An Open Letter From a New Alum

Dear Dean Lewis, Dean Knowles and President Rudenstine: They say that alums really hold sway over fair Harvard. And the Senior Gift people said that if I really wanted to effect change, I should donate to the University and write letters to the top brass. So I write you today, as an alumnus and modest donor, with the hope that these new-found designations hold you interest better than my role as a squawking newspaper writer.

I write you as a mostly happy Harvard graduate. I am still intoxicated from the euphoria of Commencement, but all in all I can say I am satisfied with my experience. I am not sure if I have learned much of substance, but I know that I am a sharper writer and thinker and a more mature individual than I was four years ago. Harvard has helped prepare me for a happy, successful future.

Of course, I have not always felt that way. There were times when I was downright miserable. My academic performance plummeted from near-perfect marks as a first-year to Group III. For a time, I found myself withdrawing socially, a situation that even led to an unwanted late-night brush with University Health Services. I pulled out of the slump, thanks to a little luck and a lot of help from friends, mostly from this newspaper and from Kirkland, my adopted House. What surprised me is that no one on an administrative level at Harvard noticed any of these warning signs. Or if anyone did, they certainly made no effort contact me. Hell, even a crude computer program could spot the red flags in my record. Well, you might say, my situation wasn't serious enough to warrant the attention of the busy advisers, tutors or deans. Then maybe Harvard needs more people in those kinds of roles. Well, you might argue, there are plenty of resources available at Harvard to deal with such cases. But the Bureau of Study Counsel, UHS and student groups like Room 13 are catch-all safety nets that deal with problems after the fact; a lot of students in difficult situations don't have the presence of mind to pick up a directory and make a phone call.

My point is that even among the happy and successful here, life can be a struggle. Student advising and counseling, both personal and academic, are like most things at Harvard, from class-room instruction to social life. The quality is wildly variable, and the best quality can be found by those who have the patience and perseverance to seek it for themselves, with a little bit of luck thrown in.

I bring up student concerns because I worry that students are becoming an ever-smaller part of the University equation. I understand that undergraduate students in particular have always been a small part of the institution as a whole. I can recite the well-worn saying, quoted by President Rudenstine in a recent Faculty meeting, in my sleep: "The students are here for four years, the Faculty for a lifetime, but Harvard is forever." I have come to understand that the University is many more things than a school. Harvard as a scholarly and research-oriented institution is top-notch, as a fundraising machine is unparalled, with a historical legacy and reputation for excellence second-to-none in American culture.

But what about Harvard's role as an educational institution? I worry that in the pursuit of the larger gifts to add to an already burgeoning endowment, in the pursuit of more big-name scholars and researchers, instructing students has been left by the wayside. In addition to inadequate advising and counseling, there are far too many inadequacies in the undergraduate experience. Almost everyone acknowledges that small discussion courses are preferable to the overcrowded lectures which make up the bulk of the undergraduate experience; still, some Faculty try to justify the merits of large lecture courses. Most coursework is taught by inconsistently trained graduate students, while interaction with Faculty is limited to inconsistently offered office hours. The Core curriculum, even after minor reforms, has limited offerings and is seen by most students as a chore, not an academic exercise.

Of course, these are not problems necessarily unique to Harvard; many we share with our colleagues at other large universities. Outside observers worry that the changing priorities of research universities as a whole are jeopardizing the quality of the nation's higher education system. But that is not the way things have to be. The University has led the way before, most recently with President Rudenstine leading the charge to reaffirm diversity in higher education. But other times it has dropped the ball, reacting late to nationwide reforms in financial aid programs and failing to forge real interdisciplinary links (where have all the interfaculty initiatives gone?) and to adopt innovative programs like ethnic studies. I challenge Harvard to lead the way again, to call for large research institutions--the upper elite and foundation of higher education in America--to reaffirm their commitment to their undergraduates. Before the University, there was Harvard College.

And an important part of that commitment is to value students more highly. The Office of Admissions readily tells prospective candidates that the students are what make the College special. And I, along with many of my colleagues, agree, feeling that I have learned more from my collected classmates than from my entire academic program. But if the students are such an integral part of the Harvard experience, why do students seem so often dismissed? Why is student happiness a subject of open campus debate for the first time in recent memory? Why is the position of dean of students being eliminated? Or to bring it into quantitative terms--they tell me big donors look at student giving to evaluate student satisfaction--why are our rates of senior giving so much lower compared to our competitors, if the quality of our education is so superior?

I challenge the conventional saying about Harvard; the students, too, are forever. (We just have shorter tenure.) The promotional material proclaims that students are what makes Harvard College special. And if for no other reason, value the students because we are the future leaders, the future donors. For the future survival and excellence of the University, it makes institutional sense to invest in its students.

Humbly submitted and always a student of this University,

Andrew S. Chang '99, a neurobiology concentrator in Kirkland House, was managing editor of The Crimson in 1998. Andrew S. Chang '99