Radcliffe College - Yearbook (Cambridge, MA)

Page 22 text:

aafaii vr«n«i SiWWW ®fioa«i a r « v'- xto 11 1 » I SfN ,H‘S ' -N ■ 'U u;v

Page 21 text:

 HARVARD EDUCATION: The Student Gains an Audience The Harvard University of J. Lawrence Lowell is rapidly disappearing— the community of scholars and gentlemen is becoming increasingly tied to the world of government, public service, and society. The University today is not an isolated community devoted to research and thought, but is called upon to lead major innovations in society. The guidance of the University is influenced by the funding policies of foundations and the government, as well as by the individual members of the academic community—faculty and students. But the planning decisions of the University seem to be dominated by the outside world, and as a result the faculty increasingly commits itself to research and public service. It is not surprising, therefore, that it pays only sporadic attention to the affairs of the College. Being minimally concerned with the College, the faculty cannot cope with the problems of undergraduate education. One such difficulty is the diversity of the educational aspirations of the student body. Some students desire a broad education, others wish to specialize in a field even though they have no intention of continuing their studies, still others specialize in the hope of eventually going to graduate school. Instruction at Harvard must be able to respond to the needs of jail, non-concentrator as well as concentrator, undergraduate as well as graduate. Unfortunately, most courses are intended primarily for specializes. A reappraisal and revitalization of some of the basic aspects of Harvard education is long overdue. The philosophy behind tutorial, fields of concentration, and distribution require-iments is a remnant of the innovations of President Lowell's :reign. Its last major reworking was in 1949, when the whole concept of General Education was inaugurated. President iConant led the assault on the system; he enlisted the support iof the deans, and goaded the faculty into adopting the idea of General Education — an educational program which is now presented to virtually every student going through the College. | General Education courses were developed in an effort to provide dabblers comprehensive, interesting surveys of whole fields. Yet, even some Gen Ed courses seem primarily geared for concentrators. Nat Sci 5 or its equivalent, for example, is Required of all biology majors. A more serious problem is that acuity innovations are sometimes made without accurate in-ormation on undergraduate interest. The recent failure of Nat Sci 115 is a case in point. This course, which was designed to pulline simple mathematical solutions to general problems (population control, flood control, traffic systems) drew very few students. This was but one of the many frustrating cases Ivhon the faculty couldn't seem to judge accurately the feelings of undergraduates. This year, the undergraduates themselves have started to ronverse with the College on educational matters. The admin-stration has developed an openness to student ideas and sug-;estions which has resulted in new importance for several :ommittees, most notably the Harvard Policy Committee (HPC) nd the Committee on Educational Policy (CEP). Many reports ■ nd proposals routed through these channels have reached i acuity meetings, where they have received the support of acuity members. There is a new aura of faculty interest and •rxeitement in the air; the meeting which decided the pass-fail issues was attended by 225 professors. The character of the present renovation is entirely different from the one which developed Gen Ed — the clamor is now •joming from the Houses, not Massachusetts Hall. The Harvard Policy Committee, which sprang from a shaky birth last year, has managed to reach puberty — its inputs (student ideas, interest, and effort) and its outputs (concrete proposals to the faculty) appear to be extremely effective. Numerous reports have been prepared under the aegis of the HPC, such as audits of the Architectural Sciences and Government Departments and of Independent Study, an appraisal of the house system, and a proposal for a fourth course pass-fail system. The pass-fail debate was in some sense a test of the HPC's effectiveness. Its campaign for pass-fail started in spring, 1967, when the HPC presented a proposal for a free pass-fail fifth course to the faculty. The Committee on Educational Policy, the organ of the College responsible for making recommendations to the faculty, approved the plan. No formal action was immediately taken, and as the HPC changed membership, the CEP almost lost interest. The new HPC drafted a simplified proposal: students should have the option of taking one of their four courses pass-fail. The CEP approved the report in November; the faculty endorsed it at its December meeting. During the process, the HPC had strengthened relations with the CEP, for in a virtually unprecedented occurrence, HPC members were asked to argue the issue before the CEP. Nonetheless, the pass-fail system has yet to be implemented. The specific details, left to the individual departments for solution, could inhibit if not completely prevent widespread use of the option by undergraduates. The Harvard Policy Committee has also attacked some of the specific problems of instruction; its departmental audits have been aimed at revitalizing course offerings within existing modes of instruction (lectures, sections, tutorial, seminars, theses, independent studies). To some extent, these audits have been succinct statements of trends already evident within the departments, but the airing of these proposals has greatly speeded changes. The most impressive response came from the Arch Sci Department. Within three months after the HPC audit, the department published a concrete outline of course offerings for the 1968-69 academic year which included almost all of the HPC's recommendations. The HPC has also launched a long-range effort designed to evaluate the academic requirements and responsibilities of the University and to attempt to provide specific proposals to the Harvard administration. This effort is embodied in the Harvard Education Project, which has enlisted a sizeable interest from undergraduates. Its prospectus outlined a list of faults: The concept of college education as preparation for vocational or graduate work in isolated, obscure fields, rather than as a personally relevant and broadening experience; the failure to use the House system as an intellectually and socially appealing residential unity; the over-reliance on large lectures; the lack of a truly responsive advising and counseling system; a university which is committed to hiring research professors with brilliant reputations and frequently not-so-brilliant teaching abilities: These are only a few of the things that we are up against. These are ambitious goals, and they invite the exploration of many delicate areas: the relation of the University to the College, the ambitions and needs of undergraduates, the professional and personal roles of the faculty, the aloofness of university management, and, above all, the role of the university in society. The results of the study could unleash the energy of students and faculty to ensure that a Harvard education approaches the superlatives of its reputation. — Robert F. Sproull 17

