The Aims of Liberal Education

In John Boyer, ed., The Aims of Education (Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago, 1997), pp. 81-106.

611 105 3MB

English Pages [27] Year 1997

Report DMCA / Copyright

DOWNLOAD FILE

Polecaj historie

The Aims of Liberal Education

Citation preview

________________ THE COLLEGE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO

1997

The Aims of Liberal Education by Leon R. Kass

September 25, 1981

T

his is a rare occasion. Manyofyou probably will no.t return again t Rockefeller Chapel, and certainly not � together, unnl you return to graduate. And unless you cut short your summer vacations to attend this annual evenr, you are unlikely to hear another public lecture oh the aims of education. Once classes begin, both students and fac­ ulcy are usually much coo busy getting things done co think much about what they are doing and why, and that is as ic mnst be-though there have been times and may again be times when such collective radical self-scrutiny becomes pan ofthe everyday business of this campus. Yee though rare, this is nevertheless a typically Chicago occasion. It is the legacy of this University, and especially of this College, to exarnine fondarnental questions, and co do so thoughtfully, reflectively, critically'-even s elf-critically. It is also rypicaI of Chicago that there is no typical Chicago an­ swer to any serious quesrio11: two professors, three opinions; We are suspicious of orthodoxy and simple-mindedness. We love diversi(y; independence, and originality. And having searched our own minds, each of us knows, ot thinks he or she knows, what education is all abo11r. Please undersra11Cl., therefore, thar I do nor aspire to speak for the University or the College. I .merely aspire to speak che truth.

81

THE AIMS Ol' EDUCATION

Let me then start closer to the ground with a factual truth. Twenty-seven years ago, early in Orientation Week, I sat in your place here in Rockefeller Chapel, at the close of a tour of the campus, while the secretary of the University's Alumni Association discoursed on the construction and structure of this august building. I would not have remembered the occa­ sion except that a photograph of the event. taken from above later graced the University's alumni magazine, showing our very young and eager faces gazing on high at the tower. If ic were possible to elevate the soul merely by tilting back the head to look aloft on the ceiling, that part of Orien­ tation Week could have been edifying and ennobling. Indeed, though 1 recall being filled with excitement and some appre­ hension at starring college, I do nor remember that anything elevating was said during Orientation Week, but if it were, I was i Q all likelihood beneath response. 1 was too young, too shallow, too ignorant. If truth be cold, I remember altogether lit.de in particular of what my teachers tried to teach me during my four colle· giate years. Yetl have known for some rime that) in decisive ways, my experience here changed my life. I encountered one skillful teacher who forced me to acknowledge to myself that there were important questions co which che answers I car­ ried around unthinkingly were inadequate, I wasimroduced to rhe writings of great thinkers and teachers, nearly all of them dead, . from whom in later years I haveincreasingly drawn sustenance in .my pursuit of these questions. I made a few deep and lifelong friendships; friendships based in large mea­ sure on sharing in conversation the attempt to understand our experience of the world and of our own humanity. The College's thorough-going insistence on self-conscious and philosophical examination of basic assumptions and presup·

82

LEON R. KAss positions left its mark, and eventually, lam sure,. contributed to my exchanging a life ofthe practi"eofsciencefor one of thinking__ about it and its multiple bearings upon.human affairs. Though my liberal educatioh began to grow in earnest only much later, rhe College planted the seeds, Accordingly, I have it co tl:i.ankfor many of the joys-and the sadnesses-of the life of reflection and self-examination to wliich it beckoned. You how know much more than. you need ro about me. But I know very little about you, taken individuaUy, Yet to speak intelligibly .one m:usr know to whom cine is .speaking. You, of course, know or have been told by others this week how unusµal and exceptional you are, individually and col­ lectively: I wil-1 begin by assuming that you are common. You are eighteen, plus or minus; and nearly all of yo.µ are Ameri­ cans of the late twentieth century. Because you are young, your experience of the world is limited, largely to home and high school. Almost all of you have watched much television, ·many o.f you read the newspapers, some of you have traveled, and a few of you have read good books. You love novelry, care licde for rhe past, and think less about the long-term f1;1mre. In brier: you are smart, ralenred, and largely ignorant. Be� cause yot�.are Americans, you are toletant, easy-going oil your­ selves and others, Qsual)y restless, and by and large concerned with what is useful and practical. Most of all, all of you pride yourselves on your individQality and almost cercainly .resent my treating you as pare ofa common group. Yet there is in fact something µncomm