Arising about the same time as our educational renewal movement have been seismic shifts in a host of technologies that dramatically changed the landscape for most individuals, whether they realize it or not. Today individuals have access to more levers of wealth creation than have ever been available before in history. Many call this the “New Economy.” Just like classical education harkens back to ancient wisdom previously deemed outdated and inconsequential to industrial educationists, the new economy champions such “outdated” concepts as artisanal craftsmanship, decentralized ownership of capital, and shared resources. The statement, “it’s more complicated than that,” holds true for both classical education and the new economy. To that end, this article will explore some of what we mean by the new economy, particularly as it relates to the economic world graduates from our school will be facing in the marketplace. But we will also reflect on how classical education seems to be well positioned to be a leading force in the new economy.

What is the New Economy?

In the new economy, the structures of the industrial age are being reshaped by innovation and technology. You can see the irony that the industrial age with its penchant for innovation and technology have created the new economy. In many regards, the new economy is situated within the industrial age, even though it has challenged many of the assumptions of the industrial age. For instance, industrialism promotes compliance and automaticity. To work in a factory, one must adhere to the procedures of the job at hand. The factory model does not require an individual to become a creative genius. Quite the opposite. Check your creativity at the door, just do the job as you are told. This is not to say that there is no room for creative genius, but that is reserved for the few that get to engineer the products and the way the factory is set up. The many work robotically, the few get to make the robots work.

The new economy, however, is defined by adaptability and creativity. We are witnessing a shift towards innovative business models and technological advancements that have transformed various sectors of the economy. Some have called this the gig economy, where individuals can leverage platforms to offer their skills and services on a freelance basis. Seth Godin is a proponent of this freelance approach to business today. In his book Linchpin, he repackages “gig” economy as “gift” economy. He writes:

“At first, gifts you can give live in a tiny realm. You do something for yourself, or for a friend or two. Soon, though, the circle of the gift gets bigger. The Internet gives you leverage. A hundred people read your blog, or fifty subscribe to your podcast. There’s no economy here, but there is an audience, a chance to share your gift.”

Seth Godin, Linchpin, 134.

What he is saying is that in the new economy, there is value in the unique voice an individual has. Finding the gift that you can give to the world means that you can utilize a host of tools to reach an audience in ways that were never possible in the old economy. There were too many gatekeepers that closed the doors to new voices. Now those gates are thrown wide open.

We could call this the sharing economy. Many traditional sectors have been disrupted by people who are willing to share personal resources through the connectivity available through the internet. Consider transportation and accommodation. Companies like Uber and Airbnb have revolutionized how people commute and find lodging. When we think about education, the internet has enabled organizations like Khan Academy to revolutionize who has access to quality education.

The emergence of e-commerce platforms has enabled businesses to reach a global audience without physical storefronts. This has leveled the playing field for small entrepreneurs and opened up new possibilities for growth and expansion. Consider a middle school student who has already started her own business by selling hand-made knitted objects through Etsy. This is a student who might be making a modest amount of spending money, but learning huge lessons in marketing, sales, production, and a host of other business skills.

These examples illustrate how the new economy has reshaped the industrial paradigm and has created opportunities for innovation, creativity, and collaboration. Embracing these changes can lead to exciting possibilities for both businesses and individuals alike. Understanding the new economy ought to influence how we approach educating the next generation. We are sending graduates into something that conventional education is not well equipped to serve. In order to grapple with this idea, let’s delve further into the kinds of skills that are important in the new economy.

What Skills are Required for the New Economy?

The new economy values skills like problem-solving, critical thinking, and collaboration. It rewards those who are willing to embrace change and continuously learn in order to stay relevant in a rapidly evolving landscape. The factory model of education produced students who could be workers with the factory system, compliant and productive. As Godin points out, this had wide-reaching implications even for non-factory jobs, such as the traditional professions like law, medicine and engineering. He lists a number of skills taught in the factory system:

“Fit in

Follow instructions

Use #2 pencils

Take good notes

Show up every day

Cram for tests and don’t miss deadlines

Have good handwriting

Punctuate

Buy the things the other kids are buying

Don’t ask questions

Don’t challenge authority

Do the minimum amount required so you’ll have time to work on another subject

Get into college

Have a good resume

Don’t fail

Don’t say anything that might embarrass you

Be passably good at sports, or perhaps extremely good at being a quarterback

Participate in a large number of extracurricular activities

Be a generalist

Try not to have the other kids talk about you

Once you learn a topic, move on.”

