One more stab at the uniqueness of universities. . .

For the past month I have been stuck on the value of universities. It began with a debate I participated in involving the question of controversial speakers at Universities. I was arguing that such speakers brought nothing of value to universities. The debate has happened. It is over, but the topic continues to haunt me. In short, I just feel that the motion debated is perpetuated by the fact that people do not appreciate the value of a college or university.

One of the items I was looking at when I prepared for the debate was the issue that in my few encounters with this debating group, The Motion, narrative or story telling was not used. I realized, participating as a debater this time that the time constraints just do not allow for such. I had two timed segments, an opening statement, which was five minutes, a closing statement, which was 3 minutes, and a few quick responses during the question and answer period. None of them allowed for a good story, unfortunately.

So I figure I will offer that story here. I do believe it offers another argument for the value of colleges and universities.

So the argument, or story that did not make the cut involves a  Professor I encountered while I was at Rutgers-New Brunswick, way back in the late 80's. He might still be there. He was last time I looked a few years back. He was teaching a Philosophy of Language class I had in my junior year. It was in Scott Hall, but in the back, I believe? Early on in the semester he started exploring what was required for a language to work, to function. He offered up to the class, God's little brother, who was building a language. What would he need for that language to work? That was basically the topic of the lecture or a series of lectures, or at least my recollection of it.

So he was going on about that and it was intriguing. I recall I stole one of his arguments and used it in another class, only to realize that other students from that same philosophy of language class were in that class also. Embarrassing.

Regardless, what I would have liked to have brought to the debate was one occasion where he, this Professor, was in the midst of his lecture trying to sort out what was going on between him, his imaginary interlocutors, and the class, and in that class (or often enough), his encounter with the chalk and chalk board. He routinely used the board to accentuate a point. He would discuss or lecture and then put the conclusion on the board. It was a method of highlighting or emphasis.

And yet once he would put that assertion up, he would quickly come back and challenge it. It would go something likes this. "So it looks like language requires abc, and a, b, c, all require x." He would then put X on the board. As soon as he put X on the board, he would turn around and say,"But if we believe that abc requires X, then we must also believe Y, but . . . we started by saying that we don't believe Y. So how does that work? Why do we believe X, but yet we cannot grant Y?"

In dealing with such quandaries, and posting them on the board, he would end up covered in chalk dust. Honestly he would just smear it on his forehead, cheeks, and nose, Several folks in the class pointed this out to me afterwards. I had not seen it till after they had pointed it out. He had brought me along in his journey, and neither he nor I had noticed his being covered in dust at the end of the lecture.

That being covered in dust and not knowing or caring, that being absorbed in the problem there before him, was and is a wonderful thing. And for me to not notice that detail till after the fact and just go with him on that exploration was wonderful. That ability to dive into something with that intensity, where one is unaware of the things around him or her is truly of value. That is part of an education and a university.

Sadly, I was not able to sneak this into the debate, so I offer it here.

And thank you Professor Ernest Lepore.