Recently, serious alterations in teaching have been proposed and acted upon. The alterations are a response to a number of factors including increases in class sizes and related economic pressures. But a major reason, and the one central to this paper, is the perceived decline in quality of students.

For some, these alterations compromise standards and so should be rejected. For others, these changes are not compromises, but healthy adaptations to new populations of students.

The view I defend is that these alterations are com-promises, nevertheless, we should adopt them. First, three main kinds of alterations are set out and defended on condition that they will improve students’ learning. But, second, these benefits are not without costs, some of which are very serious. They amount to compromises on standards of the liberal arts, both ethical and educational. So third, there must be sharp limits on their use and extension. Fourth and finally, the view defended is summed up as a hybrid one, befitting a compromise: The consequences of those practices that promote students’ learning can outweigh their costs in violating our standards. But the violations cannot be extensive, so that these standards help us not only to assess costs, but also to set limits.

In discussing costs and compromises it will be apparent what standards I am invoking, if only very broadly. But no defense of those standards will be offered, so the conclusions take a conditional form. If the standards alluded to are appropriate, then for such-and-such reasons the alterations proposed are compromises.

Our standards for a decent course in a liberal arts curriculum are rough, leaving wide latitude for teaching and curriculum. These standards are as well highly varied since, among other obvious reasons, colleges and universities differ widely in standards. I ask readers to grant me a baseline of a common and fairly standard introductory philosophy course in a traditional liberal arts curriculum. The course focuses on a set of central problems with a core of readings, many from classical sources. The course, though governed by a curriculum and plan, is loosely structured, allowing for deviations to pursue issues at greater depth. The course is an uneven mix of lectures, questions, and discussion, whose ratio is flexible, dependent upon the instructor’s judgment of students’ interest and achievement, given the overall aims.

The main alterations from such a baseline course that are of concern are primarily of three kinds, and again I am brief, trusting that readers are willing to provide a sympathetic expansion. First, teaching is much more highly structured, disciplined, and coercive. There is extensive testing of students to assess whether they have learned the material. The curriculum is followed rigidly, except for purposes of clarification, though not for intellectual meandering or gently directed pursuit of issues. Greater amounts of time are spent on exposition and review than engagement with issues. Second, a variety of new techniques, overtly motivational and pedagogical, are introduced. There are a great variety of possibilities-from, for example, acting out dialogues to such "collaborative learning" methods as breaking up the class into small groups to work together on brief, answerable questions, usually involving textual analysis. In general, there is dis-paragement of lecturing. Third, there are piecemeal cuts in readings, length of paper assignments, and material taken from original sources, with greater dependence upon textbooks.

The grounds underlying the hope that these alterations will improve students’ learning are evident enough. The first applies our strongest threat of grading to force better work. It leaves less to chance in coverage. Students know exactly what is expected of them, and so the limited time devoted to study will be concentrated on the material to be mastered.

The second kind of alteration aims to motivate students’ interests by livening up the presentation. The small group method demands interaction. Students learn to cooperate with each other in their studies, expanding their resources for discussion, assistance, and criticism. So all are forced to active work, which is consonant with the reason cited for disparaging lecturing. Students obtain a better understanding of that portion of text studied. A further benefit is that they come to view themselves as having greater competence to handle the text without constant dependence upon the instructor. (I set aside a tension, if not conflict, in underlying rationales for the first and second kinds of alteration. One rationale for the first is to insist on more paternalistic, directive teaching; while a rationale for the second is a rejection of investing a lot of authority in faculty, and instead transferring it to students.)

The third and last kind of alteration, when not simply resignation, is premised on the idea, roughly, that depth of understanding outweighs scope of coverage. The diminished reading and the easier texts are ones that students can finally command, whereas the standard material may be almost wholly lost on them.

Turning now to costs of these alterations, I begin with a significant one. These benefits apply only to those students who need the extra efforts and push. But what of those students who do not, and so are less challenged and more bored by these practices?

This is a cost, but it need not be high. Philosophy is sufficiently different from other courses, and its texts, arguments, and ideas sufficiently difficult, that few students do not gain from the occasional braking force exerted when teachers respond to the needs of less qualified peers. There is always material in any philosophy course, presented well and not "watered" down beyond recognition, to challenge any student, often enough.

