The Undergraduate Curriculum
in Sociology
An immodest proposal

G. EDWARD STEPHAN
Western Washington University

DOUGLAS S. MASSEY
University of Pennsylvania

T

his article begins and ends with the view that sociology is a science, and that as such it should share certain traits in common with other sciences, particularly in its methods of research and in its presentation of knowledge. It is illustrative of one of the points we wish to make that many sociologists will find this statement to be provocative, that many do in fact believe that sociology should not be a science, or at least that is should be different from other sciences. We do not set out here to resolve such a debate. Rather, we concern ourselves in this paper with certain consequences that follow if sociology can be assumed to be a science.
    In the past two decades sociology professionals have shown a tendency to move toward a more scientific orientation. Witness the increased use of quantitative methods and concepts, the greater appreciation of higher mathematics, and the closer integration between theory and research. These changes are self-evident in the content of the major sociological journals, in

the graduate curricula of leading universities, and in the direction of recent trends in research. One area of sociology that has not kept pace with the move towards a more scientific stance—and one place where sociology differs greatly from other scientific fields—is in the area of undergraduate training. In this article we consider some of the problems associated with the way most students are introduced to sociology. Then, after surveying the way other scientific disciplines introduce themselves to interested students, we propose a reformulation of the sociology curriculum intended to augment and strengthen its status as a true science of society.

    The social upheavals and turbulence of the 1960s and early 1970s in the nation generally and more particularly on its campuses was accompanied by an unprecedented surge in enrollments in sociology and in governmental support for its research. In the early and mid-1960s, Ph.D.s in the field were in short supply relative to the demand. With the subsequent boom in sociology doctorates and the later bust in undergraduate enrollments, the field is now faced with a painful situation. While the number of sociologists is increasing, the potential market for their services is shrinking. Many talented young PhDs simply find themselves surplus to the current employment structure of the discipline.
    Of course this condition is not unique to sociology. With the absolute decline in births since 1957—drastically since 1961—college enrollments are expected to decline for some time to come, and nearly all fields will be affected. But sociology does approach the unique in the degree to which it has experienced the pleasures and pains of the last two decades in higher education. We had more of a boom during the boom years, and the bust is and will be more painful for us. While some of the amplitude in our fortunes is surely due to external factors (relative amounts of social change going on outside the academy, field-specific employment opportunities, and so on), at least some of the

explanations, or blame, must be in the way we present ourselves to our potential students and to the nation at large.
    It may, or course, be simply due to the nature of the field. As many figures in the history of social thought have pointed out, people don't begin to look at social structure, or to ask sociological questions until there is disorder or rapid change in society. People don't tend to question or analyze the routine, the obvious. But is that all there is to it? If it takes an external disturbance which arouses the public to sustain a field of scientific study, then why are there so many other fields, such as many of the so-called natural sciences, which, in the academic world, at least, seem relatively more stable than sociology? True, the launching of Sputnik in the late 1950s spurred an interest in physics, True, ecological concerns spurred some interest in chemistry and especially biology in the late 1960s. Even so, the level of enrollments and funding in these and many other areas has remained relatively steady. What is different about sociology? Why do our fortunes fluctuate so wildly and painfully?
    We believe that a major part of the explanation lies in a description of the problems itself. Sociology is in or out of fashion largely because it is—in the minds of most students and the public—little more than a reflection of what is fashionable. If it is fashionable to be concerned with the civil rights of minorities, deviant lifestyles, increasing crime rates, or urban problems, then sociology flourishes. If it becomes fashionable to show a lack of concern for social issues and to concentrate rather on making one's way in the world, then sociology is believed to have nothing to contribute. In short, the general perception of both students and the public seems to be that sociology contains no sustaining corpus of knowledge essential to society in between crises, no body of information to which specialists should be expected to contribute routinely regardless of changing fashion, external conditions, or the mood of the country.
    The reasons for this general perception must surely be very complex. One reason might be the immediate practical utility of various fields compared with sociology. We are living better through the application of scientific principles from physics and chemistry. Thanks to science and technology our nation does to

