Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
An excerpt about
Education,
Robert M. Pirsig
As
a result of his experiments he concluded that imitation was a real evil that
had to be broken before real rhetoric teaching could begin. This imitation seemed
to be an external compulsion. Little children didn't have it. It seemed to come
later on, possibly as a result of school itself. That sounded right, and the
more he thought about it the more right it sounded. Schools teach you to imitate.
If you don't imitate what the teacher wants you get a bad grade. Here, in college,
it was more sophisticated, of course; you were supposed to imitate the teacher
in such a way as to convince the teacher you were not imitating, but taking
the essence of the instruction and going ahead with it on your own. That got
you A's. Originality on the other hand could get you anything...from A to F.
The whole grading system cautioned against it.
He discussed this with a professor
of psychology who lived next door to him, an extremely imaginative teacher,
who said, ``Right. Eliminate the whole degree-and-grading system and then you'll
get real education.''
Ph¾drus' argument for the abolition
of the degree-and- grading system produced a nonplussed or negative reaction
in all but a few students at first, since it seemed, on first judgment, to destroy
the whole University system. One student laid it wide open when she said with
complete candor, ``Of course you can't eliminate the degree and grading system.
After all, that's what we're here for.''
She spoke the complete truth.
The idea that the majority of students attend a university for an education
independent of the degree and grades is a little hypocrisy everyone is happier
not to expose. Occasionally some students do arrive for an education but rote
and the mechanical nature of the institution soon converts them to a less idealistic
attitude.
The demonstrator was an argument
that elimination of grades and degrees would destroy this hypocrisy. Rather
than deal with generalities it dealt with the specific career of an imaginary
student who more or less typified what was found in the classroom, a student
completely conditioned to work for a grade rather than for the knowledge the
grade was supposed to represent. Such a student, the demonstrator hypothesized,
would go to his first class, get his first assignment and probably do it out
of habit. He might go to his second and third as well. But eventually the novelty
of the course would wear off and, because his academic life was not his only
life, the pressure of other obligations or desires would create circumstances
where he just would not be able to get an assignment in.
Since there was no degree or
grading system he would incur no penalty for this. Subsequent lectures which
presumed he'd completed the assignment might be a little more difficult to understand,
however, and this difficulty, in turn, might weaken his interest to a point
where the next assignment, which he would find quite hard, would also be dropped.
Again no penalty. In time his weaker and weaker understanding of what the lectures
were about would make it more and more difficult for him to pay attention in
class. Eventually he would see he wasn't learning much; and facing the continual
pressure of outside obligations, he would stop studying, feel guilty about this
and stop attending class. Again, no penalty would be attached. But what had
happened? The student, with no hard feelings on anybody's part, would have flunked
himself out. Good! This is what should have happened. He wasn't there for a
real education in the first place and had no real business there at all. A large
amount of money and effort had been saved and there would be no stigma of failure
and ruin to haunt him the rest of his life. No bridges had been burned.
The student's biggest problem
was a slave mentality which had been built into him by years of carrot-and-
whip grading, a mule mentality which said, ``If you don't whip me, I won't work.''
He didn't get whipped. He didn't work. And the cart of civilization, which he
supposedly was being trained to pull, was just going to have to creak along
a little slower without him. This is a tragedy, however, only if you presume
that the cart of civilization, ``the system,'' is pulled by mules. This is a
common, vocational, ``location'' point of view, but it's not the Church attitude.
The Church attitude is that civilization, or ``the system'' or ``society'' or
whatever you want to call it, is best served not by mules but by free men. The
purpose of abolishing grades and degrees is not to punish mules or to get rid
of them but to provide an environment in which that mule can turn into a free
man.
The hypothetical student, still
a mule, would drift around for a while. He would get another kind of education
quite as valuable as the one he'd abandoned, in what used to be called the ``school
of hard knocks.'' Instead of wasting money and time as a high-status mule, he
would now have to get a job as a low-status mule, maybe as a mechanic. Actually
his real status would go up. He would be making a contribution for a change.
Maybe that's what he would do for the rest of his life. Maybe he'd found his
level. But don't count on it.
In time...six months; five
years, perhaps...a change could easily begin to take place. He would become
less and less satisfied with a kind of dumb, day-to-day shopwork. His creative
intelligence, stifled by too much theory and too many grades in college, would
now become reawakened by the boredom of the shop. Thousands of hours of frustrating
mechanical problems would have made him more interested in machine design. He
would like to design machinery himself. He'd think he could do a better job.
He would try modifying a few engines, meet with success, look for more success,
but feel blocked because he didn't have the theoretical information. He would
discover that when before he felt stupid because of his lack of interest in
theoretical information, he'd now find a brand of theoretical information which
he'd have a lot of respect for, namely, mechanical engineering. So he would
come back to our degreeless and gradeless school, but with a difference. He'd
no longer be a grade-motivated person. He'd be a knowledge-motivated person.
He would need no external pushing to learn. His push would come from inside.
He'd be a free man. He wouldn't need a lot of discipline to shape him up. In
fact, if the instructors assigned him were slacking on the job he would be likely
to shape them up by asking rude questions. He'd be there to learn something,
would be paying to learn something and they'd better come up with it.
Motivation of this sort, once
it catches hold, is a ferocious force, and in the gradeless, degreeless institution
where our student would find himself, he wouldn't stop with rote engineering
information. Physics and mathematics were going to come within his sphere of
interest because he'd see he needed them. Metallurgy and electrical engineering
would come up for attention. And, in the process of intellectual maturing that
these abstract studies gave him, he would he likely to branch out into other
theoretical areas that weren't directly related to machines but had become a
part of a newer larger goal. This larger goal wouldn't be the imitation of education
in Universities today, glossed over and concealed by grades and degrees that
give the appearance of something happening when, in fact, almost nothing is
going on. It would be the real thing.
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