Sitting in class, slide after tedious PowerPoint slide, the professor floating in the stratosphere of applied Lockean principles, I’m struck with plummeting vertigo.

It’s not the fear of falling but a sudden crisis of faith, a realization of the sheer amount of trust I put in the professor who, leaning authoritatively over the podium, could just as easily be making this whole lesson up.

How would any of us, the students hurriedly scratching out notes, know the difference?

To hand a graduating student a bachelor’s degree in Made-up Nonsense would be a sick joke. But in taking the plunge into college, that’s the risk students take.

A diploma guarantees nothing. It’s up to students to police their own education and ensure success.

Certainly, education is no Ponzi scheme. It aims at long-term goals, and since society generally acknowledges education’s benefits, returns are fairly assured.

But then, that’s just what Bernie Madoff would say.

Students, very much like investors, are promised a great return for the time and money they devote to their education.

It’s a question school administrators and academics have posed for years: How do we judge our teachers and their knowledge? It’s important for students to take a look as well.

All of academia rests on an air mattress of trust. We trust that what our professors teach is legitimate. We trust that the knowledge they impart is accurate and will help us in the future. We enroll in classes based only on the hope it will provide some kind of personal advancement.

Teachers hold the reigns of our career futures — with GPAs, recommendations and transcripts — and our intellectual futures — how we develop and critically interpret our world.

You could argue teachers should be experts in their field, trained and certified. But who confers that certification but academia — other teachers.

Academic organizations decide what should have a place in the classroom. They decide what should even be taught — what knowledge is and what it isn’t.

They decide what professors should teach, research and believe — a freedom not enjoyed by other professions. Doctors don’t regulate themselves. They face constant review and scrutiny from outside the medical profession — lawyers, patients, government regulators.

Of course, professors can’t simply teach anything. In fact, the reality of teaching relies heavily on established thought. Ideas of knowledge have become dogmatic, restricting contrary views and holding dissenting ideas to hegemonic, established criteria to squash would-be challengers.

Established methods, however, are based on tradition and hit-and-miss measures — standardized-test scores don’t translate to successful careers.

The idea of self-sanctioning academic freedom is unique. It’s a bargain within our society: I’ll give you the tools to succeed so long as you view me as credible.

We can’t simply assume teachers will — or can, in the case of giant lecture halls or insufficient funding — fulfill their end. Students need to take responsibility for critically evaluating their education and reporting insufficiencies.

It seems that the secret to losing faith in your education is simply thinking too much about it. But that’s exactly what students should do — ask not what they can do for their professor; ask what their professors can do for them.

Join Channing after class for a complete existential breakdown at channing.turner@asu.edu.