Thomas G. Groleau, Ph.D.
Brad Lemler, Ph.D., CPA
Bethel College
Minor Revisions: December 4, 2002
Do not use without permission of the authors
This paper presents an argument for stronger integration of business and
liberal arts studies. Following a brief history and discussion of the purpose
of the liberal arts, each author presents a case based on his academic area.
One discussion addresses the need for a solid mathematics background prior
to business studies while the other addresses the problem of teaching a rapidly
changing business field (federal taxation) in a liberal arts context. The
end of the paper is a call for further discussion.
Most Christian Business Faculty Association (CBFA) members teach at small schools. Some of these schools refer to themselves as a "liberal arts college" while others use the term "comprehensive college". We have yet to see one call itself a "business college" in spite of the fact that business is often the largest major on campus.
What does this say about the interaction of business and liberal arts or the broader question of vocational/professional training versus general studies? While the CBFA publishes a journal devoted to the integration of scripture and business, we have seen very little discussion about integration of liberal arts and business. What we have seen are conflicts or tensions between the two. Here are some examples:
In this paper we will argue in favor of a strong liberal arts foundation for
business studies and deeper integration of the liberal arts within business
studies. The remainder of this paper is divided into four sections. In the
first, we give a brief history and purpose of the liberal arts. This is followed
by two sections where each author covers some specific liberal arts issues
related to his own discipline. Finally, we present a summary and a call for
ongoing discussion.
What are the Liberal Arts – and What good are they?
Modern liberal arts education is the descendent, several generations removed, of classical education. The foundation of classical education was a trivium of grammar, logic and rhetoric. Once this foundation was in place, the student moved on to a quadrivium of music, arithmetic, astronomy and geometry. [Veith, 1996]
The study of the trivium was all about the development of generic, critical-thinking skills, skills that are useful across the range of applications and disciplines. The study of grammar allows a student to learn a language, to master the language's basic structure and vocabulary. Only after a student has first learned a language can the student begin to think in the language, making the study of logic the next step. Once a student can think in a language, the student can then begin to learn how to communicate effectively in the language, so the student's attention turns to the study of rhetoric. [Veith, 1996]
No doubt, many students studied the trivium using the language of Latin, but the trivium can be just as effectively studied - and the generic, critical-thinking skills just as effectively developed - using other languages. Why not the language of German, the language of biology, the language of psychology, the language of economics, the language of accounting, the language of computer science? There are two related points here: First, in terms of developing generic, critical-thinking skills, the study of any discipline need not be an irrelevant detour. For example, an accounting major who never plans on leaving the state of Indiana can derive plenty of value from a required two semester foreign language sequence. Second, though the business disciplines are not traditionally thought of as part of the liberal arts, the business disciplines can be taught in such a way that they develop the same skills that the liberal arts are supposed to develop. Or, looking at the other side of the coin, the liberal arts can be taught in such a way that they fail to develop the skills they are supposed to develop.
Assuming the foundation of the trivium, the study of the quadrivium was concerned with exposing the student to the different kinds of truth. The study of music would focus on aesthetic truth and the objective standard of order that it implies. The study of arithmetic introduces the student to the mathematical absolutes built into both the physical universe and the minds of human beings. The study of astronomy represents the study of all empirical disciplines, disciplines that require both the collection and evaluation of external evidence. It is through the empirical disciplines that both the aesthetic beauty and harmony and the mathematical regularity of the physical world is discovered. The study of geometry focuses on the understanding of spatial relations and then using this understanding in problem solving applications. [Veith, 1996]
The range of subjects covered in the quadrivium highlights the universal, foundational importance of the trivium and the generic, critical-thinking skills that it developed. In generations past an educated human being possessed these generic, critical-thinking skills as well as an understanding of: 1) the objective standards of aesthetic harmony, 2) the mathematical absolutes built into both the physical universe and the human mind, 3) the empirical world and the regularities it possesses, and 4) the spatial relations that are the root of problem solving activity. What about the current generation? Is a classical, liberal arts education still sufficient to produce an educated human being, or is today's world so complex that classical, liberal arts education is hopelessly out of date? Should one focus on being trendy or timeless in order to achieve the goal of being relevant? With these questions in mind, the remainder of this paper will focus on two case studies.
Mathematics: When are we ever going to use this?
