When I started college, I thought I would major in a social science subject and enter a "helping profession." But of course I had to take freshman English--"Literature and Composition" they called it--and this class, widely regarded as required drudgery, turned out to be my favorite. It was aptly named, for we read literature and composed short essays about our readings, which included Hamlet, A Farewell to Arms, The Grapes of Wrath, and A Streetcar Named Desire. When we turned in our essays, we had to make an appointment to meet with the professor, who at the interview read aloud the paper and graded it in the student's presence. This had the effect of concentrating my efforts, such was my fear of suffering humiliation in any of the sessions. I was enrolled simultaneously in "Introduction to Sociology," which, in comparison to the subject matter of freshman English, seemed unrelievedly dull, the textbook and lectures an indigestible morass of jargon.
My devotion to this new mistress was thoroughgoing. I signed up for more literature courses, as well as other offerings in the humanities, but, excepting the "distribution requirements" for the liberal arts, eschewed not only the social sciences but also math, physics, chemistry, and biology. My view was that these were "soulless" and "material" subjects not worthy of the attention of seekers after truth and beauty. Also, the science classes were filled with "pre-meds" whose fanatical pursuit of high grades was inimical to my ideals. Yes, I too was an idiot while young.
I have come to feel a bit like Henry Adams, whose autobiography, The Education of Henry Adams, is largely organized around the idea that his classical education had not prepared him for citizenship in an increasingly technological world. The title therefore refers to the self-education he undertook as an adult. My own efforts along the same line have turned me into a science enthusiast of the kind that working scientists probably regard with a mixture of amusement and derision. I think it is possible that science might explain everything, including human consciousness. As human thought has advanced, stories involving such things as the gods and their chariots, and God and his garden, have had to make way for the real--that is, the scientific--explanation of things. I see no reason to doubt that this trend will continue, and wish I had entered adulthood in a better position to understand what seem to me the most exciting developments of our time. It's not as if the rate of technological change has slowed down since Henry Adams thought his Latin and his Greek had left him somewhat behind the curve.
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