Although yesterday was Monday, there were no classes because it was Labour Day, so today marks the official beginning of the latter half of my undergraduate studies. I have just returned from the first day of my third year, the only lecture of the day being philosophy 316, philosophy after the 1800s. This is the first philosophy course I’ve ever taken, and I reckon it will be the last. Here is the class description:
“In the 19th century the historical dimension of reality comes into its own through an emphasis on evolution that we find reflected in various disciplines, including science and philosophy. In science there are statements about the historical development of the earth (as in Charles Lyell’s works) and of living organisms (as in Charles Darwin’s). In philosophy there are parallel movements in accounts of the coming into existence, and the historical development, of freedom (as in Hegel), religion (as in Feuerbach), various social conditions and their corresponding economic and political organizations (as in Comte, and Marx and Engels), and ethics (as in Fichte and Nietzsche–the first and last of the thinkers we consider). Exposition and critical discussion of such philosophical positions and movements will form the backbone of the course.”
A sense of dread immediately washed over me after reading this paragraph. Most of the topics does not appeal to me, thus I’m reluctant to rouse my brain over them. And as an astronomer-in-training whose thought processes has adapted to the main courses of physics and mathematics, I feel like a scientist in a den of artists, like a voice of logic in a choir singing of abstractions. I am further intimidated by the fact that the majority of the class, after professor Peter Schouls polled the students, are majoring in philosophy. Dr. Schouls has some quirks to him, as all professors do. He has retired four times, going in and out of retirement because he loves to teach. He has a very distinctive way of speaking, his mouth and lips move reticently slow but forming almost exaggerated shapes of syllables, reflecting his extreme carefulness in choosing the right words. Personally, I think professors are the most interesting people in the world, but I’ll expound on that thought once it has matured in my mind. So, as Dr. Schouls talked and talked, a gloomy feeling that I would not survive this class began to grow within me. By the end of the lecture, I have lost all confidence. I could’ve taken a lower level philosophy class, but I wanted to kill two birds with one stone as this course satisfies both criterias of my degree of requiring at least 48 credits of 300 level or above courses and 12 credits of art. So it was regrettably hard for me to runaway and drop the course. Fortunately, I am still on par with my credits thanks to the two math classes I took over the summer. Anyways, I will have less free time as academics will once again dominate my life, and I wave goodbye to another unremarkable summer vacation.
Muir Woods 