Weber, R.J., Lee, J.S., Buzan, M., Flanagan, A.M., Hadley, D., Rutz, C. & Sorger, T. (2010). Core texts, community, and culture: Working together in liberal education. Lanham, MD: University Press of America.
This selection of papers from the tenth annual conference of the Association for Core Texts and Courses offers an eclectic mix of commentaries on core texts which participants have used in their own courses. The introduction addresses both the value of requiring a corpus of core texts (“works of major cultural significance”) in liberal education with particular emphasis on the creation of community.
An important aim of the core texts approach is to foster “an interdisciplinary approach, which seeks to blend society’s call for practical learning with education in the arts and humanities” (p. viii). The consensus of the conference participants was that core text education is powerful because:
- It is based upon sound learning principles which have retained their value over time;
- It spans diverse and comprehensive racial, geographical and subject areas;
- It fosters community;
- It utilizes the past to realize the present and build for the future;
- Its common elements bridge the gaps between seemingly diverse disciplines such as the humanities and sciences; and
- It promotes advanced literacy and expression
The initial chapter, the plenary address “Humanizing the technological vision” (Phillip Sloan, University of Notre Dame) critiques Boyer’s (1995) recommendations for undergraduate education that emphasize research, specialization and preparation for graduate specialization as “potentially corrosive, and destructive of humanistic ideals” (p. 4). Modern university education, based on the Greek philosophical tradition and Enlightenment principle of “preparation for the higher faculties” (i.e. career training) embraces the tradition of “liberating” the mind: freeing one from prejudice, developing critical thinking and writing and rhetorical skills rather than reading the classics, especially in the sciences. The sciences today tend to avoid reflection about their foundations and “focus on the solution of limited and “in principle” soluble problems” (p. 8), widening the gap between the sciences and humanities. Sloan wants to see “mutually productive dialogue” between them, which includes reading historical scientific texts as “literary productions” so that scientists see science as “human activity” and humanists appreciate the beauty and complexity of scientific work.
The selected core works include classics such as Plato’s Crito, St. Augustine’s Confessions, Beowulf and the Gospel of John, but also more recent authors such as Virginia Woolf, Harriet Beecher Stowe and Adam Smith. Most authors are from secular universities, but it is interesting to consider the works chosen, the authors’ treatment of them, and the reactions of students. A common theme is the need to honestly engage students in open discussion and bring them to the point of respecting and debating diverse viewpoints. Many authors noted the creation of a class or seminar community built on the shared readings and discussions and a new attentiveness to contemporary societal problems. For example, discussing Montesquieu’s Spirit of the Laws, Mathew Davis (St. John’s College, Santa Fe) concludes that the reading opens the question of whether we might attain “real friendship … a liberal education that transcends the marketplace … a genuine citizenship” (p. 42).
D.W. Hadley (University of Dallas) makes the important point that successful community building requires students to go beyond “agreeing to differ” work through “surprises, challenges, disagreements [and] discomfort” and “unpleasant encounters” with others and/or the texts themselves (p. 66). This is certainly an important lesson for future citizenship.
In a more provocative piece, Lillian Larson (Columbia University) advocates “contextualizing religious prose [in this case, the Gospel of St. John] within a broad narrative tradition” (p. 138) as a way of “exploring the ways in which religious prose is imbedded in and informed by culture even as it simultaneously functions to affect and shape culture” (p. 139). The aim here (at a secular university) is to bridge the separation of church and state by approaching religious writings as literature in a cultural context.
Daniel Lang (Lynchburg College) offers another thought-provoking piece in his examination of Melville’s Billy Budd. Lang draws attention to the shortcomings of perceiving liberal education as “preparation for citizenship and leadership” (p 149). First, too much “book based education” and “critical thinking” may serve to “distance leaders from those they lead” (p. 152). Second, and I see this as key, “mastery of a body of knowledge” and “enhanced capacity for self-expression” does not necessarily mean one has made “moral progress” (i.e. one can be learned but not of good character). Third, liberal education may make one too reliant on rules and theory, and less inclined to consider particular human circumstances.
I was particularly interested in the final section “Bridging the gaps between the humanities and sciences”, but did not find it especially engaging (although I appreciate the recognition that Keith Francis of Baylor University gives to Darwin’s wonderful book Expression of Emotions in Man and Animals). It is certainly true that students in the humanities and especially sciences should read historical scientific works, but it is difficult to imagine today’s students enthusiastically engaging Ptolemy or Euclid.
The most interesting contribution was that of Jeffrey Brautigam (Hanover College), who describes his dean’s implementation of a “Liberal Arts Degree Requirement” of 14 “integrated, collaborative courses which are organized around thematic categories that are directly related to the fundamental questions and objectives of the liberal arts and that are shared among different disciplines” (p. 156). Participating faculty team teach two-semester courses with 12 students in pairs (in this case, a history professor and an English professor) and choose their own texts. The common objectives are to “push the group … to propose and examine criteria for discussing what makes a work “great” and to articulate whether there are enduring, objective standards for the evaluation of human projects and inventions, or whether all such criteria are culturally constructed and historically contingent” (p. 156). Brautigam describes the initial resistance of many faculty (doubting their expertise to teach such courses and worrying so much interdisciplinary teaching would damage the cohesiveness of their departments) and how eventually they felt it reinvigorated their majors and created a new community among participating faculty and administrators.
Note for Praxis participants: This volume includes a lovely piece on teaching St. Augustine’s Confessions (with reference to Lonergan) by our own Msgr. Richard Liddy.
Questions
- Reading and discussion texts to create a community is a key feature of our Praxis program, but do our students see Core courses as a form of community building?
- To what extent should Core courses (within an institution or perhaps across Catholic universities) have a common core of texts versus flexibility for instructors to choose from a selection of texts?
- Should core courses be compulsory for all students (including those in the sciences and business)? How many courses should be required?
- How might we respond to Lang’s comments to the effect that simple “mastery of texts” does not necessarily build moral character? (This seems related to Cardinal Newman’s idea of a university)
- Is the “team-teaching” model of Hanover College feasible? Desirable?
- A large question: how do we motivate students (especially science and business students) to engage reading classic (often long and difficult) texts in this age of “instant communication”?