Bard: Greenwich Village on the Hudson

"Take a Harvard House, put the 200 most eccentric people in Cambridge in it, and you have an approximate picture of Bard College," has said one critic of the little college overlooking the Hudson. That most Bard students would not consider this an insult is perhaps the best proof of its truth.

While situated in a dull little hamlet in New York's upper Dutchess County, there is nothing about the place to make the itinerant Bohemian feel himself in Philistia. For Bard, in its unique approach to the liberal and creative arts stresses education of the individual to such a degree that intellectual and social individualism have run wild on the campus.

Jean-clad members of both sexes move from dormitory to seminar to lunch; yet, each person within the group maintaing perhaps too deliberately something of his own personality. In spare moments on an occasional dull weekend, Bardians are not unaccustomed to gather in the grassy quadrangle between the men's and women's dormitories, to beat drums and play records, and improvise original dances to their tunes--all to pass the afternoon.

But it is a mistake to consider Bard an aggregation of pseudo-left-bank dillettantes. The college has academic standards virtually as high as those of any school in the country, and keeps its students as busy with schoolwork as any more traditional institution. With the seminar method of instruction used in almost all courses, it is not easy for the student to "goof off" for any length of time. The majority of Bardians, moreover, do not concentrate in the creative arts--dance, drama, art, or music--but rather in the social sciences.

But all is not so sound at Annandale-on-Hudson as its academic standards. Finance--or lack of it--is an important factor in restricting the scope of all the college's undertakings. Many buildings are in a state of disrepair. New dormitories, erected shortly after World War II, are either "barracks" or "dwelling units." The extent of student activities and the facilities available in teaching courses are also adversely affected.

Idealist or Fanatic

Besides these difficulties, Bard suffers from an unduly large faculty turnover, especially since many of its professors devote a goodly proportion of their time to professional work outside the field of teaching. Because of the effort required to teach a curriculum composed entirely of seminars, teachers find themselves hard-pressed. "To teach at Bard, one must be either a terrific idealist or a fanatic," mused Ruth Gillard, acting Dean and professor of Sociology. Yet, in spite of the difficulties in maintaining an adequate faculty, Bard offers a rather effective type of education.

The student who chooses Bard obviously is not looking for the traditional, ordinary educational experience. For those who have chosen the more traditional type of college, it is sometimes difficult to understand the particular appeal of the very small educational institution--especially Bard. At first glance the disadvantages of such an education seem to outweigh the advantages. The library is small; the student body is not varied; the professors are not ordinarily the top in their field; and the course possibilities are not wide.

But in talking about Bard it would be unfair to take Harvard's standards and Harvard's aims, measure up Bard against these, and decide that it was quite deficient. Bard has quite particular goals and a unique but deliberate method of education. Ultimately, while one should keep in mind general educational aims, Bard must be judged by its own standards.

There are great advantages in the small college--advantages which the large college can not hope to have, try as it may to achieve them in part. Most appealing of these ordinarily is the intimate relationship and friendship of the scholar with his teacher.

The man with hat and briefcase in hand who walks onto the raised lecture platform two or three times a week, talks for an hour, and then, picking up his hat and stuffing his papers back in the briefcase, disappears again until the next meeting of the class is uncommonly different from the man in shirt tails who walks to and from class with his students, studies with them, eats with them, and fences with them occasionally on the front lawn.

Harvard and Yale have attempted something of the same general nature in the House system, but this has not generally succeeded. The possibilities for personal contact and individual attention which the small college offers, as well as the secluded location--so conducive to serious thought and meditation--argue well for its existence.

Bard has such features. With its seven to one student--faculty ratio and idyllic seclusion it is in a sense a remarkably good place for intellectual development. Within this atmosphere the college aims--on paper at least--to develop creativity, individuality, and community spirit in its students. Detailed research is not part of the plan.

In creativity, perhaps, it has succeeded very well. But in aiming at individuality and community Bard has shot to the extremes and the extreme of each have confounded each other. Its individuality has tended to develop into extreme idiosyncrasies and its community spirit, into indifference.

Creative Approach

Bard's creative approach to education is perhaps its most distinctive feature. The traditional college, such as Harvard, emphasizes theories, history, and factual material. For instance, in a Fine Arts course here, a student learns the history, style, and development of past masters, along with the trends in modern art. At Bard he will learn to sculpt, paint, and model, with only incidental treatment of the background of the subject.

This practical approach does not stop at teaching. In the middle of every winter Bard students scatter almost literally to "the four winds" to take up jobs in industry and business for their Field Period. The Field Period consists of seven or eight weeks between the Fall and Spring terms and has been set up, according to the Bard catalogue, primarily "to afford the student a practical introduction to a profession or vocation in which he has an interest." The student may do this either for pay or voluntarily.