In 1985, fresh out of college, I became a high school math teacher in Hortonville Wisconsin. I taught Algebra I and II, Basic Algebra/Geometry, and Computer Programming. Of course, I was greeted with joy and admiration by my students who were eager to explore the intricacies and logic of symbolic manipulation. Well, not exactly.
"When are we ever going to use this?" was what I heard. "My uncle’s an engineer and he doesn’t use any of this stuff" said another. Perhaps I could explain the use of algebra in higher mathematics like calculus or the application of algorithms in numerical analysis. I was foolish enough to try, but those discussions went way over their heads.
Then I found it! In a math education catalogue there was a wall chart called "When are we ever going to use this?". It claimed to list specific math skills and the professions that used them. I coerced the money out of my department chair, placed the order, and waited with the patience of a child before Christmas. It finally came. What a disappointment. No one used algebra. A few people used geometry. Everyone used arithmetic. Were my students right? Did they already know all the math they would ever need?
I eventually left that position (and the handy wall chart) behind to pursue further education of my own: an M.S. in Operations Research, a Ph.D. in Business, and a stint as a COBOL programmer. Throughout this time I sought an answer to the question "When are we ever going to use this?". I still don’t have an answer. In my entire professional life I have simplified rational expressions in two situations: 1) Teaching algebra, and 2) Teaching the quotient rule in calculus.
Therefore it’s time that we admit something to our students: "Most of you aren’t going to use this. Ever."
Once we admit that students aren’t going to use much math (algebraic manipulation, matrices, derivatives, etc.) in "real life" why should we teach it? Because it has significant economic value and a long history of building foundational skills and predicting success. While there is certainly intangible value in studying mathematics (indeed all liberal arts), we cannot overlook the economic value of mathematics.
An article in Business Week [Koretz, 1997] points out that employers reward traditional "reading, writing, and mathematical skills" [emphasis added] because they are in short supply. It doesn’t mention a shortage of <insert your favorite business field> knowledge. In contrast to overall wage stagnation, workers with high level skills in these basic areas have seen real wage growth of 20% to 25% since the 1970s. That’s a strong financial argument for business majors to study significant levels of mathematics. Of course students will ask why businesses reward a skill that is seldom, if ever, used. I’ll address that by way of analogy.
In the sixth century AD, martial arts training began with the Horse Stance – legs wide apart, knees bent, back straight. Students would stand in this uncomfortable position for up to an hour and do nothing but concentrate. [Ribner and Chin, 1978] However, the Horse Stance doesn’t show up in combat. I’ve seen many "Kung Fu" flicks over the years and I’ve never seen Bruce Lee or Chuck Norris use the Horse Stance to beat the bad guys.
So what was the Horse Stance’s value? It built stamina, strength, balance and concentration, all vitally important skills in combat. The horse stance did something even more important. It weeded out those who were unwilling or unable to pay the price to learn the secrets of the martial arts masters. While today’s martial arts students may not face the Horse Stance training described by Ribner and Chin, they still endure rigorous, and often tedious, foundational training.
A traditional math curriculum can serve the same purpose for business majors. Algebra, geometry, calculus, etc. provide a skill and conceptual foundation for studying advanced business topics. Many of my students cannot graph a line (yes, a "straight" line) without a graphing calculator. Is it a coincidence that these are the same students who have difficulty interpreting a graph that’s given to them in marketing, economics, or finance?
In my particular field, the decision sciences, the latest trend is to integrate spreadsheet modeling into the curriculum in an effort to give decision analysis tools to students who have failed to understand them in a more traditional, mathematical format. I have been an enthusiastic participant in this movement by attending seminars and testing pre-publication materials in class.
In these efforts, however, I have encountered an interesting phenomena. Students who don’t understand the algebraic concepts of variable, constant and substitution and who can’t "do" traditional mathematics are likely to struggle with spreadsheet mathematics. The concept of absolute versus relative cell references when copying formulas is beyond their grasp. On the other hand, students who understand "regular" math, tend to pick up spreadsheet skills and spreadsheet lingo with relative ease.
For example, most of Bethel’s MBA students are mid-career professionals. Many haven’t studied math in years and demonstrate weak basic skills. Based on this, I developed a statistics course focused on cases and spreadsheets. Almost everything that would resemble traditional, symbolic mathematics is eliminated. I get generally positive student feedback and the cases are a lot fun. Unfortunately, the students who start with weak math skills tend to finish with weak statistical understanding. I often question my approach to this course.
