By Rod Kessler
English Department

Of all the journals and periodicals in the world, it would surprise anyone who knows me well that I might take inspiration from Parade, that glossy insert to the Boston Globe whose celebrity news column typically raises such pertinent questions as which film star has the best abs (Mario Lopez) and whether a smiling blond celebrity with the dubious name “Paris Hilton” properly cares for her seventeen pet dogs.

The issue of Parade that caught my eye some time ago showed a forty-something fellow on the cover attractive enough to be a film star, but the accompanying headlines suggested otherwise: “Terminally ill professor Randy Pausch tells his students—and us—what matters in life.” Pausch, a computer-science professor at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last year and given only months to live. He was the father of three little ones and the husband of a brave and pretty young wife, and he died on 25 July 2008.

Even before receiving his fatal diagnosis, Professor Pausch had been slated to deliver a “last lecture” on his campus—that is, to pretend to be giving a final presentation, presumably one that would distill the wisdom of an entire life as a scholar and teacher. The lecture that Pausch in fact gave—when there was no need to pretend—made him a celebrity and focused attention on his pearls of wisdom. On April 9, 2008, a few days after Parade ran its cover story, Pausch was the subject of an hour-long ABC news special.

As it happens, there has been talk in the headiest of academic circles concerning life’s big questions. Last fall Anthony T. Kronmanof the Yale Law School published Education’s End: Why Our Colleges and Universities Have Given Up on the Meaning of Life. This 63-year-old scholar argues that college students should wrestle with life’s big questions but that these questions are to be found almost nowhere in our classrooms. Kronman places the responsibility and blame particularly upon the humanities—history, philosophy, and, yes, English. He argues that our academic reward structure, originating as it does in the German university and using the hard sciences as an ideal, has diverted the attention of humanities scholars from sweeping matters of general concern—The Big Questions—to the minute areas of individual inquiry, such as those suggested by these titles from recent issues of the publication of the Modern Language Association:

• Remapping Genre through Performance: from “American” to “Hemispheric” Studies
• Polyphony and the Atomic Age: Bakhtin’s Assimilation of an Einsteinian Universe
• Citizens of Memory: Refiguring the Past in Postdictatorship Argentina

Kronman’s argument is not without its critics, as I learned last Spring when he spoke at Harvard University and received an earful from such renowned scholars as Stanley Hoffmann, Helen Vendler, and Elaine Scarry. But the question he raises, for me, stands above the fray: Are we asking students to wrestle with life’s big questions, and, if not, are we failing in our mission?

This is a good time to ask, what’s my stake in this?

It seems to me that there are two kinds of educational crises. The first kind makes headlines in the Globe—should we institute the MCAS and the MTEL? Can we compete with China and India in preparing Ph.D.’s in engineering? Is it OK to do away with music or sports in order to keep taxes low? Sometimes we as a society discover that we all have a problem.

The second kind of educational crisis makes no headlines and often goes unobserved—it is what happens inside the professor when he loses faith in teaching. It is what happens when the professor starts to doubt the enterprise to which he has devoted his life. It is what happens when he can no longer escape the realization that something is wrong in his classes.

I use the pronoun “he” here not because such an educational crisis cannot afflict women but because I am thinking of myself. Over the past few years I’ve found myself thinking the absurd-sounding sentence, I don’t think I believe in education. I hasten to clarify that I remain a great believer in learning. It is education that is worrying me. Whatever do I mean? What is wrong?

The topography of my educational crisis is too convoluted to explore within the space allotted, but let me point out some of the landscape. Our approach depends too much upon forcing education down students’ throats, whether they want to learn or not. Usually, they don’t want to and they resist as well as they can, doing the bare minimum and griping among themselves, if not within the hearing of professors. “I’m a nursing student,” they insist, “so why must I take history?” “I’ll never need this,” they tell themselves. Consider the resistance to the language requirement or to math courses.

We on the other side of the grade book ignore what our students think. We know better. The flow sheet knows best. We use the power of failing them—the carrot of the “A” and the stick of the “F”—to force at least a minimal compliance, and we even have techniques to ensure that some students occasionally do the assigned readings.

