Over dinner a few weeks ago, the novelist Lawrence Naumoff told a troubling story. He asked students in his introduction to creative writing course at UNC-Chapel Hill if they had read Jack Kerouac. Nobody raised a hand. Then he asked if anyone had ever heard of Jack Kerouac. More blank expressions.

"I guess I've always known that many students are just taking my course to get a requirement out of the way," Naumoff said.

In our increasingly complex world, the amount of information required to master any particular discipline -- e.g. computers, life insurance, medicine -- has expanded geometrically. We are forced to become specialists, people who know more and more about less and less.

In this frightening new world, students do not turn to universities for mind expansion but vocational training.

When was the last time you met anyone who was ashamed because they didn't know something?

[ I've been talking about this for years, and thinking about it since a very early age. Growing up has given me the acuity to define my early unease and express the issue in words, but I have felt this way for as long as I can remember.

For whatever reason, I'm a naturally curious person. I make no claims of expertise in *any* subject, and get by in work by being sufficiently intelligent and attentive to do a competent, and often a good, job, despite not being anything like a specialist. It's been a contant source of tension in my life -- on the one hand admiring people who are at the very pinnacle of their field, and on the other hand being surprised and annoyed at the things people, particularly these very smart people, don't know a thing about. And, as the article says, the most troubling aspect for me is not that they don't know something, but that they express no interest in learning it. We've become such pragmatists that anything which doesn't further our qualifications in one or two narrow focus areas is unwanted, undesired... perhaps even a distraction.

I don't deny that my lack of focus, my broad interests, are probably detrimental to me in the long run. I think it's probably true that the specialization requirements will not abate. I onlt hope that I can continue to coast on intellect enough to make a decent living and enjoy my life. I can say for certain, any life in which I must turn away from the vastness of knowable things, discard fiction and biology, religion, politics, and all the rest so that I can focus all my energies on one thing is not a life worth living, for me. I think it's a pity, with so much available to us, that we can't grasp it, for fear of losing the race, not being successful. It's sad. -k]

Drucker would be deeply saddened ...

... about the troubling state of curiosity ...

In the past, ignorance tended to be a source of shame and motivation. Students were far more likely to be troubled by not-knowing, far more eager to fill such gaps by learning. Today, "it's not that they don't know, it's that they don't care about what they don't know."

Upon graduation, we must devote ever more energy to mastering the floods of information that might help us keep our wobbly jobs. Crunched, we have little time to learn about far-flung subjects.

The narrowcasting of our lives is writ large in our culture. The Internet slices and dices it all into highly specialized niches that provide mountainous details about the slightest molehills.

When people only care about what they care about, their desire to know something more, something new, evaporates like the morning dew.

The notion of an aspirational culture, in which one endeavors to learn what is right, proper and important in order to make something more of himself, is past.

Unfortunately, this new freedom has sucker punched the notion of the educated person. Instead of a mainstream reverence for those who produce or appreciate works that represent the summit of human achievement, we have a corporatized and commodified culture that hypes the latest trend, the next new thing.

Curiously, in a world where everything is worth knowing, nothing is.

Over dinner a few weeks ago, the novelist Lawrence Naumoff told a troubling story. He asked students in his introduction to creative writing course at UNC-Chapel Hill if they had read Jack Kerouac. Nobody raised a hand. Then he asked if anyone had ever heard of Jack Kerouac. More blank expressions.

"I guess I've always known that many students are just taking my course to get a requirement out of the way," Naumoff said.

In our increasingly complex world, the amount of information required to master any particular discipline -- e.g. computers, life insurance, medicine -- has expanded geometrically. We are forced to become specialists, people who know more and more about less and less.

In this frightening new world, students do not turn to universities for mind expansion but vocational training.

When was the last time you met anyone who was ashamed because they didn't know something?