Education: Notes on Pannapacker

One of my former students posted a piece in Slate.com that responded to an earlier statement by Prof. William Pannapacker, now well-known for his advice against pursuing PhDs in humanities. She wrote, "Some inspiring counterpoints by the readers - maybe there is hope for us yet!" Indeed, they do. Perhaps the best response was by Corinne Martin with,

Graduate school is a financial risk and as the single mother of two young children, I am well aware of the sacrifice I am making by continuing my work. I am not guaranteed a job when I am finished; I will have to conform to the standards and the pressures of an unstable job market which may mean a change in my career path; but I do not believe anything in life is guaranteed. For now, I'll stick with my choice and accomplish the task of a doctoral degree which, if not always a pleasure, still affords satisfaction and pride in my own determination. I will continue my work because, as Stanley Fish puts it, "[t]he humanities are their own good," and to insist otherwise is to buy into the notion that the only education worthwhile is that which is instrumental.

I'm not sure I could have said it better myself, but this sums up wonderfully just how I feel about it. Another respondent was able to look at it from a positive side because they put it more in context with the rest of the economy, the world of employment:

The path to the Ph.D. offered me the chance to live (precariously) off of what I was good at while giving me a chance to grow and get better. It was clear that the odds were stacked against me going in—and well-meaning professors had warned me—but it opened a world where I felt like I belonged, and which allowed me to live according to my values. Along the way I learned to research, write, manage collaborative projects, fundraise, network, speak in public, and I've been welcomed into institutions and social circles unimaginable to me when I started.

That's exactly how I feel going to the University of Minnesota, Duluth, next month to teach in the English department. Another good respondent said graduate work in the humanities helped her to become a "master teacher" an "independent school" (note to self: learn more about that!). As another reader put it, the experience "was like getting fitted with a second nervous system—I feel that much more acutely alive and responsive to the world." I agree and think that the heightened awareness of the world is ultimately worth it (even if we end up deconstructing our menus). "Ultimately worth it" is a personal judgement, of course, and one that remains mutable, as another respondent reminds us:

There are times when I am certain that this profession was designed for me. There are times when I wonder if I should walk away, as Pannapacker suggests. I remind myself that I did walk away only to learn now what I know for sure—that I can no longer deny the pull of what I love.

That being the case, we must return to the job with a political and social consciousness of the challenges, and a better sense of what we must do to face them. As Pannapacker sums them up in his response, we need to:

• Make graduate programs in the humanities more "transparent" to students. They need to know what they are doing and what will happen to them, I think he means. 
• We have to fight for "more equitable working conditions and academic freedom" so we can "provide the best possible education for their students." That means publicizing the biggest problems in our business, as Stanley Fish similarly recommended in Save the World on Your Own Time. ("The rapid transformation of college teaching into part-time, low-wage, no-benefit positions," is just one) 

The question remains: is there anything that can be done to ensure that students in my position don't fail to find successful employment that uses the skills they learned? My gut tells me, no, there will always be a failure rate. But what level of failure is acceptable?