A fascinating and yet easily misunderstood area of research is cognitive load theory. Our brains are set up with systems to retain and use vast amounts of knowledge, and yet they all have systems to reject as much unnecessary knowledge in order to conserve energy. By understanding brain functions as delineated in cognitive load theory, we can apply certain strategies aimed at effective learning. In this article we will set out the theory in basic terms and provide some practices that you can use in the classroom.

Cognitive Load Theory in a Nutshell

Our brains are high efficiency machines. They consume a lot of calories to do things like see in color, plan for the future and organize complex systems of information. If you’ve ever put in the effort to learn a new language, you can literally feel the energy your brain is consuming. For me, there’s a special kind of tired that goes with learning something new. The brain does a lot of work to manage its energy consumption by doing a lot of work up front to discard much of what it deems unnecessary. And this is what has lead to the conceptualization of cognitive load theory.

John Sweller, an educational psychologist at the University of New South Wales, originally launched his understanding of cognitive load theory in the 1980s. The idea is that instructional design should conform to the contours of the brain’s process of information gathering and information storing. In essence, the brain uses working memory to temporarily store information before moving the information it wants to keep into long-term memory. Studies have shown that working memory is quite limited in terms of the amount of information it can hold at one time. If the goal is to get the highest value information into long-term memory, then one has to deal with the limitations of working memory.

Alongside the model of information processing is the idea of perceived mental effort. The amount of effort it takes to get pieces of information into the working memory slots can tax the energy of the learner. For instance, if a student has, say, five slots available in their working memory and the teacher intends to have the class learn five pieces of information, there’s a good match between the effort it will take to get those pieces of information into the working memory slots. However, if there are other stimuli vying for attention, this can interfere with the slots available in the learner’s working memory. Obviously, a distracting environment with stimulating colors and noisy classmates can cause this kind of interference. Yet, even accounting for this, there are other kinds of interference based simply on the way the information is presented. If a learner has to expend energy just to sort out the information from the context it is embedded in, the energy stores of the learner may be depleted before ever putting the information into the working memory slots.

This kind of information gathering effort is referred to as cognitive load. Theorists break cognitive load into three categories: intrinsic, extraneous and germane. Intrinsic load pertains to the level of challenge associated with any given subject being learned. For instance, a math problem has its own intrinsic cognitive load due to the effort it takes to calculate each step. Extraneous cognitive load amounts to any aspects that are irrelevant to the thing being learned. Factors that contribute to extraneous load are poor layout of information, confusing explanations, distracting environments, topics that are tangential, and so forth. Some of these factors are unavoidable, but a teacher who can identify causes of extraneous load can help navigate a student towards the most pertinent topic at hand. Germane cognitive load has to do with the process of moving information into long-term memory by way of the working memory slots available. We could think of this as the neurons at work inside the brain.

There are two take aways from this very basic overview of cognitive load theory. First, when we are working with learners, the more we understand the pathway to long-term memory by way of working memory, we can begin to work with the brain instead of fighting against it. Simply knowing that working memory only has a few slots available makes us that much more aware of what it is we are trying to get into the young person’s brain.

Second, we need to come to grips with different kinds of effort. We should not be afraid of effort or challenge. In fact, as we will see below, we ought to be challenging our students because this is the pathway to growth. Instead, we need to be choosy about what kinds of effort we place in front of our students. It’s the old adage that we need to work smarter, not harder. Some educators who get fixated on the concept of “rigor” have difficulty with this. The perception that students are working hard meets the criteria of “rigor,” but we need to evaluate whether we are accepting wasted effort under the guise of “hard work.”

Reducing Effort through Chunking

The mind can only hold a few pieces of information at once in working memory. Some people with extremely adept working memory can hold up to seven pieces of information, but most people can only hold on average four pieces of information. In Uncommon Sense Teaching, the authors advise using “chunking” to compensate for the limitation of working memory:

“Most students can hold a maximum of four pieces of information in working memory at a time. When working memory can’t keep up, students shut down and tune out. Instead, break your content and skills into bite-size, digestible chunks.” (243)

Let’s illustrate this with a diagram. In the following diagram, the number of blocks is difficult to apprehend.

