An adage is a phrase that serves as a popular aphorism. They are supposed to be as brief as possible but their length can vary greatly. There are short ones, such as “Good thing, if brief, it is twice as good,” and there are longer ones — like one of my favorites: “Love and Interest went to the countryside one day; and interest proved stronger than the love that was held.”
Another thing that sticks with us today is the very definition of a university. In the earliest schools, education was conducted in a manner very differently—not only because of the various academic majors that now exist but because the humanities formed the very core of that education. Curricula consisted of the so-called trivium — grammar, logic, and rhetoric — and the quadrivium — arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy. These subjects were pursued with a guild-like spirit, giving birth to the institutions we currently know.
Yet, as another adage tells us, everything has an end, and nothing lasts forever. Change sweeps over us rapidly and tumultuously nowadays: universities have not been spared from this wave, either.
In the case of Montclair State University, I do not believe there is any need to remind the readership of the College of Humanities and Social Sciences’s reorganization plans — the same plans discussed by major outlets such as The New York Times and The Washington Post late last year. Arguments were made about decreased quality of instruction due to unbalanced coursework, and the educational consequences if humanities lose their standing in academia. These arguments appear to not hold any water: a couple of months later following an interregnum, we learned that the restructuring will indeed move forward. As of fall 2026, this will become a reality.
Almost all of these reactions — “I don’t know what to think,” “I didn’t know that was going to happen,” or “I thought the administration had decided against it”— come from the students enrolled in programs within the Department of Spanish and Latino Studies.
Giving the benefit of the doubt still does not explain or justify this. As much as we’d like to to believe otherwise, this lack of awareness for the student body is no accident.
It is disheartening to hear opinions like that of Paula Milian, a third-year English student minoring in Spanish.
“I find it disrespectful that Montclair State University is intentionally concealing from its students the fact that it intends to merge the humanities departments…I had believed — perhaps somewhat naively — that the university had decided to scrap it in light of all the opposition it had received,” Milian said.
Her statement represents how many students are feeling. “Pursuing a degree in Spanish involves more than just learning to speak the language correctly; it is about exploring the literature, culture, and diverse perspectives inherent to the Spanish language. Grouping Spanish together with other “world languages” presupposes that it shares the same characteristics and identity as French or Italian — a notion that is absurd.”
Disrespect and unfairness appears to characterize the school’s decision to avoid transparency. This is entirely conflicting when we consider Montclair State prides itself on being a Hispanic-Serving Institution (HSI).
I wouldn’t want to hear talk of self-contradiction if I were an administrator. Nor would I want to hear students like Leticia Gaspar, a senior majoring in Spanish, or Emma Torres, a freshman journalism major, relaying disheartening messages of their own college actively destroying its identity.
Feelings of confusion and doubt should not be common (and in a school no less), when up until this point they fulfilled the promise it historically projected. This same community is now disillusioned upon seeing that the university has no perpetual interest in upholding its doctrine.
An institution, under the guise of modernization and interdisciplinarity, seeking to implement such measures veers away from being an university. Doing this undermines the very philosophy which keeps college rooted in true education.
These measures will lead to, sooner or later, an increase of faculty responsibilities which is not necessarily sustainable long-term. In an article titled “The Not-So-Smart Maneuver of Restructuring the Humanities” Dr. Raúl Galoppe notes, “This often coincides with fewer permanent positions, a greater reliance on contingent faculty, and a general shift toward flexibility — not only in curricula but also in the workplace” (Substack).
To put it another way, professors would end up doing more work with the same resources, a situation that would inevitably lower the quality of instruction.
Have we, perhaps, transitioned from universities to businesses? What once was a beacon of knowledge is now an store trying to sell us devalued degrees — degrees that force additional time commitment and additional debt, just to possibly increase the prospect of a decent job. Have we ended up with a institution that bears a striking resemblance to a mobile phone factory?
Claiming these initiatives to be “modernist formulas” forces vague acceptance as if they were the cure for every ill plaguing our learning process. In reality, they are marketing a curtail to a vital academic sector and also jeopardizing the quality of the university. Not to mention, this comes at a time when a higher education degree is no longer a guarantee of a promising professional future.
The proposed restructuring is not merely a simple administrative adjustment. Rather, it is a symptom of higher ed’s commodification: one tactic to achieve this is a deliberate weakening of the humanities.
I do not expect my words to change anything. Nevertheless, I do not want anyone to have the impression that the we are witnessing or even accepting an erasure of a culture. This department houses the second most-spoken language in the United States, not to mention a language that continually evolves in a way that distinguishes it from all other known language varieties.
Spanish, but more importantly, its communities, has undertaken monumental effort to secure its visibility with initiatives like encouraging universities to facilitate Hispanic studies. If there is one department that makes efforts for students stay ahead in the modern era — updated curriculums and various degree options for other majors — it is the Department of Spanish and Latino Studies.
In its wake, the disappearance of this department leaves behind a nebulous cloud of unanswered questions that lead us to fear the worst regarding this university’s administration.
But it should also prompt us to reflect on what has become of the student body itself. The very same demographic group that struck panic into the administrations of Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon is now seemingly incapable of organizing itself to prevent our tuition’s investment from losing its value. We have sat idly by, watching departments vanish with a frightening complacency, thereby becoming accomplices in this tragedy.
If the university is failing to prioritize our education — and perhaps by extension, we, too, are failing to do so — then we must ask ourselves: when it came to our education, did Interest ultimately prove stronger than the love once held for it?
