Sarah Lawrence: Experiment in Individualism

Fifteen miles north of New York hidden in a peaceful residential section of east Yonkers, Sarah Lawrence College quietly continues the experiment in progressive education that it has carried on since its inception in 1928.

About one hundred freshmen enter its gate annually--perhaps drawn by the notion that Sarah Lawrence is the college for the artist, or the intellectual, or the Bohemian, or the debutante. Perhaps what appeals to them is Sarah Lawrence's reputation as a haven of femine individualism.

The partial truth of each of these stereotypes is easily recognizable even to the casual visitor, but only one of these generalizations seems to gain the unanimous recognition of faculty and students: Sarah Lawrence is devoted to the individual, and individualism is its most cherished attribute.

In an effort to treat the student as an individual, Sarah Lawrence has developed its progressive educational policy, a policy that makes it almost unique among woman's colleges. No reported grades, no examinations, no lectures, and no required courses--these are the extremes towards which the policy gravitates. Until very recently, all four extremes were realized.

This year for the first time a few lecture courses, with enrollments of 20-40 girls, have been instituted, and every sophomore and junior is required to attend one of these. The rationale for the modification is that some students will benefit more from a lecture than from the small classes that form the mainstay of the system. An expansion program which will result in the addition of 150 students without a corresponding growth in faculty threatens to force continuing deemphasis of small classes.

A system of faculty reports takes the place of a conventional grading system. These reports--they vary from a paragraph to a page in each course--are sent to the students twice a year but not to the parents. Slightly less detailed reports are sent to the graduate schools to which some of the girls eventually go. The principal virtue of excluding grades is that the students tend to equate success with the accumulation of ideas rather than with the accumulation of good reports.

Aside from the lecture requirement, there is an "exploratory" course now that must be taken in freshman year. Its similarity to General Education requirements indicates that Sarah Lawrence has surrendered some of the radicalism of which it is so proud. A student's curriculum is planned on an individual basis by the student herself and an advisor, known as a "don." It is this catering to individual needs that forms the core of the Sarah Lawrence philosophy. The don, whose chief function is academic guidance, also serves as a sympathetic ear for all the student's problems, though their psychiatric role is underplayed.

Ninety per cent of Sarah Lawrence classes contain fewer than fifteen girls. Again the purpose is to administer to individual needs. While there is an occasional reluctance among the girls to speak out and risk making mistakes in these classes, the general result is a free-flowing discussion, which suffers from excessive digression more than from inadequate response.

Sarah Lawrence students take only three courses which, with rare exception, meet only once a week. In addition there is a weekly half-hour conference with each instructor, similar in may respects to Harvard's individual tutorial system. In this way, the instructor can be expected to learn and fill the requirements of each student, giving in effect a different course to each conferee. As with Harvard tutorial, examinations are rare and most faculty members conscientiously avoid them. Term papers, traditionally referred to as "contracts," are expected of each student.

The system has its dangers. A student never learns by the convenient signpost of grades just where she stands, and a complaint heard often is that, "I never really know how I'm doing." Also, as one member of the administration pointed out, "At any other school, an A ends matters; here without marks you can't win." If a girl responds correctly to these discomforts, the results can be very gratifying, for the quest for knowledge will outlast the final session of the course. There is a risk, however, that the student will lose her way without the tangible incentive of a good mark.

Small classes too have their hazards. Students often cannot take a desired course because of strict limitation on enrollment. With fewer than ten students in the average class, there is a disquieting pressure to participate, and the result may be an excessive premium on verbosity. Translated into a pressure to contribute, however, this discomfort too can be intellectually beneficial. The educational policy proves immensely valuable to those that can adapt to it, but the transition from high school is difficult. Some girls never quite make it.

Debutantes in Dungarees

Academic individualism may be the college's conception of its most singular characteristic, but to many outsiders, Sarah Lawrence remains a school of debutantes. This view is encouraged by the fact that Sarah Lawrence's tuition--$1820--is the highest in the nation, and little more than 10 per cent of the student body receive scholarships from the college. The theme of gracious living was emphasized in a recent spread by Harper's Magazine entitled, "Sarah Lawrence: for the Rich, Bright and Beautiful." However, while it is true that the girls are well represented in Eastern social registers, the presence of the debutante contingent seems to leave the atmosphere of Sarah Lawrence unaffected.

