Introduction

Before the decision was taken to change the basis of university education from a liberal, education-for-its-own-sake, principle to a commercial viability one, they should have consulted me. Or, given that the powers that be didn’t know me from Adam, they could have looked beyond the end of their noses. It shouldn’t have been too difficult to work out what the unintended consequences might be.

What exactly is a low-value degree?

I could cite lots of examples, but the most recent one is the decision by Sheffield Hallam University to scrap its English Literature degree because graduates are unlikely to satisfy the government’s insistence that graduates secure well-paying jobs within a certain period of time after graduating. As The Guardian reports:

Under proposed new rules under consultation, universities could face penalties if fewer than 75% of undergraduates complete their courses and fewer than 60% are in professional jobs or studying for a further degree within 15 months of graduating.

Well, so much, then, for taking a year or two out to explore the world. So much, then, for doing what a friend of mine did. She took a degree in Egyptology because she was interested in the subject. She then took an MBA in Business Administration, which would have met the new criteria, but what if after graduating she decided to explore Egyptology on her own or get a probably low-paying job dealing with Egyptian artefacts in a museum?

Only a few weeks ago, one of the tutors on an advanced literary criticism course and I were discussing the value of studying Eng Lit. We agreed that if we’re really invested in making sure people are protected from fake news and, in general, are able to think through problems clearly, Eng Lit is a pretty good option. One reason is that if you undertake a close analysis of a piece of text, you have to scrutinise the use of words. For example, in his essay On the (nearly lethal) comforts of a luxury cruise (also published as A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again), David Foster Wallace writes:

I have smelled suntan lotion spread over 2,100 pounds of hot flesh.

If that doesn’t put you off your lunch, you have a stronger stomach than I. But how is that effect of grossness produced? Mainly by the use of the word “flesh”, which has different connotations from “skin”.

Words are important, and therefore learning from great writers is, in my opinion, essential if we’re to be able to protect ourselves from those who would choose their words to convey one thing when they really mean something else entirely. See, for example:

Eclecticism

The opposite is true

Here’s a tweet that popped up in my timeline recently…

Read more2 months ago · 3 likes · 2 comments · Terry Freedman

If my proposition of the potential benefits of studying Eng Lit is true, then surely it begs the question: what is a low-value degree? Shouldn’t “value” be measured in a wider sense than money?

Who benefits?

When this topic comes up in newspapers, some readers write comments to the effect that if people want to study a subject that doesn’t benefit anyone else, why should everyone else pay for it? (In the UK, graduates only start paying back their student loans once their earnings have reached a particular threshold, which could be never.) This point of view seems reasonable, but it assumes that nobody else benefits from other people’s education, at least in some cases. But this is not necessarily the case. If, for example, someone is a well-qualified history graduate working in a low-paid research job in the day, and a member of a group holding the local MP to account (“your government’s proposal was tried in 1892 and had the following unintended consequences…”, how has that person’s education not benefitted others?

Anti-education

The scrapping of courses lowers the general educational health of the population in my opinion. Years ago I was able to offer a course called Understanding The British Economy at an adult education institute. Try finding a course like that now: that is, in a physical classroom, with no certificate at the end of it. They are few and far between. In fact lots of previously-offered adult education courses have either disappeared or become rarities, or been replaced by online courses or courses that lead to a qualification. In my opinion we are the poorer as a result.

My experience of working in a private college

Many moons ago I quit my teaching job temporarily in order to help my mother in her shop. After a while I returned to teaching, but there was a period of around six weeks before I could take up my new post. I applied to teach Economics at a private college in order to fill the gap. This a summary of my experience there:

1. At my interview, the interviewer asked me what textbooks I’d recommend for Economics ‘A’ Level. I could see that she had a sheet of paper, which I presumed was a list of books she’d been told to check mentions of in my answer. I couldn’t see the list, but I knew what the main textbooks were, so I rattled off about six of them. The interviewer nodded approvingly. This was all BS on my part, because I wouldn’t have recommended any of them, except for particular parts of the course. The books I would have recommended were not very well known.

2. We the teachers were paid only for time spent teaching lessons. One of the consequences, of course, is that none of us set essays that we’d have to mark in our own time, or did more than a cursory amount of lesson preparation. (As a matter of fact, I don’t think the latter is a problem. A good teacher, by which I mean someone who knows how to teach, and knows their subject well, ought to be able to outline what they’re going to teach, and how, in five minutes or under, in my opinion.)

3. But another consequence of being paid only for the hours you face a class was that people tended not to hang around in the staffroom. You’d teach your lesson, and unless your next one was very soon after you’d just disappear for the day, or a few hours. Consequently, there was little opportunity for professional discussions about students or teaching approaches, and almost no collegiate atmosphere.

4. We were given a whiteboard marker, but if that ran out of ink or went missing, you had to pay for the replacement.

5. On my second day there, the Principal called me into his office. “I just wanted to tell you that the students like you”, he said. I almost replied y saying, “I couldn’t give a toss. I’m not here to win a popularity contest.” Fortunately, I listened to my intuition for once (I’m a lot better at that now) and held my tongue. I asked one of the other teachers what that was all about, and he told me that had the students not liked me he would have fired me — because all he was concerned about was making sure that the students told all their cousins about how great the college was, in the hope that they would enrol too.

6. One of the important things to do for exam courses is to set timed essays. I wasn’t allowed to do this. I also wasn’t allowed to have small group discussions, or even questions and answer sessions. The reason was that the Principal thought that any time not lecturing the students was time wasted.

The underlying reason for all of this, of course, was that the driving force — actually, the only force — was money. There seemed to be no concern for whether the quality of education being offered was the best it could be. I suppose these days there are more checks in the form of inspection visits, but this was a good insight into what can happen when people know the price of everything and the value of nothing.

Concluding thoughts

I’m not suggesting that all courses that lead to poorly-paying jobs should be supported by the government. However, in my opinion the future earnings/future study approach to measuring the value of a course is a pretty narrow one. Just because it’s easy to do, doesn’t mean it’s right.