Technology – and here I mean specifically screen-based devices – has transformed all aspects of our lives. Now, there are upsides to this technological transformation such as instant access to our fitness data or knowledge of the whereabouts of our children. But even these positives come with the burden of responsibility which is never easy to bear and easily leads to fixation on oneself or surveillance of our loved ones.

In schools, the implementation of screen-based devices seems to be what people mean when they speak of needing more money for schools. The devices come with certain upsides such as student management systems, testing portals, real-time feedback, etc. Yet many of these upsides come at a human cost. In his book Public Education in the Digital Age, Morgan Anderson asserts, “Technologically mediated interactions risk undermining authentic dialogue through its dehumanizing effects.” His framework for education is to view power as fundamentally exploitative, and he sees how tech companies have inundated classrooms with their devices, which thereby mediate human interactions. He is not necessarily calling for a return to traditional classrooms in a way that coheres with our educational renewal movement. Yet his point that technological incursions into our classrooms comes at a human cost is one we ought to pay attention to.

The discussion-based learning that is part and parcel of the great books tradition simply cannot be as effectively implemented through devices as through in-person interactions. That is not to say that one cannot receive a fine education through remote learning and that one cannot engage in quality discussions with the tiny headshots on a screen. I know of several programs that aim at high-quality remote learning experiences. It’s just that there are no replacements for the physical proximity of others in the learning environment. My conjecture is that low-tech schooling neither ought to be considered inferior to the tech-based classrooms of today nor ought to be thought of merely as reactions to the tech-driven models of modern education.

Wading into the Shallows

In the midst of the initial rise of the iPhone to the ubiquitous everyday carry device, Nicholas Carr’s 2010 publication of The Shallows called readers to carefully consider the perils of internet technology. It is worth interacting a bit with exactly what he means by “shallow” when it comes to cognitive function. In his chapter “The Juggler’s Brain” he lays out the cognitive benefits attained through sustained use of devices and the internet. The main benefits center around low-level cognitive functions. Carr writes:

“Research shows that certain cognitive skills are strengthened, sometimes substantially, by our use of computers and the Net. These tend to involve lower-level, or more primitive, mental functions such as hand-eye coordination, reflex response, and the processing of visual cues.”

Nicholas Carr, The Shallows, 139

There is a particular way the brain develops when it interacts with the high-powered devices we have on our desks and in our pockets. Particular neurons fire together weaving immense skill into regions of the brain associated with sight (visual cortex) and movement (cerebellum). We could add to Carr’s list video games and streaming services. Most of these screen-based technologies will activate certain areas of the brain while leaving others dormant. We will come back to this idea later to develop strategies to make the most of screen-based technologies to optimize high-level cognitive functions for learning.

Carr explores several other advantages that come with the relatively recent technologies that have entered our homes and schools. One of the uses that is often championed for having ready access to devices for learning is the ability to search and browse the internet to access relevant information. Carr notes how web searches “strengthen brain functions related to certain kinds of fast-paced problem solving, particularly those involving the recognition of patterns in a welter of data” (139). He goes so far as to say that users become “adept at quickly distinguishing among competing informational cues, analyzing their salient characteristics, and judging whether they’ll have practical benefit,” however, trends from social media argue otherwise. It seems to have become the case that users are more and more at the mercy of algorithms that filter information which rather stunts good judgment and discernment. But even granting Carr’s point, we should note how users become good at filtering information, which may feel like a higher-order thinking skill. But in actuality, simply finding data amounts to very little if one cannot then make something of it. We’ll see in a moment what Carr has to say about that.

One additional positive benefit that comes with the use of devices is what Carr explaines as “a small expansion in the capacity of our working memory.” Carr goes on to cite Small and Vorgan’s book iBrain who actually call our ability to hold in our minds massive amounts of informational tidbits “digital ADD.” They write, “many of us are developing neural circuitry that is customized for rapid and incisive spurts of directed attention” (Small and Vorgan 21). It is important to add the distinction that a greater capacity of working memory is not the same thing as cultivating a greater capacity in long-term memory. Much that gets stored in working memory gets flushed rather quickly. If you were to look back at your search history from even a week ago, you might be surprised at what you have since forgotten.

So much for the benefits of devices for our cognition. But what about the detriments? Carr questions whether technology is actually making us more intelligent. He argues that internet access “may make our brains more nimble when it comes to multitasking, but improving our ability to multitask actually hampers our ability to think deeply and creatively” (Carr 140). To put it another way, you can either develop single tasking or multitasking, and one comes at the cost of the other. It really behooves us, therefore, to consider which is the more valuable of the two. Many studies have shown how multitasking or task switching have many detrimental effects on executive function, emotional wellbeing and skills development. Whereas single tasking has more positive gains especially when learners are focused on meaningful work and develop transferrable skills. Carr gets at this same point when he quotes David Meyer, “You can train until you’re blue in the face and you’d never be as good as if you just focused on one thing at a time.”

Carr next interacts with the work of Patricia Greenfield from her 2009 article published in the apex journal Science. While internet-based devices have enhanced our visual-spatial cognitive capacity, there has been “a weakening of our capacities for the kind of ‘deep processing’ that underpins ‘mindful acquisition, inductive analysis, critical thinking, imagination, and reflection.’” (141 quoting Patricia M. Greenfield, “Technology and Informal Education, Science, 323 (January 2, 2009): 69-71.) The word Carr uses is “weakening.” It is not as though when we enhance the visual and motor cortices that the neocortex comes along for the ride. Instead, attention, perception and long-term memory actually suffer. Think of it this way. The brain is a high-efficiency machine. If the brain perceives that it needs to shift to visual-spatial engagement with the highly stimulating world of the internet, then it will redirect its energies to visual and motor skills. Instead, if it perceives that more work ought to be put into singular attention, deep thought, perception, then it will direct its energies there instead.

What all of this amounts to is that the brain when exposed to devices, particularly for longs periods of time, begins to take on the characteristics of the devices. You have rapid switching between tasks, the ability to churn lots of data, and attention gets shifted amongst multiple stimuli. What gets lost is deep insight into the kind of thought that creates meaning. Carr concludes:

“The mental functions that are losing the “survival of the busiest” brain cell battle are those that support calm, linear thought—the ones we use in traversing a lengthy narrative or an involved argument, the ones we draw on when we reflect on our experiences or contemplate an outward or inward phenomenon. The winners are those functions that help us speedily locate, categorize, and assess disparate bits of information in a variety of forms, that let us maintain our mental bearings while being bombarded by stimuli. These functions are, not coincidentally, very similar to the ones performed by computers, which are programmed for the high-speed transfer of data in and out of memory. Once again, we seem to be taking on the characteristics of a popular new intellectual technology.”

Nicholas Carr, The Shallows, 142

Having waded into the shallows, we can see that a high-tech classroom promises certain kinds of cognitive intelligence, but not the kind that sets children up for meaningful engagement with the important questions of life. Focused work on the great books and wrestling with the great ideas runs counter to the shallow attention of the multi-tasking mechanisms we are becoming in the hands of our devices.

