This year has been a significantly progressive one for The Observer, thanks to the hard work of the entire staff and all of the writers. Thank you all for passionately engaging with the paper every issue—sharing ideas, exploring new stories, and keeping an ear open for the buzz around campus. It is because of this that The Observer has published pieces that matter, pieces that have shaken the modern orthodox community on an international level.
I am not going to attempt to write a goodbye editorial nor will I attempt to send one final message about “fixing the university.” (Besides, President Joel seems to have that one under control). I will not lament the apathy on campus, critique the Humanities departments, or, forgive me, talk about yogurt. All of these issues have been written about extensively ten times over, and if they haven’t, far be it from me to bring up all of these issues now.
I would, however, like to bring up a philosophical debate about the nature of education. Over reading week and finals, I have heard many a complaint about the “unnecessary” nature of many courses and the “busy work” status of many of those courses’ finals. What is the purpose of education if not to glean knowledge, understanding, critical thinking skills, and culture?
Yeshiva University is a stellar university that provides a top-notch education—although we are all sometimes cynical about the system, the knowledge acquired through formal education is, in a nutshell, arguably the most valuable possession possible. While many students think classes are “jokes,” “wastes of time,” and “unnecessary,” if you gain but one new idea from that course, it was worthwhile.
While education is valuable and this theory that knowledge stems from ideas yields the question of why a student should bother to go to class–can’t these ideas be gleaned from books, YouTube, and the internet? What is the purpose of a professor?
My response: a good professor makes all the difference.
It’s tenure season. The Yeshiva University community will soon be alerted as to who will join a part of the permanent staffing family. As these deliberations take place, it is important to think about what type of educators will best serve the students for the long haul—is it the professor who lectures well who will, without a doubt, lose their vigor after reading from the same set of notes semester in, semester out for decades, or is it the professor who goes above and beyond—who lectures well and encourages students to think critically inside the classroom and out? Is it the professor who is brilliant, or the professor who goes beyond that? Is it a great professor, or the best professor?
What, however, is the mark of the best professor? In his The Ignorant Schoolmaster; Five Lessons in Intellectual Emancipation, Jacques Ranciere addresses this specific question. The job of the schoolmaster, as Ranciere explains, is to recognize the distance between the students’ understanding and a given subject matter. What this means is that the mark of a good teacher is acknowledging where the student is in his or her intellectual level and understanding and helping them guage a given subject or idea at that level.
Louis Althusser, Rancier’s teacher and inspiration, asserts, “The function of teaching is to transmit a determinate knowledge to subjects who do not possess this knowledge.” Thus, teaching depends on the students knowing less than the teacher. As a university student who has, in many of my courses, been encouraged to think critically and expansively, that just doesn’t sit right with me: according to this logic, if a student becomes more advanced than a teacher then the student should teach the class—but that is not how the formal education system works, and nor should that be how it works.
If education then, as I claim, should not be based on the student knowing less than the professor, then how can a professor teach? How then, should the education system work?
As Ranciere explains, what a child learn best is his mother tongue, what is spoken to and around him, and this is in an age before explication is possible. Understanding is, as depicted by this example, what a student cannot do without a master, but a student can still learn. The responsibility of a professor is therefore not to teach what one can understand naturally, instinctively, rather it is just to open up your ability to think and understand.
This, you may argue, is difficult in a university setting: but I need the professor to teach me organic chemistry, you may say. Yes, that is true to an extent, but do you really need the professor to teach you what the book says, or would it make more sense for the professor to enable you to understand the book on your own?
The role of a professor is to encourage students to think—not to think something. Their role is therefore merely to facilitate critical thinking and ensure that students’ cognitive functioning is enabling them to properly understand material on their own. The role of the professor is an enabler as well as an educator.
Food for thought, if nothing else, no?
With that, I would like to announce that The Observer staff has officially named Hannah Dreyfus as their Editor in Chief for the 2013-2014 academic year. Hannah began as a writer, moved directly up to Managing Editor, and has written many diverse and thought-provoking pieces throughout her tenure at The Observer as well as in other publications. Enthusiastic students looking to get involved with The Observer should contact Hannah or any member of the staff for more information about joining a legacy of strong and passionate women.
To the future staff of The Observer: the things you write matter. You are strong, intelligent women (and men) and you have brilliant insights to share. You are the women of Stern College. You have a voice. Use it—use it to raise issues, awareness, and foster change.
Your words have the power to do that—use it.
Read more.
Think more.
Engage more. (Pun possibly intended)
Be more.
You are already so admirable and have so much potential: embrace it.
I wish you all a good night and good luck.
{Yes. I went there. For those of you who understand the allusion, either you’re well-cultured or thanks for coming on the Shabbaton. For those of you who don’t, stay in school.}