One of my favorite podcasters, Brian Johnson who put out a great series of YouTube videos called Philosophers Notes, had this tagline on his podcasts: “Isn’t it a bit odd that we went from math to science to history, but somehow missed the class on how to live?” This idea always resonated with me, not because we need an extra class on living, but because the idea of how to live should be resonating throughout all of our classes. Educators have often missed the fact that math, science and history are to be learned in order to know how to live. If math, science and history don’t seem like subjects where you would learn how to live, then you’re probably like me, having been raised in a system of education more focused on functional outcomes (getting into the best colleges or getting into the best careers) than on living meaningful and purposeful lives. 

You might be skeptical, and rightfully so. The dominant mode of education, the one we see in mass media, is all about the systematic approach — a conveyor belt of educational product. But consider my geometry class. The major goal of the class is to see our world differently, especially those parts of our world that appear most obvious. Why ought we to do proofs? Why transform polygons? Why inscribe triangles within circles? To help us to grapple with the world around us in fascinating new ways. We live in a three-dimensional world that is often depicted in two dimensions. Let’s get to the bottom of that. And in so doing gain insight into what it means to live in this space. Now you kinda want to take geometry again, don’t you?

In this article I want to go beyond just academic subjects and consider the entire enterprise of education as it pertains to life. There are many dimensions to this, so I don’t expect I will fully extract every morsel in this essay, but hopefully it will provide you with some suggestive avenues to stimulate your own thinking about life. Additionally, I would like to relate these thoughts to our current response to the COVID-19 epidemic.

(One more thing, before diving in. A justification of a seemingly inadequate title. You might think that I’m missing an indefinite article, since you know my heartfelt devotion to Charlotte Mason. Yes, she states, “Education is a life,” and by that she means that the child’s mind is fed on living ideas. I’m extrapolating that idea to demonstrate that there is another level of understanding Mason’s claim. Furthermore, you will notice the preposition “on” instead of “of.” Many teachers are asked to express their philosophy of education, in which they will describe their teaching techniques and practices, sometimes elaborating on their view of the child as a whole person. What I am doing here is not really a philosophy of education in that sense. I am instead thinking about education as a whole and its place in life. Maybe the preposition “on” will rattle a few feathers. Thus ends the deconstruction of an inadequate title.)

Two Forces: Achievement or Inspiration

To begin with, I think it is important to make a distinction between two competing forces in education. These aren’t mutually exclusive, but they do exist in tension with one another. The first force is what we might call achievement. Students, parents and teachers want what’s best for their child, and this often gets translated into measurable categories. The grade in a class is a measure of the student’s achievement. The class rank, SAT score, National Merit selection index number and a plethora of other measurements let everyone know how this particular student stacks up against all others. It’s actually really valuable to incorporate measurement in education, but it’s really difficult to measure what really matters.

I’ve written elsewhere that most of our educational measurements select only a few areas of learning and growth, solely because they are easy to measure. Unfortunately, much of what we measure has little value in predicting future success. Our tools simply cannot measure determination, the ability to hold pleasant conversation, kindness toward others, piety, resilience, or delayed gratification. So we need this first force — achievement — but it is a force fraught with fallacies.

The second force I will call inspiration. My hunch is that most teachers go into education because they want to inspire students to love subjects they themselves love. Most teachers look back at their own education and can point to a few teachers that inspired them. They want to make a difference in the lives of their own students. Unfortunately, there are far too few teachers who retain this high level of inspiration for the entirety of their career. Teaching is a demanding job, calling for long hours preparing lessons, learning technology, sitting in staff meetings, and grading homework. Teachers who truly want to inspire students find the nature of their work rather intense, because it means you need to bring massive energy to every lesson, you have to work with struggling students, you need to motivate fringe students, you need to coach and counsel both students and parents, and sometimes you need to flex your schedule to reach those students who need extra help. The first force – achievement – can also steal from the second force. The most inspirational teacher can get caught up in tracking the measurements, not only as a way of looking at her students’ success but also to measure her own success. Don’t get me wrong, we shouldn’t be graduating a group of fantastically inspired students who are complete and utter failures. We need achievement. But we also need inspiration. Both forces are necessary. If I’m honest with myself, though, I greatly lean toward the force of inspiration, sometimes wishing the other force could go away. 

These thoughts on two forces have lived with me for quite some time. So when I came across this quote by Charlotte Mason, I felt it was time to really wrestle with it philosophically for a while.