But with a simple reorganization of the blocks, we can chunk the information so that it is easy to know how many blocks there are.

You can easily see four groups of three blocks plus a group of two blocks to make fourteen blocks in total. The number of blocks didn’t change, but our ability to easily see a pattern did change. You may have felt the difference in mental effort trying to count the first disorganized set and the relative ease with which the “chunked” set could be counted.

Now think about other areas of knowledge from foreign language vocabulary words to scientific terms. If a student perceives these things as a disorganized set of random factoids, they have to spend an inordinate amount of mental effort to “push” this information into their heads. There is no “hook” to hang these things on. It feels arbitrary and that some amount of luck goes into retaining certain pieces of information. But if the student can have the information reorganized or “chunked” so that related concepts are linked together and attached to already known concepts, then there is far less organizational effort, and therefore all the brain effort can be allocated to assimilating the information.

There are two approaches to consider with chunking. The first approach is the teacher-chunked delivery method. This is particularly helpful when something is accessed for the first time. For those using a narration-based lesson plan, the “first little talk” is an excellent time to chunk concepts, lowering the barrier to access for what is about to be read and narrated. The second approach is the student-chunked receiving method. Here we teach students how to break things down. Helping students take something that might seem disorganized and reorganize it for themselves helps them to practice a skill that will enhance their future learning.

Good Effort, Bad Effort

One of the common misconceptions about cognitive load theory is that learners should not experience cognitive effort. This could not be further from the truth. Instead, we should think about how to maximize the effort of learning, distinguishing good effort from bad effort. We might think to ourselves after assigning fifty new vocabulary words that the effort being put in is automatically worthwhile because we want our students to learn how to meet rigorous challenges. However, if we haven’t put in the work ourselves to differentiate the types of effort that need to be put into the task of learning, then we might have just assigned a lot of bad effort, creating massive inefficiencies in student learning.

To get at this, we need to think about our goals. What is the aim we are looking for in learning this set of new vocabulary words? We might say it is to have good recall of the meaning of these words with the ability to use them regularly in the activities we will be doing over the next several weeks. Notice that the goal is not to spend hours pouring over a list of random words. If student effort is devoted to this latter goal, the student puts in maximal effort reading and rereading a list of words with low retention and usefulness. They experience frustration because they don’t have a sense of what this all means in the grand scheme of things. A wise teacher, though, understands that the goal is good recall and usefulness. So she puts in some initial work on behalf of the students to help group vocabulary words by way of synonyms, antonyms, common parts of speech, cognates, etc. The initial work that organizes the raw list into comprehensible units paves the pathway for students to put in more effective work when they review their vocabulary. In the coming classes, the teacher builds in practice not through rote memorization of the words, but by cuing these word groups, by asking for mnemonic devices, or by having them illustrate and act out the new vocabulary words. Their effort is directed towards the goal, making the effort highly productive and therefore more satisfying to the learner.

So, we are not talking about learning without effort. We are talking about learning with the best possible effort while eliminating as much as possible non-productive effort. Think of this as finding the pathway to cognitive efficiency. With this in mind, we can borrow from the world of high performance to consider what effective practice looks like. We could think of athletics or music in this sphere. When an athlete practices their running stride, free throw, or golf swing, doing lots and lots of practice without consideration of technique and correct form will only reinforce bad habits. The same goes for a musician working on the fingering of a difficult passage. Careful, slow progression on the most difficult sequences is how top musicians improve. It’s all about focused practice to improve the weakest areas and then deliberate concentration on high quality repetitions. This is challenging, but notice how it is efficient effort.

Effort-full Learning

Top athletes and musicians are able to perform actions marked by beauty, grace and elegance. It looks effortless. Behind these performances are hours of effort-full practice. Returning to the learning environment, we can model cognitive effort on insights gained from the world of high performance. We actually want our students to engage in effort-full activities that grow their capacity to know and think. Let’s explore a four approaches that can be used in the classical classroom.