Page 23 text:

WHAT HARVARD DOESN’T TELL YOU Jeffrey Elman is the founder of the Harvard Education Project, a student group organized to examine the changing requirements and challenges of a Harvard education. In this article, which originally appeared i.n the Harvard Crimson, he surveys some of the problems which the group is studying. At some time during his four years as a Harvard undergraduate, nearly everyone asks himself whether he really belongs here. For some, this uncertainty may occur only briefly during the freshman year; others experience it more intensely as part of their “sophomore slump. And there is always the small but disturbingly increasing number of seniors who even at the end of their four years feel vaguely out of place. They suspect that what they wanted from Harvard was not what Harvard wanted to give them. Harvard has probably never been free of discontent, and dissatisfied students are to be found at any college. Sometimes the school is at fault, but when the dissatisfaction is confined to a small number, one tends to think the problems lie with the students. What perplexes and dismays many at Harvard is that this number has already passed the point of comfort. Most faculty members and administrators blame this situation on the draft. Until now. Harvard's solution for unhappy students has been to suggest a leave of absence. David Rics-man. Harvard's guru-in-residence, expressed this attitude when he said that in the absence of the draft, dropping out is a very good thing, both for the student and for the school. After a year or so of living in the big outside world, the student decides either that pumping books is preferable to pumping gas, in which case he returns, or else that it isn't, in which case he stays away. For a long time this alternative remained Harvard's ultimate therapeutic trump card, a sign of flexibility the school pointed to with great pride. Director of the Bureau of Study Counsel William G. Perry often refers to himself as the head of Harvard's drop-out program. But the crux of the problem is not that these students can't get out — it's why they got in in the first place, and, once in, why the feel cheated. When a significant proportion of a school's students are unhappy with their education, one must either revise the admission policies which accept them or the educational policies which instruct them. To encourage them quietly to leave is an easy way out, but in no way does it solve the basic problem. I Not only Harvard has to deal with a new kind of student population. Since World War II, there has been a gradual but steady change in the character of incoming college classes. Thirty years ago, only a small portion of American college-age youth went to college. Today, in what is fast becoming an established middle class pattern, over half the high school graduates enroll in higher institutions. The result has been that many students go to college today who wouldn't have gone thirty years ago. The opportunities are greater, the motivations different. During the Depression, only those who were academically motivated or wealthy went to college. Today, the typical college student ends up on campus because of social pressures and because of the vague feeling that education enables one to be a better person. He tends to be less of a pure scholar than his predecessor, and because it was easier for him to get to college (despite comparatively more stringent admissions requirements) he is more likely to criticize his education. Whatever one thinks of this situation — and there are many Old Guard educators who deplore it—the fact remains: the modern American college has gone a long way toward redefining its function by the mere process of redefining its student body. In the educational step ladder, the college today is what high school was yesterday. Students don't go to college today to become teachers or professional scholars, although they may later go to graduate school for these purposes. They go instead recognizing that the complexity of our society demands more than a high school education, and they hope college can prepare them to meet the challenges of modern life. It is entirely to the credit of the Director of the Office of 19