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 Rising above the fog of grade inflation, self-esteem and entitlement that shrouds public education is a challenging task, one that requires a lofty soapbox and no small measure of courage. Branford Marsalis, jazz legend and artist-in-residence at N.C. Central University, possesses both. In a recent YouTube video, Marsalis indicts the education establishment for facilitating academic mediocrity:

 “The idea of what you are is more important than actually being that. And it actually works as long as everybody’s winking at the same time. Then if one person stops winking, you just beat the crap out of that person, and they either start winking, or they go somewhere else.”

According to recent news reports, N.C. A&T Chancellor Stanley Battle, unlike many in the education establishment, chooses not to wink at academic underachievement. During his brief tenure at A&T, Battle has emphasized quality rather than quantity of students.

The higher-standards approach reportedly did not sit well with some professors and administrators who prefer less rigorous requirements. It may be a stretch to conclude that Battle’s critics — to use Marsalis’ colorful language — beat the crap out of him, but clearly, the conflict was a factor in the chancellor’s resignation.

The editors and I do not often find ourselves on the same wavelength, but last Sunday was one such occasion. The authors of the lead editorial a week ago rightly emphasized that, “The point is not merely to admit students; it is to educate them and to graduate them.” After all, they added, “no one benefits when the school admits large numbers of students who are not prepared for college-level work and who never graduate.”

 We are accustomed to professional educators talking a big game about academic rigor and then executing, year after year, Olympic-quality belly-flops. Chancellor Battle, on the other hand, did not merely utter platitudes about academic achievement; he delivered the goods.

As reported in these pages, “The SAT scores of incoming freshmen have risen in each of the past two years, narrowing the gap between A&T and UNC’s systemwide average.”

Any institution of higher learning worthy of the name takes seriously its commitment to academic excellence. That Battle was criticized for elevating admissions standards is a public-relations disaster for A&T — an unsightly bruise on the institution’s reputation.

 But the cult of student self-esteem and academic mediocrity is not confined to A&T. The student-centered, sentiment-driven philosophy of John Dewey animates the education establishment from top to bottom. And worse, parents are often duped into believing the public schools are doing a wonderful job. In 2007, for instance, educators in North Carolina boasted that 90 percent of eighth-graders were proficient in reading.

 In truth, according to the (far more credible) National Assessment of Educational Progress, 29 percent were proficient. When the system, from kindergarten through university, is dedicated to Dewey’s philosophy and actively deceives the public, the result is semi-literate high school and college graduates.

Acclaimed social scientist and author Charles Murray stresses the point in the Feb. 8 issue of National Review. “Assuming that someone with a B.A. knows anything,” Murray opines, “is iffy — employers routinely report that they get applicants with B.A.’s who cannot write a coherent paragraph. … Resentment of the B.A., with its five- or six-figure price tag, already hovers near the boiling point. Students, faculty, parents and employers are all increasingly aware of the sham it so often represents.”

When students’ feelings, grade inflation and the almighty dollars of enrollment trump academic excellence, a college degree is no longer an impressive “credential.”

The misguided graduate brandishes that official piece of paper like a key to the city, but enters the job market equipped with little more than soaring self-esteem and a sense of entitlement nourished since grade school. Many end up working jobs compatible with such qualifications: cashier, waiter, dishwasher.

Many educators are determined to sell the fallacy that everyone should attend college and that everyone is qualified for college. Chancellor Battle is not one of them. His approach reportedly alienated those who believe the university should “accept and work to improve all students who want a college education.” But the wider education is spread, the flimsier it becomes. (Universal health care, where it has been tried, has encountered the same shin-cracking stumbling block.) If college education should be universal, why not simply award every infant, at birth, with a college degree?

Better yet, why not restore the integrity of higher learning by embracing, rather than ostracizing, those who believe in academic rigor? College is not for everyone, and robust standards of admission are an effective means of thinning the herd.

Charles Davenport Jr. (daisha99@msn.com) is a freelance contributor whose columns appear on alternate Sundays in the News & Record.