Read more about Nicholas Carr’s work as it connects to habit training in my article “Habit Formation: You, Your Plastic Mind, and Your Internet“

Diving into the Deep

Carr’s book, well over a decade old, still rings true today. The digital natives of today have been inundated with even more devices now with smartphones in the hands of veritably every student. Parents and teachers alike feel powerless to stem the tide as it feels like children ought to have these technologies in order to succeed in a new technological age, not to mention the ways in which such technologies keep the safe. The perception of success and safety come at the cost of an increasing shallowness as explored in the previous section. So what perspective can help us navigate a setting in which new, more powerful smartphones are released annually?

Here is where we take a step into the deep end. Cal Newport came out with two books that masterfully cut across the bow of the technological ship driving recklessly into the shallows. He released Deep Work in 2016 and then Digital Minimalism in 2019. It is worth exploring these two to get a sense of the emerging hope we have as an educational movement whereby we can with confidence commit ourselves to low-tech schooling.

The thesis of Deep Work is stated succinctly in the introduction. Newport looks at two economic factors, one having to do with the scarcity of deep work and then correspondingly the increasing value placed on deep work. He writes:

“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 is a central tenet of the new economy. Many think that the new economy is all about new technologies usurping the old system of manufacture-based industry. To some extent that is true. But the new economy is all about creativity and the creation of meaning out of the inundation of overwhelming attention-grabbing stimuli. On the face of it, the new economy can degenerate into mass consumptionism, with individuals binging Netflix shows, scrolling social media feeds, and following the latest YouTube personality. However, the new economy is also a place where deep work is rewarded because for those who can focus their attention and energies, they can create work that is meaningful.

It is instructive to consider Newport’s definition of shallow work as “noncognitively demanding, logistical-style tasks, often performed while distracted. These efforts tend not to create much new value in the world and are easy to replicate” (Deep Work 228). The examples Newport uses to explore shallow work are connected to the work place, especially the academic field. Yet, his definition of shallow work provides us a good guide as to the work we ought to engage in and assign in schools. If our schools are to graduate into the new economy with the rare and valuable ability to perform deep work, we need to avoid shallow work. I highly recommend reading Jason’s article on “Deep Reading” to explore further what it means to engage in the kind of deep work Newport is describing.

Now I would argue that there is a role for screen-based technology in schools. While I champion low-tech schooling, it would be irresponsible to send graduates off into the world unable to connect their deep work to the technological context that surrounds us. Here is where Cal Newport’s other book Digital Minimalism comes to bear. He defines digital minimalism as “a philosophy of technology use in which you focus your online time on a small number of carefully selected and optimized activities that strongly support things you value, and then happily miss out on everything else.” (Digital Minimalism 28) The approach hinted at here embraces the use of technology, but clearly defines the parameters of its use. Our screen-based devices can be great tools, but terrible masters. And giving them unlimited time and attention places us at their service.

So, how do we set the parameters? Here I would like to outline a few principles and practices that can help you provide excellent technological training in a low-tech schooling environment.

First, clearly define the tools to be used. Consider what a student actually needs to be able to use to succeed as a student, particularly in college and career. This really boils down to only a few applications. They need to learn how to manage an email inbox and to write professional email correspondence. They need to learn how to format a paper in a word processor. Those two are the major ones, and if that is all your school trained students in, they would be well served. On top of this, you could choose to teach them effective use of presentation sofware such as PowerPoint. They could learn how to manage data in a spreadsheet. You could even go above and beyond by teaching them how to code. I could envision a rhetoric program incorporating some aspect of video-conferencing etiquette or cultivating the skills of video recording and editing. Notice, though, that the choices available are a rather short list. One needs only readily available programs on a laptop to access most of what one needs to train students in the academic use of technology.

Second, clearly articulate the goals for technology use. One could list what students will not do, such as check social media, watch videos, listen to music or play games. More importantly, establishing learning outcomes lets everyone know what we’re working toward. Our students will learn how to format papers according to the three major style guides typically used in higher education programs. Our students will learn how to manage a school-based email account with training in professional etiquette that receives regular review and grades each quarter. Our students will develop professional-looking PowerPoint slides according to sound design principles for their senior thesis presentations. With goals such as these, teachers and students gain clarity on why they are bringing their laptops and what they are using them for. The teacher knows well that the laptop has no need to be out during the classroom discussion of Pride and Prejudice, but that it will be taken out when the paper is written analyzing a character from the novel.

Third, repeatedly provide feedback to students on their use of technology. Teachers should tell students when they are mindlessly taking out a laptop. They should be able to note how demanding the tasks are that they are performing. Remember, we are guiding them toward the rare and valuable deep work and steering them away from the shallows. So, if a student has been given ample time to complete a paper in class, but the work is shallow, then we need to start asking them how they used their time. I might even need to sit right next to them to strengthen their capacity to engage in deep and meaningful work.

Ultimately, our educational renewal movement is well positioned to provide the new economy with capable young men and women ready to create deep and meaningful work. I recommend no screen-based technology through middle school and then very intentional incorporation of technology in high school. We want to cultivate an environment conducive to deep learning so that technology becomes the final piece of the puzzle for students well trained in reading, discussing and writing. The liability of bringing technology in too soon can result in a shallow learning environment that stunts the capacity of our students to excel in college, career and life. It is up to us to train them in the creation of meaning rather than merely being consumers.

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C.S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man

I begin with a book that rivals in many ways the essay by Dorothy Sayers that got our educational renewal movement started. In fact, C. S. Lewis delivered these lectures (the Riddell Memorial Lectures were a series given over three nights at King’s College, Newcastle University on 24–26 February 1943) a good four years before Sayers (her paper was read at the Vacation Course in Education at Oxford University in the Summer of 1947). If you have read “The Lost Tools of Learning,” then you are well prepared to tackle these essays.

In three essays, Lewis mounts a defense of objective value in the face of moral subjectivism. He predicted the dystopian future we now live in where tolerance is the reigning virtue, despite the fact that we are not a very tolerant people, at least one wouldn’t think so when one reads comments on social media. This book provides a foundational rationale for the “classical” part of our movement. (This book pairs nicely with Mere Christianity, connecting the “Christian” part of our movement.) And yet it nicely goes beyond what we might consider a fixation on Western civilization as the sole or sufficient basis for a liberal arts education. We see this most prominently in his use of the Tao as representative of objective values based on natural law. What he is getting at transcends an East/West divide and demonstrates that values are meta-cultural.

Sample Quote: “This things which I have called for convenience the Tao, and which others may call Natural Law or Traditional Morality or the First Principles of Practical Reason or the First Platitudes, is not one among a series of possible systems of value. It is the sole source of all value judgements. If it is rejected, all value is rejected. If any value is retained, it is retained. The effort to refute it and raise a new system of value in its place is self-contradictory. There has never been, and never will be, a radically new judgement of value in the history of the world. What purport to be new systems or (as they now call them) ‘ideologies’, all consist of fragments from the Tao itself, arbitrarily wrenched from their context in the whole and then swollen to madness in their isolation, yet still owing to the Tao and to it alone such validity as they possess. . . . The rebellion of new ideologies against the Tao is a rebellion of the branches against the tree: if the rebels could succeed they would find that they had destroyed themselves. The human mind has no more power of inventing a new value than of imagining a new primary colour, or, indeed of creating a new sun and a new sky for it to move in.”

C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man (Harper, 2000): 43-44.