I, for one, am tired of that model of education, of trying to force education down the throats of students who do not want it. That’s what I mean when I say that I no longer believe in education.

Learning is different, and I do believe in learning. Learning is something that is impelled from within. It results from curiosity and interest. There is a thrill in pursuing a question wherever it leads.

Imagine how our classrooms might differ if our students were brimming over with questions pertinent to our course material!

Imagine what it would be like to start class with a half-dozen hands waving in the air—and not to have one question be “Is this going to be on the exam?”

Many of our classrooms are sick, I am saying, and the symptoms are familiar: Bored students who complain about how slowly time passes; professors who lecture non-stop, no longer bothering to try to get a discussion going.

So isn’t it curious to discover that students by the thousands—and not just students—flock to the YouTube site to hear terminally ill Professor Randy Pausch tell his students what matters in life? Think about it—students are voluntarily attending a lecture. They want to hear a professor reveal what matters in life. They want what the Yale Law School professor worries is missing from our humanities classes: Questions about the meaning of life.

In some ideal sphere, I would reveal the big questions of life—the ones we should encourage our students to wrestle with in our classes—and then provide answers. But we are not in that ideal sphere.

The problem lies not with the questions. We can come up with many of these. Indeed, I offer the following to you. [The students in my freshman honors English class last semester will recognize them, for they have been the subject of one of our recent “Laptop Friday” writing exercises.] The problem lies in the answers.

Happiness:

What makes us happy? In her essay about animal rights, Vicki Hearne asserts that dogs are happy when they can exercise or express their talents and abilities. A dog doesn’t need a lot of petting—it needs to do well in the show ring. I wonder, does it make humans happy to exercise their talents? Advertising suggests that we’ll find happiness in consumer products. Some people think that owning a BMW will make them happier than owning a second-hand Hyundai. We also are told that happiness is found in being young and thin and fit and hip—but drinking beer might be part of it too.

What is your recipe for happiness?

Relationships:

The great majority of Americans marry—and about half of these get divorced. Why do so many romances fail? Are we all poor judges of character, hooking up with the wrong sorts of partners? Is the whole idea of romantic love to blame? Do we expect too much of love? Is the trick to be satisfied with a relationship that is not completely fulfilling? What do you think makes relationships last?

Why are we here?

Do we have a purpose? Evolutionary science suggests that humans have no greater purpose than snails or tulips or bacteria: We just happen to have evolved and survived, and when we die, it is over. Our atoms move on. If we have a purpose, it is to pass our genes along–to reproduce. Others believe that our existence has a greater meaning. Some find their meaning in their religion. But must one believe in a god to find a purpose or meaning in life?

Human Nature

Some people think that human civilization is limited by human nature. It is human nature, some would say, to divide people up into “us vs. them” categories, suggesting that conflict is built into human nature. Some would say that Utopian visions of a sharing society (socialism, true communism) are impossible, given our innate selfishness. But others argue that there is no such thing as human nature. They think that we are shaped by our upbringing and culture, so that any kind of “human nature”–warring or peaceful, altruistic or selfish–is possible. What do you think about human nature?

These are not the only questions, naturally, but they are a good start.

What about answers? Imagine if I were to try to answer life’s big questions. Before I had said a word the skeptic in you might wonder, Why listen to him? What does he know? Is his life so perfect? Is he happy? Has he solved the mystery of making a marriage last? Is he living a truly full life?—and the skeptic in you would be right. We professors in the humanities cannot claim expertise at answering life’s questions. What we are good at, beyond raising the questions, is considering, reviewing, analyzing, discussing, and occasionally rejecting everyone else’s answers. Our expertise, so to speak, is keeping the conversations going, and showing how so many answers might lead to dead ends—all in the hope of enabling students to wrestle with the questions in all their true immensity and complexity.

Put simply, even if I don’t have the answer sheets, I can probably make you doubt and question your own presuppositions. I can probably push you into your own unknown.

Kronman, the Yale Law Professor, makes this point, by the way. He doesn’t expect humanities professors to give answers. He knows that people are hungry for answers. He even argues that the spread of fundamentalisms—including our home-grown evangelical movements—shows that people are vulnerable targets for authority figures who assert that they know the answers. But our role is to push the question-asking process. The experts and authorities we turn to are the authors of the great books, the very ones that make us ask the big questions.

