Life comes at us at a furious tempo enhanced by these new technologies. Which leads me to the news. The news is no longer arriving on our doorstep in print form and in our living rooms through three broadcast channels. The news shows up as headlines on our phone’s widget, in our RSS readers, in our social media feeds, not to mention the 24/7 news cycles of multiple broadcast channels. The transformation of the news from the domain of a few professional journalism outlets to the multivarious avenues of delivery today has made a lasting impact on our society, our culture and even our individual psyches. The multiplication of news has not made us a more informed populace. Instead, the phrase “fake news” emerged revealing a deep mistrust in all stripes of news media. In this article I would like to explore a few perspectives that will hopefully enable us to train our students to withstand the onslaught of contemporary news, which I believe has exacerbated the difficult landscape of the post-iPhone era.

The Example of C. S. Lewis

It behooves us to consider the sage advice of C. S. Lewis: read old books. This advice really speaks into our educational renewal movement. It is not that the old books distract us from the present. We are not burying our heads in the sands of days gone by while the world around us burns. No, instead we are gaining valuable perspective. The books that have stood the test of time contain insights that transcend the particulars of any given timeframe. It was said that when Lewis was introduced to a newsworthy event, despite the fact that he didn’t read the news, he had incisive thoughts about current events. This was because his reading of old books informed his thinking so that he could address the pressing concerns of his day from a well-considered perspective. Now, to be fair, Lewis did from time-to-time read the news. It is inevitable that one takes a glance at items of present-day concern. But his regular practice was to ignore the news in preference to literary and philosophical writings.

I remember reading Lewis’s Surprised by Joy and later Alan Jacob’s The Narnian while working on my PhD. At the time I had numerous news sources dumping headlines into my RSS feed. It struck me that Lewis’s habit of ignoring the news might be a way for me to clear out both the time and the headspace to make significant progress on my research and writing. Even though I wouldn’t be up on the latest events when conversing with my colleagues over lunch, it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. Here is the quote that got me started on my journey of giving up on the news, from Surprised by Joy:

Even in peacetime I think those are very wrong who say that schoolboys should be encouraged to read the newspapers. Nearly all that a boy reads there in his teens will be seen before he is twenty to have been false in emphasis and interpretation, if not in fact as well, and most of it will have lost all importance. Most of what he remembers he will therefore have to unlearn; and he will probably have acquired an incurable taste for vulgarity and sensationalism and the fatal habit of fluttering from paragraph to paragraph to learn how an actress has been divorced in California, a train derailed in France, and quadruplets born in New Zealand.

C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy (Harcourt, 1955), 159

Some of the key words and phrases that should jump out when reading this passage are “false,” “lost all importance,” “have to unlearn,” “vulgarity,” “sensationalism,” and “habit of fluttering.” This was Lewis in 1955, a decade after World War 2. Consider how much more these words and phrases offer a critique of our social media feeds. We swipe our finger on the iPhone scrolling for that which is sensational, probably vulgar, most likely false but above all is unimportant. As we try to make sense of our world, it turns out the news is one of the worst ways to gauge the way things really are.

The impact on our neurology has far-reaching consequences that we have yet to fully realize. In The Shallows, Nicholas Carr spells out how the internet impacts both our conscious and unconscious thinking as well as rewires our neurological networks. He writes:

The Net’s cacophony of stimuli short-circuits both conscious and unconscious thought, preventing our minds from thinking either deeply or creatively. Our brains turn into simple signal-processing units, quickly shepherding information into consciousness and then back out again.

Nicholas Carr, The Shallows (New York: Norton), 119

As we attempt to interact with our environment to understand the way things really are, the internet prevents us from the kind of deep reflection that would ultimately help us make sense of the world.

News in the Ancient World

If Lewis started me on my journey toward a news-free life, it was my research into the transmission of information in the ancient world that really caught ahold of me. In a world where most people could not read or write, oral communication was the means by which people learned about current events. News as we know it today was issued in the form of public edicts. Official policy was disseminated by written decrees conveyed to public areas such as city marketplaces to be read by town criers. Parchments might be publicly displayed for those who were not present to hear the announced edict. Important and permanent statutes might be displayed as placards or pillars that served public notice of rules and regulations. (see Alan Millard, Reading and Writing in the Time of Jesus, 166-168) The written word was essentially reserved for legal proceedings and official business. Note how edicts were read aloud publicly, since most people were unable to read.

