<p>Well, QuantMech, I thought the Yale I entered 40 years ago was pretty much Paradise. I was exactly the sort of student you want: I had decent ECs, but no one would have mistaken me for anything other than an academic student. I went to Yale (over Harvard and Princeton) in large part because I wanted to work with a specific professor, a few of whose books I had read and admired, and because in general it had a much higher-regarded English Department than the other two at the time. And I did work with him – by the end of my first year, he had consented to be my advisor and to let me audit his key graduate seminar. And when I learned who the other cool literature professors were, I worked with them, too (or at least a lot of them), including the grad students everyone admired and good young faculty.</p>
<p>I entered college with a lot of background in literature – I had taken a 300-level college course in Spanish Renaissance poetry in 11th grade, among other things, and I actually got accused of plagiarism my freshman year for writing above my station about Sappho. But at college, I also got introduced to – gasp! – economics and accounting, and the college helped my get what would now be called an internship on Wall Street that opened new vistas and changed my life. I got interested in African-American folklore, and some years later introduced my teacher of that (Bill Ferris, who went on, among other things, to chair the NEH) to my mother, who carried on a correspondence with him for the rest of her life. I took a course on dance history with a famous dance critic.</p>
<p>And I loved learning from my fellow students – which sometimes meant learning from other senior faculty at one remove, and other times meant learning from people who were the senior faculty of the future. (A few years ago, a political paper my future spouse had written with a number of other women when they were all undergraduates turned up online, and when my daughter saw it she gasped, “Some of the people you were working with are REALLY IMPORTANT scholars!”) My senior year, one of my roommates and I formed a study group to consider things that were not really in the curriculum, and we did feminist theory and sociobiology. Our reading list for the feminist theory program was entirely supplied by classmates. My residential college at the time included three future Supreme Court clerks, six or seven future high-level federal government officials, a future top-5 law school dean, four future department chairs at places like Mass General and the Cleveland Clinic, a couple of Olympians, a future Pulitzer prize winning journalist, a future NFL all-star, a future movie/TV star, and a reality TV pioneer.</p>
<p>Not everyone was super-intellectual, although everyone was plenty smart. Academics was absolutely at the center of people’s lives, even when they were “distracted” (as they often were). I remember one party at which the immediate past captain of the football team, very much four sheets to the wind, earnestly explained his idea for his senior essay (on some pre-Socratic philosophers), and the trouble he was having with it, to anyone who would listen (which was a bunch of people, many asking good questions or offering helpful suggestions). The music, drama, sports, art, were really exciting. So was the sense of being just barely removed from the corridors of power, the places where things happened. But academic investigation and intellectual discourse sat at the center of everything, at least as long as we were there.</p>
<p>It was perfect, or pretty darn close.</p>
<p>I get the sense that things have changed a bit, but not that much. My children’s experience at Chicago was very close to mine, except that the music, etc., was not quite as exciting, and the sense of being close to the sources of power in society almost entirely lacking.</p>