I’m a little uncomfortable giving some of these students the modeling power of a spreadsheet when I doubt that they will ever really understand the meaning of the inputs and outputs. The book Ethics in Modeling [Wallace, 1994] includes several essays on the ethical dangers of giving decision makers powerful models and output that they don’t understand. When we let students through any degree program (bachelors, MBA, or degree completion) without really understanding mathematics are we only adding to the problem?
Instead of in-house MBA programs, many liberal arts schools hope to send their students to top-ranked MBA programs. Consider the following:
Keeping Current: It is just too Taxing
During my senior year of high school my choice of a college major was relatively simple. It was going to be either accounting or engineering. Ever since I could remember my dad had consistently advised me to go to college and learn a skill so that I did not end up spending my life working in a factory like he had. Given that I had spent the summer between my junior and senior years working in a factory, I was in total agreement with my dad. I was going to college so that I could get a good job. That I had always enjoyed history and mathematics was immaterial to my choice of a college major. Any time that I hinted to my dad about wanting to study either history or mathematics his reply was always that I could get a factory job right out of high school, implying that the study of either history or mathematics was pointless. I ended up selecting accounting over engineering, because I thought accountants were less likely to spend their time getting dirty out in the factory. I had already spent enough time getting dirty growing up on the family farm.
During my freshman and sophomore years I barely tolerated all of the general studies courses that I was required to take. (And these were the general studies requirements of a large state school, not a small liberal arts college.) They simply represented a necessary evil that had to be endured before I could get on to the important accounting and business courses. The area of general studies that I found most interesting was economics. I found the use of economic models to depict and understand the economy and to formulate policies to achieve desired outcomes intriguing. What was most interesting was that there were competing models offering different depictions and understandings of the economy. The appropriate policy response according to one model need not be, most likely was not, the appropriate policy response according to another model. The economic world was complex. Economics was "gray;" it was not "black and white" like accounting.
Finally I made it to my junior year, but there were some interesting happenings during my junior and senior years. First, as I progressed into more advanced accounting courses with more contextually rich problems, I discovered that accounting was not as "black and white" as I had thought it was. Second, I was actually happy about my discovery that accounting could be just as "gray" as economics. I had actually become bored with the areas of accounting that had remained "black and white," and I began taking economics courses, because I appreciated all the "gray" areas that economics had to offer. The "gray" areas were fun, because they required that I do more than simply memorize and repeat back what I had learned. Instead, to work in the "gray" areas I had to understand the theories and concepts that I had learned well enough so that I could logically apply them in settings that were different from those that I had previously seen.
My fondness of "gray" areas was severely tested within the first few months after my graduation. I had accepted a position as a plant accountant with a Fortune 500 company, and I had been on the job less than a month when the plant manager walked into my office, dropped a box full of folders and papers on my desk, and said "This is what we did for last year's profit plan. We start work on next year's profit plan in two weeks. I do not like a bit of what we did last year. Come up with something different." He then turned around and walked out of my office. After the initial panic subsided, I set about doing - on a much bigger scale - exactly what I had done in solving all of those "gray" area problems during my last two years of college. I took all of the theories and concepts that I had learned and set about applying them with the objective of coming up with a coherent, defensible approach to profit planning. I was successful in coming up with an acceptable profit plan, but I shudder at the thought of what would have happened had I never stepped out of the memorize and repeat approach to solving "black and white" problems.
By this time I was well on the way to becoming a fan of the liberal arts, or more appropriately, the skills that are taught in a classical, liberal arts program of study. My experiences as a graduate teaching assistant during my days as a Ph.D. student served to propel me further along this path. I chose taxation as my area of specialization in the Ph.D. program, meaning that I soon found myself teaching undergraduate tax courses. I never had a chance to use my notes for more than two consecutive semesters, as the tax law was constantly changing. Beyond that, the annually updated textbooks were out of date more often than not. The whole experience was very frustrating. It was difficult enough to simply teach current, up to date tax law to my students. However, I also felt compelled to fill them in on the legislative history of the various provisions, legislative history that grew with each revision of the tax law. Additionally, I knew that within a year of taking my course much of the content that my students had absorbed would be obsolete. There had to be a better way to teach tax.