I could see this book being valuable if you are a teacher or administrator. It is also well worth adopting in an upper-level humanities course.

If you would like an opportunity to delve deeply into this book, there is an upcoming event you might consider joining if you are located in the American mid-west. The Alcuin Fellowship will be meeting on March 30-April 1 at Clapham School in Wheaton. We’ll be reading The Abolition of Man and having rich discussion around the book in small groups. There are limited spaces available. You can register for this fellowship at https://www.alcuinfellowship.com/midwestern-alcuin-retreat-2023/.

Jonathan T. Pennington, Jesus the Great Philosopher

Okay, so I reviewed this book in two posts back in the autumn of 2021. Jonathan is a good friend, and this is a good book. I keep returning to it because it offers such a compelling synthesis of Christianity with the liberal arts tradition. The wisdom of this book abounds, and we benefit repeatedly from the insights of a leading New Testament scholar. Yet, Pennington also puts the cookies on the bottom shelf, so to speak.

This book goes well with the previous selection, although it offers a more modern mix of metaphors and imagery. There’s a brilliance in being able to bring such individuals as Aristotle and Steve Martin together as Pennington does. I think you’ll find this is a volume that can speak to teacher and student alike.

Sample Quote: “Hence, as we have seen throughout this book, there is insight to be gained from what the philosophers said about all sorts of topics. We needn’t cut ourselves completely off from their wisdom. Rather, we can gather lumber from whatever trees are available as we build the Christ-shaped temple of our lives, with Holy Scripture as the building inspector. As Justin himself said, “Whatever things were rightly said among all men, are the property of us Christians. . . . For all the writers [ancient philosophers and poets] were able to see realities darkly through the sowing of the implanted word that was in them. For the seed and imitation that is imparted according to capacity is one thing, and quite another is the things itself, of which there is the participation and imitation according to the grace which is from Him.”

That last part gets a bit complex, but the point is straightforward – any wisdom in the world is from God, who created all, but we Christians have the grace that enables complete understanding. This includes the grandest human philosophical question: What does it mean to live a whole, meaningful, and flourishing life? What is the wisdom we need for the Good Life?”

Jonathan T. Pennington, Jesus the Great Philosopher (Brazos, 2020): 203.

Barbara Oakley, A Mind for Numbers

My next selection moves away from the humanities and provides something for those STEM teachers among us. Having taught Geometry for several years, I have appreciated how Barbara Oakley spells out effective learning strategies for students. I myself was never a great math student, and diving into teaching math well over a decade ago required going back to the basics. Along the way I found that math itself is not particularly difficult, but it can be quite different than the kinds of learning that goes on in the humanities side of the curriculum.

Oakley bases her work in solid neurological studies. One of the key insights in her book is to “chunk” mathematical and scientific concepts. A chunk is a conceptual piece of information that is “bound together through meaning.” (54) That “meaning” bit is significant because there’s a sense of the personal importance. The chunk attracts information or ideas to it, providing for mental leaps as separate units of information bind together through neural networks.

She provides three steps to forming a chunk. First, you focus your attention on the information to be chunked. (57) She advises learning in a low-distraction environment, free from screens. One of the core concepts here is that old neural networks enable you to form new neural pathways. In other words, we build from the known to the unknown. In essence, we want to create these chunks off of ideas, concepts or information that we already know well.

Second, you need to understand the basic idea (58). She differentiates the initial moment of understanding – the “aha!” moment – from the kind of understanding where you can close the book and test yourself on the problem. This is very much the way narration works. Being able to bring forward the formula, the steps, or the process in mathematics demonstrates that the idea is understood.

Third, you need to connect the basic idea to a context (58-59). In other words, a student needs to know when, say, apply the Pythagorean theorem, and when not to. She likens the chunk to a tool, “If you don’t know when to use that tool, it’s not going to do you a lot of good.” (59)

Chunking is not only valuable in mathematics, but across the curriculum. You can chunk historical concepts or literary terms. Chunking can be a pathway toward integration as we allow that chunk to attract more and more concepts to it. I think this is similar to Charlotte Mason’s expression about ideas, “Ideas behave like living creatures––they feed, grow, and multiply.” (Charlotte Mason, Parents and Children, 77)

Sample Quote: “A synthesis – an abstraction, chunk, or gist idea – is a neural pattern. Good chunks form neural patterns that resonate, not only within the subject we’re working in, but with other subjects and areas of our lives. The abstraction helps you transfer ideas from one area to another. That’s why great art, poetry, music, and literature can be so compelling. When we grasp the chunk, it takes on a new life in our own minds – we form ideas that enhance and enlighten the neural patters we already possess, allowing us to more readily see and develop other related patterns.”

Barbara Oakley, A Mind for Numbers (Tarcher Perigee, 2014): 197.

What I like about this book is that her strategies are not simply about how to test better to get good scores on tests or entrance into college, etc. Instead, she sees how this can be a pathway to deep meaning in life through acquired skill, and how an individual can achieve creativity in multiple domains of knowledge through accumulated competence. The quote comes from a section entitled “Deep Chunking,” which segues nicely to our next book.

Cal Newport, Deep Work

Associate professor of computer science at Georgetown, Cal Newport not only delivered a best-selling book, but coined a phrase that has become part of the cultural parlance: “deep work.” In many respects, this is a counterpoint to Nicholas Carr’s The Shallows inasmuch as Newport accepts the premise that the internet has made us shallow and then goes on to propose a solution by going deep through focused attention. The book is designed in an interesting way. Newport begins by spelling out three ideas that get at the “why” of deep work. Then the second part of the book spells out the “how.” Here I want to focus on the first part.

Newport’s first two ideas interact with the new economy centered around knowledge work: deep work is valuable largely because it is rare. This points to a “market mismatch” where talented individuals who are able to produce knowledge that is deep. His third idea is that deep work is meaningful. This is an idea that riffs on the metaphorical meaning of the word “deep.” When our work connects to something of the human experience, there’s a depth of character that has intrinsic value. I like how Newport develops the concept of craftsmanship as a sacred practice.

Sample Quote: “Once understood, we can connect this sacredness inherent in traditional craftsmanship to the world of knowledge work. To do so, there are two key observations we must first make. The first might be obvious but requires emphasis: There’s nothing intrinsic about the manual trades when it comes to generating this particular source of meaning. Any pursuit – be it physical or cognitive – that supports high levels of skill can also generate a sense of sacredness.”

Cal Newport, Deep Work (Grand Central, 2016): 88-89.

As our skill increases, our sense of the meaning we are generating also increases. One gets plugged into the creative impulse that is part of our own imago Dei createdness. Now this is a point that is likely remote from Newport’s thinking, but his use of the word “sacred” points in this direction. Newport goes on to explain his second key observation that to access this deep meaning, we must embrace deep work as the portal to cultivating our skill.

One of the reasons why I recommend this book is that it has provided a framework for understanding how our educational renewal movement – perhaps counterintuitively – gives our students a strategic advantage as they enter the new economy. By encountering the deep ideas of the great works our students get connected to a level of depth not present in the school system. Many of our schools feature intense instruction on writing and rhetoric, which is essential to the knowledge work Newport describes as so rare and valuable. Graduates from classical schools are well trained to do deep work. So, by reading this you can cultivate the habit of deep work in yourself and your students.

