Paradox.

One thing I've learned in college is that knowledge can increase without learning.

Speaking quantitatively, I know much more than I knew in high school. My measurable volume of knowledge has at least doubled over the past eight months. For example, I've gone from being a qualitative biology-based scientist to a quantitative hard chemist; when once I could describe calorimetry, now I can decisively perform a complex experiment and provide you with a perfectly extrapolated temperature at time of mixing thanks to applied calculus and linear regression. When once I could tell you about the properties of different anions, now you can give me a clear solution and I can determine exactly which are present and in what quantities.

My learning, however, has not experienced the same exponential growth. Much of the time, I teach myself from my textbooks; lecture is pointless more often than not because it is lecture and not discussion. Personally, I learn through discourse, and lately I have been starved for it. I don't know why I pay (or don't, I guess) to sit in the back of a huge lecture hall and hear a professor dictate mechanisms described in my textbook. Though I'm interested in the material, I can't even allow myself to read before class, because if I do, I'm bored before the professor gets started--lecture never presents any new insights. I don't listen, and I get As because I can read and memorize, not because I can apply, connect, or challenge. We move over concepts far too quickly, neglecting to explore any intricate possibilities or implications of our new knowledge before changing topics entirely.

I came to college eager to learn and understand, to speak, listen, and ask. The reality of this place is that most professors are too busy to listen to a freshman's questions. I am one of many, and they don't care to know my name. They don't care to apply things across disciplines or integrate theories and possibilities. Most of the time, I am simply given material to memorize. And then I do. I do this well. What I don't do is learn. I can already feel my zeal for questions slipping away, victimized by the "large-class mentality." When my chemistry class has 250 people, I don't ask about the solubility of B-vitamins or why they apparently function within a membrane regardless of what I presume about their polarity. I don't ask because I know my classmates don't care. I don't ask because I know my professor will tell me he isn't a biochemist and we need to move on. I don't ask because I don't want others to think I'm trying to impress anyone, though in all honesty, I just want to know.

There are very few ways out of this mental prison. One, I guess, is to take at least one small class every semester (easier said than done). For example, my Pathogenic Microbiology class has probably 15 people in it, and our sole purpose is to discuss current research. Currently, I don't consider myself knowledgeable enough to fully participate, but as I learn, classes like this will save me from intellectual death. Another escape is through involvement in research, because it's constantly evolving. Actively searching for new scientific truth is a good way to hold off the numbing boredom of knowledge without learning. I'm not saying college has been a complete disappointment. I've grown in areas I never thought I would. I like the fact that I know more. It just wasn't what I thought it would be, and the intellectual atmosphere I so wanted is painfully absent.