During a class discussion of modern educational trends, one of my fellow classmates suggested to the professor, an advocate for the classical liberal education, "It might be interesting to compare theories, face-to-face, with one of those professional educators who champions the modern method." To which the professor answered, "But I have a shortcut … I can just talk to you, the products." Thereupon, I laughed audibly along with others, though the proper reaction was for me to leave the classroom and weep bitterly. To my professor, the shortcomings of education are evident in us all. But to whom or what can the student look to confirm his suspicions that modern educational practices are failing him and the rest of us? I suggest, for starters, the Tribune's Viewpoints.

How many of us subject ourselves to the mediocre level of discourse found in these Viewpoints and perceive behind the journalistic rhetoric an artless stubbornness about being right, preferred over being clear about the differences and distinctions? This is evidenced all too often by the ready categorization of what is "left-wing" or "right-wing," labels which only guarantee that three out of three readers will pigeon-hole what you think you have to say. With but a select choir to encourage him, the writer's motive can hardly be more than to confirm what he already believes.

How many times have we read a column, and well before arriving at the end, we have accurately guessed the author's year of study by his or her sentimental idealism, banal iconoclasm, supposed worldliness or wry condescension? It is not that the writing should refrain from showing us glimpses of its writer. For even the historical record shows us many fine public discourses have been distinguished by the temper and character of their authors, e.g. the fiery heart of Cicero or the measured nobility of Churchill (not that we should expect such levels of refinement among these pages). However, the lack of precision and procedure find these Viewpoints spilling into the margins an abundance of self-expression with too much eagerness for controversy and not enough zeal for eliciting genuine thought.

Have there not been numerous occasions when not merely the content of the commentary itself, but its exposition seem to adore the very Seinfeld approach of making a social critique? That is to say, too many of these Viewpoint writers belie their victimhood to pop-culture and exhibit a certain callowness in making a social critique, which they seem to have brought with them upon first arrival at the university. If a would-be contributor were only to seek out a quiet, extracurricular moment in which he might explore a third-dimension of an issue, we might be right in expecting a thought more poignant than that which a recent contributor intended in writing "This University is built on American Indian land."

What is it that strikes us, when we lament these Viewpoints, which brandish newly-learned academic terms so ineffectively, as if the raison d'être of a column was just so that the writer might use the term raison d'être? Why do we have that certain feeling of triumph when we learn the writer's field of study, and then chalk up the flaws of his Viewpoint as something to be expected from all those narrow-minded students of (insert major)? What do we infer from these Viewpoints, whose display of quotes from notable thinkers is little more than Google-inspired patchwork? And a final question: Having proposed more questions than answers, has this Viewpoint yielded any better insights into the measure of our education than others that have unwittingly provided us with the examples of its failures?

Jesse Taniguchi is a sophomore in the College of Arts & Sciences.

This article appeared in The Marquette Tribune on Mar. 15 2005.