I was having dinner with a few people, and somehow the talk moved to what thesis subjects they had chosen in college. One compared the inflation management strategies of the UK and EU central banks. One looked at stress among social workers. One told the story of the fall of the Russian house of Romanov. None of them could remember much about what was in their thesis – and none of them felt that they had put that research to any use in their subsequent careers. Other than helping them get a set of letters after their names, the work was, it seemed, functionally useless.
It’s not every day you get to quote Sylvester Stallone on matters of education. Or at least, Dwight Manfredi, the character he plays in the show Tulsa King:
“You think anyone really gives a sh*t what your college major is? English literature, biology, whatever. The whole point of a college degree is to show a potential employer that you showed up some place four years in a row, completed a series of tasks, reasonably well and on time. So if he hires you, there’s a semi-decent chance that you’ll show up there every day and not f**k his business up.”
Perhaps a little overstated: a degree in medicine might be pretty important if you want to work as a doctor, while it also raises the suggestion that you don’t need to go to all the expense of university to demonstrate your reliability. You could, for instance, get an actual job for four years.
Yet when a clip containing this speech was posted on social media, there were a lot of people more or less agreeing with the sentiment: and a lot of them taught in universities. Third-level education, these people seem to feel, isn’t what it’s ostensibly about: it’s really preparation for the so-called real world.
But is it? In college, lectures tend to be for a few hours a day, after which the student is expected to study. Come the summer, there is the pressure of exams (something they will already be familiar with from secondary school), and then they get three months’ holidays. There are precious few jobs like that. Apart from teaching in a university.
Of course, there is the argument that education is in itself a good thing – especially the humanities – and that it introduces students to ideas and cultures and other ways of being; that it helps produce a more rounded individual.
Give them a year to work or travel. They may decide, despite having a gazillion points, that they don’t want to be a doctor
There is undeniably something to that idea: and it was the experience I had in university. Not the rounded individual part, perhaps, but I went to UCD simply because I wanted to learn stuff.
I was already working, so I did a degree at night. It was of no professional benefit to me. (My bugbear: journalism should be taught as an apprenticeship, not a classroom subject.) I was there because I was interested in the subjects – which in turn provided me with the liberation of not having to worry too much about exams. I concentrated on the areas that interested me and largely ignored those that didn’t, resulting in a just-about-scraped-a-pass degree in English and philosophy. I had the advantage of not needing the qualification, and the advantage of being a little bit older and more confident. I regarded university as a resource to be used, not a place to be told what to do. I harbour a vague ambition to go back one day.
[ Why do Irish people slather everything with insincere positivity?Opens in new window ]
Of course, a post-Leaving Cert kid has neither of those advantages. Perhaps a mandatory course on How University Works might help. Or, more radically, a ban on going straight from school to third-level. Give them a year to work or travel. They may decide, despite having a gazillion points, that they don’t want to be a doctor. They may decide not to go back to education at all. Let the real world prepare them for college; not the other way around.