First, we want to read the best books possible. Most of the best books have certain challenges in them, whether it is the complexity of the plot, density of language or philosophical ideas that require deep thinking. Charlotte Mason suggests that these books should be a feast of ideas that delight the reader and are deeply interesting. And yet there ought to be some heavy lifting involved as well. Think of the weightlifter who needs to consider how to maximize intensity by choosing a heavier load or additional reps. When thinking about cognitive load theory, we actually want there to be a good dose of intrinsic load in order to enhance the brain effort that will help the learner’s mind grow. And yet, we must clear away any extraneous load that would get in the way of the reader accessing the rich ideas in the text. Here I think of the “little talk” we train teachers to use in a narration-based lesson. The little talk is there to increase interest as well as clear any hurdles that might hinder the reader from making full use of the text. It is not about no-effort reading, but instead reading that is optimizing quality effort.

Second, coach students in what effective learning looks like. This gets into concepts of metacognition, where the learner understands for themselves how they learn. They can be introduced to effective strategies so that they choose for themselves processes that they find most effective in knowing and using what they learn in class. Take the idea of chunking in this article. This is a skill that can be learned and coached. Help students find patterns for themselves. Give them feedback and do debriefs where they work towards mastery in learning strategies.

Third, deliberate practice is a necessary condition of high performance. Therefore, we need to not be afraid of effort and challenge in our classrooms. Yes, we want to eliminate as much extraneous cognitive load as possible. However, our minds and bodies respond positively to challenging stimulus. The authors of Make It Stick spell this out beautifully when they write, “The effort and persistence of deliberate practice remodel the brain and physiology to accommodate higher performance” (184). In fact, what they advise is devising particular kinds of challenge to force the brain to encounter effort to enhance learning. These practices can be summarized with the phrases spaced practice, interleaved practice and retrieval practice. Each of these practices gives the brain a challenge to overcome the mechanism of dropping information out of working memory. By connecting to material in these ways, you are giving your brain opportunities to move information from working memory to long term memory. The authors of Make It Stick conclude their chapter where they introduce deliberate practice by stating, “It comes down to the simple but not less profound truth that effortful learning changes the brain, building new connections and capability” (199).

Finally, narration as a deliberate practice is one of the most effective and efficient ways to maximize attention and effort. A narration lesson is structured to eliminate extraneous cognitive load through the “first little talk” by simultaneously stimulating interest and by clearing any hurdles in what is about to be read. Then the reading of the text occurs in a manageable amount, what Mason called “an episode”—the ideal amount to pay attention well while also having some amount of challenge involved. Then the learner retells without looking, recalling what has just been read. This kind of challenge exercises working memory and gives an initial stimulus to start moving that knowledge into long-term memory storage. Narration is a pedagogical instrument that works well across the curriculum and can be utilized as an operating system to stimulate the effortful learning described in Make It Stick.

Bring the practice of narration to your school by having one of our trainers work with your faculty. Visit our consultation page to learn more and schedule your free 90-minute meeting to discuss how we can help your school achieve excellence.

The post 4 Tips to Optimize Effort in the Classroom: A Classical Education Take on Cognitive Load Theory appeared first on .

Up first is a volume written by Elaine Cooper entitled The Power and Neglected Voice of Charlotte Mason: A Coherent, Holistic Approach to Education for Our Times. Her thesis is many ways is captured by the two adjectives in the subtitle: coherent and holistic. I could see this book being a centerpiece for introducing parents and teachers to Charlotte Mason who may have only a passing acquaintance with her life and work due to the far-reaching scope of such a succinct volume.

Cooper has been at the heart of the Charlotte Mason revival since the 1970s, working alongside Susan Schaeffer Macaulay to establish the Child Light Trust to promote Charlotte Mason education in England. In 2004, Cooper edited the book When Children Love to Learn (Crossway), bringing together leading voices in the US and England to provide practical applications for Mason’s philosophy. Cooper was also involved in the start of Heritage School in Cambridge, England, which opened its doors in 2007.

