INAUGURAL ADDRESS Inaugural Response President Henry B. Eyring Ricks College 10 December 1971 President Lee, members of the Board of Education, honored guests, and fellow members of the Ricks College community, I am grateful for your presence, and for the words spoken and the music sung, and for the experience of hearing my father. I think I must say that I inherited not all the qualities I would like to have from him, but I did get one and that is I cry when I m happy. And that is a danger for us today, but I will try, rather than to follow his inheritance, his example; he did not cry. Which is a great tribute to him, for I know that he is happy with me today. Last spring, before my arrival at Ricks College, I got a phone call from a faculty member at another university. He asked if I would address their faculty and describe my philosophy of education. I was unable to speak because of a conflict in my schedule, for which I was grateful since, when I began to examine my philosophy of education, I found I had none. At least, none that I could talk about. I would like, today, to share a part of my philosophy of education. I have not invented it since that time, but, rather, I have inferred it as best I can from my own behavior. At Stanford, I was a teacher. Since coming to Ricks College, I have also been a teacher, teaching a class with another member of this faculty. I have found that my teaching behavior at Stanford and here has been guided by four beliefs. Happily, as you shall see, these beliefs were held by those who served here before me so that the remarkable human resources and physical setting of Ricks College have been shaped by these same beliefs. By my describing this philosophy of education, therefore, you might both come to know me and this great institution which I shall serve. Now let me outline these four beliefs which seem to guide my behavior as teacher and learner and which will direct my response to the charge given me as the president of Ricks College. First, I believe that man is ultimately perfect-able along all the dimensions of his being. I don t have empirical data to support that belief. In fact, I admit, at times, when a class seems to be going badly, I waver in that belief. But still the faith persists. I find myself able to go back again to my students, confident that they can learn, ultimately without limits. The basis of that faith is anecdotal and scriptural. First, I have experienced remarkable transformations in some of my students. A student judged incompetent turns in a brilliant performance. I ve never forgotten the experience of one of my classmates at the Harvard Graduate School of Business who was placed on their waiting list because his credentials were so poor compared to the other applicants. When he graduated, he was among the first ten of 550. We have all experienced such surprises, and we have learned to be modest in our assessment of what is possible for an individual. 1
Perhaps, even more, my belief in the perfect-ability of all men stems from my acceptance of the scriptures. In Genesis, we read, And when Abram was ninety years old and nine, the LORD appeared to Abram, and said unto him, I am the Almighty God; walk before me, and be thou perfect (Genesis 17:1). Given the age at which Abraham received that educational charge, the scripture is a compelling brief for adult education. It is an argument that age does not end the perfecting process. It is also, of course, a suggestion that at least one man was told by God that his realistic goal should be perfection. Now some of my students who are here may object that they have neither the stature nor the age of Abraham. And some might say, well that possibility doesn t apply beyond ancient prophets. And yet we find the same Lord during His time on earth saying to an apparently large group of disciples of many ages, Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect (Matthew 5:48). I believe that to be possible. I believe it is realistic for men to strive in all the dimensions of their lives to approach the personal perfection of the Creator of man and of the universe itself. Now, that belief has some important practical implications. First, a student may reject a requirement to learn to write because he is sure he wants to weld. And he argues, I ll support my family with welding, not writing. I reject such an argument. First, he will need to write about welding. More importantly, his family will need more than wages. They will need a superior father, who could write a moving letter to a son for example. It is not question of whether you will learn to write; it is a question simply of when and how. My belief also makes me unsympathetic with the term terminal program or terminal education. That connotes both that a student has come to the end of his education and, at least by implication, that he has had all the education he is fit for. Neither is a fact if you believe education is to be moving toward perfection throughout a lifetime and beyond, as I do. A realizable goal of perfection, by a God s standard of performance, would also suggest neither student nor teacher would accept simply excelling his competitors as excellent. His standard of excellence would be loftier and private. Ricks College has a long tradition of open admissions. What that has meant is not that any student could come, but that any student with motivation and self-discipline and high personal standards could come, even when his previous academic performance had been far below entrance minimums at many schools. In addition, this college, in connection with other institutions, has had a long tradition of providing education for those past the normal years of college. My belief would square with the continuation of these attitudes of openness in terms of past academic performance, of extending education after the college years and encouraging a breadth of education even when the young cannot see the end nor the use of it, and of a ceaseless striving for excellence. My second belief is that I have not taught if behavior does not change. That change may be and sometimes is in my behavior as well as yours, my student, but a change there must be. That need to feel I have helped someone change his life is one that runs deep in me, and I believe is at the heart of the satisfactions of teaching. It means enough in my life that even today I speak to you with a statement of behavioral objectives before me. My hope is that, by what happens here, some of you may change. 2
This belief that education involves a change in behavior says something about my definition of perfection. I mean much more than perfect knowledge, rather the aim of education is perfect knowledge translated into personal behavior. There is often a great gap, at least a gap of unknown size, between what we say to our students and how they live. An apostle after the death of Christ saw that when he said, Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only (James 1:22). If that is part your philosophy of education as it is mine, it has some profound consequences both in what and how we teach. If we would change behavior, we will need deep attitudinal changes. That would imply both intense human interaction between teachers and learners, and learners with learners, and also the opportunity to bridge from new behavior learned in artificial settings to new behavior in living situations. It is clear from their behavior that the faculty of this college share that educational belief. I ve had the opportunity to ask many of them how they knew when they had been successful in teaching. Invariably they hand me a letter or tell me a story. It always involves not what someone has remembered but how their life was changed. And when you asked how it happened, inevitably the teacher will describe some personal incident, often outside the classroom, in which the student and the teacher influenced each other. The students of this college share an orientation to becoming doers of the word. In a poll of their classroom evaluations, they rated highest their