Dear Katie:
Let me begin by saying that I am impressed by The Cascade’s coverage of curricular issues. Items like your February 19 article on the science requirement and Nadine Moedt’s recent piece on indigenization ask tough and important questions.
On the matter of tough questions, why indeed is there a science requirement in the BA? There are a number of answers to this question, not all of which might be satisfying to you, but some of which will, I hope, demonstrate that this is not a random or punitive requirement. The first answer is that requiring some science coursework has been a longstanding tradition in the liberal arts. Look at virtually any university in Canada and the United States and you will encounter science requirements in the BA program. Even colleges which strongly focused on the humanities do not neglect science. Here, for example, is what St John’s in Santa Fe (widely regarded as one of the finest colleges in the US) requires of its students:
• Approximately 48 credits of seminar (this is St John’s term for its sustained “great books” curriculum: it begins with the Greeks in first year and works its way up to the modern world by fourth year)
• 24 credits of language
• 24 credits years of math
• 18 credits years of laboratory science
• 12 credits years of music
By this standard, our one-course science requirement is rather half-hearted.
The second answer is that we live in a world profoundly influenced by science and its practical handmaiden, technology. Virtually every great issue of our time — environmental degradation, poverty, nuclear power, terrorism, hunger, health, the technologizing of work and social life — has a scientific component. You do not have to imagine yourself as a policy maker or power broker to see that scientific knowledge will matter to your future. How will you make informed decisions about diet or health care or transit or personal safety without some appreciation of scientific reasoning and standards of evidence?
A third answer is that science is a way of understanding our world — its origins, its vastness, its creatures, its possibilities. Knowing something about plants and birds completely changes how you experience a walk in the woods. Learning even a little about biology cannot help but make you marvel at the fact that you are a living, conscious being. That course in astronomy you don’t want to take will open up to you the mysteries of the heavens.
“A century or so ago when I was in university, I was planning to become an angst-ridden, existentialist cigarette smoker who wrote novels on the side; I saw no reason for taking courses in biology or botany. But not taking those science courses was and remains my loss. So don’t limit yourself.”
A fourth answer is that you just never know what the future may hold. At this point in your studies, you know that you want a degree in English. (As a former English prof, I applaud this choice.) I understand the reluctance to take courses that seem completely unrelated to one’s interests and abilities. But defining yourself as an English lit person who is not interested in science limits your own possibilities. A century or so ago when I was in university, I was planning to become an angst-ridden, existentialist cigarette smoker who wrote novels on the side; I saw no reason for taking courses in biology or botany. But not taking those science courses was and remains my loss. So don’t limit yourself.
You describe high school as a place where one is forced to take the bitter pill of things like math and science; university, in contrast, is where one is liberated to follow one’s passions and become an expert in one’s field. This is only partly true. One of the most important dimensions of a university degree is what you acquire through general education — through all the courses you take that are not part of your field. More and more, universities in North America are recognizing many important skills — the ones that help you find and keep an interesting job, and help you become a responsible and thoughtful citizen—come from general education. Here’s a list of “essential learning outcomes for the twenty-first century” developed by the American Association of Colleges and Universities (a list remarkably similar to UFV’s own Institutional Learning Outcomes):
1. Knowledge of Human Cultures and the Physical and Natural World developed through study in the sciences and mathematics, social sciences, humanities, histories, languages, and the arts and focused by engagement with big questions, both contemporary and enduring
2. Intellectual and Practical Skills, including Inquiry and analysis, Critical and creative thinking, Written and oral communication, Quantitative literacy, Information literacy
3. Teamwork and problem solving, practiced extensively, across the curriculum, in the context of progressively more challenging problems, projects, and standards for performance
4. Personal and Social Responsibility, including Civic knowledge and engagement—local and global; Intercultural knowledge and competence; Ethical reasoning and action; Foundations and skills for lifelong learning
5. Integrative and Applied Learning, including synthesis and advanced accomplishment across general and specialized studies, demonstrated through the application of knowledge, skills, and responsibilities to new settings and complex problems
For sure, you will achieve some of these outcomes through your major, but you can’t achieve them all without substantial work in a number of disciplines. In other words, you need breadth in your degree. And, for what it’s worth, a recent research study found that employers are more interested in these learning outcomes than in the specific content of your major.
One small correction: Science students do have to take courses in the Humanities. The UFV BSc requires two courses in English or Communications.
So, I’m sorry that you’re not looking forward to that science course, but you won’t regret taking it. Honest.
Sincerely,
Susan Fisher, Associate Dean, Students, College of Arts
University of the Fraser Valley
