COLUMN: Real learning? Not at Penn

From Sarah Giulian's, "From Under My Rock," Fall '96 From Sarah Giulian's, "From Under My Rock," Fall '96I graduated from Penn, but I wouldn't say I got an education," a friend who recently graduated from Penn told me. In May, I think I'll be singing the same song. Students in the Engineering, Nursing or Wharton schools are learning practical, applicable skills; if this is the goal of education, maybe we're not doing badly. However, the teaching of "practical, applicable skills" should not be our goal. Ideally, we should spend our college years satiating a thirst for knowledge, being excited and inspired by our readings and lectures, looking forward to class and discussing and trading knowledge with fellow students. This isn't happening. In high school, most of us caught a glimpse of stumulation in learning. At a university, we should be feeding this instinct. Instead, it's too difficult to get up for class in the morning. We check our watches throughout lectures, force ourselves to do required work and long for weekends and breaks. Something is wrong with this picture. We've all had some bad classes at Penn -- classes that, despite student surveys expressing discontent, continue to be offered. We've all had professors who teach subject matter with exciting potential, matter they should have a passion for. And yet they leave as excited as a Wawa cashier. Stimulation? What's that? Penn has lost sight of our purpose for studying here. Yes, we should be having an "experience," meeting people, partaking in activities we enjoy and maturing. But learning cannot be secondary. Professors must be enthusiastic and insightful, for only then can students be engaged and pushed. We are not a stupid bunch, but exams here are a joke. We learn what is required, memorize and analyze as we've been taught to. Papers are a joke, too. We spit out information like they tell us to; sadly, as a senior, I could skim, rather than read, any major novel and still participate intelligently in discussions, write a paper with a proven thesis and do well on the exam. I haven't thought about the book. I've just learned how to act like I have. Every student here knows what I'm talking about. Memorization instead of thought, regurgitation instead of understanding, grades instead of knowledge -- and a diploma without insight. We finish a semester with four or five credits of encapsulated knowledge, but we don't remember it. And why should we, if we never cared in the first place? I'm as guilty as anyone -- I've spent semesters poring over books I don't remember and acing exams I'd fail if I had to retake them now. I've come out of a few classes without learning anything. But this semester, I am privileged to be taking the best class I've ever had at Penn. Students and teachers should take note -- this course is what learning is about. Graded assignments are few and far between. Reading is only about 30 pages per class. These 30 pages, however, are always intense. The first day we were told -- as usual -- that the reading is mandatory for each session. But for the first time ever, in my experience, this is a serious requirement. Our professor begins a phrase and then drops one of our names. The unfortunate student has to finish her thought. It's a brilliant strategy, and here's why. If you're doing a half-assed job, it's easy to participate -- when you have a thought to add, you add it. The rest of the time, you vegetate. My classmates and I don't vegetate. People rarely skip class, and -- amazingly -- everyone comes with the reading done, ready to talk. Our professor, the most intelligent and energetic teacher I have yet to encounter, channels our thoughts. For 50 minutes, the class works to decipher what we've read, determine how it relates to the theories we've discussed and figure out what the other authors we've encountered would think of these ideas. Every class I am entirely engaged. Every class I am following and processing. And every class I am learning. Who would have guessed? There's absolutely no reason why every teacher at Penn cannot stimulate student interest and push us through learning, instead of through a massive workload. I hear an enraged outcry from the tenured, an argument from the sages: "We are here to help the students, but they must supply the spark of interest." I have a rejoinder: Professors must light the spark. Still, students are not off the hook. The investment of four years and thousands of dollars at a well-regarded university has to mean something. You may sign up for the easiest classes or do the least amount to get by, but realize that you are wasting something incredibly precious: an opportunity. I can't stress this point enough. If we don't put our minds into what we are learning, if we don't stretch ourselves to think and create, then what on earth are we doing here? I want to learn, to think, to process, to apply, to philosophize and to discuss. I want an education.