“It seems to me that education, which appeals to the desire for wealth (marks, prizes, scholarships, or the like), or to the desire of excelling (as in the taking of places, etc.), or to any other of the natural desires, except that for knowledge, destroys the balance of character; and, what is even more fatal, destroys by inanition that desire for and delight in knowledge which is meant for our joy and enrichment through the whole of life.”

Charlotte Mason, School Education, pg. 226

The strength of Mason’s feelings is matched by the power of her vocabulary. The character of learners is “destroyed” when education becomes focused on the desire for wealth or success. The only sure educational desire is for knowledge. She calls it fatal to base education on anything else. The word “inanition” means that a thing is emptied of all of its nourishing content. Take your bleached grains, your generic white bread, with its crusts cut off, and try living off just that. That’s the picture Mason paints for education when the focus is shifted away from the life-giving enrichment of knowledge. I would guess that Mason sides more with the force of inspiration than the force of achievement, too.

Mason, however, was very much aware of the force of achievement, and most definitely saw that a good education entailed success at such things as examinations (Vol. 3, pg. 301). So we can’t minimize the role achievement plays in education. There remain standards that must be met in order to be considered a well-educated person. But Mason also recognizes that our standards ought to be measured against what truly matters in life.

“But the one achievement possible and necessary for every man is character; and character is as finely wrought metal beaten into shape and beauty by the repeated and accustomed action of will. We who teach should make it clear to ourselves that our aim in education is less conduct than character; conduct may be arrived at, as we have seen, by indirect routes, but it is of value to the world only as it has its source in character.”

Charlotte Mason, Towards a Philosophy of Education, p. 129

Achievement, then, is not only necessary, it is of fundamental importance. It is actually the goal toward which inspiration aims. The two forces that tug at each other actually cohere elegantly when put together properly. If our aim is on top marks, a 4.0 GPA, college entrance, merit-based scholarships, and the like, our aim isn’t truly aligned. What Mason is articulating is that true achievement is a life so well lived that the world is made a better place. This life of great value is achieved through character. Here is achievement that is truly inspirational.

The Classroom is a Microcosm of Life 

The vision of a life well lived is our ultimate goal of achievement. But that vision seems so far off that it feels impractical on a daily basis. Time presses upon us each day holding in our faces the immediacy of the lesson at hand, the upcoming assessment, or the report card soon to be released. Achievement snaps into focus, pushing inspiration out of the picture.

We need to start viewing the classroom differently. The classroom is the place where life occurs. The temptation is to think about life as truly occurring outside the classroom. Students feel this way, since home is where they most often eat, rest and play. Their youth group, sports team or the Starbucks where they hang out with their friends feels more like the locus where life occurs than the classroom does. School is where they have to go to do the work that’s required of them. How often do we get sucked into that way of thinking as well? But life occurs in the classroom all the same, even if students don’t place the greatest importance on that aspect of their life. To be clear, I don’t think one can say one sphere of life is more or less important than others. Our existence as living beings transcends time and space, and we are unified beings no matter what space we inhabit. To view ourselves as more alive in one place than in others begins to disintegrate the coherence of our being. In light of this, we must strive to breathe genuine life into the atmosphere of our classrooms, lest we cause real harm to ourselves and others.

So what does it mean when I say life occurs in our classrooms? For one, it means that our students are whole persons. We are not just interacting with our students’ minds. Students are also emotional, social and spiritual creatures, just like we are. All dimensions of their personhood come into the classroom. All dimensions of their personhood are being trained and cultivated. This means that teaching that doesn’t connect to their multi-dimensionality will actually not get assimilated because it isn’t fundamentally important to their existence as living beings.

But wait, you might say, aren’t there things you just have to learn, even if there isn’t an emotional, social or spiritual connection? Let’s consider a recent geometry lesson. We are just starting to learn trigonometric functions. This is hard stuff when it’s brand new. I could see the look of frustration on their faces. Lurking in the background is a feeling that if this doesn’t relate to real life in some way, what’s the use of putting in the effort to figure out when, how and why to use inverse sine? In this very moment, though, real life is happening before our very eyes.

