Written by Greg Lyons
First, I will tell you what a student is not. A student is not a means to an end. A student is not a potential doctor, lawyer or business owner. A student is not a grade point average. A student is not a list of major course requirements, a series of papers and exams, or an empty cup of coffee and a half-eaten bagel. I am suggesting a model of education so radical that its first name is “liberal.”
Suppose that President David Burks were to approach you today and offer this deal: Pass a series of exams from your remaining courses, pay the appropriate amount of tuition, and without another single day in class, you can receive your full diploma. Would you take him up on his offer?
Most animals have realized some kind of reward system. Many have developed a rudimentary society and societal roles. A handful of more intelligent creatures even value delayed gratification. But in all creation, only human beings comprehend the abstract concept of “bettering oneself.” A student is the realization of pure, unadulterated self-improvement.
The liberal arts are not some burden cast off by the junior year. Medieval universities adopted the seven classical liberal arts as the essential qualities of an educated person. Scholars valued a man of understanding over a man of skill, not because of some pedantic obsession, but because a wise man will learn and practice his skill with prudence, deliberation, and innovation.
The modern liberal arts have changed to suit our society, but the intent remains the same: Honest study of these will equip and inform you fundamentally; you will benefit no matter what discipline you pursue. Teach a man to think, and whatever he does, he will do it thoughtfully. A student is the woman who stopped eating at the catfish joint and learned how to fish.
Here is a complaint that never fails to make me grit my teeth: “I’ll never use this once I graduate.” I suppose if you never intend to employ ordered, logical reasoning, the study of mathematics truly is useless to you. If your chosen career requires that you be clueless about fundamental human nature, then I grant that history courses hold no value for you. If awful communication skills make up your most cherished attributes, then your composition class really is a waste of time. A student seizes every last bit of knowledge like a child gathering candy from a split piñata.
If the president of our dear university ambled up to my chapel seat tomorrow and in his slow drawl, offered me a degree in exchange for a few tests, a few thousand dollars and the letters of his favorite word, I’d start spelling with a “K.” As a student, the one and only obligation I have is to increase in wisdom and knowledge. Why would I throw that away for a cubicle, a Jetta and a home in suburbia? College is not some four-year lucid dream we need to awake from; it is our last chance to figure ourselves out. A student is an epitome of self-determination.
My father once told me that the moment we stop trying to better ourselves is the moment we fail. If you have fought tooth and nail through college up to this point just to pass your classes, this message is not for you. If you have a 3.5 GPA and still manage to watch three hours of television a night, I am speaking to you. I cannot say this strongly enough: The only thing you are entitled to as a student is the opportunity to learn. Everything else, you must earn. A student is not the path of least resistance. A student is the most arduous mountain trail.
A bagel will decay. A paper will be thrown out. A list of classes will become obsolete. A number will be forgotten. A doctor, a lawyer and a CEO will all retire. And the plans that you make for the future are beyond your control. I sincerely hope we are not simply the sum of our actions. A student is one who hopes with me and holds stock in the only sure thing: her own soul.