Gerald Graff and Cathy Birkenstein, They Say / I Say

My final selection is a textbook ostensibly for college writing. This year I adopted this title for our junior rhetoric class. It is full of practical advice for writers learning how to build effective arguments in academic writing. We are using the fifth edition, which came out in 2021, but any of the editions that have come out since the original 2006 edition features most of the same contours.

The central idea of the book is that effective argumentation begins with a good understanding of what others have said before venturing into an expression of one’s own beliefs. They posit that “working with the ‘they say / I say” model can also help with invention, finding something to say. In our experience, students best discover what they want to say not by thinking about a subject in an isolation booth but by reading texts, listening closely to what other writers say, and looking for an opening through which they can enter the conversation.” (xviii). As classical educators, we are very aware that the great books tradition is all about the great conversation. How better to take advantage of the plethora of books we read than by utilizing that conversation to initiate new pathways for our students to explore based on the “they say / I say” model.

Another feature of this book is how it utilizes templates. The authors recognize the liability of training students to use templates. “At first, many of our students complain that using templates will take away their originality and creativity and make them all sound the same.” (13) But through practice and instruction, students begin to see how there is a basic structure to how good argumentation works. Even after initial exposure to these templates, we can analyze academic writing to identify not only the basic “they say / I say” structure, but also finer points of perspective, argumentation, and analysis. For students raised on the 10-sentence paragraph and the five-paragraph essay, this approach to templates builds on earlier types of templates.

Students are able to practice utilizing two major questions as they work through this book. There is the establishment of relief (using an idea from sculpture), between what you are proposing and what others might say. Students begin to become sensitive to the question, “Oh yeah, who says otherwise?” The other question that students learn to become aware of is the “so what?” or “what difference does this make?” set of questions. For students in junior rhetoric, this is excellent training for the work they will accomplish the following year during senior thesis. The essential skills students learn in this book are critical analysis of sources, summary of conventional viewpoints, handling controversial topics, and expressing the application and consequences of one’s point.

One chapter I really appreciate is the chapter on revision. For many students, revision amounts to identifying typographical errors and eliminating the teacher’s red marks. Well, the approach taken by the authors provides a handy guide to how to make substantial revisions to an essay.

Sample Quote: “One of the most common frustrations teachers have – we’ve had it, too – is that students do not revise in any substantial way. As one of our colleagues put it, “I ask my classes to do a substantial revision of an essay they’ve turned in, emphasis on the word ‘substantial,’ but invariably little is changed in what I get back. Students hand in the original essay with a word changed here and there, a few spelling errors corrected, and a comma or two added. . . . I feel like all my advice is for nothing.” We suspect, however, that in most cases when students do merely superficial revisions, it’s not because they are indifferent or lazy, as some teachers may assume, but because they aren’t sure what a good revision looks like. Like even many seasoned writers, these students would like to revise more thoroughly, but when they reread what they’ve written, they have trouble seeing where it can be improved – and how. What they lack is not just a reliable picture in their head of what their draft could be but also reliable strategies for getting there.”

Gerald Graff & Cathy Birkenstein, They Say / I Say (Norton, 2021): 149.

After this introduction, which describes what many a teacher has felt, the authors provide guidance on how to make substantial revisions to an essay. The chapter on revision concludes with an excellent revision checklist. Students regularly run into the same frustrations we have with revision. They have a sense that they could express their thoughts in a better, more sophisticated way, but they are unpracticed in how to excavate their own writing with a view to finding the veins of gold, let alone finding the weaknesses to correct.

Conclusion

Hopefully this list of books to read in 2023 will inspire you to dig into some different areas where you can become a more inspired and skilled educator this year. There are tons of other books I could have recommended, and you likely have some of your own that are top of your list.

Even more essential than reading the selection of book listed here is building the habit of daily reading. Even a little bit on a daily basis begins to accumulate to a significant amount of input into your life. With lesson planning, grading, meetings and family life, it can be difficult to carve out time to read. Steven Covey talks about how important it is to “sharpen the saw.” For us educators, reading is one of the best ways for us to cultivate the joy of learning we want to inspire in our students. So whether it’s these books or others that spark interest in you, take a moment even now to read.

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One of the great joys of being a teacher is summers off. This may be one of the chief compensations, more important to teachers than healthcare or retirement accounts. I for one love the rhythm of the schoolyear and delight in the summer downtime. Working as an administrator for several years now, the joy has somewhat diminished since there’s still so much work to be done. But even in this case, the nature of the work is different, and therefore enjoyable in its own way.

As I reflect on the dynamic of summer vacation, I wanted to inspire our readers with an opportunity that lays before us. During the school year, when it is our responsibility to teach, we rarely have the time to be learners ourselves. It’s true that quite a number of teachers take continuing education courses. Many of my colleagues over the years have worked towards their masters degrees during the school year. I myself had finished all my degrees before teaching full time. So these educational warriors have my admiration.

Two of my colleagues, one in St. Louis and another here in Chicago, caught my attention by taking what might be considered special interest classes. They weren’t working towards a degree. Instead, they took classes sheerly from their interest in the subject. My colleague Rachel at Providence took a pottery class, making beautiful pieces that she eventually gifted to our graduating seniors. My colleague Nathan at Clapham was caught carrying a cello down the road. When asked what he was doing lugging such a large instrument, he said he was taking cello lessons. Both of these examples epitomized for me the value of lifelong learning. If you are like us at Educational Renaissance, then you value lifelong education. We often consider this concept in light of our students. But what about us?

Therefore, when a professor at Wheaton College – who also happens to attend my church – offered a basic pottery class this summer, I jumped at the chance to learn a new skill. Here are some thoughts that emerged through the process. As I reflect on my experience as a learner, hopefully it will inspire you to find something to learn this summer, and then you can experience the joy of learning by taking a summer class.

The Basics of Pottery

First, for the uninitiated, here is an outline of basic pottery. You grab a clump of wet clay. You work it around in your hands until it becomes a ball. Take a small part of the ball, and flatten it to the size of an iPhone, marking out a round portion for the base of, say, a mug. Then you roll the rest of the ball between your hands to form it into a snake. You probably remember doing something like this with Play-Doh when you were a kid. You continue to roll the snake on the board until it is long enough to form a coil around the circumference of the base. You then squish (not being very technical here) the coil, working it into the base and upward slightly. You can add on more coils; I did three. You continue to squish the sides, forming a flat surface on your cylinder. After letting it set for a day, I added a handle. And, voila, a mug ready to be glazed and fired.

There are definitely other levels to pottery. For instance, I didn’t do anything with a wheel, which is what many people associate with pottery. One can learn about different kinds of clay, or different tools of the trade. I didn’t go into this aiming to set up a home studio. Instead, I wanted to try something new. I wanted to get my hands working with something. And I wanted an activity that would serve as a stress reliever during one of the strangest ends to a school year I had ever experienced.

