THE BOOK OF REVELATION

The Lampoon rarely demands reflection on the part of its readers. Its accustomed function is to amuse, to satirize, even to irritate, but seldom to provoke serious thought. Beneath the parody surface of the current "Protest of the Masses" number, however, there is much that can neither be ignored nor dismissed with an indulgent shrug.

As a work of art this issue deserves first rank in Lampoon annals. In it the grumbled protests, the soured ambitions, and the hushed scandals that have been rife in dormitory "bull sessions" for the past decade find classic expression. Adopting the style of communistic propaganda, typified by "The New Masses", the Lampoon has done bitter battle with every abuse, real or imagined, of Harvard life.

So sweeping a denunciation is not intended, of course, for undiscriminating consumption. Much of it will not find serious support in the Lampoon Building itself; even more must be discarded by the careful critic. But the CRIMSON does believe that its Mt. Auburn Street colleague has either reopened or brought to the surface discussion on several issues of the first importance.

The most prominent object of the Lampoon attack is the House Plan. The CRIMSON has already made its opposition to this plan, as outlined so far by University authorities, sufficiently clear to render lengthy discussion here unnecessary. Briefly it considers the present social organization of Harvard College, allowing as it does every student unlimited range and absolute freedom to choose and change his associates, greatly preferable to any forced melting pot scheme such as that envisaged by the House Plan. It has been unable to discover, more-over, educational advantages of the new arrangement which might offset this loss in social flexibility. Finally the CRIMSON regrets the philanthropy which, blind to the notorious inadequacy of tutorial staffs, professorial salaries, and even lecture room facilities, would contribute millions toward the realization of an unneeded, and to some extent undesired, residential experiment.

While denunciation of the House Plan may be the most evident point of the Lampoon's current attack, it is by no means the only, nor the most essential one. Far more vital to the future educational efficiency of Harvard is the course its teaching policies are to follow. The Lampoon has found in present conditions of instruction material for a twofold protest. On the one hand it expresses strong disapproval of the type of training demanded by such examinations as that given at mid-years in English 32, and on the other it decries the great intercollegiate race for academic prestige which sets a premium on scholarly production and dismisses with a contemptuous gesture the difficult art of teaching.

The type of examination which finds extreme expression in the English 32 mid-year paper is fortunately by no means universal at Harvard. But it is common enough to merit thoughtful attention. Its outstanding characteristics are length and purely factual emphasis. Both tend to minimize the importance of thought and selection on the part of the writer. Assuredly an examiner should demand facts in the answers to his questions; but this does not mean that facts must come tumbling out of the writer like nickels from an opened slot machine. The examiner should rather seek to test not only knowledge, but also the student's selective ability in using that knowledge to support his own reactions. This in turn demands time. In other words a short examination, calling for as much reflection and marshaling of material as actual writing, is greatly to be preferred to a long, elaborately subdivided paper which can be mel only by a hasty deluge of crammed facts and catch word opinions.

Of perhaps even greater significance to Harvard's educational effectiveness are the implications of the conflict between scholarly production and teaching development. The following complaint of a certain tutor will scarcely be dismissed as unique: "With a doctor's degree and an assistant professorship in my possession I have now just reached the point where I can appreciate the teaching possibilities of my position. I should like to settle down for ten years and devote my best energies toward perfecting myself as a teacher. But no, I must speed up research, publish, produce otherwise I'm soon out of the race entirely."

Publication is evidently the mark of academic distinction and the present race between American colleges toward this goal will admit of no laggards. But meanwhile what happens to the training of the student for whom these colleges are ostensibly maintained? The Harvard educational scheme is becoming more and more dependent on tutors and instructors. As the gap widens between lecturer and student the tutor's position becomes increasingly important and increasingly difficult. And at the same time it becomes always more impossible for the tutor to discharge his teaching functions in odd moments stolen from research. Unless the future is to see more emphasis placed upon instruction than on publication, unless tutors, in particular, are to find effective teaching as good a guarantee of promotion as rapid book production, the value of Harvard's educational efforts is in danger of suffering serious decline.