What I did was take a step back from the lesson about the law of sines, to help them grapple with their encounter with things that are difficult to learn. “You are feeling the fog right now, aren’t you?” I helped them to see that some things we learn aren’t fully clear at the outset. This might have been true when they first learned long division in early grammar school. This might have been true when they learned factoring in algebra 1. I was connecting them to their emotional state. “Hey, we’re all experiencing this together.” It is very common for us to feel that we are the only one who doesn’t get it. But when there’s a recognition that we are doing something together, a deep bond is formed. The “ah-ha” moments become a group celebration. Learning is a social and relational thing. I was connecting them to their social state. “This seems pretty out there, doesn’t it?” The deeper you go in mathematics, the more abstract and esoteric things become. In this moment, I was showing them that they were exploring something almost mystical. I could relate this to something as practical as navigating an airplane. But the practical application will actually compound their frustration in the moment. Instead, I helped them to see how their imaginations were gaining new tools. I was connecting them to their spiritual state. Real life was occurring in a specific learning environment. The temptation was to think in terms of achievement. “We’re not getting it. Our grades will suffer. I won’t go to the best school. I won’t get a good job. I’ll likely be homeless for the rest of my life!” Instead, we thought in terms of life and saw geometry as a field of endeavor in which we can gain an understanding of meaning and purpose. (I might add that these students have done well using trigonometric functions. As an experienced teacher I knew the fog would dissipate through more practice.)

What does this mean for you as a teacher? We must become observers of life. We only get a relatively small amount of time with the students God gives into our care. By being watchful for real life occurring in our midst, we position ourselves to seize every moment we can. The little arguments that erupt between students, the games that are played on the blacktop, the struggles to learn new concepts, the disorganized backpack. All things are avenues into genuine life connections.

Application of Education is Life to COVID-19

If we agree that education is about life, then this COVID-19 epidemic presents a huge teaching and learning opportunity. We are confronted with the frailty of our humanity. A few weeks ago I compared our present epidemic with the black plague in the mid-1300s. A confrontation with death and our own mortality is not a topic we should shy away from. We ourselves as teachers might be wrestling with new emotions and concerns about safety. We must also assume our students are wrestling with the reality and implications of COVID-19. Their world just got turned upside down.

Because one of the forces of education is inspiration, I think now is the time to inspire our students with a deep and profound vision of what life really means. There are some students who miss their interactions with friends through daily contact. Students presently feel a deep sense of loneliness and isolation. Many students miss the life-structuring order of our daily schedules. We can share with them how all of these feelings point to their yearning for meaning and purpose in their lives. Our texts and discussions can take on new importance if we are forthright in our response to the impact of COVID-19 on them and us right now. You may have a chance to model for them how your faith is upholding you in this moment, or what practices you’ve incorporated during this time of social distancing.

As an example, I teach a health class for sophomores and juniors. We spent time this week talking about meditation and mindfulness as a Christian practice. When I planned this unit, coronavirus was not in my thinking. Now that we’ve gotten to this unit, I opened up about how just a few minutes of quiet meditation in the morning helps me to calmly approach my day. I contrasted this to mornings when I opened up a news feed and saw how many new cases and deaths there were. They were able to see how I was responding to COVID-19, and then I asked them to share their own responses to the epidemic. We explored how stress can impact our health and well-being.

Clearly there are boundaries that we need. I am always careful not to make a class about me, my feelings or my viewpoint on current matters. I am also careful not to traumatize my students by forcing them to talk about raw feelings or controversial matters. Yet we should be open to teachable moments when we can provide insight through our transparency. We should equally be open to discussing matters that are hyper-present in their minds. How odd it would be for a teacher not to mention COVID-19 or social distancing.

Application of Education is Life to Online Learning

Speaking of social distancing, online learning has meant that we are all accumulating new technological skills. You are using student management software in new ways, or you are becoming masters of Zoom or Skype, or you are learning how to use Google Classrooms or MS Teams. Your students are also accumulating new technological skills. If you’re like me, they are learning these skills quicker than you. You might be asking them questions about how to upload assignments or share your screen. With this in mind, don’t be afraid of being a learner. Show them that you are learning how to do some new things. Ask them questions. There’s something empowering when a student is able to teach a teacher. If we are promoting life-long learning, then there are moments when we need to let our guard down so that our students can see that we ourselves are life-long learners.

My other piece of advice as we dive deeply into technological solutions to educating amidst social distancing is to make sure the techniques and technology of education don’t drown out our experience of life. I have told my students how much I miss them at the end of our Zoom sessions. There’s something about being able to see them eye-to-eye in the hallways. I can casually ask them how they’re doing, and they can see the care in my eyes. The technology enables us to connect, but our pixelated, two-dimensional connection is no replacement for embodied presence with one another.

Teach Like Life Depends on It

Someday — hopefully sooner rather than later — we will return to classrooms. We will return having learned some lessons about the nature of education. My hope is that one of the enduring lessons is that education is about life. My hunch is that the reason you come to our humble website is that you get this concept, and that you are striving to provide an education that nourishes the lives of your students. Let me encourage you that I think it will be teachers and schools that feed their students’ souls who have the best hope of surviving this epidemic and even thriving during and after this epidemic. Why do I think this? It is because when people confront forces like our frailty and mortality, we begin to ask questions of meaning and purpose. Parents and students will be looking for this kind of education, one that engages the mind and the soul. Now more than ever is the time to teach like our lives depend on it.

