suppose you really didn’t understand the assignment.