Gradually I began to see that there was an overall structure lying beneath the detailed provisions of the Internal Revenue Code. There were concepts and objectives that explained much of what was in the Code. Once a student grasped these concepts and objectives he/she would have a general idea of the tax issues associated with a given transaction as well as a general idea of the likely outcome. Granted, the student would still need to do the necessary research to determine if there were specific exceptions that applied, but doing tax research is a fairly straightforward undertaking once one has defined the relevant tax issues and has an idea of the likely tax treatment.
Understanding the overall structure of the Internal Revenue Code also made it easier for a student to deal with an ever changing tax law. While the detailed provisions of the Code are constantly changing, the overall structure of the Code remains relatively stable. One finds that many of the changes in the detailed provisions of the Code are necessary responses to a changing economic world. These changes are necessary for maintaining the objectives that underlie the Code. Given an understanding of these objectives and recent changes in the economic world, one can anticipate forthcoming changes in the Code.
As I gained experience teaching tax courses, I became less concerned with teaching the detailed provisions of the Internal Revenue Code and more concerned with teaching the overall conceptual structure of the Code. I sacrificed current technical competency for an overall conceptual understanding. I believed this to be a wise tradeoff, because it left my students better prepared to deal with a constantly changing Code.
Experience from my first tenure track teaching position reinforced my belief in the wisdom of this tradeoff. I was part of a masters program in taxation at a doctoral granting institution in Texas. Graduates of our program were more technically current than those of our primary competing institution, and Big Six public accounting firms readily hired our graduates. Over time I observed that our graduates were less likely to be promoted to the manager rank, and beyond, than the graduates of our primary competing institution.
The advantage in technical competence enjoyed by our graduates did not serve them well in the long run. Graduates from our primary competing institution enjoyed an advantage in understanding the overall conceptual structure of the Code, and this advantage served them well over the long run. Once the tax problem or planning opportunity was identified, our graduates ably carried out the necessary research - which is the primary responsibility of staff accountants. Research skills, however, are of little use until the tax problem or planning opportunity is identified - which is the primary responsibility of managers - and identifying tax problems or planning opportunities is primarily a function of how well one understands the overall conceptual structure of the Code.
Thus, without any knowledge of the trivium, the quadrivium, classical education, or liberal arts education, my search for an effective way to teach tax had taken me to the concepts embodied in classical, liberal arts education. With regard to the trivium, I was teaching the grammar of the language of taxation - the basic structures and vocabulary, the foundational factual knowledge, of the Internal Revenue Code. I was teaching logic - the ability to think and analyze in the language of taxation. I was teaching rhetoric - the capacity to communicate effectively, to persuasively present ideas in the language of taxation. With regard to the quadrivium, taxation does not fit neatly within any of the four areas - music, arithmetic, astronomy and geometry. While few people would associate aesthetic beauty with taxation, tax questions do, at least partially, fit within the domains of arithmetic, astronomy and geometry.
Today, the trivium is present in every accounting course that I teach. The teaching of logic and rhetoric is relatively consistent across courses. The complexity of the grammar, however, does vary. The grammar of managerial accounting is relatively simple, making it easier to quickly proceed to the teaching of logic and rhetoric, while the grammar of auditing, financial accounting and taxation is more complex. The grammar of other languages - languages such as biology, German, psychology or sociology - does not transfer to the grammar of accounting languages, but the logic and rhetoric skills developed while studying these other languages does much to assist in the study of accounting languages. Thus, from my perspective, business education and liberal arts education are inseparable partners.
Conclusions
In this paper we have presented arguments in favor of a deeper integration of liberal arts and business studies. This includes two factors. First, we support the liberal arts as a pre-business curriculum, or foundation for further business study. Second, we support a liberal arts viewpoint within the business curriculum. Our specific examples were mathematics in the foundation category and taxes within the business curriculum. We solicit feedback and encourage further discussion and along any of the following paths:
1) Further examples:
2) Marketing concerns: There are (at least) two different markets
that must be sold on deep integration of liberal arts and business.
3) Obtaining cooperation: How would your non-business colleagues react
to an intensive integration effort? To give students the broad liberal arts
training we recommend and an employable academic record, students may need
to integrate business issues into non-business courses. Would your history
faculty encourage a business major to write a paper on the history of anti-trust
legislation? Would a commercial story board presentation be an acceptable
project for Introduction to Drawing?
4) Conflicting views: Some may disagree completely with our viewpoint. We encourage a well-crafted argument in favor of a dedicated business college approach for the small school.
References: