THAT it is a wise son that knoweth his own mother
might well be the reflection of the alumnus returning after a lapse of years to his alma mater. The dear old lady has certainly spruced up a good deal, added furbelows and flounces, eliminated wrinkles, and accomplished who can recount what unnumbered things byway of improving her appearance. Different in outward aspect to be sure; but at heart the same: vigorous, independent, democratic,— not the Old Dartmouth of a quarter century since, but the Old Dartmouth of today, venerable in tradition and experience, youthful in optimism and capacity for achievement. So in the reunions of the Commencement season, she welcomes her sons of all generations to share with her the affectionate memories of the past, the worthy gratification of the present, and the ardent hope for the future.
The College is still in its transitional stage. The past fifteen years constitute but part of an epoch of growth and development. Material stability, national influence, and educational leadership are not to be secured and maintained by the labors of a decade and a half. Yet in that period the way to these things has been made straight, and the hardest part of the journey accomplished. That which is to come lies mainly in the hands of Trustees, Alumni and Faculty. The price of success will be unshrinking and enthusiastic loyalty,—the kind of loyalty that is willing to view today in the light of tomorrow, and, if necessary, to sow sacrifice that others may reap reward.
The past year has produced considerable academic discussion of the honor system for conducting college examinations. Not only has the system been discussed, but it has been adopted by a number of institutions. Reports as to the success of its operation vary. In one instance, at least, it has been declared a failure; and good folk have in consequence wasted much worry over the degeneracy of the times. But the scoffer sits by and casually inquires why all this fuss about honor in examinations: why not honor in everything? Why should undergraduates assume the discipline of some of their number at one time and not at another? The arousing of a sense of collective responsibility on the part of college students and the logical establishment of an effective form of self-government is an end most worthy of attainment. Granting that it is eventually to be gained by training from specific instances to general principles, there seems no good reason for beginning at the point where the relation between faculty and students is often most delicate and peculiar.
During the years since the organization of the Tuck School, Dartmouth College has stood alone as representative of the graduate or professional idea in training for business. The commercial courses of other institutions are on a plane with their regular undergraduate courses. * What position Harvard University would take, when she should see fit to establish a school of higher commercial education, has been a matter of conjecture. It is interesting to note that, in the establishment of a Graduate School of Business Administration, Harvard takes a position with Dartmouth. An announcement of the new school, presenting details of its organization, has not been issued, but the very general official statements which have been made suggest how very like the Tuck School the new school will be.
It will offer a two year course, and a bachelor's degree will be required for entrance. In this latter respect it presents its principal point of difference from the Tuck School, which admits students of three years' undergraduate standing. In other respects the similarity to the Tuck School is conspicuous. The Harvard School will have a dean of its own and, although worked out by the department of economics and founded on that department, in that it will include certain college courses in its curriculum, it will on the whole present a distinct body of courses of its own and will have a distinct individuality. The general aim of its training will be for business organization, rather than technical in the engineering or trade school sense. Courses in business organization and administration, accounting, banking, transportation, and insurance are offered. It has not been announced just what degree will be given; it is proba- ble, however, that it will be the Master of Arts, another point of difference from the Tuck School, which offers the Master of Commercial Science. It is a source of gratification to Dartmouth that Harvard, after a thorough consideration of the subject and a careful observation of higher commercial education in other institutions, should in the organization of its new school indorse the principle under which the Tuck School has been organized and administered.
In story books, college life consists mainly of athletic victories, sweet singing on the campus, and strenuous, if often transitory, affairs of the heart. No doubt the Prom girl, after the four days' social whirlwind of Junior week at Dartmouth, carries away a similar idea. Perhaps it is just as well. Why trouble her with the dismal fact that her charms are tempting Junior X to overcut a course wherein his mark is on the shady side of fifty; or that the perfectly lovely drive over the Norwich hills with Senior Y became possible only after that young gentleman's hurried consultation with the dark-skinned future purchaser of his immaculate flannels; or why allude to the painful certainty that as the deep-toned College bell tolls its mellow lay, so musical, so romantic, numerous irate instructors are hunting up additional slips for the grim record of absences from recitation? Fortunately Prom week comes; fortunately it quickly goes. While it is with us, let it be enjoyed and approved if for no other reason than that, after it is done, the wherewithal for extended wanderings will be lacking, and the average of classroom attendance in consequence materially improved.