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In addition to being educational philosophers, we are also teachers – educational practitioners. What we talk about in our weekly posts we are also trying to live out in the classroom every day. Even though we write from a place of deep thought about educational ideals, sometimes the reality of the daily classroom means we get to workshop how those ideals play out with the students God has given into our care. And believe me, there are days that are less than ideal.

It’s perhaps satisfying for some of our readers to know that sometimes our students struggle to understand why we even have to learn Latin. Sometimes our students don’t wear the correct uniform shirts. Sometimes the lesson we planned that was going to help apply some deep work flow for our students just falls flat. We have to live in grace, knowing that our educational renaissance is carried out by very human beings for very human beings.

This is all preface to the concept I want to play with in this article: school as a place for play. The week before I wrote this in December was final exam week in the upper school. This means there are pockets of time during which students don’t have a class, they don’t have an exam, and the motivation to study for another exam has been depleted. And so they pull out a game to rejuvenate together for a spell. For one such game, the students requested I join them, and my own motivation to grade my exams was just about as low as their motivation to continue studying. Therefore, we played a game together.

Game Play in School

I think it’s very important for games to be played in school. I have played many rounds of four square in my day with my students. My shoulder is permanently sore from epic dodgeball games with middle schoolers. I can’t count the number of dress shoes I’ve gone through playing soccer with the kids. There are any number of card and board games that enrich and enliven the classroom, especially on rainy and cold days. Games teach innumerable lessons, and what is school but an environment for lessons?

The game of choice during exam week was Monopoly Deal. I had never played this before, but apparently it was a favorite of the students. It’s a card-based variation on the Monopoly board game we all grew up on. However, whereas the Monopoly board is rigidly bound by the property squares and has the inevitability of one expected outcome (whoever buys the earliest color group is most likely to win), the card game ebbs and flows as different players create new positions, altering strategic advantages constantly. After one round face up, I figured I had the hang of it. Interestingly, the game itself soon faded into the background of my consciousness as I observed the individuals playing the game. I was fascinated by new insights into the personalities of individual students and the group dynamics that emerged as alliances were made and broken. Who played fair? Who knew the rules best? Who was suspected of peeking at others’ cards? Why gang up on one student when a different student clearly had a stronger position? Something more than game play was going on here.

It just so happened that my humanities class recently focused on the concepts of finite and infinite games, as written about by James Carse in his book Finite and Infinite Games. Two voices that raised my awareness of these concepts are leadership guru Simon Sinek and Seth Godin, both of whom have talks that are easily searched on YouTube. In our discussion, we noted how finite games are dependent on some kind of limited resource, and the winner is the one who accumulates the most of that limited resource. It means there are clearly defined winners and losers. There are established boundaries and a clear set of rules that dictate the course of play. Infinite games are far different. They can go on indefinitely because the purpose of the game is not about winning a limited resource, but merely to keep on playing. The rules can change, the boundaries can change, the players can change. We explored how life is comprised of both finite and infinite games, largely embedded within each other.

To explicate this, Monopoly Deal is a finite game. There is a clear ending dictated in the rules. Once a player has completed three property color groups, that player has won. Game over. A limited resource, established boundaries and a clear set of rules make this a finite game. Monopoly Deal, however, is embedded within an infinite game called, “Let’s play together.” Students play together not because there are limited resources, established boundaries and a clear set of rules dictating that students shall play in exactly certain ways, under certain conditions and according to certain norms. Students play games because it is in our human nature to play. There isn’t a winner for the game “Let’s play together.” The game exists in order to continue being played. You might be the winner of Monopoly Deal this time, and I might be the winner of Monopoly Deal next time. But who’s keeping track? That’s not the goal of the infinite game. The goal is just to play together. The dichotomy between the finite and infinite games struck me as I simultaneously played the finite game with my students but observed them on the infinite game level.

Ludus: Is It a School or Is It a Game?

The Latin word ludus is peculiar. It simultaneously means two seemingly different things. The term ludus in one sense means “play, game, or sport.” It’s fun to think about ancient Roman children playing athletic games, like running races, as well as board games. We have artifacts of games that were the forerunners of chess, checkers and backgammon (ludus latrunculi, calculus and tabula). Such artifacts help us to clearly picture what this word ludus means.

The other sense of ludus is “school,” predominantly primary school. The Romans had designated buildings for ludi, with headmasters, desks, writing tablets, etc. The school day started early and ended after children had been exercised in reading, writing, and arithmetic.

