In a perfect world, there would be no exams. No papers. No quizzes. No deadlines. No all-nighters. No grades. No plagiarism. No cheating. There’d be no need. Labs and projects might still exist, but they would be completely optional. As such, learning would be everywhere; learning would be bliss.
Of course, in the madly imperfect world in which we live, school requires all these mechanisms to keep students in line and learning. As a flawed people, we live in need of rules and discipline to restrain our desires and to suppress our laziness.
School is a prime example of this. While high school also had requirements, college is a bit different in its allocation of freedom. For one thing, going to college in the first place is not compulsory. Secondly, the only person responsible for your attendance is you. Students choose their majors and most of their classes. Choices and enjoyment usually go hand in hand.
Yet after almost four years at this university, it’s become increasingly clear that the culture of studying is similar to that of politics — it is somewhat corrupted. Politicians are public servants. And more and more, they depend on the deep pockets of lobbying groups, rich corporations and individuals who in turn see their interests represented in government. The noble purpose of politics — to serve all citizens — has been perverted by multimillion-dollar donations, sustained by bombastic yet hardly substantive rhetoric, and has resulted in cynicism about all things political. Likewise, school and studying — supposedly intended to facilitate learning — have arguably developed negative connotations. Isn’t the point of studying to learn what we wish to learn? Now, it has mostly become an obligation for earning a grade. Hence the concept of cramming — absorbing a bunch of information in a short period of time to be used solely for exam regurgitation, not for long-term retention. “Public service” is not what first comes to mind when someone utters “politics.” Nor is “attaining knowledge” the first that comes to mind when “studying” or “school” is mentioned.
The warped process of learning that is college academics, while pervasive, is also sometimes startling. I came to a point last year, while writing a final paper with the typical obligatory feeling of dread, where I started wondering, “What’s wrong with this picture?” I had chosen the class because it sounded interesting. Some of the material was boring, but I liked the premise of most of it. The professor was tolerable. Why did I dread writing this paper? Why did I always? I liked learning. What gives?
I’d argue that my motivation was the problem. I wanted that “A.” When it comes down to it, a grade is actually a pretty flimsy goal. But once you start thinking about an important career objective that requires good grades, or maybe really pressure-pushing parents or perfectionist rigor, working harder seems more important. But the pure thrill of learning is probably the best motivator.
In addition to that momentary epiphany (which was abruptly ended by the realization that the paper was due in 48 hours) some other revelations I’ve had throughout the year. For instance, consider the term “overstudying”; the very existence of this term testifies to the twisted state of academics. What’s been forgotten by others and myself is that tests and papers are incentives — means, not ends. It seems that this fact has been hopelessly lost, especially amid a competitive, elite school such as UCSD. Learning is the objective of taking a class. Unfortunately, a student who has managed to score an “A” with hardly any studying is often held in much more awe than a student who has learned quite a lot but only pulled a “B.” Of course, in another version of a perfect world, students who like to learn would get the “A.”
It again comes down to human nature. People do not like to be forced to do anything. If someone forced another person to do something he or she loved, that person might begin to love it less. Especially in the United States, where freedom is a right and anything less cramps our style, the application of any sort of coercion takes away potential joy from the endeavor.
Yet there must be some way to triumph over the tyranny of the grade, to escape from the obligo-academics matrix. For instance, taking classes pass/no pass is not the slacker option some may see it as. To be freed from the grade may just mean to be free to learn. A great example of this is the freshman and undergraduate seminar program. Covering a variety of topics, these seminars offer students one unit of credit and can only be graded with P/NP. Thus, students enroll only because they want to learn and are not burdened with any impending tests or papers.
Many times, professors also make the difference by portraying material as either dull or delightful. The passion teachers exude can make studying seem worthwhile.
I took a small, upper-division major class in which the professor required students to state our reasons for taking the class. Even this simple act challenged my hardened mindset; to hear everyone’s brief description of the interests and backgrounds that led to their class choice reminded me how lucky we all were to be studying what we might love.
Exams and papers will likely never be abolished. Even though “mandatory learning” should really become an anachronism, the constraints and corruption of the academic process can still be mitigated. The responsibility to glean joy from studying is wholly on us, and maybe all it takes is a moment of reflection on why we study at all. Indeed, a perfect world may exist somehow — not in physical form, but in essence, within ourselves.
