<p>This started (on another thread) with my being struck by a throw-away, completely typical line about a kid’s reaction to Brown – “I need a little more structure than that”. And I thought, I’ve heard or read that countless times, including from my own kids, but it doesn’t make any sense. Why would a kid who is a legitimate candidate for Brown really need general curricular structure at all?</p>
<p>After all, Brown’s open curriculum doesn’t stop anyone from taking exactly the same courses she would take at Harvard, or Williams, or wherever. And all indications are that 95% of the students at Brown (or Amherst, or Smith, or anywhere else without explicit general education requirements) do just that. It isn’t that Brown. institutionally, doesn’t value a broad education. Brown ensures it by mainly admitting the sorts of students who will opt for that. So why do kids (and parents) often react negatively to that?</p>
<p>My conclusion, I guess, is that it is fundamentally a question of immaturity, and what I termed teenage proto-facism. They don’t like the idea that there are no rules, even if THEY, personally, don’t need rules to do what they think is the right thing. Maybe they are afraid that other students will “abuse” the lack of rules, without considering that those other students may have valid, interesting reasons to do what they do.</p>
<p>Why do colleges have general education requirements in the first place? I understand the desire to make a statement about what an appropriate education is. If I were King of some university, I have little doubt that I would legislate my idea of the greatest good, too. However, I note that at most elite universities, after it passes through various faculty committees, it winds up as a bunch of attenuated distributional requirements, salted perhaps with a few interdisciplinary freshman seminars. That was what my college was like, and it was largely irrelevant. In four years, and 36 courses, there were exactly two courses I took in order to meet distributional requirements. They were entertaining, and stimulating, but contributed absolutely nothing to my overall education. One was a Bio for Poets course, taught by a Nobel lauriate, no less. But my real collegiate science education came from living with a couple of future medical researchers, and reading some of the things they were interested in. (One of my senior roommates and I did a reading program on Sociobiology, which was that year’s big thing.)</p>
<p>That’s what universities are for, to some extent. Bringing people with different interests together, and see what happens. Distributional requirements don’t add a heck of a lot to that.</p>
<p>Some universities opt for some sort of core curriculum. That has the added benefit of creating a shared culture and frame of reference among students, but it comes at a fairly high cost. In the end, a lot of the core courses are neither fish nor fowl – boring to students with prior interest in that area, and oppressive to students who don’t care about it, and the two groups annoy the hell out of each other and make the classes less pleasant for the groups in the middle who might be liking them. And most of the core schools still pull back from making creative writing majors and pre-meds sit in the same science classrooms. (Although some creative writing majors choose to do that anyway.)</p>
<p>In the final analysis, I think requirements are mainly marketing on the part of colleges, something to attract the students who like the ideas expressed by the systems. As an adult, I think I would have to vote for Brown’s approach as being the best – the only one that is fundamentally respectful of the students it is admitting, and that guarantees that every course will be full of students who are eager to be there.</p>