But there are answers to be found for life’s questions. Terminally ill professor Randy Pausch tells his students—and us—what matters in life, right? What makes his answers so popular?

Does he have the answers?

Part of Pausch’s message is embodied in his very situation: We don’t live forever, so make the most of your time. Who can argue with this point? It is only the illusion that we have endless time that enables us to waste time so abundantly. And how, exactly, are we to make the most of our limited lives?

As rendered in Parade, here are some of the items of Pausch’s wisdom:

1. Always have fun.
2. Dream big.
3. Ask for what you want.
4. Dare to take a risk.
5. Look for the best in everybody.
6. Make time for what matters.
7. Let the kids be themselves.

One can only admire Paush’s courage to remain optimistic and to spread his hopeful message while his body undermines him from within. Pancreatic cancer, as it happens, is one of the most excruciating ways to die.

But it falls to the humanities professor to raise questions about such answers as Paush’s (and it is nothing personal). We live in a culture that heavily promotes the idea that happiness derives from what we can possess and consume. Think of how easily we can interpret Paush’s vision of what matters in life in terms of our consumerism: Always have fun! You bet! You can imagine how much easier it is for ABC’s sponsors to get behind a message like this—as opposed to, say, the stoic’s recommendation to lead an ascetic life and renounce the life of opulence. Would Professor Paush be given an hour of national television exposure had he urged us all to haul our possessions out into a pyre and burn them, starting with our high definition big screen televisions?

Ditto his “Dream Big” and “Ask for what you want.” The advertisers of high-end luxury automobiles and of vacation packages to Hawaii no doubt share in the sentiment.

You can see where this is going, can’t you? When we humanities professors see everyone celebrating around the communal bonfire, our impulse is to douse it with the clear water of doubt, if not of reason. We are the ones who ask what is missing from the well-intentioned and tragic professor’s prescription pad: Where does he ask us to seek wisdom? Where does he enjoin us to know ourselves? His own example suggests that happiness comes from serving others—somehow doing so did not make it onto Parade’s list of his top seven insights.

Forgive me for seemingly making this tragic and heroic figure a target. In fact, I agree that living fully is part of wisdom. Where things get dicey is in the details—as in what do we mean by living fully? (What do you mean?)

Above I’ve listed the big questions that I recently brought into my freshman writing class. What follow, unadorned by the humanities professor’s skeptical probes, are some of the varied answers my students, under the cloak of full anonymity, gave. I hope they will encourage you to develop thoughtful answers of your own.

What makes us happy?

• Happiness is not all money and fame, but I also have to say that I think money has something to do with happiness. Success certainly has something to do with happiness, and isn’t money in some cases a way to measure success? Sure, there are other ways to measure success, but I think money is a factor. So while my happiness is also built around love and success and friends and family, and things of that nature, I’m willing to admit that money is also part of my formula for happiness.
• For me, happiness is about enjoying life. That’s different on a day-to-day basis, but if you are enjoying what you are doing you will be happy. Sometimes consumer goods can make you happy. Sure, they lose their appeal quite quickly, but for a brief second, these products create happiness. Other times, happiness involves hanging out with my friends playing Mario Kart for 3 hours. Other times, I am happy just being at home lying in bed. Sometimes I am even happy at work. Happiness depends on the situation. Almost any situation can be happy. Like Hannah Montana says “Life’s what you make it!”
• When we, as humans, have the ability to exercise our talents we become most happy. When an artist is painting or sculpting he is excited and happy to be doing his hobby. When a basketball player dunks the hoop and everyone on the sidelines cheers, he is most happy. Happiness is linked with the ability to exercise our talents, hobbies or interests and the feedback that comes with it. So in some ways, the dog at the dog show is happy when he can jump the little ramp but he is also waiting for some form of feedback.

What makes relationships work?

