September 4, 2012

How's This for an Answer?



For my Fall 2012 welcome post, I didn’t want to write another page on the beauties and challenges of interdisciplinary graduate study. I'm going to let my previous first-posts-of-the-semester do that. Instead, I wanted to address a situation (problem?) that I am willing to bet all of you have encountered at least once before, during, and, if you're a MALS graduate, after your time as a graduate liberal studies student. Here's how it goes: 

You: “Yes, I’m in grad school at ETSU. 
Family Member/Friend/Employer/Guy in Seat 4G  (Henceforth known as “Them”): “Oh, what are you studying?” 
You: (pause while you decide what to say) “I’m getting a Master of Arts in Liberal Studies.” 
Them: Confused, Inquisitive, or Raised-Eyebrow Facial Expression 
You: “It’s an interdisciplinary, self-designed degree, but what I’m really studying is (insert concentration or list two disciplines here)” 
Them: “Okay. What do you plan to do with that degree?” 
You: Explain your program of study, being sure to explain that the degree does not involve lying under trees, staring at the sun, and philosophizing all day. 
Them: “Sounds interesting. Good luck.” All the while looking ever more confused, skeptical, or (the worst) disinterested.

I think this might have been the worst part of being a MALS student, even worse than the gobs of reading I had to do, worse than learning to pronounce the names of French theorists like “Beaudrillard” and “Foucault,” and worse than searching for a parking space at 9:30 on a Tuesday morning. I really hated having to constantly justify the time, money, and energy I was spending on what turned out to be the most difficult and rewarding experience I have ever had (MALS was way harder than any ironman triathlon, in my opinion), not only because it was annoying, but also because these encounters activated that menacing, not to mention false, little voice in my head that said, “yeah, Kit, why are you doing this? No one even knows what a Master of Arts in Liberal Studies is. Why are you working so hard when everyone thinks you’re getting some artsy-fartsy degree that won’t land you a job?”   

And I never seemed to have a completely satisfying answer to the “Why MALS?” question when I found myself in this situation. While I knew I was learning valuable skills in writing, critical thinking, and just “being,” I wasn’t able to put them in words that would fit nicely into the average resume, much less the average elevator speech.

Perhaps this is because there isn’t a single, static answer to the “Why MALS?” question. Part of the beauty of learning at such an intense and deep level is that your answers to “why” are constantly evolving. My answer to "why" one month into MALS would probably have been “because this is the degree that had the archival studies courses.”

"What should I tell "them"?
But now it is 100% different. My answer to “Why MALS?” now is: because MALS forces you to fully engage in the thought processes, reasoning, imagining, and problem-solving that will make you a better critical thinker, writer, worker, and community member, and you might not get that from following a strict, specialized, job-oriented, narrow, disciplinary path.

Let me be clear: there’s nothing wrong with a disciplinary degree. I’m not saying that I’m smarter than anyone with a PhD in biochemistry, nor do I believe Dr. Biochem to be narrow-minded. I am certainly not saying that the Doc is a less worthy human being than I am. What I’m saying is that MALS is designed to force you out of your comfort zone and be the one who considers the whole proverbial wheel instead of being the guy who knows a whole lot about the bearings in the hub. Both are necessary to create the knowledge that will make society better. When you condition your mind to study the whole wheel, you’ll know the right questions to ask of the bearing expert. You’ll also know that the state of the hub has an affect on the condition of the rim. Being able to recognize and act upon systematic relationships is a key skill you’ll develop in MALS.

The point is - and I think this is where we need to do a better job answering the “Why MALS” question when non-MALS people ask it - that the liberal studies student, who chooses an interdisciplinary course of study, holds value to society, employers, and academia equal to the highly specialized student.

So, the next time you find yourself in the “Why MALS” situation, think about giving an answer along these lines:

“I am in MALS because I am interested in doing this, and I see that the best way to learn how to do this is by studying how it fits into the larger picture. I can do this by learning to approach problems associated with this critically, and by using the knowledge of disciplines such as A, B, and Q, I will be better equipped to help develop solutions to the problem. And while I’m at it, I will be writing about complex issues at such a high level that I will have the skills to communicate with professionals not only in the fields of A, B, and Q, but also with community leaders and clients from diverse backgrounds.”

How’s that for an answer? Almost sounds like your MALS degree could land you a job, a community project, or a look of respect and sincere interest from “them.”

As you go through this semester, be ready to address the “Why MALS?” question. Not only to have a brilliant response for the unititiated, but also because you will be required to justify your program of study to your program director and your Graduate Advisory Committee. MALS not only teaches you to think critically, but also requires you to think critically about your approach to your program design.

And while your answers to this question will evolve as you become more familiar with the tenets of interdisciplinary study and research, never let the negative voices get the better of you. I cannot tell you how glad I am that I learned to shut them up. Sure, I wish the rest of the world would give me the same automatic respect they seem to give Dr. Biochem, but I would rather have to continue answering the “Why MALS” question than I would have to be the “them” asking it.

Write on,
Kit


P.S.>  I still wonder if I say Beaudrillard’s name correctly. Readers of this blog may never know. That, my friends, is one of the great advantages of writing. 

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