Educationalists
Taking Over the World
Upon his return from
Florida, S.Q. Lapius buried himself in his den, clamped a set of stereo earphones
over his head and didn’t talk to me for three days. It had been quite an
effort for him to go to Florida in the first place, since it meant that he had
to overcome his aversion to flying. The word aversion was a euphemism for
“fear”.
I had, in the past,
flown with Lapius, not in the least a tranquilizing experience. Of course
the seats were too small, the space for his feet and knees, to say nothing of
his abdomen, too crowded. The seat belt had to be pulled to its maximum
stretch to encompass him. And he was wont to observe wryly, “If it’s so
damned safe, Harry, why the belts?” He remained subdued and in deep concentration
during take-off, permitting no intrusion on his thoughts, which, I was to
learn, were concerned only with maneuvering the vast flying machine into the
skies. I tried to explain to him that that job was the sole
responsibility of the pilot. “Nonsense, Harry. We all must do our
share. After all, if the contraption falls to the ground, it isn’t the
pilot alone who suffers.”
When Lapius finally came
out of his morose introversion I was able to ask him what he accomplished in
Florida. “Not a thing.”
“Were they polite?”
“Barely. As you
know I was invited to present my views on open enrollment to the annual education
convention. But all I met was educationalists.”
“Who did you expect at a
convention on education?”
“Teachers, but they
don’t exist anymore. I learned, to my dismay, that there is a profession
of educationalists.”
“Didn’t you know that?”
“No. When I was in
school, if a man was a Latin scholar he was deemed qualified to teach
Latin. Now you have to be qualified in education, then you can take Latin
as a minor course and that enables you to teach it. You can’t teach
mathematics just by becoming a mathematician. First you must take
education courses.”
I was sorry to hear that
he had gotten so cold a reception. He had gone to Florida to espouse his
plan for open enrollment in professional schools. I knew his talk
backwards and forwards, because before he left, he had practiced it ad
infinitum, before and after every meal, which took up the entire day except for
sleeping hours.
His point mainly was
that the first year of professional schools should permit open
enrollment. This would have the following advantages. It would
obviate the necessity for someone applying to the various colleges all over the
country, which cost up to $50 per application, thus disadvantaging those
without the money. It would save time, because if a person was not
admitted he would have to go through the entire process the following
year. It would give everyone the chance to embark on the career of his
choice, and leave it to the honest competition of a demanding curriculum to
determine who would succeed and who would fail. It would tend to
recreate educational standards, which lately, seem sorely lacking, and
overall, it would be more democratic than the present system.
I had tried to point out
that his innovation, which wasn’t really so new, because they did that in many
countries of Europe, would still graduate the same number of doctors, lawyers,
dentists, what have you.
“Of course. But
you might get a better mix of graduates this way. Look how it is run at
present. A student goes to college, then applies to a professional
school. An admission committee, never having met the man, judging from
grades alone, makes certain cold assessments. Then a certain number are
accorded interviews, then the selections made.”
“I don’t see how your
way is better.”
“You don’t?”
Lapius’s eyes widened in surprise. “I am surprised at you. I
thought that you had learned something through the years of our friendship,
Harry.” I ignored the remark, which Lapius accepted as a signal to
continue. “After all, how can an admissions committee from a brief
interview really make a choice? From the applicant’s record – a cold
uninformative document. But in open enrollment the faculty would have an
opportunity to observe the student for an entire year. They would be in a
position to offer remedial help if need be, or to take into account any number
of factors that contribute to the making of a doctor.”
“It seems to me,“ I told
him, “That would give certain students an opportunity to ingratiate themselves
with the faculty. Students with smoother personalities might do better
than the more abrasive person. All you would be doing is substituting
one set of inequities for another.”
“I don’t agree.
But even so, the system would be less complicated than the one currently in
use. And most important, it would offer real hope – because people would
be given opportunity where none exists.”
Anyway, it was with that
mood of hope that Lapius embarked on his plane to Florida. But I found
his black mood on his return irritating.
“What are sulking
about?” I scolded. “So they didn’t agree with you? Does everyone
have to agree with you to make you happy?”
“Not at all, Harry,”
Lapius said solemnly. “You know better than that. It wasn’t that
they agreed or disagreed with me. The problem was that they ignored me.”
“How was the flight
back?”
“That was better.
They didn’t ignore me. As a matter of fact, they paid considerable attention
to me. The even searched me.”