The erroneous impression of a finishing school for budding socialites is strengthened by the physical plan of the college. A tiny twenty-seven acre campus decorated at spots with red geraniums, gives Sarah Lawrence an aristocratic appearance which grates sharply with the bluejeans that are a favorite mode of dress.

Another feature of the campus is the modern Students Arts Center, used by singing, dancing, and drama groups. The arts form a major part of the average Sarah Lawrence girl's life, and for many girls, art is more than an extracurricular activity. While literature is the most popular field of concentration, visual arts, performing arts, and music rank fairly high on the list. At any time of day, a visitor can enter Reisinger Auditorium and expect to see some sort of impromptu performance.

There too, however, Sarah Lawrence is moving closer to the tried and true. Over concentration in the arts, a common occurrence in the past, is no longer permitted. No girl may take two courses in the arts simultaneously until her senior year (another recently applied curricular restriction). Even in this area, Sarah Lawrence's radicalism has become more moderate.

In the basement of the art center is "The Caf," a lounge-cafeteria where girls congregate in their spare time. Usually one can see there a Princeton, Yale, or Columbia student who has driven to Sarah Lawrence to spend the afternoon hours. While representatives from these three universities date the Sarah Lawrence girls most often, one occasionally sees some pig-tailed coed sporting a Harvard sweatshirt.

An evening study date will usually end up in "The Spoon," the place-to-go for Sarah Lawrence. Complete with good food, dim lighting, and a juke box, it is an ideal place for coffee and conversation. Similar on a smaller scale to Cronin's, the Spoon is not strictly a college hangout; residents from the area come also to consume bottles of beer from the counter or liquor from the bar.

When she has a formal date, the Sarah Lawrence girl will typically dress chicly and drive to New York with her escort to see a show, stop in somewhere afterward, and return in plenty of time for her 2 a.m. curfew (Weekday curfews are 1:30). There is also a great exodus to Princeton, Yale, or home on weekends, leaving the campus quiet and lonely.

The Student's College

Sarah Lawrence co-eds must depend on their dates and the New Haven rail-road for transportation to New York, since car permission is rarely granted. Safety, inadequate parking facilities, and a desire to keep the college residential are the stated reasons for this regulation, which is unpopular among the students. One dean added that banning cars has the extra advantage of eliminating one difference between the financial haves and have-nots.

The Sarah Lawrence girl likes to think of herself not only as an isolated individual, but as an important part of the college community. Consequently, student organizations form a significant part of campus life. Last year the Student Council decided to give car privileges to seniors, and the recommendation was sent to the Joint Committee, consisting of nine voting members, three of whom are students. Here the proposal was rejected on the grounds outlined above, and the added consideration that seniors should not be treated differently from other students.

For those who break school regulations there is the unwelcome institution of the Council warning. If a girl fails, for example, to attend a House meeting--there are no sororities at Sarah Lawrence--the House president may recommend that she receive a Council warning, making her liable for one hour's "service" to the college. This service can take any of several forms; she may work in the library for an hour or perhaps wait on tables. Emphasis is placed on the flexibility of punitive measures. Each case, Council members claim, is treated individually without regard to precedent--another instance of the ineluctable cult of the individual.

A glance at the Sarah Lawrence handbook reveals a wealth of official committees and organizations in addition to the Student Council and the usual extracurricular clubs. An adviser-advisee committee, a curriculum committee, and a scholarship committee seem to provide ample justification for the claim that Sarah Lawrence students contribute to policies which at other schools remain the exclusive province of the administration.

Despite one student's claim that, "This is our home because at Sarah Lawrence, we know the school belongs to us," the truth is that student organizations are no more powerful than at many other schools. (One junior referred to "the myth that this is a student-run college.") The administration is progressive enough to redress student grievances, and the school is small enough to ensure that these grievances will be heard. A burgeoning student interest in Russian, for instance, is likely immediately to produce a Russian course, as it did last year, but the situation is by no means as unique as the student body likes to think.

