Quirkademics

Here's a list of the strangest college courses in America. I don't know how thoroughly researched or scientifically valid the list is, but it does offer some courses that veer far off the beaten path.

The biggest surprise: Underwater Basket Weaving is real! I always thought it had to be an urban legend, but it's offered at both UC-San Diego and Reed College in Oregon. As it turns out, however, the "underwater" part simply refers to submerging the reeds in water so as to make them more pliable. Still...you get as much credit for it as you would for physics, history, or calculus.

I don't know what to think of the fact that several of the courses are offered by philosophy departments. I suppose it's not too surprising, since philosophy departments are often desperate to attract students to the most arcane of academic disciplines. And there has been a rash of books released recently about philosophy and popular culture. It started (I think) with The Simpsons and Philosophy, and now there are forthcoming titles such as The Red Sox and Philosophy and Christmas and Philosophy. I wish I was joking about those last ones.

But using film or television shows can be helpful in illustrating and conceptualizing philosophical issues. One of my good friends has routinely used science fiction in his classes, and he's no slouch as a philosopher or a teacher.

The strangest course on the list is "The Art of Walking." At first, it sounds like the only thing less academically challenging would be courses like "Inhaling and Exhaling" and "Practicum: Sitting in a Classroom Three Times a Week." On closer inspection, however, it turns out the class is actually devoted to Kant's Critique of Judgment, and so it sounds like an interesting way of bringing that text (and it is a killer) to life.

The worst idea has to be "Arguing with Judge Judy: Popular 'Logic' on TV Judge Shows." The course uses such shows to illustrate logical fallacies, and such programs do offer rich source material for that topic. But still, you'd have to sit through half-hour after endless half-hour finding these fallacies. I'd rather read Kant's Critique of Judgment cover-to-cover. In German. In a dimly-lit room. While having my knuckles rapped with Kant's walking cane wielded by a stout Teutonic woman named "Helga" whenever my mind wandered.