A reflection on: Zimmerman, J. (2025) Elite universities, we have a problem.
This post responds to Jonathan Zimmerman’s article, “Elite Universities, We Have a Problem,” shared by Sam Wineburg on LinkedIn. It explores how both elite universities and school classrooms can either flatten or ignite the human spirit through the humanities.
Framed as a response to a student’s disillusionment with elite college education in the USA, Zimmerman’s argument is clear: too many humanities courses have become exercises in ideological conformity, not intellectual curiosity. And in doing so, they’re betraying the very humanistic values they’re meant to champion.
“At their best, humanities courses ask students to think about what makes for a good life and for a good world. But at our elite institutions, we have essentially answered that question for them: a good life is one with lots of money.”
This is not a new critique, but Zimmerman delivers it with a clarity that’s hard to ignore. Students arrive wide-eyed and open-hearted, only to be channeled through “groupthink-heavy seminars” and “cookie-cutter courses” – ultimately landing in consulting or finance. It’s not just cynicism – it’s a betrayal of the Enlightenment ideal.
And that’s where it hit home for me: as a history teacher working in a secondary context, I can see the echoes of this university culture reverberating in our schools.
When we lean too hard into ‘preferred’ answers – perhaps those with moralistic overtones – when we sidestep or quash opportunities to have challenging classroom conversations, and their associated awkward moments, we reward compliance over inquiry… and we’re conditioning students away from questioning, not toward it.
From French Revolution to a Real Revolution In Thinking Via Yarning in Year 9
In my first yarning circle for the year with my Year 9s – a space built on openness, trust, and deep listening – we reflected on our studies of the French Revolution. Yarning circles are an ancient form of teaching that is treasured in First Nations ways of learning. When mastered as a teaching strategy, they are perfect for connecting students not only to their yesterdays but also to their today and their tomorrows.
In this circle, the conversation soon turned to the nature of citizenship. The importance of respecting the rights of others. The way we often overlook our responsibilities as citizens.
Some students observed that, during the 1790s, it seemed as though some French Revolutions focused heavily on “liberty” and “equality” but forget their responsibility, their obligation and duty, to act in the interests of the common good, in the interests of the wider community as was suggested by the value “fraternity”.
As a class, students discussed democracy, dictatorship, media, truth, and power. It was at this point that one student, courageously, pushed back against the dominant view in the room. After a small group of students shared their ideas relating to American politics, she questioned how we form our opinions on global affairs – be it on Trump, Gaza, the nature of citizenship itself. In essence, she asked:
“Are we basing our views on the perspectives we want to hear, or on evidence?”
That moment was electric for me.
It reminded me that real humanities teaching should cultivate this exact kind of bold, respectful, evidence-based thinking.
Not moral certainty.
Not tribal allegiance.
Not silence.
What Zimmerman Gets Right — and What We Must Take Further
Zimmerman is right: we must reclaim the humanities as a space for genuine inquiry. But this doesn’t start at university. It starts much earlier.
If we want diverse career pathways, civic-minded graduates, and students who choose to care, we need:
- Classrooms that embrace discomfort without dogma
- Pedagogies that privilege perspective, not prescription
- Teachers who are rewarded for relational, dialogic work, not just content coverage
“If we’re honest, we will admit that we have too often flouted that ideal.”
Indeed. But we can also reclaim it.
Final Thought
Zimmerman’s piece reminds us that history and the humanities must remain alive, plural, and contested – not just in the ivory towers of the Ivy League but in everyday classrooms.
The yarning circle was our version of that commitment.
We owe it to our students – and to those who gave life and form to our democracies – to keep the circles of inquiry and respectful debate open.
Disrupted History 