In an oral culture, that which was truly newsworthy spread by word of mouth. At its worst, oral culture perpetuates gossip and misinformation. Yet, the expectation was that rules and regulations announced in the public square would utilize the rapid transmission word-of-mouth communication provided. A Roman authority could dispatch a minimal number of emissaries to strategic locations and know that the message would reach a majority of the populace. The edict read in the marketplace was soon spoken of along the highways and byways of a far-flung empire. Consider the example of the decree that went out from Caesar Augustus in Luke 2:1. Joseph of Nazareth didn’t read about this in a newspaper, it was likely disseminated first from a written edict read aloud in a major city and then spread via word-of-mouth, with the effect that most of the population abided by the regulation to be registered.

Now the point of all of this is that for the majority of history, most of the news that individuals received was learned through relationships, either business (i.e. trips to the marketplace), kinship, or community. The reception of newsworthy information through relationship means you could assess the relative reliability of your sources. If your uncle is a trustworthy, upright citizen, then when he tells you about something, you are inclined to believe it. The other fascinating insight provided by the concept that newsworthy items were received through close relationships is that the “news” was likely to be highly relevant to your daily life. Much of the click-bait types of news about citizens of Rome that would have scintillated the ears of remote Galileans would have been so irrelevant to daily life that it never would have been communicated. So in general the oral-dominant culture of the ancient world actually provided two major filters for newsworthiness: 1) source reliability, and 2) relevance to daily life.

Neil Postman 2.0

In 1985 when Neil Postman published Amusing Ourselves to Death, the cultural artifact that most dominated public discourse was the television. Breaking down that word – tele-vision – provides two developments that can be traced over time. The first part “tele” can be traced back to the telegraph, which was the first technology that Postman shows transformed our culture from a typographical culture to an illuminated screen culture. He writes:

“The telegraph introduced a kind of public conversation whose form had startling characteristics: Its language was the language of headlines – sensational, fragmented, impersonal. News took the form of slogans, to be noted with excitement, to be forgotten with dispatch. Its language was also entirely discontinuous. One message had no connection to that which preceded or followed it. Each ‘headline’ stood alone as its own context. The receiver of the news had to provide a meaning if he could. The sender was under no obligation to do so.”

Neil Postman, Amusing Ourselves to Death (Penguin), 70

Notice the shift from reliability and relevance to irresponsible and irrelevant. No longer did news have to provide the context necessary to make meaning of life or to enable the reader to take action.

“But the situation created by telegraphy, and then exacerbated by later technologies, made the relationship between information and action both abstract and remote.”

Amusing Ourselves to Death, 68

The prefix “tele” means far away. So, “television” means literally “far away vision.” News conducted to us from remote locations requires significant mental work in order to make sense of the context, background and meaning of the information. And yet, the nature of news items is to disseminate information so rapidly, that meaning making cannot happen. This leads to our inability to act on the information we receive through “far away vision.” If something happen in remote Hungary, there’s very little I can do about it. I just have to receive it at an abstract factoid.

“This ensemble of electronic techniques called into being a new world – a peek-a-boo world, where now this event, now that, pops into view for a moment, then vanishes again. It is a world without much coherence or sense; a world that does not ask us, indeed does not permit us to do anything; a world that is, like the child’s game of peek-a-boo, entirely self-contained. But like peek-a-boo, it is also endlessly entertaining.”

Amusing Ourselves to Death, 77

I am reminded of the famous scene in the 2000 film Gladiator where Russell Crowe’s character, Maximus, cries out in the coliseum, “Are you not entertained?” This is perhaps the new, highest value in society. Our pursuit is no longer for happiness, but for entertaining. Have we accepted a cheap substitute for eudaimonia?

“Television, in other words, is transforming our culture into one vast arena for show business. It is entirely possible, of course, that in the end we shall find that delightful, and decide we like it just fine. That is exactly what Aldous Huxley feared was coming, fifty years ago.”

Amusing Ourselves to Death, 80

That was 1985. We are now approaching forty years since Postman wrote this, and therefore almost a century since Huxley wrote Brave New World. Imagine what Postman would have to say about the internet, social media and the smartphone. If a thirty-minute nightly news program on, say, NBC is sensational, fragmented, and impersonal, how much more has our social media feed contributed to this Huxleyan dystopia? The technologies have changed (although they are still “tele-vision”), but Postman’s insight remains just as true today. The internet is really just tele-vision 2.0, so we need all the more Neil Postman 2.0.

Reading Old Books

So how do we lead a resistance to this Huxleyan dystopia? To answer this I return to C. S. Lewis and his advice to read old books. This sage advice comes from an introduction her wrote for an edition of On the Incarnation by Athanasius.

“Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period.”