Learning Means Confronting the Fear of the Unknown

Fear is an interesting emotion. We learn in 1 John 4:18 that “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” From this we might surmise that fear is a bad thing. Yet we are called to fear God, by which we understand fear to mean respect or worship. This seems to be a good thing. Fear of the unknown is a very real aspect to our existence as human beings. If God is unknown to an individual, the fear that person experiences would be substantially different than that of the individual who knows God and is known by God. I believe I have a healthy fear of my wife, but not the kind of fear one has when one’s life is threatened. Love has cast out that kind of fear. All that remains is the niggling kind of fear that somehow my imperfections will collide with her imperfections in some way that causes sparks to fly. But we’ve been through enough of those, that fear really isn’t the right word for it anymore. Forgive my tangent into fear, but it does relate, I promise. (Perhaps I am causing you the fear of the unknown right now).

When we learn, there is a genuine fear of that which is not known or only partially known. We have an entire neurological system devoted to processing fear. The limbic system helps our bodies scan for danger. A small, almond-shaped part of our brain called the amygdala is ready to initiate the fight, flight or play dead programmed response to danger. There were reasons our ancestors were scared to leave their caves. And yet without overcoming those fears, there would have been no food, no exploration, and no learning. You see, when we learn something new, there’s a part of our brain that is afraid of this new thing. Will it hurt? Will it change me? Am I any good at it? Will everyone make fun of me if I fail, or even if I succeed?

With pottery, there is the fear that whatever it is I’m making will look terrible. I might try to make a mug, but end up with a clumpy, amorphous blob that isn’t even good enough to be an ashtray (and who uses those anymore anyway?). Another fear is that I’ll make something that I’m pleased with, but it cracks when it is fired. That’s a real risk. Why take the risk, one asks oneself. Better not to begin at all than set oneself up for failure. I find it helpful to face these fears as a learner. How many of our students face these fears with multiple subjects every day? We are working with true heroes.

Learning Ought to Humble You

Learning is not only about gaining intellectual courage, it is also about acquiring intellectual humility. The expectation on all teachers is that they are the experts in the classroom. We prepare ourselves through careful study to deliver content and guide students to knowledge based on the fact that we know substantially more than our students. Now it ought to be the case that despite our teacherly expertise, we have simultaneously cultivated intellectual humility. Pride should not get in the way of us admitting areas where we lack expertise. Intellectual pride can trip us up when students ask questions. We want to mask our fallibility by seeming omniscient. Telling our students, “I don’t know,” or “I need to think about that more,” goes a long way towards being rigorously honest with our students. Not knowing everything is not a sign that we are not experts, it just shows that we are aware of what we know and what we don’t know. This can enable greater connection with our students, as we establish an atmosphere of learning together.

With these thoughts in mind, I was so happy to enter an environment where I had no expertise. Like my students, I had to submit myself to teacher who would guide me based on his expertise. David, my teacher, has a calm voice and a positive attitude. His advice to novice potters is based in years of working with clay and producing lots and lots of great pieces. The clay itself is a teacher as well, and the clay will humble you. There were several projects I started that fell apart in my hands. All I could do was ball the clay up and start over. Even the pride one feels in a finished project has in it the flaws or unrefined areas that become evident the more you learn and grow.

One aspect of the joy of learning is addressing this concept of humility. As human beings, we are limited, frail and fallible. Frequently we attempt to cover this up, to hide what we truly are behind the smoke and mirrors of our expertise and accomplishments. True human growth, though, only occurs when we uncover our true nature and deal with it. As an individual confronts an area of lack, there is a transformation that can occur, whereby something about us becomes strengthened. For instance, my hands are completely unpracticed in the art of pottery. I compared one of my rolled coils with that of my teacher, and it fell way short of his standard. In owning that self-assessment, I continued to practice rolling the clay, getting a little bit better feel for it. Learning some subtle techniques to more evenly roll out the clay. I’m certainly not there yet, but I can see growth that occurred through honest self-evaluation and acceptance of personal weakness.

Learning is about Process rather than Product

Often our thinking about learning focuses too much on the end product, whether it’s a grade, an award or entrance into some college or career. In one of my previous articles, I challenged our thinking about using end product as the measure of success. We tend to measure success based on end product rather than process largely because it’s often easier to measure. Does Johnny meet the objective or not? There’s a place for summative assessment, to see where things stand at a key moment in time. But the most important work of learning is setting up good processes that will last a very long time, most often beyond the timeframes we set up for measurements.

Working with pottery was a chance for me to see the process of learning at work. You keep working at the clay, shaping it and refining it. For several days I would set aside the piece I was working on to take it out and work it some more. Each time I could feel that my hands were becoming more used to the clay. I was gaining more insight into the techniques being taught. New ideas emerged for what direction I wanted to take this project as well as the next one. Imperfections were evident each new day that weren’t as obvious the previous day. I’m looking forward to the end product, don’t get me wrong. I will use my handmade mugs with pride. But the process is so alluring that I find myself more looking forward to the next time I can work the clay.

There seems to be a lesson in this for us. Learning should entice us to enter into the process again and again. Our students should be encouraged to rework and refine whatever it is they are learning. Yes, there will be moments where we celebrate the work we’ve finished, but our learning comes in the moments when we are working through the process. We should create an atmosphere in our classrooms where we celebrate the moments when we are metaphorically or literally getting our hands dirty in the work.

Learning Brings True and Lasting Joy

There is a profound difference between true and lasting joy and the trifling hits of dopamine on offer in today’s world. We are tempted to think we have been productive or done something meaningful after a morning of reading through email, scrolling through a Facebook feed, and watching a few YouTube videos. Yet we all know that feeling of wondering where the day went and whether we actually did anything of any worth. We really need moments of true and lasting joy, but they almost always occur as a result of concerted effort. This was a point I made in my review of Josh Waitzkin’s book. Learning places us in a position where we are able to engage in something that will help us to grow, and in that growth we will find true and lasting joy.

In speaking about educating children, Charlotte Mason connects the dots of a holistic education. She writes:

‘Education is the Science of Relations,’ is the principle which regulates their curriculum; that is, a child goes to school with many aptitudes which he should put into effect. So, he learns a good deal of science, because children have no difficulty in understanding principles, though technical details baffle them. He practises various handicrafts that he may know the feel of wood, clay, leather, and the joy of handling tools, that is, that he may establish a due relation with materials.

Charlotte Mason, Towards a Philosophy of Education, 31

This quote is packed full of ideas. What I want to draw from this for now is that student aptitude is drawn out and promoted through effort. This effort is a joyful experience not only in the moment of learning, but that joy also gets compounded at later points. One aptitude enhances another. Different areas of learning begin to influence each other. The whole person is deeply impacted by this “science of relations” whereby a student gains mastery of multiple and varied areas of knowledge. And notice that these areas of learning are not just intellectual. She sees how intellectual learning and handicrafts work together, giving students transferable skills.

In the introductory video, my teacher mentioned how working with clay could be a stress reliever. I have been reflecting on this, because he’s right, it is a stress reliever. I think that’s another way of saying that when you work with the clay, you will experience true and lasting joy, which is an antidote to stress. For us as educators, there is a lesson here. The subjects we teach are full of potential joy that comes through deep work. Students sometimes confuse the effort of deep work with the stress of life today. We need to help them to understand this difference, and the way to do this is by tracking joy. Our classrooms should be places where we celebrate the effort of deep work and the accumulation of aptitudes in different areas.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my reflections on learning pottery. Maybe this will inspire you to sign up for a class this summer. If you are plan to learn something this summer, let us know in the comments. The Educational Renaissance community is one that promotes life-long learning, so we’d love to hear what you’re learning. Having mentioned the concept of joy, allow me to promote Jason’s new book, The Joy of Learning: Finding Flow through Classical Education. Learn more about it on our webpage promoting his book.