Biography

Cooper begins her work with a succinct biography of Charlotte Mason. The contours of this biographical sketch of Mason follows the work of Margaret Coombs, who published Charlotte Mason: Hidden Heritage and Educational Influence in 2015. I appreciate how Cooper retraces the hidden childhood of Mason without dwelling on her birth out of wedlock or the potential influence either parent or their families might have had on her subsequent achievements. Mason rarely mentioned her upbringing, which could be due to her embarrassment of that upbringing. But equally, she could have just as easily viewed those years as irrelevant to the person she became as an educational thinker. To that end, Cooper’s sketch devotes the bulk of the section to her experiences in teacher training schools and posts at Birkenhead, London, Worthing and Chichester.

One of the important points Cooper brings out pertains to the collapse of the positivism of late Victorians progressivism. World War 1 had swept away much of this positivism, and with it many turned to modernist views of education. Cooper writes:

“But the horrors of the First World War and the disillusionment with western civilisation sent shock waves through society. Many educators and leaders at the time felt that old ways of thinking and doing needed to be swept away, and the new be emphatically implemented for the 20^th century. Mason’s educational vision and model for a full and abundant life binding knowledge and virtue and shaping Britain as a righteous nation no longer fitted in.” (19)

From this we may derive two insights. First, this factor demonstrates how in the height of Mason’s reach within British culture—she had established the House of Education in Ambleside, she was a respected author, moved in important circles in society, and a growing number of state schools were adopting her methods—she became almost anonymous and forgotten in history. It wasn’t due to a deficiency in her educational philosophy or pedagogical methods, but rather to a radical turning away from traditional values. A turn, one might add, that demonstrably was for the worse not only in Britain but throughout the world, as a Second World War so soon after the First would confirm.

Second, Cooper hints at the fact that Mason is well grounded in the liberal arts tradition. This is something that Cooper identifies at various points in the book. Many advocates for educational renewal, particularly in the classical educational landscape, doubt Mason’s compatibility with classical education. Cooper spells out that at a fundamental level, Mason shares convictions with proponents of a renewal of the liberal arts tradition.

Philosophy of Education

Cooper next develops Mason’s philosophy of education by highlighting the core tenets of her work as well as spelling out interactions she has with numerous other philosophers of education. She grounds Mason’s philosophy within a Christian perspective, meaning that Mason’s “understanding of the world and the person” fit squarely “within a Christian metaphysical framework” (22). I think this points to an aspect of the coherent and holistic approach Mason provides in her approach to education. In a modern world driven by technology and economic outcomes, grounding education in scripture and a vital connection to God is essential.

The singular foundation to Mason’s philosophy of education, according to Cooper, is the personhood of the child. After quoting Mason, who views the child’s mind as complete—“his mind is the instrument of his education and his education does not produce his mind” (Mason, Philosophy of Education, 36)—Cooper expands upon this view of the personhood of the child:

“In her view—Mason’s understanding of identity and personhood—someone, rather than something is located in the imago dei, bearing the image of a personal, creator God. Children are separate and complete beings even in their dependency, capable of reflecting some of God’s attributes. They have language and reason and imagination. Each one exists as a real physical and metaphysical entity—an embodied self, a spiritual being with a soul and the powers necessary to appropriate knowledge, beauty and goodness.” (Cooper 24)

Grounded in the biblical concept of the image of God, the personhood of the child means that we are not educating blank slates and manipulating them to become something of significance at a later stage in their lives. They are born with capacities to learn and grow, and thus our job is to provide suitable means for them to acquire knowledge and wisdom. The respect due to the child as a learner with a powerful mind well equipped to assimilate what is to be learned is not only a foundational aspect to Mason’s work, but sets her apart from other modern educational theorists. After quoting Martin Marty, University of Chicago professor, regarding the shortcomings of modern approaches to childhood education, Cooper concludes regarding the personhood of the child that there is a “need for thoughtful and critical evaluations of popular developmental and educational theories, suggesting there is much more to understanding the child and person than hitherto assumed.” (27)

