Michael Masch has no academic degree. And boy, is he successful. He's a great teacher, his CV would impress anyone and he's doing an excellent job at Penn.
While a few lone voices have decried Masch's presence at the helm of Penn's budgetary operations, the overwhelming reaction on campus to the "news" of his "unqualified" status has been "who cares?"
This is reassuring, as it suggests that we know the real significance of education. We know it's the process, rather than the means of production, that matters.
It's reassuring because as we all struggle through the actual experience of university life, things can get depressing.
From the moment we arrive at Penn, we're being packed full of information. Most of it's "short-term-essential" knowledge -- the kind we fail tests for not having and the kind that's useless, and forgotten, two months later.
Our brains, like stuffed chickens, can only hold a certain amount at one time -- if knowledge gets shoved down the throat, then some will get thrown out the arse to make room for it. Otherwise we explode.
We've all felt that sensation of constipated "information overflow." It's highly unpleasant and in moments of doubt, we pray it's not all we're here for.
Fortunately our education does -- or at least should --stretch beyond the accumulation of other people's ideas.
After years of college we should be able to think for ourselves, process information as individuals and present our own ideas in a way that's clear, accessible and impressive. And if we can't do it for real, we should have a good idea how to fake it by the time we graduate.
That's where the real privilege of education lies. It gives us the tools to help ourselves in almost any situation we encounter. It gives us the best chance possible to be empowered, global citizens.
Or does it? What of all the amazing people who have fulfilled all possible dreams with no such education? What of those people who have skipped the crippling expense of the college years, walking straight out of high school to become top businesswomen, civil rights leaders and entrepreneurs?
Despite not completing his degrees, Masch did go to college. But many others didn't even do that.
Richard Branson -- founder of the Virgin empire -- started building businesses by the age of 17. He showed no need for the fostering of his intellectual individuality through a four-year college program.
Rosa Parks understood the problems in her country without any university training. She still had the individuality and political wisdom to take a stand and provoke mass demonstrations that opened a new chapter in the civil rights movement.
William Faulkner -- one of the greatest novelists of the 20th century and a Nobel Prize winner -- did not even finish high school. He didn't need to be pushed, preened and stuffed with academic instruction to become one of the most revolutionary and brilliant writers of all time.
So what's going on here? Are these just "genius" exceptions, or can we use them to realize valid alternatives to our own educational processes? Is it possible that there's a richer, purer way of getting that "special equipment" for life, than stuffing ourselves with endless volumes of the written word?
I love books. Anyone with access to them can be enriched and revitalized. But if I had to tell you the two experiences so far that have taught me the most, neither would be university studies. They would be going to boarding school at age 12 and going to Africa to teach high school kids at 22.
Those things blew my mind, giving me a totally different perspective on life and making me feel like I could cope with almost anything that came my way.
They probably won't be key factors in getting me a good job, though. They'll act as internal sources of strength and vision throughout my life, going largely unacknowledged by the outside world.
It's hard to remodel from the bottom if the top doesn't want to hear. But the more Michael Maschs and Richard Bransons we get climbing through the ranks in unconventional ways, the better chance we have of persuading society to accept less traditional routes to success.
Hilary Moore is a third-year Ethnomusicology graduate student from Perth, Scotland.
