Shawn brought up a series of articles the other day at lunch that I find at once: interesting, confirming 0f my experience, and frightening. Yesterday, he sent along links to them. At the Institute we often have discussions about our experiences teaching undergraduates and we generally agree that we see what the article describes.
Thomas F. Bertonneau, a professor of literature at SUNY-Oswego, has written a three part article for the John William Pope Center for Higher Education Policy (Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3). Bertonneau has taught in a variety of higher education institutions and documents a worrying trend that other instructors of undergraduates have noticed. I will snip heavily from Bertonneau’s article to allow him to make the points much more eloquently than I can. He states:
Even in the mid-1980s, student interest in literature was low. I was a teaching assistant and teaching fellow at U.C.L.A.-a first-tier branch of a world-class state university. Except for a few English majors, however, most students saw the course as an obstacle to be hurdled or, better yet, circumvented. Poetry-averse engineering majors and haughty pre-law types volubly asserted the unfairness and inconvenience of having to study Shakespeare or Cervantes. Many read the assigned books desultorily and quite a few disdained to read any of them at all. Obsessively clever, they figured out ways to cheat on the quizzes that I imposed to keep them to the reading schedule. …
In the main, however, students used competent language. They completed their sentences in grammar not too defective, and they deployed vocabulary more or less at an adult level. And in those days one still saw students actually reading books, even if they were not the books assigned in their classes. I recall a moment when it seemed that every frat-boy on campus was lugging around the paperback of The World According to Garp. (I don’t know why.)
Bertonneau is not kidding. These days the average student does not seem even to purchase the assigned texts, much less read them. Bertonneau assesses the problem and its effects:
Adults know what propels the descent: proliferating electronic media, video games, an ideologically inspired de-emphasis of rigorous learning at all levels of education, and a pervasive attitude of entitlement that students now absorb into their deficient souls the way babies drink nourishment from a mother’s breast. Flashing lights and three-minute “rap” songs stultify cognitive development. MTV, that bastion of the youth audience, nowadays specializes less in the music video than in the “reality show,” with its endless, formless palaver among “twenty-somethings” confined in a house.
These models of comportment are definitely oral rather than literate. A number of publications over the last decade, such as Mark Bauerlein’s The Dumbest Generation, have remarked on the phenomenon of a noticeable restriction of cognitive range in college undergraduates. What Bauerlein sees, I see: young people cut off from any elevated sense of who they are, frozen in the “cool” indifference of pop-culture, largely confined to the restrictions of the present moment, and hostile to maturity.
We have seen this on our blog. A number of years ago Shelray did a post using the image of sculpture of a human-dog chimera to illustrate his point. This post was eventually facebooked by some one and has become our most active post. Until we finally cut off comments, we were provided frightening insight into young people’s rejection of reading, their inability to articulate themselves in anything resembling coherent English, and a general substitution of emotivism for rational discourse. The majority could not figure out that it was only a sculpture. Shelray soon added a big bold caption to that effect. It did not help. However, after posting the “unmissable” caption we did get a few commentors who seemed to relish in their “discovery” of the fact and sought to chastise others who could not make it 1/8th of an inch further down the screen. If you have the stomach for it, you might go and look through some of the comments.
Bertonneau discusses the class he teaches on comparative literature and the grim fruits of the students’ ability to read, think, and articulate. Here are a few examples:
“Athene helps Telemachus and Odysseus to be reunited and restore order to Troy. This all took place around 450 BC but it was not written down until 800 BC.”
“Beginning with Homer’s ‘The Odyssey’ written down around 800 BC, when infact the events took place in the 4th century. There are many examples of order, tragedy, and some triumph.”
“The Odessy, written down around 800 BC, its events are said to actually take place around 500 BC.”
This ignorance with how to handle dates in BC, he states, are not isolated cases. In fact, Bertonneau goes to great lengths in his classes to teach his students how to handles this dating scheme through lectures, a text book showing a graphical timeline, and lectures. All to no avail.
And my favorite:
A related example is the phrase “the Labronze age,” which one student repeatedly substituted for the actual phrase, “the Bronze Age,” in an essay. This at first baffled me. Then my wife suggested that it referred to a currently famous basketball player, the currency of whose name overwhelmed the student’s visual impression of the historical term in its correct form.
This comes from a final exam. Bertonneau describes that he provides a “cheat sheet” with 250 or so words and phrases and still the students cannot even look at the sheet and spell words or phrases correctly. His analysis of the problem:
The answer is that written language, including orthography, makes little or no impression on a large percentage of students because these students are, in fact, operating with oral mental habits rather than literate ones. Many students no longer bother even so much as to press the Spell-check button before printing off a paper. This points, once again, to a failure of the K-12 phase of education to inculcate basic intellectual habits or even basic bourgeois attentiveness in these students. Many a critic has complained that the supervisors of K-12 nationwide have long since deemphasized rigorous literacy training in favor of unstructured oral “expression” and mediated visual demonstration. Not spelling a word correctly when the word is before one’s very eyes is, I would argue, a non-trivial error suggestive of a profound alteration of the mental state away from literacy.
The most interesting insight came when he asked for a comparison of St. Augustine’s Confessions with another protagonist in one of their readings. Here is what he got:
“Much like Odyssus Augustine, who at one time was reared as a saint in Hippo, is tempted by pretty women as well as by a pear tree. But later he loses his self-control problem and converts into a Christian.”