With renewed purpose this year, I believe our educational renewal movement has the tools to equip our students with wisdom and knowledge to cut through the click bait headlines of our social media feeds. If nothing else, classical Christian education is about old books. What we mean by old books is the classics, the great books. These have been tried and tested. People come back to them generation after generation finding in them a rich vein of insight, meaning and perspective. Consider this definition of a classic book by Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve:

“A true classic, as I should like to hear it defined, is an author who has enriched the human mind, increased its treasure, and caused it to advance a step; who has discovered some moral and not equivocal truth, or revealed some eternal passion in that heart where all seemed known and discovered; who has expressed his thought, observation, or invention, in no matter what form, only provided it be broad and great, refined and sensible, sane and beautiful in itself; who has spoken to all in his own peculiar style, a style which is found to be also that of the whole world, a style new without neologism, new and old, easily contemporary with all time.”

Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve, “What is a Classic?” Harvard Classics, Vol. 32: Literary and Philosophical Essays

Compare this definition to what we find in the news. As classical educators, we have the opportunity to provide the antidote to a sensational, fragmented and impersonal media. What is the great book you will be sharing with your students? What treasure will enrich their minds and yours? When you open that cherished volume, enable them to see the truth, beauty and goodness therein. For from it they will gain so much perspective as to make the news pale in comparison.

One final word. When I previously taught senior history covering the modern world, I had my students read Amusing Ourselves to Death. I found that it provided a sound critique of culture from the World Wars to the present. If you haven’t adopted this work in your high school, it is well worth a look. The first time I worked through it with students, the Hunger Games movies were still fairly recent. They easily made the connections between the dystopian world Suzanne Collins created and the arguments Postman puts forward. At the conclusion of our reading of Amusing Ourselves to Death, I challenged my students to undertake a screen fast. Most of my students had jobs and drove themselves everywhere, so they had to plan ahead to be without phone, tablet, laptop or TV. For instance, I had one student who provided her mom’s number in case of emergencies. The challenge was to go 72 hours without any screen time. Upon completion of the challenge, the student then wrote a reflection on their experience. Some consistent patterns emerged. These students spent more time with family, spent more time outdoors, engaged in more leisure activities, got more sleep, exercised more, and overall felt a greater sense of wellbeing as a result of their screen fast. I even had one student who mentioned she noticed how much the birds sing. If you work with high school or college students, I highly recommend both Postman’s book as well as the screen fast challenge. They can really open the eyes of your students and empower them to enact real change in their lives.

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In this article, I will share about some key elements in the early life of John Adams, demonstrating the role education played in his development. Living in 18th century New England, Adams’ world is quite different than our own, and yet, there are some striking points of connection. Through highlighting some of these points, my hope is that readers will come away inspired about the craft of teaching, especially teaching the classics, and eager to pick up a biography of their own.

Biographies and Education

First, a word on biographies and how they intersect with my work as an educator. As I have been reading about the life of John Adams, it has become obvious to me just how helpful biographies are for those seeking to teach. Here are two reasons. 

First, since education can be understood as “the science of relations,” a phrase used by Charlotte Mason, a comprehensive education must include the study of past figures and events, that is, history. The story of one particular past figure offers a unique entry point into the subject of history as it presents to the reader one coherent narrative, a life, over a duration of time. Biographies demonstrate both how individuals are affected by broader historical and cultural forces, and conversely, how individuals affect these forces themselves.

Second, biographies help us as educators contextualize our current educational landscape. Any biography you pick up will contain some traces of education. The individual may be educated at home, school, or through a tutor. In some cases, she may not be formally educated at all, but instead finds ways to teach herself or learn through practical experiences. The point is that education is at play in the life of every figure, past or present, and educators can gain theoretical insights about all sorts of forms of education without ever stepping into the classroom itself.

The Early Education of John Adams

John Adams (1735-1826) grew up outside of Boston in Braintree, Massachusetts, in a relatively modest setting. His father worked as a farmer and served as a deacon in the local Congregrationalist Church. His mother came from a prominent family in the medical community.

His father identified Adams’ intellectual aptitude from a young age and ensured he would receive a formal education. He was taught to read at home or from the neighborhood “dame” with heavy reliance on The New England Primer. Unfortunately, Adams lost interest in school during this time due to a poor relationship with the teacher. He had no desire to read or study, instead turning his sights on becoming a farmer.

However, after talking with his father, it became clear that the teacher, not the school work or learning itself, was the problem. As a result, his father enrolled Adams in a private school down the road, where a new schoolmaster named Joseph Marsh helped spark a renaissance in his love for learning. Adams became a voracious reader and soon enough a small textbook edition of Cicero’s Orations become one of his earliest and proudest possessions. 

Love for the Classics, Especially Cicero

At age 15, Adams was pronounced ready for college and enrolled at Harvard, the only choice at the time. He became an attorney, not a classicist, but this did not stop him from integrating classical literature into his reading diet. In fact, after his stint as a school teacher, it was his reading of Cicero that prompted him to move from his hometown of Braintree to advance his career in Boston, seeking to “win renown.” He often read Cicero’s Orations during his free time, finding significant inspiration through the rhetorical excellence of the speeches.

