Good point. There’s an attitude floating around that the only worthwhile degrees are STEM, because degrees have to be about math skillz because math is so hard, much harder than learning to critically analyze contemporary accounts of the Hundred Years’ War, understanding how Evangelical Christianity influenced the development of 19th century America, or mastering ancient Babylonian grammar (that “xxhhahh’blaahah-proterist past participle” is a piece of cake, lame-o non-math peon). Therefore, any degree that doesn’t require crap-tons of advanced math is garbage.
So what do we do about it? I’ve been in favor for some time of splitting apart the traditional academic degree progression (e.g. bachelor’s, master’s, etc.) and job training programs. But how do we do it without looking like we are reducing standards? Could we have a world where one can become, say, a social worker by completing a master’s degree in any field plus vocational training in social work? Then, any certified social worker could take further vocational training in, say, nursing and become a master’s degree level nurse. After all, master’s level critical thinking, research, etc. skills can go anywhere because they aren’t tied to a job. They could also go and earn a doctorate in Ancient Greek, take vocational courses in law, and become a doctorate-level attorney.
Anyone think we should take this to GD?
For the latter—sure.
For the former, one think I’ve noticed over my years as an academic is an increasing distrust of professors to know their business. Both administrators and students second-guess us constantly in our educational goals. As a consequence, we are require to be more and more explicit about our pedagogy and what, exactly, each step is for. This can be a good thing: it certainly forces you to think about what you’re doing, and to constantly strive to improve. On the other hand, it privileges the short-term at the expense of the long term. Quite a lot of what I do with a first-year class won’t bear fruit until the third or fourth year. The current system (again, with some exceptions) requires me to pretend that’s not so. And as I’m an adjunct, an increasing fraction of university teachers, I’m not allowed to participate in department meetings nor serve on committees, meaning that I have to take it on blind faith that what I do will mesh with what my colleagues do. Finally, it shifts the burden onto the in-classroom person to constantly justify his or her methods. This is especially a problem because students value the hard skills (math, science) and not the soft skills of critical thinking or writing. It’s especially difficult with the latter, which improve incrementally.