The Humanities Genius

In President Barack Obama's State of Union speech this year, he said science, technology, engineering and math will guide the country's future.

"Maintaining our leadership in research and technology is crucial to America's success ... if we want innovation to produce jobs in America and not overseas, then we also have to win the race to educate our kids," Obama said.

I understand that the president needs to advance the United States' role as a leader in technology development and scientific research in order to compete globally. I only wish that the intellectual value and meaningful analytical skills gained through studying the humanities and social sciences would somehow be acknowledged amidst the countless calls for more funding for education in mathematics and for the training of a new generation of scientists.

Those advocating increased funds for science and mathematical programs do not deserve criticism. According to SEDL, a private, non-profit education research, development, and dissemination corporation, only 38 percent of U.S. fourth graders and 33 percent of eighth graders were rated proficient or advanced in math on the National Assessment of Educational Progress in May 2011. The need to improve the quantitative abilities of American children is indisputable.

As a college student interested primarily in the social sciences, I'm simply frustrated. It seems that many doubt the merits of studying anything but mathematics or science in today's fierce global economy.

One evening near finals time, in the John D. Rockefeller, Jr. library (affectionately known as the Rock) at Brown, I was in the process of taking my political science textbook out of my book bag when one student who shall remain unnamed commented to me, "Wish I were studying that bull right now."

I looked up at him (or her), perplexed. The student went back to a studying calculus as if he or she said nothing out-of-the-ordinary. Yet, comments of that nature are not unheard of at Brown and its peer institutions with other ambitious students looking to gain a competitive edge. To them, studying the humanities has no purpose in their plans to "make bank," a phrase I heard in my first week of freshman year.

I did not go to college to study how to "make bank." Rather, I went to study topics that interest me. I'm interested in politics, international relations, literature, the arts. I'm interested in topics I have not yet discovered (I only just finished my freshman year, after all). That does not mean that I will be a starving writer with no applicable skills living in a cardboard box in Providence, Rhode Island after I receive a useless diploma. And it certainly does not mean that I am not just as ambitious in my endeavors as my pre-med peers.

The purpose of an education is a confusing one. An education is eye-opening. It helps us discover our passions and understand other cultures. It helps us read the newspaper and understand the significance of the headlines in a broader context. Yet an education must also prepare us for the economy. It must give us the skills we need to become employed.

Yet those two objectives need not be mutually exclusive.

There have been numerous instances this semester that left me speechless. (Literally.) After talking with another unnamed student about his or her courses, I asked why they were taking a specific course they mentioned. The student replied, "Oh, I don't really want to take it. I just will need it, y'know, so I can put it on my transcript and resume." So I can make bank.

At Brown in particular, where we have no distribution requirements, students are encouraged to take courses that interest them and courses that are outside of their comfort zone. I did not know the purpose of my schedule was to impress a future employer. Rather, I would hope that the passion and extensive knowledge in the subjects I pursued would be a major factor in any decision to hire me.

While our nation needs doctors and engineers, undoubtedly, the message need not be implicitly sent that studying the humanities is superfluous. Certainly, America's children must learn how to think critically, analyze literature, and write effectively. Even standardized tests like the MCAT and DAT have a reading comprehension section--even scientists need to be able to clearly express their research in writing.

Instead, the message needs to be made clear to students of the humanities and social sciences that their studies are not worthless.

After discussing this topic with a few of my fellow social science students and friends at Brown, we came to the conclusion that because we enjoy what we study, we are, in fact, benefitting from our educations the most.

During this conversation, I listened to how complexly and effectively they formed their words and expressed their emotions. This was no doubt in part due to their impeccable knack for oral presentations in class and writing academic papers. And I arrived at a separate conclusion (one that I had already known, but have been doubting due to unnecessarily-slipping confidence in my course of study): We are just as genius as anyone who can take a derivative.

(In fact, I can do that as well.)