To this end, Cooper segues into a series of educational theorists with whom Mason grappled in the development of her own educational philosophy. The list of interlocutors is substantial—John Locke, Johann Friedrick Herbart, Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi, Friedrich Fröbel, Maria Montessori, Herbert Spencer, and William James—and indicates a wide range of thought and power of mind on the part of Mason. Cooper’s development of each interaction is succinct yet helps develop in compelling ways Mason’s concern with “the increasing influence of intellectual rationalism and scientific reductionism flowing out from the Enlightenment.” (27) Seeing Mason in light of this series of educational theorists makes it difficult to simply categorize her as an educational reformer in the progressive mold of Rousseau or Dewey, and yet she is not merely a traditionalist unwilling to take on board, for instance, Pestalozzi and Fröbel’s insistence on the natural capacities of the child. In fact, Mason proved herself quite capable of incorporating modern research into psychology and neurology while also breaking the mold of traditionalist conceptions of class, making a liberal arts educational available to all.

A thorough educational philosophy relies not only on a the quality of the anthropology—a high view of the child in Mason’s case—but also on a sound epistemology. For Mason, the mind does not emerge as a property due to education, the mind is what acts upon knowledge to produce the education person. There is a “spiritual nature of mind” that “requires the food of ideas for its daily bread” (45). The mind is active and seeks out knowledge, according to Mason. This differs from the empirical views of philosophers such as Locke and Herbart who view children as empty slates or sacs to be filled with knowledge. Mason abhorred predigested information and desired children to read books full of living ideas that would feed not only the minds of children, but also form their character. The goal of education, therefore, is to give every opportunity for the child to experience the wide array of insights available in a rich and generous curriculum.

To that end, the qualities of the materials Mason sought to present to children are in keeping with the best cultural artifacts produced across generations. Cooper connects this with the classical liberal arts:

“Mason ([Philosophy of Education] 1925) was passionately concerned to education all pupils broadly in the classic, liberal arts tradition—‘the joy of the Renaissance without its lawlessness’ (p. 9)—a holistic tradition which could cultivate imagination and good habits, train judgement and engender wide interests, after which anyone would be able to master the intricacies of any profession. (Cooper 50)

Methodology

Having established the main contours of Mason’s educational philosophy, Cooper then develops the key elements of Mason’s educational methods. The two keystones here are narration and habit training. What I like about Cooper’s work here is that she connects the dots, so to speak, between philosophy and method.

For instance, with regard to narration—the ability “to individually narrate back, in their own words, what they had heard” after a single reading—Cooper connects narration to the power of the mind, or the high view of the child explored in Mason’s philosophy:

“Narration was founded on her belief in the intrinsic and natural power of mind, through attentive listening, to recall knowledge gained from a single reading or seeing or doing, and the fact that such direct recollection makes so deep an impression on the mind that it remains for a long time and is never entirely lost.” (60)

Thus, narration is an active outworking of the high view of the child. Not only do we view the child as capable of assimilating knowledge, we place those capabilities in the driver’s seat of the child’s learning. Cooper shares a delightful quote from Comenius, the Czech reformer and educational philosopher, “teachers shall teach less and scholars should learn more.” (61 quoting The Great Didactic (1907), 4). In other words, the energy of learning is rightly placed within the sphere of the child, rather than energies being wasted by a teacher who overprepares and overdelivers materials that the learner can access directly through living books.

Regarding habits, Cooper again connects method to the high view of the child. Each child is naturally equipped to follow certain pathways when the parent or teacher rightly guides them along those pathways. There are physical habits (cleanliness, tidiness), moral habits (obedience, kindness), and intellectual habits (attention, accuracy), which must actually make life easier for the child. The temptation exists for parents and teachers to consider these habits as burdensome and therefore neglect to properly instill them, yet worse habits will be fixed within the child, making life ultimately harder for the child.

The rich curriculum of living books gives feet to Mason’s epistemology since the mind craves living ideas. Cooper notes how these living books are “written in literary language” or in a “narrative style.” (63) Some of the hallmarks of a Charlotte Mason education are the inclusion of nature study, picture study, composer study, and architecture, all of which Cooper situates within the methods of Mason.