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A notable example of this is told in professor Alan Jacobs’ book The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction (Oxford 2011). Joe O’Shea was president of the student government at Florida State and a Rhodes Scholar. At a lunchtime gathering for leaders to the university he boasted:

I don’t read books per se. I go to Google and I can absorb relevant information quickly. Some of this comes from books. But sitting down and going through a book from cover to cover doesn’t make sense. It’s not a good use of my time as I can get all the information I need faster through the web. (As quoted in Jacobs 72)

Professor Jacobs comments that Joe O’Shea was “obviously a very smart guy” and “has an excellent strategy”; however, his viewpoint suffers from thinking of reading simply “as a means of uploading data” (72).

That said, the ability to upload data is often precisely what the educational world wants students to do. This can be indicated by the nature of the tests that are given at the end of a unit. If students have successfully uploaded the relevant information, they will pass these tests, no matter how they did so. Data-mining is the skill of the internet age, and O’Shea is probably right to suggest that the short-from hyper-attention reading of internet pages will likely work just fine for the average student, let alone knowledge worker of the 21^st century.

Near the climax of his book Alan Jacobs makes a stunning claim to differentiate deep reading from schooling:

Rarely has education been about teaching children, adolescents, or young adults how to read lengthy and complicated texts with sustained, deep, appreciative attention—at least, not since the invention of the printing press. (109)

For Jacobs this rather dire pronouncement (at least from the perspective of our educational renaissance) strikes a positive note related to the central purpose of his book, which is to commend the pleasures of reading on one’s own simply at whim for those faithful few who love and prefer reading even in the throes of our distracting age.

While Jacobs may express some genuine nostalgia for the education of a figure like St. Augustine—who “spent countless hours of his education poring over, analyzing word-by-word, and memorizing a handful of books, most of them by Virgil and Cicero” (109)—his ringing endorsement of how the Kindle (irony of ironies) restored deep reading to his own distracted brain, for instance, is emblematic of his love for deep reading with a modern twist. In fact, one of the strengths of Jacob’s book is his moderate viewpoint, neither embracing doom-and-gloom ludditism, nor ignoring the distracting elements of the internet age. (For more on the details of this distraction I highly recommend Nicholas Carr’s The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains.)

But all of this continues to raise the question, to what extent should the narrow and old-fashioned skill of deep reading be a major goal of education. It doesn’t admit of an easy answer. Like many highly complex skills taught nowadays—higher mathematics comes to mind—it has to be conceded that the vast majority of students will likely never use such skills in their normal working life. A simplistic pragmatism can hardly be the determining factor. Of course, some students must learn calculus, if only for the fact that our society will need some engineers, and students are unlikely to enter upon an educational and career path that they have had little preparation for in earlier stages of education.

Perhaps the same sort of enlightened pragmatism can speak up for deep reading. Unless we try to make as many of our students as possible into deep readers, we are unlikely to get the requisite quantity and quality of deep readers to cause our culture to thrive. The Renaissance is a good example of the cultural flourishing promised by a recovery of the classical tradition of humane and deep reading, as well as of the arts.

While I’m certainly not claiming that this type of pragmatic argument for the importance of deep reading in education is the only or even the best one, it is nevertheless an argument that will likely appeal to our generation. In a way, it parallels the argument of a recent best-seller by Cal Newport, Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World (Grand Central, 2016).

Cal Newport argues that in our increasingly distracted world, the skill of engaging in deep work of one kind or another is becoming more and more rare. Therefore, knowledge workers or other professionals who have the discipline to block out the distractions and focus on the deep work that involves the deliberate practice of their craft will quickly rise above the average knowledge worker in terms of the quality of what they produce. That’s because of his equation:

           High-Quality Work Produced = (Time Spent) × (Intensity of Focus)

He calls this a “law of productivity” and, given the science on what distraction and attention-shifting does to our brain, it’s hard to argue with its basic logic (40). For instance, he cites research by Sophie Leroy on attention residue demonstrating that people perform poorly when interrupted and forced to switch to a new and challenging task (42).

Those who work deeply will therefore produce more and at a higher quality than those who don’t. Because of this, they are likely to be more valuable in their chosen profession, leading to their own personal success as well as benefiting society through their exceptional expertise.

Deep reading is simply one form of deep work. And perhaps it is one that is ideally suited to training students in the capacity for deep work generally. What could be more suited to adapting students to the necessity of blocking out all external stimuli and getting down to work, than the requirement to read a long-form book for extended hours out of their day? Although Joe O’Shea may be able to rig the current system in his favor through his shallow data-mining reading, he is unlikely to demonstrate the type of scholarly depth of insight characteristic of the deep reader. The quality of his understanding and the sheer volume of material comprehended is likely to be dwarfed by the committed deep reader. O’Shea may be able to pass multiple choice tests with flying colors, but what sort of research papers will he write? How creative and original will be his proposals? Will he be able to contribute the hard-won and game-changing conclusions that are most valuable to our world?

In essence, then, my contention is that the discipline of deep reading, precisely because it is so rare and arcane, is likely to give our students in the modern age an incredible leg up, an advantage over other students that can hardly be overstated. For the majority of iGen students, saturated in and addicted to the distractions of the internet, social media and the latest on Netflix, deep reading will remain an undesirable and increasingly impossible discipline to cultivate. The few deep readers among them will inevitably turn into the leaders and the culture-shapers of the next generation, disciplined as they have been to tune out the distractions and focus on practicing a valuable skill to mastery.

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Dweck’s portrayal of how our beliefs influence our behavior is truly mind-altering, especially given how she bolsters it with numerous studies of children, teachers, athletes and businesses. The importance of adopting a growth mindset as a parent, teacher, coach or business leader can hardly be overstated. There’s a reason her work has made a significant splash and been called “one of the most influential books ever about motivation” (Po Bronson, author of Nurture Shock).

But perhaps it’s worth asking whether what Carol Dweck is saying here is fundamentally new. For those participating in an educational renaissance, it’s worthwhile to step back and consider the extent to which the new ideas of modern research are confirming (rather than discovering) the traditional insights of the classical tradition of educational philosophy. After all, as the writer of Ecclesiastes said, “there is nothing new under the sun” (1:9 ESV) and “of the making of many books there is no end” (12:12). In this case, I think we need look no farther than Aristotle, the great philosopher himself, for an anticipation of the growth mindset.

Near the beginning of his Nichomachean Ethics Aristotle announces a very similar research question to that posed in Dweck’s research:

“whether happiness is to be acquired by learning or by habituation or some other sort of training, or comes in virtue of some divine providence or again by chance.” (Book I, ch. 9, trans. by W. D. Ross, accessed at http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/nicomachaen.1.i.html)

The word translated happiness (Greek: ‘eudaimonia’) is not the flippant feeling that we often mean today. In fact, some circles are inclined to prefer the term ‘joy’ to happiness to imply something longer lasting—a life satisfaction or fulfillment rather than momentary excitement or the absence of challenges. Of course, Dweck uses the term ‘success’ in her study, which resonates better with the modern American focus on advancement in work and career. But both terms are meant to tap into the fundamental human drive for contentment, fulfillment, human flourishing, the good life.