As a brief aside, in a special introduction to a modern republication of Orations, translator Charles Yonge writes,

“Eloquence, the quintessence of oratory, has ever been a safe criterion of the intellectual and moral level of a people, its decay an indication of torpor and of decay of the ideal” (iii).

It is no accident that John Adams, a future leader in colonial efforts for independence, was exposed to a literary diet rich in eloquence early on. Eloquence can be defined as fluency in speech and writing, and Adams would later prove to be a master in this art.

Starting Off as a Teacher

After his Harvard years, Adams took a post as a schoolmaster to earn the funds necessary to apprentice under an attorney. It was a one-room schoolhouse in the center of town. Although Adam was untrained as a teacher, he suddenly found himself responsible for the intellectual development of, approximately, a dozen boys and girls. 

While Adams did not enjoy his time as a teacher, he did learn some lessons about education, one being that children respond better to encouragement than punishment. At the same time, Adams learned that teachers ought to be cautious in how much praise they give, or it will become too familiar and lose its influence (38).

Unfortunately, Adams turned out to not be a very strong teacher. He was more often found writing and reading at his desk at the front of the school-house, rather than instructing his students. He read Milton, Virgil, Voltaire, and various works of history. Through his study, Adams became more and more interested in politics, history, and the ways humans come together to make an orderly society. He did not, however, become a better teacher.

The Boston Massacre Trial

On March 5, 1770, a deadly riot broke out between British patrolmen and a Boston mob, which became known as the Boston Massacre. It is difficult to know precisely how the riot began, including who started the conflict, but the trail of blood tells no lies: British soldiers killed five colonists. As one can imagine, with dissatisfaction toward British rule already growing among the colonies following the Stamp Act, this incident threw fuel on the fire. Captain Thomas Preston and seven other soldiers were imprisoned and awaited trial with the anticipated outcome being the death penalty.

The question then became: who would legally defend the soldiers in court? In a time of such division between Bostonians and the British, who would want to? Adams was no advocate for British rule, but he was a strong proponent for justice. He believed in the right for each individual to receive a fair trial. Using his training as an attorney, Adams followed his conscience and offered himself to serve as the defendant lawyer. He diligently and compellingly made the case for the innocence of the soldiers, or at least, the lack of clear evidence for the contrary. The outcome: six of the soldiers were acquitted and the remaining two received punishments other than the death penalty.

This anecdote highlights the character of John Adams. His decision to defend the British soldiers was not a popular one among his fellow Bostonians. If he had any future plans for political office at the time, it is not evident based on this sort of action. And yet, through this instance we can see the moral fiber of Adams. His backbone. His convictions. Here Adams reflects on this memory:

“If, by supporting the rights of mankind, and of invincible truth, I shall contribute to save from the agonies of death one unfortunate victim of tyranny, or of ignorance, equally fatal, his blessings and years of transport will be sufficient consolation to me for the contempt of all mankind.” (67).

Adams valued what is true and just over popular opinion, and yet his stellar performance and resolute character would eventually earn him a reputation as a strong and capable leader.

Abigail Adams and the Classics

There is one final element I would like to share about John Adams and the role learning played in his early life. When the Continental Congress met in Philadelphia to debate possible responses to British tyranny, Adams was a prominent figure in the cause for independence. More and more, Adams championed the cause for liberty and his arousing speeches influenced many colonial delegates to join his side. In February 1776, it became clear to Adams that independence was the only guarantee for American liberty. And yet, while colonists had discussed this option privately, no public discussion had occurred up to this point. Adams began to wrestle about when and how to make the radical motion for a colonial revolution.

During this time of wrestling, Adams’ wife Abigail offered him encouragement from a renowned Shakespearean passage:

There is a tide in the affairs of men, 

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in the shallows and in miseries…

And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures.

William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act 4, Scene III

Abigail’s encouragement to her husband is clear: the time is now to declare independence from Britain. As Brutus and Cassius deliberated their own path in the drama of Julius Caesar, so Adams must now take a step forward into his eventual fate. Abigail drew on her own reading of the classics to support her husband in this courageous move.

Conclusion

As I have sought to demonstrate in this article, there is much educators can gain by picking up and reading biographies. Not only do biographies expand our grasp of history. They contain keen insights into historical practices of education and offer glimpses of wisdom for how great men and women lived in previous times. In the early life of John Adams, one can see how crucial of a role education and learning played in his life. If it were not for his supportive father, inspiring teacher, and reading diet of the classics, it is not obvious that the Founding Father we know today would have founded more than a quaint legal practice in Braintree, Massachusetts.

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