I recently received numerous emails from my alma mater asking me to donate money--"any amount!"--before the end of the fiscal year. Although my post-college careers have not been lucrative in any way, I was impressed by my school's fundraising campaign so I tried to resist my reflexive stinginess. Dubbed the "Take the Plunge Challenge," Colgate invites alums to "take the plunge" by donating, offering the following incentive: if 1300 alums donate before the end of the fiscal year, five dedicated (and awesome) administrators have agreed to "take the plunge" in Taylor Lake, a beautiful, albeit bacterial lake that is a central landmark of the school's scenic campus. These administrators listed the reasons why they are willing to take this literal plunge for Colgate--they all strongly believe in the school's mission, faculty, and students.
In truth, I deleted the first several emails I received after reading them. I admired Colgate's creative and weirdly heartwarming fundraising approach, but only from afar. However, after browsing the fundraising website a few times, the marketing gimmicks started working their magic on my precious neural networks. First, there was this picture:
These well-respected administrators just look so refreshingly ...goofy. They want to jump into that gross lake? For Colgate? For students like me? That's kind of ...sweet, I think. As I read about their sincere reasons for wanting to be a part of this campaign in such an involved, quirky way, I couldn't help but reconsider my initial "Bah, humbug!" response. As a result, I decided to take my own plunge--a plumbing of the philosophical depths of my Colgate education, so to speak.
Why Colgate?
I shall always remember the reason that I decided to attend Colgate: a quote from Colgate's guidebook for prospective students. I now realize that Colgate's marketing techniques tend to exert quite the influence on my psyche... In any case, the quote in the guidebook was spoken by former university president, Rebecca Chopp. When asked about the value of a liberal arts education, Chopp indicated that the purpose of such an education is to teach students how to "live a life worth living and create a world living in." This quote, coincidentally set against the backdrop of Taylor Lake in the guidebook, grabbed me. The quote provided me with the space to create a connection between education and a worthwhile life. Furthermore, it caused me to wonder what makes for a worthwhile life and world. Why is a Colgate education so enriching and valuable?
In light of recent news and historical events, I felt that this conversation was exceptionally timely. The questions sparked by Colgate's fundraising campaign--e.g., the purpose of a liberal arts education--are very much connected to the response that is currently demanded of us as citizens of a democratic society. News about the NSA leaks, changed election laws, DOMA, and Prop 8 require us, as citizens and human beings, to think critically about government surveillance, discriminatory voting practices, and limited rights for people who love each other. The question posed by Rebecca Chopp's quote in the guidebook is timeless: What does it mean to live a life worth living and create a world worth living in?
The beauty of that link between education and the value of life is that it is ongoing. We can engage questions about what it means to respond to life now by drawing on thinkers, history, cultures, religions, literature, and research from the past. I recently rediscovered W.H. Auden's poem, "The Unknown Citizen," and I was reminded of Auden's prophetic voice. Although the poem was published over seventy years ago, it is still captivating. Auden is a (posthumous) gadfly. His poem invites us, citizens and human beings, to Take the Plunge to be known, to be heard, and to build a better community:
The Unknown Citizen
by W.H. Auden
He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be One against whom there was no official complaint, And all the reports on his conduct agree That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint, For in everything he did he served the Greater Community. Except for the War till the day he retired He worked in a factory and never got fired, But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc. Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views, For his Union reports that he paid his dues, (Our report on his Union shows it was sound) And our Social Psychology workers found That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink. The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way. Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured, And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured. Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Instalment Plan And had everything necessary to the Modern Man, A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire. Our researchers into Public Opinion are content That he held the proper opinions for the time of year; When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war, he went. He was married and added five children to the population, Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation. And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education. Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd: Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15549#sthash.pRvurrJH.dpuf
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The skinny (since I'm about to hit the hay!): I realize that my time in college was by no means perfect, but I will always thank Colgate for preparing me for this ongoing plunge. (And, to the Colgate Development Office: I suppose your campaign worked, as I end this blog post feeling forever indebted to my alma mater!)
