Maybe we don’t read as much we used to, but our ambition remains.

I don’t normally wake up at 6 am. But last Tuesday I did, so that I could complete the Hebrew Bible reading for my Contemporary Civilizations class later that day. After about two hours of studying, I needed a break. I opened up my computer to my favorite publication, The Atlantic, for an allotted ten minutes of palate-cleansing, non-academic reading. I was greeted with a shock of irony. The first article displayed was a blatant affront: “The Elite College Students That Can’t Read Books” by Rose Horowitch. It had been published to the website minutes before. I had woken up early to complete the readings and had opened my computer to be told I couldn’t read. I shut it in defeat. Back to the Bible, I guess. 

The article mentions Columbia in the first sentence by addressing the fabled Literature Humanities curriculum and then comments that students can no longer handle the breadth of the required readings. Excuse me? Separate from the immense betrayal I felt from The Atlantic (my subscription just renewed by the way, so you’re welcome, Laurene Powell Jobs), the article offered some insight into the changing academic landscape. 

Horowitch suggests various causes for the decline in student’s reading and comprehension capabilities, among them: primary and secondary school reading lists that emphasize short form texts rather than entire books, the omnipresence of technological distractions, and a shifting concern toward professional development rather than academic fulfillment. She’s right. Columbia students likely don’t read as much as they used to. I don’t think that’s from lack of effort, however. My early wakeup was by no means abnormal for a typical Columbia student. A drive to succeed is the common denominator I see in all of my peers, though the exact definition of success varies from person to person. In fact, the reason my work had been delayed until the morning of class was due in part to my extracurricular commitments and the weight I place on my other courses. 

At Columbia, the ubiquitous pressure to succeed is a far more important factor than the technological distractions. Success at Columbia is no longer simply defined as academic growth, but rather how well one prepares themselves for later professional prosperity. When one is paying for an education like Columbia’s, which has become arguably more and more inaccessible to the middle class class, the sacrifice must be met with an outcome. Columbia students do not “struggle to muster the attention or ambition required to immerse themselves in a substantial text.” as Horowitch asserts. Rather, that ambition is directed elsewhere–to jobs, to volunteering, to clubs. The growing exclusivity and astronomical cost of higher education has created a culture in which only classroom enrichment is not enough. The interior of the ivory tower has become bustling. Extracurriculars, as Horowitch agrees, have become far more present in the lives of students, an added undertaking that holds weight on their resumes. Columbia students do not have infinite time, and unfortunately deep reading, which is not always necessary for adequate GPA outcomes, falls short on the ever-expanding list of priorities. One could argue that education for its own sake has become a disappearing privilege of the elite. Even then, there is a so-called hustle culture that is nearly inescapable. 

Horowitch concludes the article by saying that “to understand the human condition, and to appreciate humankind’s greatest achievements, you still need to read The Iliad–All of it.” I agree, to an extent. To read and discuss The Iliad is an immense privilege that should absolutely be taken advantage of, but to characterize it as an absolute necessity is to disregard the experiences that may lead to a lack of deep reading, and to assert that humanity cannot be completely understood without the Western canon. I agree that to completely give oneself over to the pursuit of knowledge is what college should be. It should be an attempt to cultivate the student’s inner life, to push them to grow, to understand the mysteries of the human condition. I am an idealist in the way that I believe in learning for its own sake. However, I feel that higher education has entered a state that does not provide room for such contemplation. The disparities in secondary education create classes of students with widely differing abilities, and often the students from privileged backgrounds have been given greater opportunities to prepare for classes like Literature Humanities. Further, a Columbia education has turned into a name brand, a status symbol that cannot be worth the sacrifice if placement after graduation is sub-par. Grades and resumes have become the driving force behind achievement at Columbia, rather than a true love for learning.

In fact, as I write this article for Bwog, one of my extracurriculars, I am being stared down by my copy of Augustine’s City of God which I desperately need to complete. Chris (shoutout my CC Professor), I promise I’ve been doing the readings. 

Literature Humanities Books via Bwog Archives