Class Assignment: Encomium **warning** [somewhat] lengthy post ahead

Assignment: Write an invective/encomium about the following topic: "the value of a humanities education." The paper that you write should be 600-900 words in length. Show off your rhetorical abilities to make a strong appeal to your audience.

    So this is it—your baby's about to head off to college, they're still debating what they want to do with that four plus years of their life, and you're sweating bullets. Time to to do a little time travel, folks. Fire up that flux capacitor and take a ride back to your senior year of high school—what do you see?

    A few of you have your degree choices or maybe even your whole life mapped out at this point. Props to you, but you're in the minority here. To be perfectly honest, most of you are excited and hyped to the nines, but you're also scared silly. I mean, just these four years could decide what the rest of your life is going to look like, and you have more control over that destiny now than even you care to admit. But there is so much for you to choose from, and perhaps your desires are tugging you in a direction not quite aligned with that of your parents...

    Now, regardless of your decision or what your parents thought of it, and with the benefit of hindsight, what are you going to say to your child? You want them to have a career that is highly beneficial to them in the long run. But you want them to do something that they love. And sometimes it just doesn't look like the two can mix. Can't let them go and take a deep breath as they plunge into the future that awaits them—whether it be nuclear scientist or starving author? Maybe I can help.

    Try to imagine a bird without its feathers. A flower without its petals. A tree without its leaves. Sure, they would all function in essentially the same way. But the bird would not catch your eye as it flitted past; it would be hopping around, mournfully earthbound, looking wistfully at the sky. Flowers would no longer be bought for sweethearts on Valentines Day, and the bare skeletons of trees would make you think ever of winter even during the blissful balminess of spring. They would all be in essence what they were before—so why would we miss their feathers, petals, and leaves so dreadfully? Because they were what endeared these things to us, gave them their vibrancy, lifted them about the mere dreariness of basic functionality.

    Now consider this: science, math, engineering—all those promising paths that ensure almost certain career success—these are the basic structure, the skeleton, the building blocks on which society is built. But the humanities—language, religion, the arts, philosophy; those uncertain, almost tainted career paths in today's culture—these are the feathers, the petals, the leaves which make the human life more vibrant, more attractive, more colorful. They add a certain unexplainable life and depth to the basic structure of everyday-ness and seem to breath a new dimension into the strict orderliness demanded by science.

    The science professor didn't learn to teach in his science courses. Those taught him what to teach. His language professor taught him how. Those cathedrals in Europe you swooned over during last year's vacation? Someone had to know some fairly precise mathematical equations to be able to build them, but they also depended on the expertise of many others to make them the majestic buildings that inspire awe in art historians to this day.

    My point? You could make a cake with just the flour, the salt, and the baking powder. It would be a cake. But it just wouldn't taste the same without the vanilla, the sugar, and the cocoa. Don't try to force your child into making what you think would be the best decision for them. Not because your parents did and you swore you'd never make the same mistake with your own kids. But because you know that in the end, it takes all kinds to make the world what it is today—and you'll be bragging about them to your friends regardless.