Seth Godin, Linchpin, 39-40.

Very few of these skills properly equip someone for the new economy. Contrast this with the talents needed in the new economy. The skills that stand out in the new economy are open-mindedness, creativity, proactivity, independence, ability to learn new skills, problem-solving, and making meaning out of raw information. Suffice it to say that the cram-test-forget process associated with the factory-model of education does not tend to cultivate these skills. When businesses can be run at the kitchen table, the factory model becomes insufficient to support creative, new enterprises.

It is interesting to note the extent to which new economy skills have taken over the job market. While technical expertise remains relevant to various industries, it is fascinating to find that places such as Microsoft and Apple are looking to hire individuals who show problem-solving, leadership and communication skills. Warren Buffet, CEO of Berkshire Hathaway, highlighted integrity as the key skill he values for his employees. JP Morgan looks for employees who can forge good relationships with clients and business partners. Across traditional business sectors, numerous “soft” skills are highly sought after in the market place, showing the extent to which factory-model skills such as compliance and rule-following simply are not relevant any longer.

The new economy is driven by new technologies that continue to disrupt the ways we do things. One of the downsides of the new economy is that it promotes distraction and overconsumption of digital entertainment. Thus, the insight provided by Cal Newport helps us to further elaborate the skills that are highly sought after in the new economy. The winners in the new economy are not simply those who can use the new technology proficiently, even though that is an important skill. Really, the winners will be those who can overcome distraction, accomplish work without digital tools, and can focus their attention adeptly. Newport articulates a stunning thesis:

“The ability to perform deep work is becoming increasingly rare at exactly the same time it is becoming increasingly valuable in our economy. As a consequence, the few who cultivate this skill, and then make it the core of their working life, will thrive.”

Cal Newport, Deep Work, 14.

This idea of deep work, then, becomes the single-most important skill that drives all other valuable skills in the new economy. Central to Newport’s argument is the concept of deliberate practice. Having written about deliberate practice elsewhere, I found his summary a really helpful encapsulation:

“Its components are usually identified as follows: (1) your attention is focused tightly on a specific skill you’re trying to improve or an idea you’re trying to master; (2) you receive feedback so you can correct your approach to keep your attention exactly where it’s most productive.”

Cal Newport, Deep Work, 35.

Deliberate practice, then, becomes a master tool that unlocks an individual’s potential in the new economy. Tight focus and continuous improvement enable someone to achieve rapid improvements in specific areas. It also allows someone to produce something meaningful and then deliver that to others who care utilizing the technologies underpinning the new economy.

How does Classical Christian Education Equip Students for the New Economy?

It is striking that the new economy and classical Christian education emerged almost simultaneously. The question, then, is whether there is anything inherent in classical education that is uniquely associated with the new economy. My contention is that classical education, by championing a vision that education is for moral formation and lifelong learning, the disposition of classical schools matches in many respects the values of the new economy. What I mean by this is that in a world where we are glutted with information, people are hungry for meaning. Yet it is difficult for people to cut through the noise and distraction to make meaning of the raw informational materials. I think that’s where classical education truly serves the new economy most adeptly. Let’s explore a few of the ways this occurs.

Before diving in, I think it is also important to recognize some of the incongruencies between classical education and the new economy. For one, the new economy is driven by new technologies. By and large, the classical school movement has tended to be a low-tech schooling environment. That being said, it is interesting to see how there are new models of schooling that utilizing the platforms of the new economy. For instance, the Classic Learning Test (CLT) has provided a new type of college entrance testing by using an online testing platform. There are numerous classical schools that use online courses where remove video platforms enable rich discussion despite physically being in diverse locations. A second incongruity is that the new economy as an economy is not have at its core a moral value. So it is not as though this new economy is in some way morally superior to the previous economy. There are likely ways where workers and consumers are taken advantage of or manipulated. In addition, there are new dangers that have emerged in the new economy associated with internet security, disinformation, and lack of regulation. It behooves us to be aware of the risks of entering into the new and emerging marketplace.