a large extent feed the world, and modern medicine has altered other aspects of the human condition. But all of the "beneficial" sciences grew into their current position through the dedicated, plodding contributions of thousands of individuals who could not have known the ultimate applications of their work—could Gregor Mendel have imagined the mass production of insulin made possible by gene-splicing techniques? It seems rather that the work itself commanded their attention at the time. Even today, what is the practical benefit of cataloging millions of stars in distant galaxies compared, say, to obtaining more detailed information about the cities within which we work and live? Utility alone cannot account for the degree of public support for certain of these "hard" sciences and the relative lack of it for sociology. Even among the social and behavioral sciences it is hard to see how utility alone can account for the prestige accorded to economics, for example, or the support given to experimental ("rat") psychology relative to other branches of that discipline.
    We suggest that, in addition to its proven or potential utility, a field is accorded support based on the public's perception of the degree of separation of that field from common sense. Aside from any possible benefits, we accord status and continued support to those activities which we cannot understand and which we cannot do ourselves. It is a truism from the history of social thought: whether we look at science, art, religion, or industry, we reward specialists who contribute something we cannot provide ourselves.
    How is sociology specialized? We address this question not from the point of view of practicing specialists, but from the point of view of students and the educated public in general. In other words, we address the question in the context of the introductory course, which is all most people ever see of our field. Surely most would agree that, from such a perspective, sociology is specialized principally in its vocabulary and perhaps to some degree in its point of view.
    The subject matter of any introductory textbook is experienced more or less directly by everyone in their everyday lives: in

family, work, education, deviance, adolescence, religion, voluntary association, formal organizations, and cities. It used to be that some of the "juicier" parts of the course were not so familiar (sexuality, certain patterns of deviance, and so on), but even these topics are now common fare on any daytime talk show. The only claim to specialization at the introductory level seems to be the peculiar jargon of sociology, as evidneced in the degree to which introductory examinations concern themselves with identifying, defining, and exemplifying concepts. Many of the concepts themselves are expressed by ordinary words: their specialization is often only a matter of restricting the word to a peculiar definition (e.g., "status" or "norm") or even simply to a particular foreign language (verstehen, anomie ). Other disciplines, of course, employ specialized vocabularies: "isopropylbutanol" or "eigenvalue" are not a part of most people's everyday language. But neither are the referents of those words part of most people's everyday direct experience. You have to be taught to experience the things to which such words are applied. The peculiar words become essential when you have learned to look at very specific things in a very specific way—when you have become specialized and separated from the general public to some degree.
    We believe that most of sociology's introductory level jargon is not of this sort. Rather than being a language born of specialized knowledge of the unfamiliar, sociology's jargon is for the most part a way of describing familiar things in exotic words; and, as these words ("charisma," "dissonance") become popularized through journalism and talk shows, even the words cease to be peculiar or specialized. The boundary that distinguishes sociology from the general public becomes increasingly blurred at the verbal level. The only level at which most professional sociologists sense it—the statistical methodological level—is unknown at the introductory, or in many cases the undergraduate, level and hence remains unknown (and therefore unreal) to the public at large. It is small wonder that sociology is held in such low esteem compared to other scientific disciplines.

introductory level texts. Most authors would not, or could not, burden their readers with current disputes among professionals. It is enough that the student learn what is already known and accepted by those in the field.
    Fourth, much of the material in introductory courses tends to be quantitative.  The level of mathematical sophistication need not be high, but the precision and nonambiguity characteristic of quantitative statements seems to lend itself to introductory presentations. A great deal of time may not be spent arguing over definitions of "solid," "liquid," and "gas," but the students quickly learn to plot temperature transitions between these states. They calculate how many moles of reagents produce how many moles of products and learn to balance chemical equations. They learn to classify plants by the number of leaves in a whorl and to predict the distribution of phenotypes in successive generations.
    Finally, much of what is learned by the student in these courses is do-able  by the student. This is the reason why such courses nearly always involve laboratory demonstrations, but it is also why homework and examinations are so frequent. There is something for the student to perform as well as learn. The fact that the material is simple, unambiguous, and often quantitative makes assignments easier to give and to grade with relatively high frequency, and the process can be carried out by preprofessional graduate students and test-scoring machinery.