The following costs of the first two kinds of alteration are also serious, but still, I think, inadequate to outweigh the benefits promised:

1. The methods strain against my natural style which is to be guided by what it takes to understand and critically pursue a philosophical position with students. Of course, the pursuit is frequently broken up whenever students’ grasp appears to be waning. But these breaks are not the predetermined imposition of a method. They are instead the usual give-and-take involved in the struggle to learn difficult, unfamiliar ideas, and to challenge students to think more deeply about an issue. These kinds of alteration, if adopted, will lead to much greater homogeneity in teaching and diminish its determination largely by content and faculty predilection, concern, and common sense.

2. These practices are manifestly pedagogical and heavy handed. The classroom is oriented by technique and external structuring, rather than the issues and the normal, erratic ups and downs of learning. A strict regiment of testing is imposed. The setup for collaborative learning, which I occasionally use, I find contrived-the rearrangement of chairs, the breakdown into groups, the setting of deadlines, the designation of group leader and recorder. Even if after a while I and the students could get used to it, the artificiality would remain. While contrivance is always a feature of institutionalized teaching, techniques of the second kind are all optional, motivated by a negative assessment of students’ competence or interest.

3. Use of these techniques patronizes many of the students, treating them as less able than they ought to be in a way that suggests a belittling or condescending attitude, even if the intent is beneficent. The coercive measures imply a lower expectation of students. For the collaborative learning model to work at exposing their own competence, the question posed to them must be contrived to fairly well assure that students can answer it. Some students respond, even those who find it worthwhile, that it reminds them of high school, and the better students resent it.

Patronizing another is a violation of an ethical rule, though it is a mild vice. To patronize another does not entail insult or disrespect. In part, it is milder because the aim is beneficent. We are more forgiving, if not encouraging, of erring on the side of efforts to help or benefit others. Greater latitude for treatment that assumes at the start a low level of ability is extended in (voluntarily joined) institutions designed for instructional purposes.

None of the practices are manipulative, since their purpose of forcing students to work harder or attempting to increase interest and participation is manifest in their use. Manipulative practices, however, depend upon their purposes remaining partially hidden from those who are being manipulated, as with "token" economies in schools.

4. The alterations occupy a great deal of time. Breadth, but also depth, of coverage is significantly diminished, as well as engagement with philosophy. The resulting course is less challenging, and, as already admitted, the better students are more often bored.

The above are costs I judge tolerable, if the benefits promised to increase students’ learning are kept. But these costs are serious costs. They are compromises on standards, rather than only adaptation to student needs. As a consequence, there are tough limits on (further) changes along these lines.

One obvious limit is not to seriously undermine the content or curriculum, conceding that some small adjust-ments downward can amount to an acceptable compromise. Serious infringement on content is just false advertising. You cannot say you are teaching introductory philosophy as described in the bulletin, and then do almost no reading from primary sources or a set of contemporary ethical problems as more "relevant" and familiar, let alone teach writing. It cannot be justified under the general maxim that being highly responsive to the needs of students is essential to being a good teacher. The maxim is meant to encourage efforts and experiments to help students to reach a worthy goal, not to lower the goal to reach the students.

If students are to learn philosophy at a satisfactory level, they must eventually confront the content ignored, and then they will lack the extensive guidance of introductory philos-ophy instructors. Learning to do philosophy involves straight-forward learning of central themes, valuable distinctions, terminology, dead end lines of thought and so on. I am suspicious of any claim that there is a learning of the methods or skills of philosophy, largely content independent, that is transferrable to virtually any philosophical text, topic, or thinker, and which can yield a level of mastery that even roughly matches what is achieved in the traditional course.

Serious diminution of content would diminish my enthusiasm for teaching greatly. That is surely crucial for good teaching (and so learning). College teaching flows naturally out of one’s interest in one’s discipline. One not only wants to pass along the tradition to which one is so devoted and to spark interest in it, but teaching, and not just in advanced or graduate courses, develops that devotion.

The second and broader limit flows out of claims and ideals of liberal education. A liberal education claims to inculcate students in valuable traditions of ideas and knowledge. To seriously diminish content in a philosophy course is to fail to transmit that tradition.