The great books tradition was the first and most pervasive loss in the industrialization of education. Sure, some of the greats remained on, say, the AP English Lit reading list. However, reading the greats with a view of being formed by the great tradition has been lost in conventional education. They are largely read with a view to the salient information needed to pass tests. The classical renewal movement has celebrated the timeless wisdom and intellectual challenge contained within the great books. They represent a journey through the greatest works of literature, philosophy, poetry, drama and history that have shaped our understanding of the world. The great books tradition allows us to connect with the thoughts and ideas of brilliant minds from different eras. They inspire students to think critically, question assumptions, and expand our perspectives. Students embark on a transformative quest for knowledge and insight. In some ways, the greats books are a renewable resource, as we can continuously turn to them for second and third readings to glean deeper insights. The demonstrate that learning is a lifelong pursuit filled with endless possibilities for growth. When we think about the skills needed in the new economy, the great books tradition cultivates the hearts and minds of students to have a wellspring of wisdom to provide value in the marketplace.

Logic is yet another hallmark of classical education, being one of the three liberal arts or the trivium. Aristotle stands as a giant having tremendous influence over philosophical thought down through the ages. His logical system is founded on propositional truth. In many respects, the type of logic taught in classical schools stems from Aristotelian principles and serves as a way to train students in the art of reasoning. By learning syllogisms, fallacies, inductive and deductive approaches to reasoning, students are able to investigate complex problems and form evaluations of what is true and what is good. Logic is the backbone of critical thinking and reasoning. It allows us to make sense of the world around us, solve problems, and make informed decisions. The classical art of logic guides us in constructing sound arguments, identifying fallacies, and honing our analytical skills. The classical art of logic opens doors to a world of clarity and understanding. It empowers students to think with precision and confidence. In the new economy, logical skills enable thinkers to cut through memes and social media posts that have little substance in order to consider problems and issues in depth. Students trained in logic have the ability to find nuance and consider new avenues that are constructive alternatives to much of the social discourse of our era.

Finally, rhetoric is another hallmark of classical education, moving students beyond simply learning how to write or speak effectively. It champions the transformative power of words, enabling students to convey their convictions with clarity and winsomeness. The classical art of rhetoric is rooted in ancient Greek and Roman philosophy. It is the art of using language effectively and persuasively. At its core, rhetoric empowers individuals to craft compelling arguments, sway opinions, and evoke emotions through the principles of ethos, pathos, and logos. As one of the liberal arts, it works with logic to enable the student to understand a problem and then raise one’s voice to help solve that problem. In the Christian tradition, there is an understanding of how the power of words – particularly God’s divine Word – can transform lives. The good news is conveyed through speech, connecting people to God’s grace and uplifting the soul. At other times, Christian rhetoric exhorts and challenges people to repent of sins and reform their ways. Quintilian considered that to be a good orator, one must be a good man (Institutio oratoria, book 12, chapter 1). So, what we have in view here is not some bombastic blowhard who captures people’s attention through sophistry. Instead, we are graduating students who can genuinely tackle the toughest problems of our day with reasonable speech and well-considered words.

The new economy is a market made for students like ours. Through our educational renewal, they are becoming equipped to provide meaning to a growing population that needs guidance and wisdom. It may merely be coincidence that has seen the classical educational renewal emerge at the same time as the new economy. Yet, it seems to me that the skills required at this time are exactly what we are providing.

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One consequence of these trends is the exclusion of literature and humanities from the broader conversation about education, its goals, methods, and ideals. Charlotte Mason, for one, found novels, fictional literature, and poetry to be a potent source for her educational philosophy. While certainly we can understand the reticence to feature too prominently the imaginative portrayal of a person’s education or development in exact recommendations for how to teach, literature and the humanities have as their subject matter what it means to be human. Therefore, they concern the education of human beings in all their complexity, glory, and fallenness. 

Poets, novelists, and fictional writers might not be good guides as to the length of school days and the exact details of curricula and lessons. But they have a farsighted imaginative perception that has the power to shake up, challenge and inform our philosophy and practices. Because of the very unreality and singular nature of their imaginative portrayals, they are able to shock us out of our complacency and restore our ideals and vision for the educational art.

In this article, we will be transported to the 19th century post-Napoleonic era in France to witness the education of Edmond Dantès, a poor first mate of a merchant’s vessel in the south of France. In the classic adventure novel by Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo, young Dantès, who is on the brink of perfect happiness, about to marry his love Mercédès, is fatefully betrayed by two seeming friends, and sentenced to imprisonment without trial (Barnes & Noble, 2011 edition).