And the question that is posed concerns whether or not our fate is fixed. Can we learn such that we succeed and find joy, fulfillment, blessedness, through our accomplishments? Or are we stuck with what we’ve got, such that we’d better hope we were one of the lucky ones, blessed by the gods (or by the random lottery of our DNA) with intelligence, talent, or whatever that it-factor is in our particular field or endeavor? Aristotle’s answer to this question is ultimately a nuanced one: No, if someone gets to the end of their life and dies horribly without friends and alone, all their accomplishments turning back on them and coming to naught, that person cannot be said to be blessed, no matter how successful they seemed earlier in life. Some external luck must play a role, but excellence, virtue can be developed, and it is virtue which ultimately makes a life blessed.

The key to Aristotle’s growth mindset is a proper conception of virtue or excellence (Greek areté) as an activity. The truly happy person finds fulfillment in the continual pursuit of excellence. As he explains,

“For no function of man has so much permanence as virtuous activities (these are thought to be more durable even than knowledge of the sciences), and of these themselves the most valuable are more durable because those who are happy spend their life most readily and most continuously in these; for this seems to be the reason why we do not forget them. The attribute in question, then, will belong to the happy man, and he will be happy throughout his life; for always, or by preference to everything else, he will be engaged in virtuous action and contemplation, and he will bear the chances of life most nobly and altogether decorously, if he is ‘truly good’ and ‘foursquare beyond reproach’.” (Book I, ch. 10)

Virtuous activities, for Aristotle, seem to be those physical, moral and intellectual virtues discussed throughout his Ethics, often described as a mean between two extremes: for instance, courage is a mean in having the right amount of fear, not too little (rashness) or too much (cowardice). Others, however, include the excellence of art, or skill in producing some good through a true course of reasoning; practical wisdom, or the ability to weigh correctly what things are good or beneficial for oneself; knowledge, or the ability to demonstrate the truth of something; and friendship (see Nic. Ethics VI.3-7 and VIII). In other words, the pursuit of excellence in school, work, business or relationships is the most likely course of action to bring about happiness.

And as he explains, part of the reason for that is that if you are seeing every opportunity as a chance to grow and improve in virtue (i.e. a growth mindset), then no matter what life throws at you, you will find satisfaction (eudaimonia) in that pursuit. Virtuous activities are durable sources of happiness, because they don’t flit away like less noble ones: money, sex, or power. There are very few circumstances, however challenging or disastrous, that don’t allow you the opportunity to contemplate or reflect on how you could improve. Even nobly bearing up under suffering is an exercise of virtue and will therefore give a measure of its own satisfaction.

One of the weaknesses of Dweck’s book is her narrow focus on success in specific life goals and endeavors, like school, sports or work, to the exclusion of this broader conception of the ultimate goal of a life well lived. But other researchers have made a stronger case for the connection between vigorous striving after excellence and happiness more broadly understood. For instance, the psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi conducted a study conducted in the 90s, in which subjects would subjectively rate their mood at random times throughout the day. Cal Newport describes in his findings in his own book Deep Work:

“The best moments usually occur when a person’s body or mind is stretched to its limits in a voluntary effort to accomplish something difficult and worthwhile…. Csikszentmihalyi calls this mental state flow (a term he popularized with a 1990 book of the same title). At the time, this finding pushed back against conventional wisdom. Most people assumed (and still do) that relaxation makes them happy. We want to work less and spend more time in the hammock.” (84)

The opposite is actually true; people rated their work time much higher than their leisure time, in spite of thinking that they enjoyed their leisure time more. As human beings we were made to be most joyful when striving in pursuit of excellence, when engaged in deep work, or deliberate practice. As the wise author of Ecclesiastes had said, “There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil” (Eccl. 2:24). Toil is not all pain and drudgery, but can actually be enjoyed… if we believe we can grow and see each task as an opportunity to strive for excellence.

What difference should this make for the work of education? Well, educators themselves should embrace the life of growth. Excellent teachers are not born, they are made. We should strive for excellence in the craft of teaching, but also for the practical wisdom of living life well. But more than that, teachers should cast a vision for their students of pursuing excellence in each and every ability, skill or type of knowledge that the curriculum calls them to. They should explicitly teach students to believe that they can develop their abilities, and learning activities and practice sessions should be framed so as to reinforce that belief. Teachers should aim to get their students willingly and joyfully engaged in the hard work of learning through inculcating a growth mindset. John Milton, in his tractate Of Education, described it this way:

“But here the main skill and groundwork will be, to temper them such lectures and explanations upon every opportunity as may lead and draw them in willing obedience, inflamed with the study of learning, and the admiration of virtue; stirred up with high hopes of living to be brave men, and worthy patriots, dear to God, and famous to all ages.”

Here Milton claims that the most important and foundational task of the educator of youth is to put them into a certain mindset: that of being on fire with a zeal for learning and with a deep appreciation for excellence. Students also need hope, “high hopes” that they can make something of their lives, by living in service to their country and to God, and perhaps even becoming so excellent at what they do that their names go down in history. If this isn’t a growth mindset, I don’t know what is.

At the school where I work (Clapham School) these ideas are reflected in part of our mission, which is to “inspire students with an education… approached with diligence and joy.” This attempts to capture the powerful combination of hard work in the pursuit of excellence and the deep satisfaction that is the natural result. We call it joyful discovery for short. How will this influence your life, learning and pursuits? How will you teach, coach or parent differently because of your newfound understanding of the classical growth mindset?

For more on the growth mindset see my article on “Charlotte Mason and the Growth Mindset” here!

References:

Aristotle. The Complete Works of Aristotle. The Revised Oxford Translation. Princeton, 1984. Also accessed at http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/nicomachaen.1.i.html.

Carol S. Dweck. Mindset: The New Psychology of Success. Ballantine: New York, 2016.

Cal Newport. Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World. Grand Central: New York/Boston, 2016.

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All classrooms and every subject should be a breeding ground for deliberate practice. Hear me correctly, though. Not all students (and maybe none of our students) in a given subject will go on to become experts in the field. However, they can acquire the core skills of deliberate practice in every subject, so that whatever path they choose, they can apply these skills in the pursuit of excellence. By incorporating these skills in my history class, for instance, I may expect to see my students apply deliberate practice as musicians, journalists, or mathematicians.

There are four essential components to deliberate practice. All of them are necessary if one is to see gains in a discipline.

#1: Repeat, Repeat, Repeat

The first component of deliberate practice is repeated rehearsal of a skill. Finding the right frequency is key here. Too much practice on a given skill can be just as detrimental as not practicing enough. It would be counterproductive to spend hours a day practicing scales on the piano, perhaps causing injury to the hands and wrists. How many scales ought to be done? Just enough to see improvement in a focused area, like the fluidity of finger movement.

The best way to get the frequency right is to set up a regular appointment to work on a given skill. Our class schedules often provide daily or weekly opportunities to drill down into a set of skills. Helping our students manage their out-of-school course work, though, may help them find optimal results. Same place, same time, same subject.

We need to be careful with this first component. It is all too easy to set up high frequency and think we are accomplishing something, when in fact all we are doing is a long series of empty work. Thus, the second through fourth components must be present within the rehearsal times we set up.