Conclusion

Cooper wraps up her volume by evaluating the legacy of Mason. As someone who has been part of the Mason revival, she suggests an exciting potential outcome in the flourishing of homeschools and schools that adopt her philosophy and methods:

“It is possible that widespread interest could spearhead both a faithful and contemporary understanding of her applied Christian philosophy of education, backed up by the practical evidence of thousands of children educated in over 300 of her schools and many home schools in early 20^th-century Britain and beyond.” (69)

I for one agree that this revival of interest in Mason is having profound effects in North America. I am grateful that Elaine Cooper has put this very readable book together. For anyone wanting a clear and concise overview of Mason, this book is essential reading. If you provide leadership at a school using Charlotte Mason’s philosophy and methods, this is a great book to give to new faculty as part of their onboarding.

The post A Coherent and Holistic Education: Book Review of Elaine Cooper’s The Powerful and Neglected Voice of Charlotte Mason appeared first on .

I recently read Slow Productivity: The Lost Art of Accomplishment Without Burnout by Cal Newport, which was fascinating for its practical application of this principle to the pseudo-productivity so common in our working world today. Emails, app channels, meetings, and looking busy dominate the landscape of office work, to the detriment, all too often, of not only true productivity, but also appropriate margin and work-life balance. While I found the book personally helpful and encouraging for school administration, I was also struck by the phrase “slow productivity” and its helpfulness for conveying the classical approach to our students’ work in school. 

In this series of short articles, I want to unpack Cal Newport’s principles for slow productivity and apply them, instead, to pedagogy at a K-12 classical school. My thesis is that teachers should guide students in the kind of slow productivity in school that optimizes durable learning and cultivates the intellectual virtues. But first we should uncover the analogous problem to our modern office woes. 

Like the office, too often modern educators are fooled by various types of pseudo-productivity that end up undercutting the goals of our educational programs. Time is filled up with “busywork” for students, we race through books regardless of their value for deep learning, and plan “learning activities” that actually undercut the development of genuine intellectual virtues while favoring ease of implementation for student and teacher alike. Minutes and hours crammed with edutainment (I can’t believe that’s even a word…) mirror the hustle and bustle of the office, with little to show for all this supposed productivity. 

What is going wrong here in educational terms? We are focused less on the quality of student work, than on the quantity of filling time with easy-to-apply learning activities. Worksheets, coloring sheets, entertaining educational videos, and flashy, lowest-common-denominator “literature” are filling up the precious educational hours of our students. The inevitable outcome of such fast and easy productivity is low quality and low expectations. What is lost on many modern educators is how all this twaddle and twaddling activities (I am borrowing and reapplying Charlotte Mason’s preferred term for poor quality, childish reading material…) is harming the development of our children. 

When we compare the educational value of, say, a student writing a paragraph or two in cursive of their own volition and drawn from their own memory of a rich text they have read, with any of the aforementioned activities, which are so common in modern education, we can see how much of modern education is best classified as pseudo-productivity. Considered from the vantage point of student attainment, filling out single word answers in a pre-packaged worksheet doesn’t hold a candle to the intellectual virtues honed and developed by, for instance, a written narration. Why is it that we settle for pseudo productivity at school? 

There are likely multiple culprits, but one of them has a similar origin to the historical backdrop of knowledge work pseudo-productivity that Newport describes in his book: the factory mindset. The idea of “productivity” itself rings of the revolution in efficiency brought about in the aftermath of the industrial revolution. As Newport explains, 

There was, of course, a well-known human cost to this emphasis on measurable improvement. Working on an assembly line is repetitive and boring, and the push for individuals to be more efficient in every action creates conditions that promote injury and exhaustion. But the ability for productivity to generate astonishing economic growth in these sectors swept aside most such concerns. (17-18)

Efficiency experts like Frederick Winslow Taylor applied this science in factory settings to great effect. Such gains captured the imagination of the world, including managers of knowledge workers and educational leaders and curriculum designers. The problem is that assessing or judging quality ended up being so much trickier in the knowledge and learning sectors.