While in the dungeons of the Château d’If, an island fortress off the coast of Marseilles, Edmond Dantès receives a first-class education from one of his fellow prisoners, a learned Italian man called Abbé Faria. He also will learn from Abbé Faria of a tremendous fortune hidden on the Isle of Monte Cristo. After Abbé Faria’s death, fourteen years in prison, eight of which he spent learning from the Italian, he will escape to become the mysterious Count of Monte Cristo. His education has transformed him and enabled him to seek out the hidden crimes of his persecutors, who have only grown in power and riches since his own demise. 

In this article I will avoid any spoilers about the end of the book, which I myself am still reading–I also have not watched any movie version–and instead will confine myself to an analysis of the education of the future Count of Monte Cristo.

The Teacher-Student Relationship

When Edmond Dantès is found by his future teacher, he has all but given up hope in despair. Without seeing another soul than his jailer for six years, he has committed to starving himself to death, when he begins to hear a sound of file and digging. He breaks his resolution to try to discover what this is and Abbé Faria reveals himself in answer to Dantès’ prayer:

“Oh, my God! my God!” murmured he, “I have so earnestly prayed to You that I hoped my prayers had been heard. After having deprived me of my liberty, after having deprived me of death, after having recalled me to existence, my God! have pity on me, and do not let me die in despair.” (111)

Their relationship comes about as a result of God’s mercy, providentially arranging for Dantès to be lifted out of his despair in a dark and unjust world. Dantès’s relationship with his teacher has a unique beauty about it because he has been starved of human-to-human interaction; he is open to friendly and familial love in a way that few students are. As he says to Faria at their first meeting, “If you are young, I will be your comrade; if you are old, I will be your son” (113). 

The Abbé Faria quickly develops a paternal affection for Dantès. Like an expert psychologist and counselor, and with the piercing perception of a Sherlock Holmes, Faria helps Dantès discover from only his memories who it was that thus betrayed him and sentenced him to his unjust and torturous imprisonment. But their relationship has a moral and spiritual mentorship at its heart rather than a professional detachment:

Faria bent on him his penetrating eyes: “I regret now,” said he, “having helped you in your late inquiries, or having given you the information I did.”

“Why so?” inquired Dantès.

“Because it has instilled a new passion in your heart–that of vengeance.” (136)

As their relationship develops Dantès’s promise, “I shall love you as I loved my father” (113), holds true, and after 8 years Faria will adopt Dantès (“whom Faria really loved as a son,” 154) by granting him the secret of his treasure.

Unlike the situation of many modern classrooms the teacher-student relationship of Faria and Dantès is of long duration, spans multiple subjects of study (as we’ll see), and is more akin to personal mentoring and tutoring, with a familial father-son air. The mutual interest, joy in companionship and holistic integration challenges our factory model assumptions. Why is it that we have abandoned the tutorial or the multi-year influence of a teacher on a student’s life and development? Perhaps it is because we have also abandoned a traditional vision of the ideal teacher.

A Portrait of the Ideal Teacher

We are introduced to the learned Abbé Faria as an intellectual, certainly, but also as a paragon of moral insight: “The meagerness of his face, deeply furrowed by care, and the bold outline of his strongly marked features, announced a man more accustomed to exercise his moral faculties than his physical strength” (115). When he learns from Dantès of the removal of Napoleon from power and the restoration of the monarchy in France, he exclaims in a sort of biblical doxology:

“The brother of Louis XVI!–How inscrutable are the ways of Providence!–for what great and mysterious purpose has it pleased heaven to abase the man once so elevated, and raise up the individual so beaten down and depressed?”

And then later, 

“Ah! my friend!” said the abbé, turning toward Dantès, and surveying him with the kindling gaze of a prophet, “these are the changes and vicissitudes that give liberty to a nation.” (118)

Faria’s prophetic gaze is not only political, but has a spiritual or theological source. His later refusal to consider killing a guard during an attempted escape confirms him as a man of conviction and scrupulous character, whatever else he may be (121-122). 