A central ideal of liberal education is that presented reasonably well, much of the content or ideas will become gripping or reveal themselves as important to the studies that are so gripping (think of logic or statistics for those with no affection for quantification). This is, of course, what college learning is all about. Outside of the classroom, students continue discussion or pursue interesting questions that would not have arisen but for the classroom work. As pedagogical techniques come to drive a course more than clear presentation of the ideas, the intrinsic motivational capacity of those ideas is undermined.

Dominance of content or substance over style, method or technique of presentation expresses our humility in the face of these ideas, texts or traditions. Here are reasons why a Ph.D. is crucial to college teaching, not educational methods courses. The first two alternatives, especially the second, shift the locus of motivation from ideas to techniques and pedagogy.

Liberal education presumes that students are to be treated as responsible, independent, mature, and interested learners not merely as either a statistical fact or a requirement for admission. The status is conferred upon them by virtue of entering the liberal arts college or university. We are duty bound to challenge our students not just as a way to stimulate learning, but out of respect for that status and as continued endorsement of those ideals. To noticeably diminish content, subject-matter, or text, while giving prominence to technique, is to take away from students the main source of interest in the subject and to deny them treatment appropriate to their standing in the intellectual community.

In sum, the three kinds of alterations are justified compromises, if in small doses and if offering realistic hopes of benefitting the learning of a good segment of our students, who otherwise would have small chance of succeeding. Still, they remain pedagogically and ethically suspect. Unless we confront them as suspect, it will be hard to recognize that an erosion process is taking place. Once recognized and appreciated we need to know its costs and limits.

There is currently special urgency to these questions. The slant of recent proposals to improve teaching, now slightly abating, is captured by slogans of "process over product" or "depth not coverage." The teaching seminars that I have attended and the reports I have read, recommend cutting down on amount covered and reading assigned with correspondingly greater emphasis on pedagogical methods, devices, or, on occasion, gimmicks. (These seminars and reports are mainly addressed to faculty generally, indifferent to discipline.)

Liberal arts purists will judge the compromises here defended as unacceptable, particularly because its scope of application can be extended beyond the intended focus on ill prepared students. While some will vehemently disagree with my claim that the above kinds of alterations do violate worthy ideals and standards, these objectors will join purists, and others, in strongly resisting my claim that it is sometimes permissible to do so.

But the refusal to dirty one’s hands by bending at all to student deficiencies serves neither these students nor the liberal arts. To refuse to bend at all, where the consequence is that vast numbers of students fail, whose intellectual lives might be awakened and enriched, is an empty integrity or pride.

1. Thanks to Steven Cahn, Catherine Elgin and the Editors for comments.

2. For such a suggestion, though offered in the context of moral theory, not education, see Michael Stocker, Plural and Conflicting Values (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990), p. 122.

3. No skepticism is implied as to the (transferrable) educational value of logical assessment, argument analysis, philosophical inquiry and dialogue, or conceptual distinctions. The claim is only that they cannot substitute for substantive immersion in the subject. The issue of transferability is complex, the evidence mildly favoring limited transferability. See section 5 of my "Critical Thinking: A Deflated Defense" Informal Logic XIII 1991: 61-78.

• Letter from the Editors
• Articles
  • Compromising Standards, Jonathan E. Adler
  • Three Courses in Philosophy of Religion, Michael Martin
  • Values Analysis: An Experiment in Interdisciplinary Ethics, Charles Ess
  • Pre-college Philosophy Teaching as a Career Option, David Martens and Hugh Taft-Morales
  • A Syllabus for a Course on Virtue, Beth Singer
  • Ze, Zer, Mer, Richard E. Creel
• Book Reviews
  • A Hobbes Dictionary, Reviewed by Joseph Filonowicz
  • Political Justice,  Reviewed by William L. McBrid
  • Classics of Modern Political Theory: Machiavelli to Mill, Reviewed by Ramon M. Lemos
  • Dictionary of Philosophy and Religion, Eastern and Western Thought, Reviewed by Jerome Gellman
  • The Nationalism Reader, Reviewed by August Viglione
  • Leibniz and the Rational Order of Nature, Reviewed by Ursula Niklas
• List of Books Received
• News and Notes
• Addresses of Contributors