A retired professor, many years retired in fact, he occasionally wandered through the college hallways, visiting his old department and noisily decrying the rising illiteracy of the newer generations. He was heard to mumble something about Generation X one day as he stood in line in the library and was ill-treated by a mohawk-shaved, blue-haired, heavily tattooed, earring-clad kid. His remark—“X is how they sign their student stipends”—gained instant notoriety among the junior faculty. He was, he would tell you immediately—an essentialist, though I had no idea what that was. Of course, your puzzled expression allowed him to explain. “An essentialist is one who believes there are certain essentials every student must learn.” Those essentials, I learned, did not include my specialty of Criminal Justice—or the newer departments of Business Administration or Computer Technology—programs the failing liberal-arts college quietly established to ensure its life in the new century.
