It was the last day of the final examination in a large eastern university. On the steps of one building, a group of students were talking about the exam that was going to begin in a few minutes . On their faces was confidence. This was their last exam—then on to graduation and jobs.
Some talked of jobs they already had, others talked of jobs they would get. With the certainty of four years of college, they felt ready and able to take control of the world.
The coming exam, they knew, would be an easy task, as the professor had said they could bring any books or notes they wanted, requesting only that they did not talk to each other during the test.
Happily they entered the classroom. The professor passed out the papers. And smiles appeared on the students’ faces as they found there were only five questions.
Three hours had passed before the professor began to collect papers. The students no longer looked confident. On their faces was a frightened expression. Papers in hand, no one spoke as the professor faced the class.
He looked at the worried faces before him, and then asked: “How many completed all five questions?" Not a hand was raised.
“How many answered four?” Still no hand.
“Three? Two?” The students moved restlessly in their seats.
“One, then? Certainly somebody finished one .” But the class remained silent.
The professor put down the papers. “That is exactly what I expected ,” he said. “I just want you to know that, although you have completed four years of study, there are still many things about the subject you don’t know. These questions you could not answer are relatively common in everyday practice.” Then, smiling, he added, “You will all pass this course, but remember—even though you are now college graduates, your education had just begun.”
The years have weakened the name of the professor, but not the lessons he taught