Some recent regulations adopted by the faculty, with the purpose of raising the standard of scholarship, suggest a few rambling, non-pedagogical reflections on the subject of the relation of college students to their studies.
In the first place, it is evident that the college, as compared with the preparatory school on the one hand and the professional school on the other, labors under a certain disadvantage in maintaining a high quality of scholarship. The pupil in a preparatory school knows that he must do a certain grade of work, generally higher than merely for graduation, or he will not be able to enter colege. Of course there is much time spent in special work for entrance examinations, which some scholars think might more profitably be devoted to other things. On the whole, however, the definiteness of the goal which the colleges individually and by cooperation have established for the work of the preparatory schools has produced excellent results.
Schools are forced to maintain their work at a high grade or results disagreeable for school, teachers, and pupils, speedily follow.
In the professional school, again, the student has a definite object before him : the best possible technical and practical training for his future work. Students consider carefully the advantages of the different schools of law, medicine, and theology, and the tendency is marked to choose those institutions whose diplomas give their graduates an immediate standing in their professions.
In the case of a college of liberal arts, however, it does not appear that the excellence of curriculum or instruction is at present a factor of large significance in determining what institution is chosen for or by the great majority of undergraduates. There is practically no competition among colleges in this respect. Athletic, social, family, sentimental and financial considerations govern the choice of an institution in most cases. Thus the student enters college with no definite educational demands, and a vigorous desire to enjoy the varied attractions of college life to the utmost.
The problem before every college is to induce such men—average undergraduates—to give sufficient time and attention to their courses, so that they may not merely by good luck succeed in getting a diploma, but acquire a thorough mental training, a substantial fund of information, and an enduring appreciation of intellectual things.
There is an impression prevalent among students that all the advantages of a liberal education can be obtained without much mental'exertion. Hence the wide election of elementary courses and the resulting always superficial and frequently distorted information on a multitude of subjects. Very many students have an attitude of indifference toward courses of study which have, so far as they can see, no definite bearing on what they intend to do after leaving college.
The point of view adopted toward professional studies, whether in or out of college, or toward courses which, rightly or wrongly are regarded as "practical," is quite different.
It is evident that just the kind of education that the college is organized to give, namely a thorough liberal training, is largely vitiated by the disinclination of the students to avail themselves of their opportunities. And yet good professional schools are demanding, if not a college degree, at least two or three years of liberal study as a prerequisite for entrance.
Can anything be done to improve the condition of undergraduate scholarship? Anything, that is to say, not in the nature of academic police regulations aimed at the notoriously poor students ? If an institution seriously tries to improve existing conditions it must be by the cooperation of trustees, administration, and faculty. The trustees should see to it that the institution has a thoroughly trained body of instructors, sufficient in number to make small classes and personal contact with the students a possibility. The teaching force in most colleges is too small to be effective, especially for the work of freshman and sophomore years.
The administration can do much by emphasizing the intellectual ideals of the institution to the public, the students, and the alumni. If the intellectual task of a college is kept in the foreground, those various student activities which now cause so much debate, will surely tend to resume their proper, normal place in the general scheme of college life.
And finally a word as to the relation of the curriculum to scholarship, a matter which it is especially the duty of the faculty to observe and investigate. The elective system does not prove entirely satisfactory, to say the least, and attempts have been made at different colleges with the last few years to modify it. It would undoubtedly raise the standard of scholarship if every student pursued three or four non-professional subjects during his college course, until he obtained in them a certain degree of mastery both of subject matter and method, and could make his own reading and observation contribute to his further knowledge of them.' Is there any reason why the granting of a degree should not be conditioned upon passing a satisfactory examination at the end of a series of courses forming a unit? If not, would not such an experiment be worth while?