And Bertonneau’s insightful analysis of this gem:
Although the construction is linguistically inadequate, we should observe that the student-writer has, in fact, hazarded a comparison-and indeed a valid one-which I strove to help students discover as they thought about the separate items of the syllabus as forming a unity. To be candid, the student-writer is only giving me back a remark that I made in a lecture, rather than forming an original judgment. The encounter with Augustine is not, for him, an occasion for thought, but rather for something like mere information retrieval.
Nevertheless, in his or her garbled manner, this writer has gleaned a parallelism assimilating Augustine in the period of late antiquity with Odysseus, protagonist of a poem written in the archaic period of Attic civilization. Sirens, demigoddesses, and husband-hunting princesses all in a sense tempt Odysseus, who, however, mainly contrives to avoid temptation. Homer says that the ability to control his appetites is why Odysseus survived where his crewmates did not. Odysseus sleeps with Circe and then with Calypso under necessity because they are demigoddesses, whom he cannot directly refuse. One may nevertheless suppose that he enjoys his pleasures.
Augustine was also, as the Confessions tell us, susceptible to female attractiveness, and spent a period of inveterate brothel crawling and inexhaustible fornication. But Odysseus seeks to win back the material wealth and chattels that the squatters in his palace would steal from him. In contrast, Augustine, in spiritual revolt against worldliness, rejects power and riches for the sake of his intangible soul. This essential difference the student entirely misses. It is as though the student cannot hold the resemblance and the difference in mind simultaneously.
The phrase, “at one time was reared as a saint in Hippo,” probably stems from my assertion during a lecture that Augustine was revered as a saint within a few short years after his death during the Vandal siege of Hippo. Revered has lapsed into reared. The former is probably an unfamiliar-to the student, an exotic-term whereas the latter still has some currency. The student probably took a high-school course called “Child Rearing.” The sequel is comical, for the student has Augustine being tempted not only by “pretty women” but, casually, also by “a pear tree,” as though one temptation (he has them out of sequence, by the way) was exactly like another.
The real mind-twister follows: “But later he loses his self-control problem and converts into a Christian.” It is worthwhile sorting out what the student, by a generous estimation, wants to say from what he or she actually does say. He or she wants to say, I guess, that, after succumbing to the anomie of many years of indulgence and feeling in consequence radically alienated from himself, Augustine at last found self-control, and found it in the moral dispensation of the Gospel.
Instead we get: “He loses his self-control problem,” an assertion that makes self-control the problem rather than the lack of it and implies that that movement from self-indulgence to self-discipline is somehow accidental and passive rather than deliberative and active. Augustine, in the student’s version of things, doesn’t gain self-control, as one would normally say, but rather he finds himself suddenly free of a burdensome condition (restraint), as if by magic.
The inability to make a straightforward statement along such lines as Augustine rejects self-indulgence and adopts self-control as a mandate of his conversion is much more than a funny instance of incompetence. It is a crippling intellectual deformity that will prevent a student who distantly glimpses a moral problem from adequately seeing or articulating it. The problem will vex and hobble the student whether it is his own or someone else’s. He will lack the very notion of a deliberative resolution. Agonies of error and indecision lie ahead in such a life, but where there is a mass of such lives, the misery of vexation and indecision will afflict everyone, not just the victim of deficient education and default of analysis.
It is not too farfetched to suggest that there is more to the student’s problem than an absence of grammar, vocabulary, and syntax or a life without reading. The hostility to religion that pervades the academic environment and popular culture also hampers him. For to say that self-indulgence is the problem and that Christianity was Augustine’s solution is to go against many years of-undoubtedly half-understood but sufficiently threatening-propaganda from the same crusading people who refuse to let student stores sell Christmas cards or Easter candy, but say nothing about promiscuity in the dorms.
And the results of this, Bertonneau warns, is a coming spiritual savagery:
I see in the resentful incapacity of so many students a not-so-dim “Shape of Things to Come” whose characteristics will be theirs: perceptive obtuseness, expressive coarseness, extreme limitation of language and therefore also of concept, radical unfitness to judge complicated technical or moral problems, complete disconnection from any meaningful past and, to borrow a term from Oswald Spengler, in a condition utterly “historyless.”
Of course, the problem is very clear to educators but it is a problem of family and society and so it must be addressed there first. Unfortunately, as Bertonneau warns, it is going to be left to these very same people to solve and they will not have the moral resources to see or admit of the root problems of the social decline, as even today we cannot. Much less will they possess the intellectual resources to implement an effective solution. Thus, we will get more small, tyrannical laws trying to keep the Vandal’s at the gate all the time increasing the root problem by trying to appease the masses by more and more abetting sexual license and through other death promoting policies.
The only solution is the Gospel and the Catholic Church. Just as the Church carried civilization through the fall of the Roman Empire and converted the Goths, She will be there to provide a stable structure for moral and spiritual leadership if the West continues on its present trajectory. The question, however, is where She will exist. By the time Rome fell, Christianity was legal and widespread. My only hesitance in saying that She will be everyplace She is needed is that the direction of Western societies seems to make the possibility of Christianity once more an illegal religion not all that remote.
We are losing the ability to think, to understand, to remember, and to intelligently converse with one another. We are forming attention spans and thought processes that are limited to that which is produced by electronically mediated entertainment. We may indeed be entering the “Labronze Age.” St. Augustine, pray for us!