On Sentimentality and College
One of the issues this whole fracas over Woodrow Wilson and Princeton brings up for me is just how sentimental we can be about college campuses and education. To listen to the critics of these Princeton students, you would think that until these students came along, there was a vital discussion happening on the college quad. On any given afternoon, undergraduates, in groups of four or five, would look up through the fall leaves and see Wilson’s name on one building, Nassau’s name on another, Firestone’s name (yes, that Firestone) on a third, and ask, wondrously, why is this building named after Wilson, Nassau, Firestone? Who were these men, what did they do, why should we be honoring them in this way? Then along come these students, with their nasty Stalinist ways, threatening to shut those vital little idylls down, with their simple zealous demand that Wilson’s name be cleansed from the campus.
I’ve been on college campuses since 1985, running the gamut from the most wealthy and elite to the most cash-starved and working class, and I have to say: that just isn’t my impression of how campuses actually work. I teach in William James Hall; the only person who ever asked me who William James was, was my seven-year-old daughter. Most students have other things to do. I know when I was an undergraduate I never asked these questions, and I was among the more bookish of my classmates.
Now most of the people slamming the Princeton students seem to be college graduates. So I wonder what their college experience was like—and more important how they now remember that experience. Was it really such a Socratic revelry of collective self-examination? Or was it the usual hash of study, sex, drink, and the occasional existential bull session about the meaning of life? (I’m now talking about elite campuses; my students at Brooklyn College seem mostly to be studying, working several jobs, taking care of younger siblings or children or grandparents, and commuting, commuting, commuting.) Are the critics of the students at Princeton indulging in a middle-aged man’s reverie for an experience that never was? Are they worried about their children? Or themselves? What issues are being worked out here? Whence this sentimentality?
It’s not just the Princeton controversy I’m thinking about. It’s the whole range of discussion—really, obsession—about what is happening on college campuses today. Where the default assumption seems to be that before These Students, it was a postcard of Oxbridge and Alcove 1.
Update (7:30 pm)
My Facebook friend Tim Lacy made a very wise observation in response to this blog post: There is one group of students on college campuses who do tend to engage in this kind of critical self-examination. Those who feel—or are made to feel—most out of place. That feeling leads them to ask questions about why they feel that way, which can lead to questions about names, buildings, the built environment of their learning. At places like Princeton, those students tend to be black or Latino/a.