Student opinions of the value of the period vary. Some think it should be radically revised. They agree only that it is a most refreshing experience. One professor describes students as "running panting up the hill" to Bard when returning from these periods. One wonders whether the refreshment is worth the eight weeks of academic endeavor which are lost.

"Trial Major"

Bard's courses are divided into four divisions: languages and literature; social sciences; the arts; and the natural sciences. Within these divisions, because of Bard's small size, it is possible to adjust offerings to the educational needs and interests of the students then in residence at the college.

For the most part students are separated by college class in their discussion groups. This is particularly true for approximately the first two years--called the Lower College--when the possibilities presented to the student for individual work and advancement are not so varied.

A freshman arriving at Annandale chooses immediately a "Trial Major" which ordinarily represents the field of study in which he is most interested. Two of the five courses which he will take his first year will be in this major. Not until a student in completely sure of what he desires to major in and is able to demonstrate to the faculty of his division his capability for independent work, is he able to enter what is college the Upper College. This ordinarily takes place after roughly two years at the college when the Bardian undertakes what is called the "Moderation."

Personal Study Plan

This consists of a written and oral evaluation by the student of what he has already done in college, and a projection of his plans throughout the Upper College period, which he defends before a faculty committee. This is the single important checking-point where inventory of the student is taken before the senior year. Ordinarily, a student who fails this Moderation is dismissed.

In the Upper College course requirements are reduced, and the Bardian is able to work alone in his field with an adviser. In his last year he is able to complete what is called the Senior Project wherein he may undertake creative or critical writing, translation, research, scientific experimentation, artistic production, or some other project related to his field of interest.

But with a library of 66,000 books, Bard can be no center of research. Yet, for a college its size, the collection is considerable. For undergraduate work it is quite sufficient. During the last year the circulation has increased from 62 books per student per year to 85.

The classes, or seminars, are intimate groups which discuss the problems at hand very closely. There are few exams, but students must ordinarily be quite well prepared in order to be able to participate in the discussions.

Students are initiated into the Bard discusion-seminar method of education through what is called the "Common Course." This is a sort of natural sciences, social sciences, and humanities course rolled into one. President James H. Case, Jr., Princeton '29, describes the purpose of the Common Course as "to catch these people before they know any better and to work their tails off." According to Case the educational process at Bard starts when the student develops a significant question. The role of the teacher at this point is to needle the student into making the necessary effort to work a satisfactory answer.

Until Selective Service demanded class standing of male students a few years ago, there were no letter grades. Even now they are emphasized as little as possible. Most of a student's progress is indicated by an "Instructor's Analysis Sheet" made out by each professor for each student with whom he comes in contact.

These report to the student in paragraph form about such things as his quality of interest, development, ability for independent work, understanding of the field or of a particular course, and his written and oral expression. Also, they classify a student's grasp of ideals, factual material, initiative, participation, and course work from "Excellent" to "Below Minimum Standards." Grades are put in the bottom right hand corner.

The faculty which makes these judgments is essentially a teaching faculty--the kind that would be interested in mak- ing such detailed analysis of its students. Only fourteen members have doctorates. In addition, Case calls it far from the ideal size, in spite of the high faculty-student ratio. More members, according to him, are needed in order to furnish an intellectual climate for the faculty as a whole. The students keep the faculty on their toes with stimulus from "good, bright, eager undergraduate minds."

The college, however, makes an attempt to create a greater intellectual atmosphere by drawing prominent speakers to special "Weekends" sponsored by various divisions.

Thus, although Bard has succeeded perhaps best in the education it offers per sc, it faces serious problems here too. Because of its extremely small size and limited resources it can not attract too many outstanding men for its faculty. The same is true for its student body, though it is of an extremely high calibre.

Poor Plant

Those individuals who do go to Bard find themselves in the midst of an extra-ordinarily beautiful campus. But Bard presents an unimpressive physical plant. The girls' dormitories and one of the boys dormitories are excellent, both roomy and comfortable. Most of the men, however, live in barracks--wooden structures put up temporarily after the war and never replaced. The science building is very fine, but the old structure where most of the classes are held and where most administration offices are located is horrible. An offensive odor pervades the place and the stairs creak menacingly. The theatre is miniscule and looks to be falling apart. By far the finest looking building is rarely used. The magnificent Zabriskie Estate manor house, "Blithewood," overlooking the Hudson, is used occasionally for conferences and dances, but stands idle most of the time.

For natural beauty, on the other hand, the college's 875 acres overlooking the Hudson are almost incomparable. Natural waterfalls and pleasant winding paths through beautiful wooded areas add to the natural charm of the place.

Despite its natural appeal, the present buildings are depressing and Bard finds itself completely unprepared comfortably to house and provide adequate classrooms for its present students, let alone providing for the increase in numbers it expects and finds necessary to achieve in the next few years.