This lure of efficiency is part of why Bloom’s Taxonomy often ends up backfiring in a management-centered approach to education. The efficiency of systems of grading, quick completion of “assignments” and tying “learning activities” to standards crowd out the need for careful judgment and high standards. Even if Bloom’s Taxonomy was intended to push educators toward more complex cognitive skills on the hierarchy, it is nevertheless possible to make students perform an easy or shallow “synthesis” task, as it is a knowledge task. Narration as a complex and multifaceted “learning activity” might seem to rank as merely a knowledge task, but it engages the creativity, memory and artistry of the student, while solidifying their understanding of the new story or history they encountered. 

Bloom’s Taxonomy has tried to treat knowledge work in school, just like steps in an assembly line. One part at a time, building up to higher levels of complexity. The only problem is that the brain and knowledge work, simply do not work best like that; isolating bits of information and steps in tasks to their lowest or most basic level (except at the very beginning of something new) can tend to stereotype and bore the minds of our students. They race through “material” without really learning or understanding it, and quickly forget the little that they have learned. Slow productivity in school is the only real productivity.

Cal Newport defines the solution to pseudo-productvity as slow productivity, explaining it as 

“A philosophy for organizing knowledge work efforts in a sustainable and meaningful manner, based on the following three principles:

1. Do fewer things.
2. Work at a natural pace.
3. Obsess over quality.” (41)

In the following articles of this series, we’ll unpack each of these three principles and see how they might apply to student work in school. In the meantime, share in the comments section how you have seen pseudo-productivity invading modern schooling, as well as any ideas or proven methods for ensuring student work is deep and of high quality.

The post Slow Productivity in School, Part 1: The Problem of Pseudo-Productivity appeared first on .

Mason reflects, after years of implementation both in homes and schools, the result of narration for students:

“Oral teaching was to a great extent ruled out; a large number of books on many subjects were set for reading in morning school-hours; so much work was set that there was only time for a single reading; all reading was tested by a narration of the whole or a given passage, whether orally or in writing. Children working on these lines know months after that which they have read and are remarkable for their power of concentration (attention); they have little trouble with spelling or composition and become well-informed, intelligent persons.” (Charlotte Mason, Towards a Philosophy of Education, 15)

Narration is a curious tool for the educator, since it is fairly expansive in its forms and uses. As we endeavor to look at narration from the perspective of its application in science, we must understand that narration can be of different sorts and utilize different thinking processes. Students can draw, dramatize, describe, discuss, or diagram. They can evaluate, compare and contrast, list, question, and chart. If we view narration as a means of assimilating knowledge through actively retelling in any number of ways. When we first learn narration from Mason’s writing, we tend to lock into a mode of simple retellings of narrative texts. But as we work with students at older ages and grade levels, these more complex thinking skills can and should be incorporated into their retellings.

I think it is helpful to visualize narration as situated on a spectrum from memorization on one end and summary on the other end. Narration fits somewhere in between these two. What exactly narration is can be differentiated from the two alternatives. When a student encounters the text, their narration is not a rapid memorization of the text. True, memory plays a significant role, but we are not listening for a word-for-word memorization of the text. Similarly, narration is not mere summary. A student who shares, “the text basically says such and such,” has not actually narrated. There is no rich retelling of the text, but a boiling down into something that is too distilled. Within this range from memorization to summary, there is much scope to develop cognitive and affective skills in students’ retelling.

To spell this out further, I think it instructive to look at Mason’s thoughts in her third book, School Education. Here she develops the basic method of narration within a school context. She insists upon a single reading of the text with full attention:

“The simplest way of dealing with a paragraph or a chapter is to require the child to narrate its contents after a single attentive reading,––one reading, however slow, should be made a condition; for we are all too apt to make sure we shall have another opportunity of finding out ‘what ’tis all about.’” (Charlotte Mason, School Education, 179)

One reading! That’s it! Notice how sensitive Mason is to the pacing this requires. In some cases, one can take on an entire chapter of material, but in others a paragraph only. She also uses the word “slow,” which indicates that at times the density of materials requires deliberation and concentration. If students expect that they can wait for a second reading, their ability to attend at the initial reading decreases. In fact, waiting for a second exposure to the materials – which may feel like a means of reinforcing learning – is not nearly as effective as learners might think. The authors of Make It Stick point out that singular readings followed by retrieval practice is the optimal process for learning. “Today, we know from empirical research that practicing retrieval makes learning stick better than reexposure to the original material does” (Make It Stick 29).