#2: Break It Down

Any skill can be divided into many smaller skills. Even the simple act of running can be broken down into components such as foot strike, kick, forward lean, hip rotation, head position, and arm swing to name a few. In my hermeneutics class, I break down for my students various constituent parts of the act of reading.

The second component of deliberate practice is breaking down concepts and skills into smaller pieces. Those smaller pieces can then be isolated and practiced with focused attention, energy and motivation.

Imagine being told to improve your writing. One could write more, lots more. But without first breaking down the task of writing into smaller parts, writing will be a frustrating endeavor with little improvement occurring. Instead, bad habits are likely to be reinforced. Being guided, however, toward making more concrete choices for your nouns, or using stronger active verbs, or expanding your vocabulary, or varying your sentence length gives the author specific, actionable items to work on each time writing is practiced. More can be accomplished through focused attention on a small part of the whole, than by trying to lift the whole by brute force.

Practically speaking, this means that in our regularly scheduled practice session, a choice needs to be made as to what specific sub-skill will be practiced. As teachers, we can provide for our students a specific area to work on for a given problem set or reading exercise. There are some master skills specific to each subject that have outsized impact on that area of knowledge. For instance, all of us have heard the math teacher encourage her students to show their steps for each problem. That’s because this is a master skill. Finding the few skills that enable a student to see massive improvement in a subject is a sure way to cultivate interest and participation within a class.

#3: Best Effort

In order to get the most out of practice, one must actively engage the will. When you picture an elite athlete working on drills, their level of intensity is what sets them apart from the weekend warrior joining a pickup game of soccer or basketball. Arnold Schwartzenegger once described his process for building muscle. He would intensely focus on a specific muscle before and during a lift. There was a mind-body connection made that enabled him to see significant gains as a bodybuilder. To see gains as a scholar, musician or athlete, this kind of intense connection needs to be cultivated.

This is the hardest, but most necessary component of deliberate practice. Will power, or motivation, can be weak in our students. Many authors have made the analogy between will power and muscle. Our wills can be trained, so that we develop stronger motivation. But we can also use up our strength as the day goes on. We can help our students to increase their will power, but we also need to be realistic about how long we can expect them to apply themselves with intensity. My suggestion is that episodes of deliberate practice occur in the classroom. As the adult in the room, we teachers (hopefully) have greater will power and can set the tone for the level of intensity we expect from our students. We become the coach motivating them through their mathematics drills, their writing exercises, their scales and arpeggios. The goal is for them to acquire the ability to reach this level of intensity on their own, but that might take time to internalize. But if they see results in the application of will power leading to gains in the subject area, the intrinsic reward will start to drive them.

#4: Aim High

The fourth component of deliberate practice is about setting our aim at improvement. The goal is not about completing assignments or covering all the material in a class, although completion and knowledge are important in their own right. The goal really boils down to human growth. Are we improving ourselves in some area? And even more importantly, are we identifying areas where improvement can occur?

Cultivating a growth mindset in the classroom can be difficult, especially where there is undue focus on grades, or where the class is perceived as a hoop to jump through prerequisite to some other course, job or qualification. The biggest hurdle that stands in the way of a growth mindset is fear of failure. The discomfort students feel when they fail could derive from a sense of shame, pressure they’ve put on themselves or others, or an overly competitive group dynamic. However, failure is necessary in order for growth to occur. Put another way, if our students are constantly succeeding, they are probably not encountering sufficient challenge to enact growth. Returning briefly to our example of bodybuilding, the bodybuilder will repeat a lift to the point of failure — meaning they can’t make another lift — which stimulates muscle growth. We can approximate this failure-growth connection by using feedback loops in our classrooms.

A feedback loop is a means of verbalizing and demonstrating a concept or skills that is either incorrect, not fully formed or could be taken to the next level. For example, showing students capitalization errors in their writing and bringing their focused attention to improving this area is a feedback loop. We can now connect them to regular practice on a discrete skill that requires their best effort. Students can be coached to find their own failures. Errors can also be anticipated before they occur. “Now class, where are we likely to make mistakes in this problem?”

Setting measurable goals is part of aiming high. We may have a long view toward perfect execution, but there may need to be incremental growth along the way. Setting these as measurable increments helps students track their own growth as well as celebrate their victories along the way (increasing motivation). If we are to learn all 100 vocabulary words by the end of the semester, maybe we set an increment of 10 per week. Runners training for their first marathon set incremental goals for the weeks of training, five miles this weekend, eight miles next weekend, get into double digits, build up to 20 miles, until one is ready to go 26.2 miles.

Now, we need to keep in mind that expert performance in the field of our subject area may not be possible for all of our students, let alone any of our students. So calibrating what it means for our students to aim high takes a deep understanding of the students in our classes. Helping them set goals is part of them internalizing how to enact deliberate practice. Remember, we are helping them acquire a transferable skill set. Our subject area is not really about our subject at all. It’s really an opportunity to practice deliberate practice. Of course, I’m overstating the case. Obviously there are standards related to history, mathematics, science, languages that need to be met. But we don’t want to be so short sighted as to think that growth in our area of knowledge is the only goal we’re aiming for.

Putting It All Together

I remember learning how to do effective practice when I was a music major. It began with committing myself to daily practice (repeat, repeat, repeat). Whenever I would mess up a measure, I would stop, and spend several moments just working the fingering of the sequence of notes (break it down). This passage was circled and repeated at intervals over the coming days. I would make sure I stopped the automatic mode of just making it through a piece, so that I would put my whole mind and effort into these challenging passages (best effort). Each time I improved a measure, my overall performance increased. I saw results in moving up in the section (aim high). My ambitions never really took me beyond college orchestra as a performer. But I learned a transferable skill that helped me excel in other areas, such a languages, biblical studies, history, and writing.

Learning to think well is just like learning music or basketball. Charlotte Mason writes about how deliberate practice enables children to develop habits of thinking:

How the children’s various lessons should be handled so as to induce habits of thinking, we shall consider later; but this for the present: thinking, like writing or skating, comes by practice. The child who has never thought, never does think, and probably never will think; for are there not people enough who go through the world without any deliberate exercise of their own wits? The child must think, get at the reason why of things for himself, every day of his life, and more each day than the day before.

Charlotte Mason, Home Education, pg. 153-154

Differentiation and Deliberate Practice

One of the challenges we face as educators is assisting students who lag behind the group or outpace the group. We usually place the laggers into extra tutoring and give the really smart kids extra work or try to accelerate their progress in that area. There’s good reason to consider these strategies. But one often unexplored strategy is to look at deliberate practice as a means to develop skills that will enable them to reflect on their own practice habits. Stragglers often lack the practice skills that will help them achieve forward movement in their studies. Instead of breaking down their workload, they become overwhelmed by the sense that they are behind their peers. Small victories can begin to build the momentum to see themselves catch up to the pack. The frontrunners can be tempted to skim the surface of their work, delighting in the thrill of gaining early access to new knowledge. Finding alternative goals to ripping through advanced levels of content, articulating goals such as perfect execution, or understanding concepts at a deeper level may help them to learn better practice habits. I’ve seen several intuitive learners come crashing down when they hit their first challenge, largely because they haven’t internalized the habits of deliberate practice.

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