Education: End of an Era

Twelve years ago, the U.S. launched the most elaborate experiment in veteran legislation in all history. Instead of bonuses, it offered its veterans an education. Last week that experiment passed a milestone, and an era ended as the G.I. bill ran out for the men and women veterans of World War II. Assessing those twelve years, and counting the cost ($14.5 billion), educators agreed that the experiment had paid off beyond all expectations.

When President Roosevelt signed the bill in 1944, neither Government nor education officials knew quite what to expect. Some thought that only about 500,000 veterans would take advantage of the program. Others predicted an inevitable lowering of academic standards. Educator Robert Hutchins declared the whole idea could be “a threat to American education.” The results made a mockery of the cynics and alarmists alike. On campus after campus, whole new communities sprang up—row upon row of trailers, barracks, and Quonset huts, crammed with books, babies and as eager a crop of students as U.S. higher education had ever seen. By 1947 the ex-G.I.s comprised more than one-half of the University of Michigan’s student body, nearly three-quarters of Columbia’s.

Courses in Bartending. In addition to $500 sent to his college for tuition and books, each unmarried veteran received a minimum $50 a month for subsistence, and each married one at least $75. These allowances, later raised to $75 and $105, or more, were not much to live on, but the veterans managed. In twelve years almost 8,000,000 took some sort of training under the program. For those who could not qualify as regular students, Brown University set up a special school. Yale established an institute of collegiate study; New York State created Champlain College at Plattsburg. Such women’s colleges as Skidmore and Bryn Mawr opened their doors to men for the first time.

In such a vast program, mistakes were inevitable. Courses in bartending and ballroom dancing flourished, as well as “schools” that promised professional degrees (e.g., in architecture) in seven months. By 1948 when the Veterans Administration clamped down, an estimated $500,000,000 had been wasted on fraudulent courses. But the program’s achievements far outweighed its mistakes. It sent 10,000 veterans to universities in Europe. It turned out 238,000 teachers, 450,000 engineers, 180,000 doctors and nurses, 113,000 scientists and 36,000 clergymen. In the last six years the average income of the bill’s users has gone up 51% compared to 19% for nonveterans of the same age.

Men’s Heads. But if veterans have cause to be grateful, so have the institutions they attended. For these veterans made a lasting impact on U.S. education. “In the service, veterans acquired a deep-seated appreciation of education,” said Assistant Dean Robert Williams of the University of Michigan. “They brought a seriousness of purpose, knew what they wanted and went after it.” They asked more questions, studied harder, and made higher grades than any students before them. Many were poor boys, knew education was a privilege, and not just something father paid for. “They had men’s heads on men’s shoulders,” says Acting President Frank Bailey of Ohio’s Kenyon College. Adds Harvard’s Director of Financial Aid John Monro: “These fellows knocked out the playboy era of American colleges. They set a pace that is still with us—and it is here to stay.”

There are still veterans on U.S. campuses. Under the “Korean” G.I. Bill, veterans who served in the armed services between June 27, 1950 and Jan. 31, 1955 are entitled to G.I. educational privileges, and the Veterans Administration estimates that some 750,000 will be enrolled this fall in U.S. colleges and universities. The ex-G.I. of World War II has virtually disappeared, leaving only a few survivors finishing out their courses. But because of him, U.S. higher education will never be quite the same again.