• Why do people get divorced? It’s a good question. I don’t think people are just hooking up with random people and getting married (even though some celebrities and people have proven that statement wrong). The real reason marriage fails is because people don’t put in the hard work. Love, and being with someone for the rest of your life, is not easy. Every day there is a new struggle that two people need to get through. Often in marriage couples are quick to give up and just decide it’s easier to get a divorce.
• There are people who are married who should be divorced. I know a couple who “are staying together for the kids” and yet they hate each other. They’re constantly fighting and calling each other names and saying really horrible things about each other in front of their kids. People like that should just end it. They aren’t doing anyone a favor by staying together, and they’re giving their kids a warped vision of what love and marriage should look like.
• In my sociology class, my teacher was saying that the reason so many relationships and marriages fail is because of the idea of romanticism and soulmates. Today, the most important thing we look for when marrying someone is a deep emotional connection and the idea that we have found our “soulmate”. But in our grandparents’ time, they were marrying for financial reasons and so that they could start a family. Today our ideals are very different, and women have become a lot more financially independent; they realize that they can have a family with or without a husband.

Does life have a purpose?

• I don’t think we really have a purpose. Humans are like all other animals—they live, they die, the end. During their lives, they build a society and create advances for the future generations…but is there really a “greater meaning” to life? I don’t think so. Sure, people are remembered for doing certain things, but what does it matter to someone once they are dead?
• In a way, it seems like we really don’t have a purpose. Human history represents such a tiny portion of the history of the world. How can we be expected to make a lasting contribution when we could be gone in a couple hundred years? Also, someday planet Earth itself could lose its capacity for supporting life. Then everything we’ve ever done would be erased from history forever.
• You don’t have to believe in some sort of god to have a purpose. I know that I am not as religious as I would like to be and I still believe that humans have a purpose. Humans’ purpose in life is to make each other happy.
• Don’t question it. We’re here. Let’s just live it. Science suggests that we’ve evolved and religions suggest otherwise – a higher being placed us here. Either way we’re here. Eventually we’ll be gone too –just as every other creature before us has faced extinction. We don’t have time to waste! Carpe Diem!
• Humans have a purpose. We are here to make our lives the best they can be for not only ourselves but also for others around us. We make the future and, without us, there would none. I am a religious person and I do believe in God and Heaven, but I don’t think that is what affects my belief that we have a purpose. I don’t understand how you can not believe you have a purpose. That’s kind of sad, don’t you think?

What is human nature?

• I believe in nurture. We become who we are by the surroundings and people we grow up with. These influences shape the rest of our lives. I do believe in some sort of nature though. In psychology class we have talked about the Minnesota twin study and how twins separated at birth were found to be similar in many ways, despite the fact they were not raised by the same people or in the same community. This study definitely proved my theory wrong. Now, I believe that it is a combination of both, but I still strongly believe that in the end nurture really defines who we are.
• Human nature is determined by the way that we have been socialized. If you grow up with a pack of wolves, you will operate like a pack of wolves, and use their reasoning, methods of survival, etc. It’s the same with people: People are taught cultural norms and so they learn how to operate within the system. There are many different ways to be socialized, directly and indirectly, and this is the basis for culture clashes and ‘us vs. them’ thinking.
• We are inherently born with these characteristics and that our environment brings them out. All people are born aggressive and violent but some people never show these sides. The environment brings it out. True communism doesn’t exist because people are selfish by human nature. Yes, you can say you don’t care about material things and truthfully you probably don’t, but there is always that piece of someone to want more—more money for more food or something, but you want more. Most people regardless of where they were brought up want to achieve greatness or some type of recognition.
• There are certainly people out there that can live with a communist attitude, but they have unbalanced chemicals in their brains. Human nature is to stay alive and be the best you can, regardless of others. It’s impossible to not judge others. Deep down you think you’re better or worse than someone and it doesn’t matter where you grew up.

Let me end with some advice.

To my faculty colleagues: May your classroom experience be such that you never wake up some sorry morning with the realization that you no longer believe in education! May you encourage your students to ask themselves the big questions.

To students: Stay curious inside class and out, and ask the big questions. Develop the skills you will need to have a career, but remember that life is more than your job. I cannot tell you why we are alive on this planet, but I’m pretty sure that it is neither to stay on the couch watching television nor to work overtime to make payments on that BMW.

This article is part of ASpect’s November 2008 issue, Teaching the Big Issues.