Americans at Oxford seem to enjoy writing back that "Oxford isn't all it's cracked up to be." Usually their arguments run along three lines: (1) student-faculty relationships aren't close: (2) undergraduates are lazy: and (3) the academic work is unprofessional.

Recently a Princeton graduate put toward a new argument, the Robes Thesis: "At the tutorial the student wears the undignified commoner's gown, a jacket of black cloth reaching hardly to the waist. The tutor, however, is dressed in the magnificently flowing black robes of a Master of Arts. This gives a hint of the Oxford notion of the proper relationship between teacher and pupil: the leader is one who knows and the pupil learns from him."

He contrasts this situation with Princeton, where preceptorials put students and tutor on a more even footing: neither side wears robes, and "if the preceptor is poor there are bright student" he says "to carry the discussion."

Student-Faculty Relations

There are some valid objections to the Oxford system. First, it is true that the faculty at Oxford tends to keep to itself. High Table, where the dons sit together for dinner, is a symbol of the ivory tower to which dons retire outside of tutorials.

But they are always ready to respond to an undergraduate who seeks than out. College officials have sherry and dinner parties to which undergraduates are invited, and the tutors give extra tutorials to those who ask. Further, the tutor is on the side of his pupils against the Examiners; he doesn't turn in a grade, as at Harvard.

The chief problem is that dons have more academic commitments than the Harvard tutor. Tutors at Oxford have an average of 15 or 16 tutorials a week and these tutorials generally run over an hour; many tutors are also expected to deliver 16 public lectures a year.

At Harvard most tutors spend only eight to ten hours a week in tutorials, fewer if they are engaged in research. For an Oxford don to get his own work done, he has to lead a fairly Spartan life: there are so many college duties making demands on his spare time that he has little time to seek out undergraduates informally.

Yet, undergraduates are the "focal point round which the college revolves," as the late Neville Ward-Perkins said. "The average don spends a good deal of his time dealing with them in a future, present or past tense, choosing them, tutoring them, and finally never quite losing a sense of responsibility for their welfare."

If Americans want to get to know more of the Oxford faculty members, they can participate more in Oxford activities, which provide ample opportunity for meeting their speakers, and excuse for calling on local VIPs. There are the academic clubs (philosophy, history and so forth), the newspaper Cherwell or the magazine Isis, the political clubs, the religious groups. Just because dons don't join him for breakfast, must the American sulk and feel injured?

Tutorials

With regard to the accusation that Oxford undergraduates are lazy and tutorials inadequate, one must remember that the initiative to work is left at Oxford to the individual student, who can glean a very clear idea of what he is expected to study by reading old examination papers. Tutorials play a secondary role: to sharpen one's self-critical faculty. Lectures and classes are there as a dietary supplement and as comic relief.

Our Princeton friend complained that "a student of English literature will be given on week to write an essay on Jane Austen" and points out that this involves having read six novels and some critical and biographical works. But surely he doesn't come to Oxford without having read two, dare we say three, Austen novels already? Didn't his tutor ask him to read up on Austen over the vacation? Hasn't he looked at the examination papers, and noticed a regular question on Austen? If the answer to all these questions is no, then all the more reason for the tutor to ask for an essay on Austen--to drive home to his pupil what he is expected to read the following vacation.

Moreover, it is a good thing to give pupils much more reading than they can possibly cover for their tutorial. This encourages quick assimilation of materials and concise expression of opinion. And these two abilities are the most important intellectual benefits of a university education.

The purpose behind placing so much emphasis on vacation work, and freeing the undergraduate from the pressure of course examination, is to encourage academic leisure, although the theory may be becoming unworkable now that eight out of ten Oxonians are receiving financial assistance. Nowadays there is pressure from the undergraduate's family to help out by taking a vacation job, and his home environment is not the best for studying anyway.

