By Julie deGraffenried

When I was asked to deliver the charge to Baylor University’s Spring 2016 Phi Beta Kappa initiates, perhaps unsurprisingly, I thought about history: the history of Phi Beta Kappa, the history of this particular PBK chapter at Baylor, my own history, those who taught me history.

All of these histories are bound together by love and appreciation for the liberal arts and sciences –– for a liberal education that prepares one to deal with an ever-changing, increasingly diverse world, that exposes one to the sciences, to cultures, languages and societies; that develops a sense of social responsibility by tackling the hard questions; that asks one to apply knowledge to real problems; that challenges one to grow personally and intellectually; that ensures that one think, write and communicate clearly, powerfully and creatively. This is precisely the kind of education Baylor provides its students, an education that embodies the PBK motto, “Love of learning is the guide of life.”

Liberal education is under fire these days. It has been called irrelevant, elitist, anachronistic. We read that it isn’t cost-effective or marketable. It won’t get you a job, which seems to be the be-all and end-all of higher ed today. We hear, “In times like these…in an economy like this…what are you going to do with a liberal arts and sciences major?”

Let’s think back to 1776, when Phi Beta Kappa was founded at the College of William and Mary. Wouldn’t you think that young adults might have bigger things on their minds than “love of learning?” How about a Declaration of Independence? A war with the (much more powerful) British? Grave decisions about loyalty and rebellion? Call-ups? Runaway inflation and a collapsing state economy? Occupation by British troops? After all, the College of William and Mary was on the edge of Williamsburg, Virginia –– the capital of the Virginian Commonwealth until 1780. Yet, in the midst of uncertainty, PBK founders John Heath, Thomas Smith, Richard Booker, Armistead Smith and John Jones determined that a society based on free debate of ideas and excellence in liberal education made perfect sense. Why?

Because they focused on the future, not just the present. They saw the peace and grandeur of any United States of America as inextricably tied to the fates of “lovers of scholarly merit.” With the war far from over, the decision to extend PBK chapters to Connecticut and Massachusetts in 1779 was a hopeful gesture, a move toward forming “the Foundation of Continental Happiness and Union.”

Fast-forward nearly two centuries and some 1,500 miles to the southwest, to the early 1950s at Baylor University. Dr. Henry L. Robinson had come to Baylor to chair the French and Italian department in 1948. Those who knew Robinson remember a short, articulate, formal person with great style, as well as a man with a great love for the symphony and a trademark brown suit.

Robinson spearheaded a 25-year crusade to bring a PBK charter to Baylor, giving nearly everything he had to the laborious process of preparing the 100-plus-page application. PBK only accepts a few new chapters every three years. Robinson and the Baylor committee tried five times –– in 1952, 1964, 1967, 1970 and 1973 –– before finally succeeding the sixth time in 1976. Such an effort on Baylor’s behalf required great perseverance, and Robinson had it ––in abundance. Why?

Because he focused on the future, not just the present. All the work that Robinson put in was for the benefits a chapter could provide Baylor’s students. He saw our commitment to liberal education as worthy of acknowledgment by PBK and Baylor’s membership in the oldest and most prestigious honor society’s network as part of its path to national repute.

Former Baylor professor and Arts & Sciences dean Wallace Daniel, who served on Robinson’s committee in the 1970s, notes that all Baylor PBK members “live in his shadow…he is one of Baylor’s truly unforgettable people.” When Robinson passed away in 1980, his family insisted on a generous gift to Baylor’s Phi Beta Kappa chapter that continues to fund the eponymous Robinson Scholarship.

My own experience at Baylor in the early 1990s affirms Dr. Robinson’s deeply held beliefs in our university. My professors in the Department of History taught me by action and example what it means to love learning. Dr. James Vardaman showed me the importance of belonging to a community of learners. He and his wife, Dean Elizabeth Vardaman, invited us into their home to share a meal and conversation. Professor Robert Reid captivated me with the power of a great story, Dr. Paul Armistead helped me appreciate how the bizarre enlivened the story of the past and Dr. David Longfellow demonstrated the importance of reading widely. Dr. James SoRelle, with his love for baseball and social justice, made clear that scholars have both life and responsibility beyond academe. Dr. Daniel, who served as my advisor, taught me to ask good questions and embrace history’s complexities. All of my professors embodied a delight in the ongoing and everyday process of scholarship. Why?

Because they focused on the future, not just the present. Although it might sound strange to say that of historians, it’s the truth. My professors’ investment in me, and in all of their students, showcased the riches of a liberal education, from an appreciation for beautiful language to the enjoyment of witty, humane conversation, from an admiration for other cultures to finding immense pleasure in a good book. The values that underlie a liberal education are translatable, far beyond in English classroom in Carroll Science or a lab in the BSB. The life of the mind is not a dead end, but a gateway.

Returning to the question: what can you do with a liberal arts and sciences major? I ask, what can’t you do with a liberal arts and sciences major? Nothing is more suited to “bringing the mind to the fullness of its capacities” or preparing students for a complex world. Take a look at the “who’s who” of PBK nationally: 17 past U.S. presidents, seven of our eight current Supreme Court justices and hundreds of Nobel Prize winners, not to mention actors, investment bankers, artists, writers, athletes, teachers, doctors and internet executives. The point is not the jobs they hold, but an attitude they embrace and an education that allowed them to pursue their goals in a variety of ways. Jobs are good (I love mine!) but let a job be a means to an end, not an end in itself.

In The Tempest, Shakespeare writes, “What is past is prologue.” An undergraduate liberal education in the College of Arts & Sciences is an invaluable part of a student’s prologue for a lifetime love of learning. So my hope would be that all of us –– no matter what job we hold –– would keep on learning, and would consider the diploma received here not as an end of education, but as an invitation to seek more of it.

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Dr. Julie deGraffenried, associate professor of history, is a member of Baylor University’s chapter of Phi Beta Kappa, the nation’s oldest scholastic honor society. This essay originally appeared in the Fall 2016 issue of Baylor Arts & Sciences magazine.