Because of his moral fiber and his endless invention and great learning, he has not succumbed to despair, like Dantès, even though he has been imprisoned much longer (117), but has secretly made himself tools (115) from the odds and ends in his prison, pens and cloth to write his magnum opus, A Treatise on the Practicability of Forming Italy into One General Monarchy (123), and of course he has carried out a multi-year project of digging in an attempt to secure his escape. In addition to all this, he has used his free time in his cell as an opportunity to improve himself, continuing his own personal education. How is such a feat possible? Faria explains to Dantès:

“I had nearly 5,000 volumes in my library at Rome; but after reading them over many times I found out that with 150 well-chosen books a man possesses a complete analysis of all human knowledge, or at least all that is either useful or desirable to be acquainted with. I devoted three years of my life to reading and studying these 150 volumes, till I knew them nearly by heart; so that since I have been in prison a very slight effort of memory has enabled me to recall their contents as readily as though their pages were open before me. I could recite you the whole of Thucydides, Xenophon, Plutarch, Titus Livius, Tacitus, Strada, Jornandès, Dante, Montaigne, Shakespeare, Spinoza, Machiavelli and Bossuet. Observe, I merely quote the most important names and writers.” (123)

In addition to this detailed knowledge of Great Books, through which Faria possesses “a complete analysis of all human knowledge,” Faria also knows five modern languages, as well as Latin and ancient Greek, through which he teaches himself modern Greek. If this description might have seemed to classify Faria as merely another arcane, ivory-tower intellectual, we should note the applied practicality of his slimming of the 5,000 volumes down to a select 150 and his further comment that he names the “most important names and writers.” This is a teacher who can discriminate between various authors and is able to distill for his eager pupil the essence and summation of “useful and desirable” knowledge. He knows how to do this for another because he has first done it for himself. 

It is worth noting again that Faria is not driven to despair by his imprisonment because his vast reading has provided for him an endless source of employment and joy in his own ongoing learning. The flow of thought overrides his unfortunate circumstances. He has spent his time, among other things, making a vocabulary of the words he knew in modern Greek and turning them back and forth in his minds in order to develop facility with the 1,000 he knew in order to be able to express perfectly anything he wanted (123).

But Faria is not a humanist and linguist alone. He also is an eminent source of useful information and scientific knowledge, as well as the inventiveness and crafty resourcefulness already displayed in his tools and excavations:

“The elder prisoner was one of those persons whose conversation, like that of all who have experienced many trials, contained many useful and important hints as well as sound information; but it was never egotistical, for the unfortunate man never alluded to his own sorrows. Dantès listened with admiring attention to all he said; some of his remarks corresponded with what he already knew, or applied to the sort of knowledge his nautical life had enabled him to acquire. A part of the good abbé’s words, however, were wholly incomprehensible to him; but, like those aurora borealis which serve to light navigators in northern latitudes, they sufficed to open fresh views to the inquiring mind of the listener, and to give a glimpse of new horizons, enabling him justly to estimate the delight an intellectual mind would have in following the high and towering spirit of one so richly gifted as Faria in all the giddiest heights or lowest depths of science.” (136)

Such an ideal teacher surely surpasses what any of us who are employed in the profession might hope to attain; nevertheless, he represents an expansive vision of the intellectual life that we cannot do without. Faria’s title, Abbé, names him a member of the clergy, whether cleric or Abbot, and recalls the term for “father” used of abbots and priests. He is a spiritual and theologically grounded intellectual, who has also attained to the breadth of humane learning and obtained a practical and deep scientific understanding. He is a polymath or renaissance man. He is therefore able to situate the various branches of human learning in relation to one another.

How far a cry is this ideal from the high school teacher or college professor, plyer of trade knowledge and skill development in but one area, yet without a comprehensive philosophical understanding of the whole!

The Ideal Student and Course of Study

We have already seen Edmond Dantès’s readiness to learn and relational receptiveness above. In many other ways he represents the ideal student for so grand a teacher. He has the proper sense of wonder and curiosity, as well as the right early experiences to be an attentive learner:

“Though [he was] unable to comprehend the full meaning of his companion’s allusions, each word that fell from his lips seemed fraught with the wonders of science, as admirably deserving of being brought to light as were the glittering treasures he could just recollect having visited during his earliest youth in a voyage he made to Guzerat and Golconda.” (125)

The process of learning or education is here compared to uncovering the glittering treasures of the east (two territories in India known for grand buildings and diamonds). Because of this proper disposition toward the value of learning, Dantès became so “absorbed in the acquisition of knowledge, [that] days, even months, passed by unheeded in one rapid and instructive course” (137). He enters the time-warp characteristic of the flow of thought already possessed by his teacher. But of course, they first determine the appropriate course of study before embarking on a journey limited only by the qualifications of the student.

