A former colleague pointed out an article from yesterday's New York Times, Verlyn Klinkenborg's "The Decline and Fall of the English Major." In the article, Klinkenborg offers an elegy for the decreasing numbers of undergraduate students of English language and literature. Cited are graduation numbers from Yale and Pomona College as well as a tripartite reason for the decline those schools evidence. Presented also is a statement of the value of the humanities in general and of the English degree specifically--not a direct monetary value, but a value insofar as it represents being able to effectively express thoughts and ideas, thereby effecting agency in the world. Unfortunately, Klinkenborg's statistical data offer too small a sample to be representative, and the statement of value--a fairly standard view among humanities scholars--is too vague to convince those who are not already convinced of the value of the humanities that the decline of their study in one form at the undergraduate level is lamentable.
It is unfortunate because Klinkenborg is correct in many points. The tripartite underpinning of the decline of humanities study is one of them: "One, the rush to make education pay off presupposes that only the most immediately applicable skills are worth acquiring (though that doesn’t explain the current popularity of political science). Two, the humanities often do a bad job of explaining why the humanities matter. And three, the humanities often do a bad job of teaching the humanities." The first point, the focus on "practical" rather than "soft" skills, is in some senses understandable; if college exists so that students can graduate and "get a job," then it ought to work towards getting them jobs. The idea is problematic, though, as I have noted in a few places: here, here, here, here, and, a bit differently, here, among others. In brief, the "soft" skills that the humanities teach can, in fact, help students in their jobs. Too, a narrow focus on "applicable" skills does not at all guarantee a hob--and students are more than their prospective jobs, in any event. The study of the humanities helps to address the whole person, and the improvement of the whole of the person is a desirable goal.
Klinkenborg does work to address the second, the paucity of explanations by humanities scholars of the value of the humanities. It is something which I have addressed in my own writings (here, for example, as well as here and here). I can add to my earlier discussion at least one other idea. With the observably increased saturation of popular and public culture with multimedia material comes a concomitant increase in the amount of symbolic content with which people are presented--and the humanities, both generally and in the English major Klinkenborg addresses specifically, are very much invested in the recognition and interpretation of symbolism. They may not be quantifiable skill sets, given the fluidity of interpretation. Even mathematics, reliant on such numbers as π (the accurate value for which is yet undetermined) and i (which is openly called "imaginary"), is not wholly quantifiable, yet it is not so decried as humanities study. Too, the studies of such revered subjects as law and theology (admittedly arguably among the humanities) are fundamentally investigations and promulgations of interpretation. Their value is not lessened thereby--and neither is that of the humanities as it emerges in the studies of languages and literatures. How people use language, in literature and elsewhere, reveals much of the human condition, and its study is therefore well warranted; the decline of such study is concomitantly a matter of concern.
The third member of Klinkenborg's trifecta, that of teachers too often teaching poorly, rings uncomfortably true. I have addressed that issue before, as well (among others here, here, here, here, and here). There are a great many people in the classroom, in all fields so certainly in the humanities, who ought not to be there. Many teachers at all levels are teachers because they could not get other jobs--and this is in part because teaching is too often seen as not a "real" career, not a "real" job. The image of the schoolmarm, who would often be dismissed from employment upon marrying, informs it. So, too, does the refusal to offer teachers decent salaries in many places in the United States. So, too, does the increasing reliance on transient labor to staff classrooms. It is disingenuous at the very least to act surprised that those who are in the classroom will handle their jobs poorly when they are told repeatedly, both explicitly and implicitly, that the job they do is not worth doing. Again, this is true in all fields, including the humanities. Perhaps it is more true of the humanities, whose students and teachers are more likely to be told of their uselessness than are those in many other fields. Their poor teaching, too much tolerated, combines with the other two members of the trio to undermine the value of the humanities. And if I have a vested interest in them, so that my comments on them must admittedly be regarded as biased in favor of them, I am not the only one--for as I note above, the humanities are the study of humanity, so that all people are invested in them.
Another point in which Klinkenborg is correct is that "writing well isn’t merely a utilitarian skill. It is about developing a rational grace and energy in your conversation with the world around you." Despite what pushes to testing standards would assert, despite what some of my current colleagues try (with too much success) to enforce upon the policies of my current institution and despite the views of a great many people (noted in at least one of the earlier posts I have already linked), clear language use is not only a matter of following "the rules," of adhering to arbitrarily determined forms of orthography and conventions of phrasing, just as effective play of any sport (something widely valorized) is not only a matter of following the sport's rules. Knowing when which rule comes into play is important. Knowing when and how to violate the rules is also important. And more important than either is delving into what has happened to develop new knowledge about what is happening so that what will happen can be glimpsed, if dimly, and shaped perhaps to better ends than would otherwise be the case. Good writing is very much an engagement with what was and is in the world as well as a means for the development of vigor and rigor of mind, which, as I tell my often-resistant students, allows for greater ability to resist manipulation by it as well as enactment of greater agency within it. These are desirable, as well.
Because Klinkenborg is correct in several points, as well as in the greater assertion that the reduction in study of the humanities is something worth concern and even mourning, it is unfortunate that "The Decline and Fall of the English Major" is unlikely to convince those not convinced of its correctness before reading the article. How it might be able to persuade those who need persuading is unclear. Perhaps a reliance on more of the type of empirical data that those who would seek to undermine humanities study--or even those who simply do not know enough about the matter and are therefore not so steeped in the humanities as to be already convinced of them--value would help. What is clear, though, is that more people do need to be convinced of the truth that Klinkenborg accepts and with which I agree: study of the humanities is necessary, far more than is often recognized.
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