abhor quantitative material except when we push statistical "reasoning" at the student that most of us lack the elementary mathematical skills to explain or defend; for example, most sociologist don't understand calculus, yet they ritually present least-squares results. Homework is almost unknown in sociology, and most of what is learned is not do-able by the student in any form. In sum, introductory sociology is nearly the direct opposite of other introductory science courses: It is generally recent and superficial rather than primary, complex rather than simple, controversial rather than consensual, verbal rather than quantitative, and it remains textbook—and lecture-confined rather than being do-able by the student. These specific characteristics, we believe, are concerned with, reflective of, and largely responsible for the general condition described earlier: the public perception of sociology as little more than unfamiliar jargon used to describe already familiar phenomena.
    While this perception may have been all too accurate in the past, it is rapidly becoming less so. At the professional level the field has been moving toward a scientific rigor far beyond that presented in most introductory courses. The widening gap between the sociology presented to beginning students and that actually practiced in the discipline has several unfortunate consequences.
    First, it contributes to the misperception of sociology as a discipline of fashionable political causes and social issues. This misapprehension leaves the field very vulnerable to shifts in the social climate. As a result, support for sociological research tends to ride a roller-coaster that is extremely disruptive to the intellectual process. Being a cumulative endeavor, science functions best under a program of sustained effort and continuous support, not a boom and bust cycle of interest and neglect.
    Second, the usual introductory curriculum draws precisely the wrong kind of student into the field, a fact that becomes painfully obvious to anyone who has ever taught an undergraduate statistics course in sociology. Given the material covered in most introductory courses, it is not surprising that Sociology attracts a large number of students interested in metaphysical debates on issues—not empirical research. When these students reach graduate school (or sometimes when they

reach the required undergraduate "research methods" course) the realities of sociological analysis, with its heavy statistical and quantitative emphasis, is a rude shock to many and can be a very painful experience for both students and faculty alike. The flip side of this problem, of course, is that most introductory sociology curricula are unlikely to attract those students best able to succeed as professionals in the field. Students gifted in mathematics, logic, or quantitative analysis end up in other fields where their interests and aptitudes seem to be more productively served.
    Third, current undergraduate curricula do a disservice to those students who wish to go on in the field. In the requirements for most undergraduate sociology majors, the student gets little indication that preparation in mathematics, statistics, or computer programming might be useful for one who aspires to a sociological career. As a result, students are later forced to "make up for lost time" at the graduate level by taking crash courses in mathematics and statistics, subjects they could easily have mastered as undergraduates. Since such training can be very difficult when added on to the normal graduate regimen, many capable students fall needlessly by the wayside.
    Finally, the survey format of the typical introductory course legitimizes and institutionalizes the Balkanization of an already fragmented field, leading naturally to a plethora of narrow, over-specialized course of dubious scientific merit: the sociology of this, that, and the other thing. (Who ever heard of the "physics of the automobile?") What sociology badly needs is integration and coordination, a function that is provided by the introductory curricula of most scientific fields.