The people living in this place have a most unique social life. The most obvious thing about it is its apparent informality. Jeans and shirt-sleeves are worn continually every day of the week, excepting a few formal dance nights. Bardians congregate in three centers of social activity. During the day, they drop into the campus coffee shop, located in the same building as the women's dorms and the science laboratories, where they fraternize in irregular bunches around variously shaped tables, intermittently moving to and from the counter and the post office, which adjoins the restaurant.

When they finish their studying before 11 p.m. students somehow travel the half mile to Mike's Club in Annandale. This is a place to sip alcohol and munch hamburgers in an atmosphere dominated by the juke-box and low lights. Here students will often encounter members of the faculty and administration as well as the nearby Red Hook High School basketball team. With genial waitresses and table-to-table spirit, Bardians find it easy to dispose of long weeknights and even longer weekends.

Most students admit, however, that Bard is a far from ideal place in which to spend an entire year, or even a month, unbroken. Each Friday, therefore, a fairly large number board trains, drive automobiles, or simply hitchhike the 95 miles to New York City.

Realizing the boredom attendant in living in the tiny community, the college has attempted to provide more interest for the students directly on the campus, through extracurricular activities. But it is a difficult task to keep these going. The newspaper disbands almost yearly. Small groups of students have organized clubs in a few of the more important departments to present various programs for weekends and weekday nights. It is noteworthy that students concentrating in all undergraduate fields participate in those meetings.

The best way, perhaps, to describe Bard's social life in a few words is set forth by Richard M. Gummere '34, chairman of Bard's Board of Admission. "The only social rule at Bard is not to follow any social rules for the sake of conforming." Yet, in such a small place, it follows automatically that the students can be individuals merely by existing in the community.

Apathy to Community

This emphasis on individuality at such a small place has frequently led to a complete disregard for the community. Not only is this reflected by the apathy in student organizations, but in the devil-may-care attitude to the honor system. Bard has parietal rules drawn up by the students themselves, and an honor system, but as one student described it, "As long as we don't bother anyone else, we don't pay too much attention to the rules."

Both students and officers agree that Bard ought to be larger, roughly double its size. Such expansion might solve both financial and faculty problems and would create a more varied yet more integrated student body.

In one of the oldest buildings on campus, behind a heavy wooden door with a sign saying, "President's Office, Walk in Without Knocking," with his feet on the desk, sits the man who is chiefly concerned with these and other problems about Bard's future.--James Case, Bard's president. On his desk are several books, but one especially--"Causes of Public Unrest in Education" arrests the visitors eye and seems in a sense to be a reflection of Bard College.

Case, in spite of some of his faculty, is not interested in experimenting much more with Bard. Rather, it is his concern to polish up and stabilize the present program. Size, again, is perhaps his main problem. He has had direct experience with it in trying to direct Bard's Glee Club. Describing his students as "individuals over-fascinated with their own idiosyncrasies," Case outlined the need for bringing a large group of "normal" students onto the campus to give it stability.

Case is exploring the possibilities of relating Bard with other colleges. After existing as St. Stephen's College from its founding in 1860, Bard joined with Columbia University in 1928, changing its name to Bard in 1934. But in 1944 Bard again became independent. Now, after ten years Case affirms that the independence has not worked well. "At present, still in the first decade as an independent college, I doubt that Bard's existence can be sustained at the present level of operation," he said. He believes, however, that possibilities of relations with other colleges "offer mutually beneficial results, educationally and financially."

The main modification of the present educational system at Bard in mind at present is a possible synthesis or evaluation of the college education during the senior year. To Case, this brings up a considerable problem in the indefiniteness of his task and of the Bard method in general. "Golly," he exclaims, "How the hell can you measure an education?" Notwithstanding this, he says that Bard will probably begin to use graduate record examinations as one of many tests to evaluate students' work; he does not, however, expect Bard students to fare particularly well in the exams.

Essentially the problems which face Bard today are the same as those which faced Cannon Bernard Iddings Bell, the last Warden of St. Stephen's College, and which brought him to work for a union of the college with Columbia. "We believe," he said, "the day of the small college, independent of the university, definitely to be over. Some of the well-endowed and fashionable ones may go on living for years, decades, but they will be fewer and fewer and eventually even the wealthiest of them are likely to disappear."

Perhaps Bell's statement is predictive. Bard is neither well-endowed nor fashionable. It has been existing as an independent college--independent both from the Episcopal Church which founded it and from Columbia University which took it over--for only one decade. There are today more signs of decadence than of renaissance.Bard's seminars are informal, intimate discussions in which the student participates on the same level as the professor. In spring they move outside onto the spacious lawns overlooking the Hudson.