Colleges and Professionalism

The third objection to the Oxford system is the lack of "professionalism" in academic work. Oxford don J. R. Sargent said some time ago to the Political Economy Club: "The idea that one man should be responsible for almost the total range of instruction of his pupils seems ludicrous to many Americans, though they are usually kind enough to cloak their incredulity with admiration."

Sargent's suggestion is to group students and dons of a given field of study in the same college, in which they are then better able to specialize. This decision by faculty is already in effect at most of the "Redbrick" British universities, and at many American ones.

As it stands now at Oxford, the faculties and departments play a role which is secondary to that of the colleges, which each contain an approximate cross section of students and dons, as do the Houses at Harvard. The colleges at Oxford were established for 600 years before departments were thought of, and today the Master of a college is still a considerably more imposing figure than the chairman of a department. Admitting students is still a college function though steps are being taken, ever so slowly, toward centralizing applications.

The Master of an Oxford college has more authority than his Harvard or Yale counterpart. For one thing, he has been elected by the dons of the college. He has more power, and work, since he has a considerable say in the government of the whole University. The Oxford Vice-Chancellor roughly corresponds to the Harvard President, but his position is taken in turns by the college heads. The Chancellor, currently Harold Macmillian, is a figurehead.

Oxford is not ashamed to profess amateurism, which is rigorous in its emphasis on independence and clarity of thought. The belief is that once a man has, through study of the basic work in a given discipline, achieved a clear idea of what his capabilities are, he is ready for any kind of work, from the civil service to motor car manufacturing.

British visitors to the United States are impressed by the degree of "professionalism" that has overtaken the American academic world. They come back advocating such professionalism in their faculties, for professors and graduate students--but not for undergraduates.

America's answer to the threat of too much professionalism at the undergraduate level has been to break up the specialties and give the student a bit of each. This solution is not generally admired in Britain. The everage British don associates the elective, cafeteria style, reminiscent of the four-troughed circular platters one must carry around at Harvard, and contrasts this with an honest meal of roast meat and Yorkshire pudding.

Best Thing About Britain

There are some in Britain who argue that "professionalism" should actually be avoided. Ely Devons, a professor at the London School of Economics, said on the BBC Third Program: "I am worried that the value of academic leisure is being overlooked...In throwing out the baby of reaction and conservatism in our universities, let us not throw out the bath-water of a thousand years of British academic tradition."

The subject of the thousand-year-old bath water leads us finally to the social aspects of Oxford. Our Princeton writer had to admit sadly, that (whatever he might say) "Americans will continue to attend Oxford." Why? "To live and travel in Europe, to acquire prestige and social acumen, to work in a leisurely atmosphere." This position may be called the "Best Thing about England is Paris" view.

Many of Oxford's social activities, however, come properly under the heading of education, particularly political education (the most satisfied Americans at Oxford are the ones who have come to study politics). If this is considered a glorification of gossip, what is the difference between bright chatter in a preceptorial and bright chatter in the Junior Common Rooms, the clubs, the dining rooms and cafeterias?

The main question is what people talk about, and how they approach their subject. Oxford undergraduates are several years younger than the average American who comes with a degree, but they are serious and excellent at impromptu debate. Certainly there is less of the anti-intellectual Fraternity Spirit (drinking, off-color songs, and pack forays for women) that characterizes an appalling proportion of the American university population.

In Oxford clubs the social function, though present, is a subordinate one. The Conservative Association, for example, with one eighth of Oxford's 8,800 undergraduates in its membership, is the very model of an active political party, complete with inner groupings known as the Carlton and Blue Ribbon Clubs--both junior versions of the London Carlton Club and Bow Group respectively, and both dedicated to the political education of their members. The famous Oxford Union, the famous Oxford Union, the closest thing at Oxford to the Hasty Pudding, is a model parties represented; a vote is taken after a four-hour debate every Thursday on a main motion and a number of smaller ones, while elections to party and Union take place three times a year.

In sum, for an American who is ready to take the initiative, the intellectual life at Oxford is still in many ways the most stimulating in the world. If he doesn't accomplish enough academically the fault lies with on one but himself.