“And that very evening the prisoners sketched a plan of education, to be entered upon the following day. Dantès possessed a prodigious memory, combined with an astonishing quickness and readiness of conception; the mathematical turn of his mind rendered him apt at all kinds of calculation, while his naturally poetical feelings threw a light and pleasing veil over the dry reality of arithmetical computation or the rigid severity of lines. He already knew Italian, and had also picked up a little of the Romaic dialect, during his different voyages to the East; and by the aid of these two languages he easily comprehended the construction of all the others, so that at the end of six months he began to speak Spanish, English, and German.” (137)

Not all students will have Dantès’s natural qualifications of memory, calculation and poesy. But these are nevertheless the key ingredients in a rapid and effective course of study. It would be incorrect to say that Abbé Faria taught him everything; in fact, he makes an interesting set of distinctions between principles and application, the sciences and philosophy. “Human knowledge,” he says, “is confined within very narrow limits; and when I have taught you mathematics, physics, history, and the three or four modern languages with which I am acquainted, you will know as much as I do myself” (136). He then sets a term of two years as all that would be required to compass the principles, but not the application of this knowledge, noting that “to learn is not to know; there are the learners and the learned. Memory makes the one, philosophy the other” (136). 

Faria here alludes to the Aristotelian distinction between true scientific knowledge, which involves the ability to demonstrate, and the mere memory or understanding of a thing. He also describes philosophy as “reducible to no rules by which it can be learned”; it is rather “the amalgamation of all the sciences, the golden cloud which bears the soul to heaven” (137). For such a prodigious intellect, Faria has a proper humility about what the teacher can convey to the student and what the student’s own learning and continuing education after schooling must do to complete the enduring love of wisdom (“philosophy”) that “bears the soul to heaven.” 

For the Count of Monte Cristo in the making, this scientific course of study is enough, and presumably his own efforts at blessing his friends, enacting vengeance on his enemies, and making a new life for himself when all is done, will be necessary to complete his journey. But one further thing is needed to prepare him for that task: the Abbé Faria’s finishing school:

“The abbé was a man of the world, and had, moreover, mixed in the first society of the day; his appearance was impressed with that air of melancholy dignity which Dantès, thanks to the imitative powers bestowed on him by nature, easily acquired, as well as that outward polish and politeness he had before been wanting in, and which is seldom possessed except by those who have been placed in constant intercourse with persons of high birth and breeding.” (139)

We often overlook the powerful effect of the teacher’s mode of being, “polish and politeness,” upon the students, or the natural effect of “constant intercourse” or social interaction with a certain type or class of people. We might describe some of these habits and customs as the result of enculturation, without which a student would be unprepared for certain callings in life. Dantès, for instance, could not have become the Count of Monte Cristo without this “air of melancholy dignity.”

Conclusion

Let us close by summarizing in the form of several propositions what we have discovered in our fictional excursion into the singular education of the Count of Monte Cristo. 

The bond between teacher and student should be more than professional, but friendly and even familial, on the order of adoption or apprenticeship. This reality makes our modern era’s rapid change of teachers and professionalized teaching staff conducted at economic scale a liability, rather than a benefit. Tutoring and tutorials, as well as smaller schools with teachers teaching the same groups of students across multiple years in multiple sub-disciplines, become desirable from the perspective of teacher-mentorship. 

The ideal mentor-teacher, especially at the secondary or collegiate level, is a man or woman of moral and spiritual standing, not just an intellect or a capable deliverer of content through an engaging PowerPoint lecture. The ongoing education of the teacher and his active engagement in interdisciplinary inquiry are not extras to be dispensed with at will but necessarily influence the ideal student who is to become like his teacher. We must avoid hiring teachers as subject-experts or mere practitioners, rather than as spiritual, moral, and intellectual guides with a commitment to lifelong learning.

In early youth the cultivation of a student’s interest, wonder and curiosity, as well as habits of attention and strength of memory are crucial to his later development. Students should learn languages and have vivid experiences that will serve as the hinges on which the doors of later learning will swing open easily. In secondary education, 150 Great Books well studied will be a better summation of human knowledge than 5,000 books indiscriminately encountered. In addition, the understanding of principles in the sciences must be supplemented by application and demonstration, in order to bubble up to that highest of attainments, the true philosophy or love of wisdom. 

Life itself will be the test of a student’s education, and especially those decisions and choices of prudential wisdom upon which a life is made new or wrecked upon the shoals of an unjust world. (P.S. I can’t wait to read what happens next in The Count of Monte Cristo.)

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