Nonetheless, the prevailing student attitude--exaggerated as it may be--produces an interest in the running of the college that is commensurate with the spirit of inquiry that Sarah Lawrence attempts to foster. Former president Harold Taylor, who retired last year, discussed administrative matters freely with the students, encouraging the feeling that the students work hand in hand with, rather than under the aegis of, the administration. The feeling of intellectual community appears to be a movement away from individualism. One suspects that individualism came first to Sarah Lawrence, and that the community spirit represents an attempt at moderation.

The new president of Sarah Lawrence is Harrison Tweed, a prominent New York attorney who spent his undergraduate and law school days at Harvard. Only a three-day-a-week president, he maintains his law practice, working in New York on Monday and Friday. This is President Tweed's first and last year in this capacity, for his is an interim appointment, lasting until a permanent president is selected.

President Tweed's principal functions are representing the college and acting in a fund-raising capacity. Financially, he concedes, it is "a great handicap to have female alumnae," for it is their husbands that usually control the purse-strings. Active contributing by parents of undergraduates, however, adds to the success of an annual fund which generally nets about $100,000, sufficient to meet the college's basic needs.

Despite its lack of sufficient scholarship funds, Sarah Lawrence was one of the first colleges to refuse the government loans offered under the National Defense Education Act, because of the attached loyalty affidavit.

Even the conservative, exceptionally wealthy, neighboring town of Bronxville seems to have been won over to the college. Town-gown relations, tenuous at time in the past, are better now partly due to Sarah Lawrence's sharing of its auditorium and frequent invitations to Westchester residents to attend theatrical performances and other college events.

Bronxville, furthermore, is an intellectual town, with a good percentage of authors and professional men among its population. Here is another reason for rapport with the college, for Sarah Lawrence veers distinctly toward the intellectual.

Intelligence and intellect are not alway concomitants, especially at women's colleges, where stress is often put on social aspects, with grades producing the major impetus for learning. But on the Sarah Lawrence campus, there is ample evidence of intellectual activity. In the dining hall that serves Sarah Lawrence's 400 students, conversations hew to the intellectual rather than the social. This year's freshman play, written by students, is a satire on Samuel Beckett's "Waiting for Godot," a striking contrast to the fraternity-sorority skits that are the rule on many of the nation's campuses.

Dean Gerard Fountain finds that, "These girls are more serious than the students I went to school with." Dean Fountain is a graduate of Yale. The girls back up this statement with tales of the many weekday hours spent in study. Just why Sarah Lawrence girls take their studies so seriously is difficult to analyze. Certainly progressivism must be given most of the credit, for the importance of education is emphasized and reemphasized.

According to the girls, dates are not a prestige factor as they are at other colleges. To them, Sarah Lawrence is a "status-less society," in that a girl cannot acquire acclaim through the usual methods of dates and grades. The only criterion for prestige is individual brilliance, whether intellectual or artistic, and this becomes the ideal to which most aspire, not for prestige but for personal satisfaction.

In an oft-quoted remark, a transfer student from Smith made a perceptive comparison between the two schools: "Smith is academically stimulating," she said, "but Sarah Lawrence is intellectually more exciting." Whatever validity this comment has is a result of the college's attempt to interest its students in broad ideas rather than in narrow course material.

Social awareness is certainly not ignored but to a large degree it is set aside every Monday to await its Friday renaissance. Speaking of the casual, often Bohemian, weekday dress, one junior jokingly commented, "At Sarah Lawrence, if you're ugly, it's because you choose to be, and this is your mark of individuality." Her remark was a reflection both on the Sarah Lawrence reputation for good looking girls and on the unconcern for social affairs during the week. It also reflects the respect for individualism felt by the student body, and the suspicion that this individualism has to a large extent been attained by the girls.

Not as radical as it likes to think, nor as it once was, Sarah Lawrence--at its best--produces a girl whose individualism is tempered by community responsibility and whose fervor for education is complemented by social awareness. Tenaciously hugging to its radical policies in theory, the college has moderated them in practice