During a class discussion a few weeks ago about existentialist philosophy, my professor informed our class that in the 1950s, every college student in America was reading the works of Jean-Paul Sartre. His history lesson got me thinking about whether our generation has an equivalent scholar or shared intellectual experience—one that is not a formal course requirement, yet is still an essential part of our liberal arts education.

My thought experiment came up short. I considered a few potential contenders, but none has had the actual reach or impact I was seeking. David Foster Wallace is a cult favorite, but one limited primarily to English majors. Thomas Friedman’s ideas seem to have influenced our worldview, but I’m not sure many students have actually read his books, nor do I think they reach the intellectual level of Sartre. My personal favorite, On the Road, seems widely read, for class if for nothing else, but it certainly does not belong to our generation. Even traditional classics are skipped over by many students because courses that feature them are not required here.

Wash. U. clearly excels at turning out qualified engineers, pre-meds and other skilled, single-discipline practitioners. We all know a great deal about our majors, but once we leave the library, I fear we leave it behind. When it comes to our informal education, the one we are supposed to gain from our peers in late night dorm-room discussions, I worry, is Wash. U. intellectual enough?

It is possible that I’ve been hanging out in the wrong hallways all these years, but I have found to my disappointment that deep intellectual discussions are the exception rather than the rule. From my experience, it’s not just that our generation has no revolutionary philosopher to tear down our previously held core beliefs. It’s that our campus shows little interest in finding such a figure.

I would love for someone to prove me wrong, to point out the book I’ve been missing or to direct me to the appointed time and place where these discussions are happening.

Yet after three years here, I suspect that will not be the case. Maybe it’s because an unusually large percentage of our student body is studying the hard sciences and metabolic enzymes do not make great dinner table conversation. Or maybe our culture here is one that prizes personal achievement over the cultivation of knowledge and therefore success in our individual pursuits consumes the time that might otherwise be spent seeking universal truths.

Whatever the reason, I cannot help but think that our education is incomplete if we have not spent enough time grappling with the ideas of our day. It is not just a matter of excelling in our fields—of doctors being able to make considered ethical judgments or of policy makers gaining enough exposure in different fields to make informed decisions —though these too are important. It is also a question, I fear, of what kind of educated people we will become if we have not given sufficient thought to the world and our place in it.

We came here, presumably, because we wanted the best education we could acquire. Were we merely seeking a prestigious name on a diploma or did we come here wanting to learn?