“Hence it will result that the pupil will depend on the
judgment of the master, and will think that he has expressed properly whatever
shall have been approved by him” (Quintilian 367). The major element that the
introductory pages of Quintilian’s Institutes
of Oratory have depicted is that the master—read as the teacher, the
instructor, the one who is well versed in the subject of rhetoric and
oratory—dictates what the student will say, do, and effectively how they will
communicate and learn. This is illustrated even further in the text where it
states: “…for the master ought not to speak to suit the taste of his pupils,
but the pupils to suit that of the master” (Quintilian 367). The master is in
control, and it is up to the master to determine what is and is not important,
how to navigate through the muddle of everything that has been established in
an effort to educate and mold them into strong orators: because that reflects
back on the ability of the master to teach and gives them praise.
What fascinates me about this is how it still holds truth
today (thought not as prominently for the most part). As writers, we try to
emulate those who we feel have exceptional skills in prose. At the same time we
shape and mold our analytical papers to mimic a pre-determined style that is
satisfactory to our professors. Schools (like Purdue, Harvard, Yale, and so on)
are heralded for their abilities to produce scholars, regardless of what the
actual field of study is. The university holds more power then the subject
matter itself. The school serves as the master, and those who have come before
shape us to write in specific ways.
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