The Roman world is one we can readily recognize because it contains so many of the trappings of our day. How many students moaned to go to school (ludum) because it meant they couldn’t play games (ludos)? What a peculiar word, then, to describe these two seemingly dichotomous things? Unless, of course, the word itself reveals that “school” and “game” are not after all dichotomous. If school is actually a place to play, and play is a place of learning, maybe the word ludus reveals something we are prone to miss about the reality of education.

Life Is a Game

It shouldn’t surprise us that school is a game. Life, after all, is a game, or at the very least has game-like qualities to it. There are limited resources, boundaries and rules in all kinds of areas of life. Getting into a college, finding a job, and landing a promotion are games we play. Many of the games we play are set up with winners and losers. He got the job, and I didn’t – winner and loser. She got the promotion, and I didn’t – winner and loser. We even make games out of trivial matters. How often have you been in a conversation where the goal is to share a more extreme experience than your friend? Who got less sleep last night? Who had the worst commute? Ironically, we often become the winner by accomplishing better than our opponent a losing strategy.

However, when we apply the concept of the infinite game, we can see that these little finite games are nested within a larger infinite game. Too often we get so caught up in the finite games we play that we lose sight of the infinite game. The infinite game considers such concepts as my long-term happiness, living a meaningful life, and being driven by purposeful relationships and events. The infinite game makes the finite games irrelevant. I might not have gotten that promotion, by my infinite game wasn’t dependent on that promotion. For many, the competition to get the promotion fits into only a narrowly defined finite game. But what if the promotion is not aligned with, or is even contradictory to one’s long-term, infinite game strategy?

Thinking in terms of finite and infinite games has been a rather essential aspect of my college guidance strategy. The approach most students take regarding colleges is to play the finite game. What is the best college with the top-ranked degree program in the field of my choice? Can I boost my GPA and my college entrance exams just a little bit more to not only get into college, but to land the highest merit-based scholarship? Now it is not that these games aren’t worth playing. Those limited resources are out there and some students thrive on the competition that comes with finite games. Yet most students aren’t best served by playing the finite game. There’s an infinite game that can be played instead that flips the college-choice question on its head. It begins by having the student work through their own vision for their lives. What kind of skills, passion, calling or agenda do they sense for their lives? When students start to envision a meaningful and purposeful future, they can start to see that college exists to enable the student to fulfill that vision. You can hear the infinite game being played now. When I play the finite game, the college sets the agenda and the student has to fit the criteria of the college. When I play the infinite game, the student sets the agenda and the college now has to fit the criteria of the student.

Let’s be clear, this means we’re playing a different game than most college-bound students are playing. The finite game player might say that you just lost the game by not going to the highly-selective school or not going for the top scholarship. But the infinite game player can swat that gadfly away by saying she’s playing a completely different game, a long-term strategy that has more to do with crafting a meaningful life rather than getting a notch on the belt. Obviously we aren’t dealing with diametric categories. You can go after the elite college and the top scholarship as part of a long-term strategy. Perhaps that’s part of how an individual plans to shape his or her meaningful and purposeful life. Great! It’s just that most who play the finite game miss the larger picture and blindly pursue a gambit without thinking through the long-term priorities of life.

To Become a Game Master, You Must Master the Rules

I think understanding school as a game can be helpful in many respects. We can see how school is supposed to have a playful aspect to it. There should be a deep and abiding joy as teachers and students make discoveries together. Learning is fun. We don’t need to hype it up by superimposing games on the classroom. Instead, we can see how game play is part of learning.

School rules are often handed down (or at the very least received by students) in a less than joyful way. One way to help students reconsider the rules is to see how all games have rules. The rules establish order and justice. Our post-game discussions of sports more often than not come down to the rules. We complain when a ref misses a call. We cry foul at a perceived bending of the rules, placing our local team at an unfair disadvantage (rarely does this feeling get applied to the opponent’s perceived unfair disadvantage). A school has to have rules as well. Fair, balanced, equitable game play is the result.

As I write my eBook on habit training, it strikes me that schools are playing an essential role in the infinite game of students’ lives. The fundamental goal of habit training is not to create automatons, but to enable the student to live a pleasant and easy life. The more a student gains a sense that they are creating for themselves a meaningful life, the more purpose any and all of the rules of the game take on. Moreover, the teacher is not merely there to enforce the rules. Instead, the rules (or a more worthy concept – the habits) are there to promote life skills.

As we enter a new calendar year, I hope this reflection on school as a game renews your commitment to playing the infinite game with your students.

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