Any education that matters is liberal. All the saving truths, all

Host: The afternoon light poured through the arched windows of the old university library, illuminating dust that floated like tiny stars above rows of ancient books. The smell of paper, leather, and rain-soaked stone hung in the air, the kind of quiet fragrance that only knowledge and time could make.

The room was silent, except for the faint whisper of pages turning, the echo of learning still alive.

At the far table, Jack sat, his elbows resting on a pile of books, the spine of one reading On Liberty. His face was drawn, thoughtful, his grey eyes glinting like steel beneath smoke.

Jeeny walked in from the rain, her hair damp, her coat dripping, and her eyes warm with that quiet faith that always seemed to challenge his logic. She set her notebook down, sat across from him, and for a moment, they just listened to the soft sound of the clock ticking, the world thinking around them.

Jeeny: softly “Alan K. Simpson once said, ‘Any education that matters is liberal. All the saving truths, all the healing graces that distinguish a good education from a bad one, or a full education from a half empty one, are contained in that word.’”

She looked up, her eyes steady, measured. “It’s a beautiful thought, isn’t it? That the purpose of learning isn’t training the mind — it’s liberating it.”

Jack: leans back, crossing his arms “It’s also a dangerous one. People hear the word ‘liberal’ and think it means soft, idealistic, or unmoored from the real world. But the world runs on utility, not ideals. Knowledge that doesn’t produce something is luxury, not necessity.”

Jeeny: tilts her head, calm but firm “But that’s exactly the point, Jack. Liberal education doesn’t train you for a job — it trains you for life. It teaches you how to question, how to see, how to heal the very systems you say we’re bound to.”

Jack: sighs, rubbing his temples “You can’t heal a system with philosophy. You heal it with competence, with skills, with results. The world needs engineers, technicians, builders — not more people who can recite Plato but can’t pay rent.”

Jeeny: smiles gently “And yet, it’s the ones who read Plato who ask why we build in the first place.”

Host: The rain outside softened, a steady rhythm on the windows, blurring the green of the quad beyond. The sound was slow, meditative, like memory set to time.

Jeeny: “You’ve spent your whole life trying to be practical, Jack. But what if education isn’t about practicality at all? What if it’s about awakening conscience? Simpson understood that — he wasn’t talking about politics when he said ‘liberal’; he meant freedom — the freedom of mind to imagine a better world.”

Jack: nods, half-smile tugging at his mouth “Freedom’s a nice word. But it’s overrated when you’re trying to survive. What does ‘liberal education’ mean to someone who’s working three jobs, who just wants security? They don’t want Socrates — they want stability.”

Jeeny: leans forward, her eyes bright “But stability doesn’t last without wisdom. That’s the danger, Jack. We build economic walls so high that we forget why we built them. Liberal education — real education — isn’t a privilege, it’s a preservation. It teaches us to be human before we become useful.”

Jack: grins faintly, shaking his head “You make it sound poetic, Jeeny. But the world doesn’t have time for humanity. It wants efficiency, innovation, output.”

Jeeny: quietly, but with conviction “And that’s why the world is starving for meaning.”

Host: The fireplace in the corner crackled softly, casting orange reflections over the bookshelves, lighting words written by centuries of thinkers — truths that had survived empires, outlived kings, outlasted wars.

Jack: after a pause, voice lower “So tell me — what does a ‘liberal education’ actually save us from? What does it heal?”

Jeeny: looks at him with quiet certainty “From ignorance, from arrogance, from the narrowness of self. It teaches us that intelligence without empathy is cruelty, and that facts without understanding are weapons. It doesn’t just fill your mind — it frees it.”

Jack: meets her gaze, something soft flickering in his expression “You really believe education can still do that?”

Jeeny: “I don’t just believe it — I’ve seen it. Every time a student realizes they’re more than what the world told them they were. Every time a mind opens and a soul remembers that it was born to think — that’s the healing Simpson was talking about.”

Jack: leans forward, quietly “And yet, the world keeps forgetting.”

Jeeny: smiles, gently but fiercely “That’s why we keep teaching.”

Host: A long silence settled, the kind that was not emptiness, but absorption — like the moment after a bell rings, when the echo still trembles in the air.

Outside, the rain stopped, leaving droplets clinging to the windowpane, reflecting fragments of the library’s light — like truth caught in motion.

Jack: softly, almost to himself “Maybe we made a mistake somewhere — turning schools into factories. Maybe we stopped teaching people how to live, and started teaching them how to work.”

Jeeny: nods slowly “Exactly. And that’s what Simpson warned us about. A half-empty education fills the mind, but empties the soul. A liberal one does the opposite — it reminds us that knowing is not the same as understanding, and understanding is not the same as being alive.”

Jack: smiles faintly, eyes softening “You always make it sound so simple.”

Jeeny: smiles back “Because truth usually is. We just make it complicated to avoid living it.”

Host: The clock chimed in the distance, the sound echoing softly through the halls of thought. The books around them seemed to breathe, their spines glowing faintly in the firelight — the voices of generations whispering through the dust.

Jack stood, closed his notebook, and for the first time that day, his posture changed — the tension gone, replaced with something like reverence.

He walked to the window, looked out at the campus, and saw a group of students crossing the courtyard, their umbrellas bright, their laughter rising through the cleared air.

Jack: softly “You know, maybe a good education isn’t about how much you know… but about how much you can still wonder.”

Jeeny: smiles warmly, her voice like a prayer “Yes. Wonder — the first language of the liberal mind.”

Host: The fire flickered, and the light shifted, settling on the bookshelves — on the titles of lives devoted to freedom of thought, mercy of understanding, and the simple, saving grace of curiosity.

And in that quiet moment, surrounded by the ghosts of thinkers, the echo of Simpson’s words seemed to bloom through the room —

that education worth having is not indoctrination,
but illumination;
not the collection of facts,
but the cultivation of conscience;
not the training of hands,
but the awakening of hearts.

For the truest education, the liberal one,
is the one that sets the mind free,
and in doing so,
teaches the soul to see.