I sat in the back of the room listening to various administrators and students pitch my son. The anomaly had become a trend and that trend disturbed me. My son, a civil engineer wannabe, visiting various colleges of polytechnic renown, heard them attempt to lure him with the promise of never taking an English class again. From students to deans of students, this became a common theme – the humanities are a thing of the past and the only such classes will be more science-oriented than humanities-oriented.

I remember my high school career. I was a science and math guy through and through. I hated English. It made no sense. It was completely subjective. And, so, when it came time for this Physics and Astronomy major to take his required dose of English Literature as a college freshman, I attacked it with as much sarcastic rigor as possible. My intention was to mock the tomfoolery of literary analysis by pushing the envelope as far as possible. Every written assignment only escalated this. I was asked to review a Joseph Conrad novella (The Secret Sharer) and I handed in a report comparing it to a Star Trek Episode ("The Enemy Within").

Next I was tasked with reviewing Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre and came back with an analysis based solely on the names of the characters, including a purposely placed anachronism comparing the nursemaid to a Borden Dairy Company mascot Elsie the Cow (if you can't see the connection, think harder).