classes in religion, required classes which teach not theology, but living religion. The school has a long tradition, as well, in attempting to bridge the gap between the campus and life away from the campus. Fifty-five years ago this college began a supervised home study program in agriculture and home economics. Teachers and supervisors visited students at their homes with their families. The learning came by independent study, both theoretical and practical. Credit was given by examination, written and oral. In 1918 it was extended to nursing, laundering, household management, woodworking, farm accounting and hygiene, and all phases of agricultural work. Throughout, it also included guidance in social and religious activities. That program ended, but the beliefs which underlay it, the belief in doing, in acting, in being a doer in a world away from the campus, persist. Third, I believe that the educated man is always also an educator. Why, you might ask, must I not only be a doer and must education not create doers? but why doers who also will be involved in the creating of other doers? That s what an educator would be. In the vocational education in which I was involved for a number of years, we were attempting to train professional managers. I often heard managers described as decision makers. My experience, both as a consultant and now as an administrator in this college, is that it is more true that an effective manager is a creator of effective managers. My impression is that, if we create one manager and put him in an organization, the shortage of other effective managers will be so acute and the cost of hiring them so great that the one effective manager will fail. Only in the rarest of organizations will there be enough money, or enough talent, to free him from the primary necessity of creating fellow effective managers. A manager who is not an educator of managers has little chance of success. This belief that the educated man must have developed skills and attitudes necessary to multiply his education in the lives others is said better by one of the early apostles to his 3
students: And the things that thou hast heard of me, among many witnesses, the same commit thou to faithful men, who shall be able to teach others also (2 Timothy 2:2). Clearly, he saw that his teaching would not be effective, unless the chain went not only from himself to his student, but from that student on. That has an important implication for Ricks College. When I came here, a few days before my outstanding predecessor President John Clarke left, I asked the question, Do you see a theme, a purpose for Ricks College in the writings of its administrators? His answer troubled me. He said, Yes. That theme is teacher education. The answer troubled me for two reasons. One, it seemed that a change from our four-year college, which we were, to two-years made it difficult to maintain a professional education program. And also, the, I hope, short-term fact that teachers seem to be having trouble getting jobs troubled me. Rather than troubling me now, that teaching theme excites me. Our tradition of teacher training in this college, the love of teaching in our faculty, and the effective teacher education program for non-professionals within our church give us great potential resources. The groundwork is already in place for touching the lives of all our students that their education may be multiplied directly into the lives of others, by their having the skills and motivations of teachers as well as doers. Finally, I believe that the community which education should serve is the whole world. I realize that for practical reasons, many schools focus their educational programs on specific geographic regions. We, for instance, have and will continue to have a sense of deep obligation to southeastern Idaho and to the regions around us. But the young people of the world are becoming so mobile that our students increasingly will change their residences before college or as they come to college or as they leave. Also the world has come so close together in its interaction that what happens in Pakistan or in Indochina or Washington will affect, in direct and practical ways, even the student who never leaves his home community. At Ricks College we feel yet another effect which requires a world view. Long ago the Savior said, Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature (Mark 16:15). Ricks College is owned and financially supported by a church that has accepted that charge. It is literally a worldwide church, and some if its fastest rates of growth are occurring in nations far different from the United States economically and educationally. The young people in those countries have different educational needs and different financial situations. The kind of education we now offer here and its cost are inappropriate for the children of many of those families who faithfully through their donations form part of the financial support of this college. Just as our obligation is to our local students, to prepare them to serve the world, we must also find ways for this college to serve young people whose needs are shaped by a great variety of cultures and situations, and who may not be able to come to this campus. This belief that we must serve a world community seems to pose insurmountable problems, unless we match it with a belief that education is the process of creating doers, and that part of the doing will be the educating of others. It is possible to serve world needs as well as those of our local students if those who come here have a personal self-discipline, and a devotion, and a spirit of sacrifice, and a capacity to both do and teach. As we have seen, this college has a long tradition of educating doers and in educating teachers. In addition, it has a long tradition of asking its students to rise to high standards of personal discipline and personal integrity. Our graduates cite that requirement the requirement 4
that they possess self-discipline and high purpose as the most valued part of their education here. That tradition gives us strength, which makes reasonable the vision expressed by the first administrator of this college before the turn of the century, who saw the day that Ricks College would become a mighty oak whose branches would spread around the world. Its mightiness will be, as it has been, in the personal character and integrity of its faculty and students, and, with that, it will reach around the world to bless many more than the students who can come here. We will find direct ways to move the blessing of education, the struggle for perfection, from this campus out into the lives of men and women everywhere. I have confidence that we will achieve that purpose for two reasons. First, I am absolutely sure that this college has been guided both by able men and by divine inspiration. A divine hand led the creation of the present school and that creation was guided by a pattern which includes what is yet future. I further am confident because I know there is a God who will allow men through hard work and humble petition to discern that pattern as they require it to accomplish His purposes. I also know that people with whom I serve, and to whom I am responsible, have that same assurance. I recall a meeting here in which many participated, students and faculty, all talking with the exception of one, a silent student. Near the end of the meeting I asked her why she had not spoken. She said, I have been troubled. In all our discussions I ve heard nothing that suggests we were seeking divine guidance. I think this problem is too important and too difficult for us to try to deal with without that help. I felt rebuked and yet lifted, for I knew she was right. And I knew that by following her counsel we would not fail. May I, with you, in accepting this charge, petition our Father in Heaven for His blessings to be upon us all and upon this college, that we may seek and discern and act and be doers of the word and not hearers only. In the name of Jesus Christ whom we serve, amen. 5