From the WSJ Opinion Archives
DE GUSTIBUS
No More Me, Myself and I
A history contest that's about history, not victimization.
This year the National Endowment for the Humanities solicited essays on "the Idea of America" from high-school juniors nationwide. The best essay will receive a $5,000 award at the first annual "Heroes of History" lecture in February.
A worthy competition, no doubt, but also, it turns out, a bold one. What sets this contest apart from others is the requirement--almost unheard of these days--that the contestant-writers actually focus on something outside themselves. No essays on "my victimization" and the like.
In an era when students are schooled in the art of politically correct thinking and analysis, when identity politics is the trump card on almost any paper or application, that may well prove to be a tough assignment. "Write an essay," the contest's instructions say, "that describes how a significant event in our nation's history illustrates a principle of American democracy." Fiction, poetry or other creative endeavors--the submission instructions declare--are not acceptable substitutes for an expository essay.
Indeed, the point of the whole exercise is for students to do research and analysis, not wallow in the self. Which raises the question: What happened to the expository essay in the first place? Why is such a contest necessary?
Last month, the Concord Review, a journal founded to publish exceptional history essays by high-schoolers, released a survey on the research paper in U.S. high schools. Of the teachers surveyed, 62% said they never assigned a 3,000-word paper (about 12 pages).
It's not hard to see why. Leaving aside the distractions of television, a school-nurtured ethic of nonjudgmentalism works against students who might otherwise attempt an objective essay. What gives a high-school sophomore, say, the standing to make a definitive, declarative statement about the actions and failings of a historical figure? Nothing, she is told, unless such a figure is a certain kind of Unenlightened White Male.
The easy way out of this dilemma is to couch all attempts at analysis in the terms of personal experience. In such terms, a declaration is nearly always true. And while the scope is narrow, the content is safe. Journals, poetry and personal essays incorporate a "this is only my opinion" caveat too. All writing becomes expressive, creative writing.
Reached by phone last week, Bill Fitzhugh, the editor of the Concord Review, complained about a poem he'd just received as a submission. "It's terrible," he said, referring to the poem and the assumption behind it. In academics, "poetry is very similar to a journal. How am I going to give you a B on your life or your feelings?" That's why the Concord Review sticks to history papers, complete with bibliography and footnotes.
School assignments of a earlier generation avoided the expressive mode. "You could never write about yourself," says Lynne Munson, deputy chairman of the NEH, recalling her own school days. "You were asked to analyze, to demonstrate rigor of analysis and close reading. This is something that is simply not found these days, either in college essays or in paper assignments."
Still, it is difficult to expect high-school students to break the cycle of self-reference when all around them is confessional self-indulgence--on TV talk shows, in memoirs, in the rituals of the therapeutic culture. In fact, an increasingly important part of applying for college admission--the Holy Grail for high-schoolers everywhere--is the personal essay.
A Wall Street Journal article in July showed one reason why. At UCLA, wrote Daniel Golden, the personal essay gives admissions officers a way around California's rules against diversity double-standards, allowing them to hit certain group targets without calling them quotas. A UCLA outreach memo, for instance, advises students to "stress particular circumstances that might have affected your education . . . mention if you have lived most of your life in a ghetto, barrio or low-income area."
The creativity-imperative also permeates the admissions process. University of Chicago applicants are given four essay options this year, including one that instructs students to write a hypothetical episode of "Survivor" that takes place on a college campus and involves figures "from all of human history."
The emphasis here is clearly on pop-culture cleverness, not analytical thinking. And this is one of the most elite of the elite schools! Little wonder that making judgments and stating them clearly is a lost art, among students especially.
Let's hope the NEH contest starts a trend. Just to drive the point home, maybe next year's contest-subject can be: "All important writing is done in the third person and avoids any reference to television. Discuss. Defend."
Ms. Crowley is an editorial assistant at The Wall Street Journal's editorial page.
