A Gentleman’s Education

Campus legend holds that the original $3.5 million Widener bequest came with two notable conditions. First, not a brick may be moved or altered on the façade of the Harry Elkins Widener Memorial Library. And secondly, so the fate of Harry Widener class of 1907—who drowned when the Titanic sank in 1912—would never befall another Harvard graduate, every student would have to pass a swim test.

Sadly, in our age ruled by liability concerns and the Americans with Disabilities Act, the once-mandated swim test is no longer a graduation requirement. No doubt the more sedentary of Harvard students can breathe a sigh of relief that they will never have to endure the indignity of forced exercise.

But although the swim test is no longer in force, Harvard ought not consign itself indefinitely to an educational regime that administers only to the mind. For Harvard to produce once again well-rounded individuals, of strong character as well as strong minds, it would do well to revert to an older conception of moral education—of which the discipline, endurance, and sportsmanship provided by required physical exercise is a crucial component.

All government-run high schools in America require a certain amount of coursework in “physical education” for students to graduate. Likewise, many private schools institute a similar requirement or, in the case of traditional preparatory schools, have their students play a team sport every season.

Naturally, such a condition for graduating would seem to present the same onus that ostensibly invalidated the old swim test: How could students physically unable to fulfill it be forced to have their diplomas withheld? High schools and preparatory schools no doubt face this same difficulty, and one would think the principal—or, in Harvard’s case, the deans—could intercede and waive the requirement on a case-by-case basis. It would be absurd to make, or break, the rules because of an occasional exception.

Team sports, indeed, would seem to provide the best form for a physical exercise requirement at Harvard to take. Not only do they offer the same health benefits as a regular fitness plan, but also they more directly contribute toward the goals of an education of the whole person.

Harvard current curriculum unquestionably succeeds at producing a cadre of indolent intellectuals each year, nursed on the bile of postmodern theory and trendy academic prejudices. But, unsurprisingly, it neglects perhaps the most important consideration in graduating socially-responsible and decent human beings: character. A traditional education, focused on the classics and the “great books,” could reasonably argue to have tended to the souls, as well as the minds, of its pupils. The study of the noble deeds of the great men of history can elevate the soul, and provide, in rough sketches, an exemplary and praiseworthy model for life. But under an educational regime that ignores the needs of the soul in the classroom, one can only hope they will be addressed on the ball field.

Team sports provides a constructive and regulated environment for man’s natural competitive spirit, cleansing what is barbaric in that impulse with intricate rules and attendant penalties all while ennobling the individual desire to succeed by directing it toward a larger, collective goal. Sportsmanship—which today is explained to youngsters as having grace in defeat—affects and develops one’s personal sense of honor: It is better to lose with dignity than to win at all costs.

Sports, in some respects more than academics, also teach the virtue of patience: talent alone does not always assure victory—it must be cultivated, refined, and tirelessly practiced. And even then, all the innumerable variables that come into play in a match—just as in life—cannot be accounted for ahead of time. The outcome of a game then, while supremely important, is not the sole measure of the competitors’ worth—the ability to realize that in both sports and life is a virtue neither acquired nor honored often enough in this age.

At Harvard, with our proximity to Boston, sports culture is often immersed in the fortunes of the local Patriots and Red Sox. But Boston fans, notorious for their impetuosity, boorishness, and hooliganism, offer a poor lesson in the virtues of the sports they claim to honor. Thus increases the urgency with which the virtues of athletics must be reclaimed.

If Harvard students were forced to play a competitive sport each season, or even only each year, they would be able to learn for themselves the invaluable lessons that even the most august university education cannot, or refuses to, teach. Not every student has the aptitude for varsity athletics, and Harvard ought not change its admission policy to privilege that aptitude more highly, but every student stands to gain from the experience of collegiate sports.

Christopher B. Lacaria ’09 is a history concentrator in Kirkland House. His column appears on alternate Mondays.