    There seems to be no necessity involved in selecting the particular subject matter currently taught in the introductory course in other fields. Students could start with almost any branch and work "back," "down," "up," or whatever. As noted, all we could find in common was that the material is primary, simple, consensual, quantitative and do-able. To what subfield in sociology do these adjectives apply? We suggest demography.
    Scientific work in the field began in the mid-seventeenth century, prior to any other area of sociology (or social sciences for that matter.) Population processes (mortality, fertility, age—and sex-composition, migration, and distribution) are basic to all other sociological phenomena—without people there are no societies. Demography provides a take-off point to all other branches of social science, as well as from biology to sociology (as Comte argued long ago). In all these sense demography is primary.
    Demography is simple, in the sense described above. Much of it can be given mathematical and graphical expression. There is more consensus among demographers, about basis concepts and measurement at least, than among any other set of specialists within sociology. This consensus is brought about not only by the simplicity of the basic subject matter but by the interaction between demographers and those who routinely gather national and international demographic data. There are debates of course; but around its basic materials and methods, demography is consensual.
    There is no denying that demography is quantitative. It is also perhaps for that reason, more than any other subdiscipline in the field, immediately do-able by the student using basic census materials descriptive of the real world. Frequent homework assignments and examinations are easier in demography than in any sociology course except perhaps statistics.
    Demography thus meets all the above criteria descriptive of a typical introductory course. But is it an appropriate introduction to sociology? How does it introduce  the student to the remainder of the curriculum? Well, to begin with, introductory courses in other disciplines don't introduce the student to the remainder to the curriculum in the sense of providing a survey of all topics in the field. Rather, they introduce students

to a method  of approach to scientific problems: data gathering, classification, analysis, and deduction. So nothing is lost apparently, by avoiding the survey approach.
    But we also believe that demography as an introductory course would contribute positively toward bringing students into the subject matter of sociology proper. Having acquired familiarity with a fairly well-developed social scientific discipline, students could approach more recent, less well-developed areas with a preference for tightly defined concepts, a need for well-established measurement procedures, a very real awareness of the inseparability of theory and research, and a developed curiosity about cross-national or over-time generalizations.
    The introductory demography course, if it were long enough, could even be structured around the goal of moving students toward sociological thinking and courses. For example, it could move from formal demography (mortality and fertility) toward social demography (migration, distribution, and composition). It could move on to other areas where there is a lot of data not normally thought of as demographic but often treatable with demographic methods (crime data, education data, labor force, and income distribution data). While moving toward less data-rich areas, students could also be sensitized to problems of measurement and sources of error. Finally, with all this behind them, students might begin to struggle with the more "theoretical" (that is, vague, complex, and verbal) questions which should perplex our graduate seminars but which, instead, we currently inflict on our beginning students.

Ultimately social processes are population processes and thus fundamentally demographic in nature. In this sense demography represents the foundation of scientific sociology.
    In the end we believe this proposal would benefit sociology and its practitioners in a number of ways. First, it would provide a more sensible introduction to the field than the current survey. Second, it would tend to select for advance work those students most capable of handling it, discouraging the "I want to help people" enrollee who can't pass the later statistics requirement because "I just panic over numbers." Third, it would help orient at least some students toward early mathematical preparation. Fourth, an early emphasis on demography backed up by advanced courses in it and other quantitative methods would help orient students to one of the few potential nonacademic employment markets for nonPh.D.s in our field—governmental and industrial research. Fifth, it would familiarize all students who took it with some specialized knowledge about the world they live in, for example, the consequences, over the next fifty years, of the baby boom and bust, rather than entertaining them with surveys and experimental studies of the attitudes and behaviors of introductory sociology students which they already know about and will probably never experience again in their adult lives. Finally, for those who do not go on in sociology, and most don't, it will leave them with a perception of the field far different than that which our current students take with them. Sociology will at least appear to be what it originally set out to be: not a congeries of ungrounded social philosophy, peculiar jargon, and ideological perspectives on the familiar, but rather a true science of society.

G. Edward Stephan is Professor of Sociology at Western Washington University. He teaches the history of social thought, human ecology, and statistics. While most of his research has been directed toward testing the size-density law, his recent work has been concerned with deriving that law and others from the theory of time minimization.

Douglas S. Massey is Assistant Professor of Sociology at the University of Pennsylvania. His research interests are in human ecology and migration.