A few months ago, William Deresiewicz came to talk about his recent book, “Excellent Sheep: The Disadvantages of an Elite Education.” In it, he talks about how the Ivy League and other schools of similar “elite” status manufacture students who are — surprise, surprise — “excellent sheep”: people who have no great sense of purpose in their lives, people who are unable to think critically.
I’ve read countless pieces crucifying Mr. Deresiewicz for his opinion, and many others praising him for his insight. I’m going to do neither, and diverge into my own tangent.
Here at Princeton, students have an intimidating workload. Impossible? I think not. But I do find myself constantly agreeing with this Deresiewicz quote: “The classroom is the grain of sand; it’s up to you to make the pearl” (82). In my own experience, I agree with the general premise of the quote; most of my learning does indeed come out of the classroom. That’s not to say that lectures and precepts are useless — far from it. Instead, these lectures and precepts are mere jumping off points, sessions that I find galvanize my interest in a topic and cause me to furiously give chase thereafter. But I must admit that the constant exposure to all these different resources and fields of knowledge is a cruel reminder of sorts.
Let me explain. As I write this, I’m sitting in the Scribner room in Firestone Library. It’s a lovely study area bathed with ambient lighting; delicate oil portraits flank the rustic wood tables, and bookshelves filled with English literature line the walls. I say that this gorgeous Scribner room is a “cruel reminder” because I know that I’ll never be able to absorb all the knowledge in this room. There’s so much great literature on these shelves, and I don’t think I’d even have the time to finish one shelf in my four years here. And this is just one room in one library here at Princeton.
Essentially, I desperately wish that colleges would give students more time to engage in self-exploration and self-education (or invent some quantum physics time dilator thing to extend the day to a 48-hour day). I realize that many students would fill up their newfound time not with learning, but instead with hard liquor and excessive frivolity, but for the rest of us, this time would be a godsend in our quest for — as Deresiewicz puts it — building a “soul.”