My brilliant late father, who would have turned 100 this week had he lived, was fond of delivering mock-pompous Johnsonian pronouncements (no, not that Johnson; I mean Samuel, of dictionary fame).
Three in particular stick in my mind. The first was his reaction when I passed my 11-Plus, after I told him that school friends who’d been similarly successful in the exam had been promised bicycles by their parents.
‘Bicycles, indeed!’ he spluttered. ‘I’d have thrashed you, my boy, if you’d failed!’
Another was his advice to a young colleague, his fellow journalist Frank Johnson — now dead too, alas — who had consulted him on a matter of etiquette.
Would it be socially acceptable, Frank wondered, if he were to ask a waitress from the Reform Club out for a date?
After thinking about it for a moment, my father replied: ‘Only if you go to bed with her, dear boy.’
(In the interests of strict historical accuracy, I should point out that according to Frank’s account, my father actually used a short Anglo-Saxon verb in place of the expression ‘go to bed with’. But this is a family newspaper.)
My brilliant late father, who would have turned 100 this week had he lived, was fond of delivering mock-pompous Johnsonian pronouncements (no, not that Johnson; I mean Samuel, of dictionary fame)
Obscure
But it was his third memorable saying that had a more profound effect on my life than any other. I’m thinking of what he said to me — and I know I’ve quoted this before — when I told him I wanted to study English at his old university.
‘English!!!’ he exclaimed, in mock horror. ‘English is a subject for ladies and foreigners! A gentleman, my boy, reads English in his spare time!’
Looking back, I can see this was just one of his jokes, like his remark about the 11-Plus (my blind father was never a thrasher) and the waitress from the Reform.
But as I’ve learned from 37 years as a dad myself, children tend to take their parents’ light-hearted pronouncements more seriously than they were intended.
Indeed, I’m sure my own four sons could dredge up many things I’ve said and written about them over the years —things I’ve long forgotten and never really meant in the first place — that have stung them more cruelly than I will ever know.
So it was with the 18-year-old me. Ever anxious to earn my father’s approval, I gave up all thought of studying English, the subject I enjoyed most, and switched to his own speciality, history.
In a way, I’m glad I did, since I find it hard to see how much benefit of any sort a native English speaker can gain from studying his own language and literature as an academic discipline.
True, I might have found it easier to follow some of the more obscure passages in Shakespeare — never mind Beowulf or Chaucer — had I spent three years digging into the texts under expert guidance. I might also have spotted themes and references that have eluded me.
But those considerations aside, I’ve always derived great pleasure from reading English literature of all sorts, from the classic to the trashy, ‘in my spare time’, as my father might have put it.
Would I really have enjoyed the experience more if I had an English degree under my belt? Many will say ‘Yes’ but I rather doubt it.
As for practical applications, at least when history is taught well it offers a training in weighing up the reliability of evidence, organising facts and constructing a narrative — useful in many lines of work, not least in journalism.
As the great military historian Sir Antony Beevor puts it: ‘History is probably the best discipline available for anyone who wants to learn how to research, how to marshal their material and their thoughts, and how to present their arguments in the most effective way.
‘If that’s not a good preparation for diplomacy, politics, the Civil Service or even banking then I don’t know what is.’
Meanwhile, it’s true that to understand the pitfalls of the present, it is very helpful to have some knowledge of the past.
As for a course in English, well, I guess it’s a good training for English teachers, who happen to include our second son. But the last time I looked at the situations vacant columns, there weren’t many steady jobs on offer to poets, playwrights and novelists.
Debt
Yet nor is there much demand these days for history graduates, such as our youngest, who followed in the footsteps of his father and grandfather.
Indeed, when I look at our sons — all four festooned with glittering arts degrees from Russell Group universities, all saddled with huge student debt, but only the teacher among them gainfully employed with career prospects — I can’t pretend I’m at all surprised by this week’s news that courses such as those they studied are fast going out of fashion.
Fewer than 7,000 students were accepted for English degrees last year, says the university admissions service, Ucas. That’s down by a third since 2011.
Over the same period, enrolments for history fell by a fifth to 12,870 and only 3,830 applicants were accepted to study modern languages — a third fewer than ten years ago.
Meanwhile, admissions to read the sciences have soared. Enrolments for computer science have gone up from about 20,000 to 30,000, and for engineering from 26,000 to more than 31,500.
Admissions to read medicine have also shot up — not before time — with numbers a third higher than in 2011, and interest in nursing degrees is up, too.
Though it pains me to say it, I reckon this swing towards science courses is as good for the country as it is for the career prospects of those who pursue them.
But a part of me also mourns the decline of less utilitarian disciplines. Call me an old romantic, but weren’t people of my generation (I’m 67) brought up to believe that education is a good thing in itself, not just a means to a materialistic end?
But that’s easy for me to say. Growing up in the golden age before student loans, when the good old taxpayer stumped up for my tuition fees — and gave me a generous maintenance allowance to boot — I didn’t have to think too far ahead.
No such luck for today’s students (though at the rate three of my four sons’ careers are progressing, I don’t see much prospect that taxpayers will ever see the money back from their loans).
But if you ask me, it’s not just the fear of huge debt that has put school-leavers off studying for qualifications with less obvious pulling-power in the jobs market.
Obsessions
I also get the firm impression that arts courses have become more of a waste of time than ever — and I blame the mass takeover of the education establishment by the woke Left.
Even in my day there were plenty of Lefty dons around. But there were also quite a few conservative-minded teachers in higher education who could offer a different perspective.
These days, such dissenters are a highly endangered species. A critical mass of Left-wing academics has developed, recruiting and promoting only those who think like them.
The result is that subjects such as history and English — and even history of art — are increasingly taught through the narrow perspective of the Left’s obsessions with race, class and gender.
Too many arts students are being taught what to think, not how. No wonder so many are coming to believe it’s not worth their while to take an arts course.
After all, who wants to spend three or four years being told the British Empire was wholly evil, that our industrial wealth was built entirely on slavery, that obscure Afro-American artists are as worthy of study as Michelangelo, and that Jane Austen’s work can be understood only through the prism of gender stereotypes?
We’ve got the BBC and the Guardian to tell us that sort of thing.
My dear old Tory dad must be spinning in his grave over the way his beloved history is taught these days. Indeed, I strongly suspect that if he were around today, he would encourage his grandchildren to study something useful instead.