Continuing on with Mason’s more elaborate thoughts on narration, she writes:

“There is much difference between intelligent reading, which the pupil should do in silence, and a mere parrot-like cramming up of contents; and it is not a bad test of education to be able to give the points of a description, the sequence of a series of incidents, the links in a chain of argument, correctly, after a single careful reading.” (Charlotte Mason, School Education, 180)

What we find here is a recognition that the older student reads texts of different sorts. There are philosophical and political treatises, chronicles of historical events, and descriptions within scientific texts. The way we narrate these kinds of texts can take the form of outline and description.

“But this is only one way to use books: others are to enumerate the statements in a given paragraph or chapter; to analyse a chapter, to divide it into paragraphs under proper headings, to tabulate and classify series; to trace cause to consequence and consequence to cause; to discern character and perceive how character and circumstance interact; to get lessons of life and conduct, or the living knowledge which makes for science, out of books; all this is possible for school boys and girls, and until they have begun to use books for themselves in such ways, they can hardly be said to have begun their education.” (Charlotte Mason, School Education, 180)

The simple narrations of the elementary years are but the beginning of the ways we can utilize the power of narration. Students who are able to be tested in their telling back by incorporating these thinking skills become powerful learners. It matters not what books are placed before them. They apprehend not only the contents of the text, but also have the means of working with what they are acquiring as they are assimilating it.

Inspirational vs Disciplinary Subjects

The next idea we must delineate pertains to the nature of different subjects. Some are what we might call inspirational, meaning they are rich in ideas that are generally delivered in a literary form. For example, history tells stories about people and events from the past. Other subjects are disciplinary in nature, meaning that there is a focus on developing skills. Grammar and mathematics are two such subjects where students are trained to identify parts of speech or to work mathematical problems.

Over the years, I have developed the view that subjects tend toward either an inspirational or disciplinary nature. While literature is predominantly inspirational in nature, there are times when literary texts are analyzed for characterization or plot devices. The analytical tools are, of course, disciplinary in nature. So we can say that there are moments within inspirational subjects where skills are developed along disciplinary lines.

Mathematics, which tends to be highlighted as the chief disciplinary subject, can be a highly inspirational subject. There ought to be times when mathematical ideas are explored for their philosophical and aesthetic inspiration. For instance, I have led students in a discussion about the nature of the number zero. Zero means nothingness, and we delight in the idea that there is no place in the universe where zero exists, and yet everywhere in the universe, zero exists.

What we mean by subjects tending towards an inspirational or disciplinary nature, then, is that by and large, the mode we are operating in is one or the other. Even when we incorporate disciplinary or skills-based elements into inspirational subjects, or explore living ideas within disciplinary subjects, each subject can be generalized as one or the other. This is helpful because it shows us the modes we ought to operate within for each kind of subject. For instance, in inspirational subjects, we will largely be reading texts that are literary in nature, while in disciplinary subjects, we will be learning skills to accomplish certain kinds of work.

With this background in mind, we should note that science has both inspirational and disciplinary aspects to it. Charlotte Mason quotes Sir Richard Gregory, a leading British astronomer and scientist in her day, “The essential mission of school science was to prepare pupils for civilised citizenship by revealing to them something of the beauty and the power of the world in which they lived, as well as introducing them to the methods by which the boundaries of natural knowledge had been extended. School science, therefore, was not intended to prepare for vocations, but to equip pupils for life” (Philosophy of Education 222). For Mason, science contains both living ideas as well as techniques and methods that are carried out in field study and the laboratory. It contains a rich history that ought to be accessed through texts of literary quality. Yet science also contains the language of mathematics to calculate measures and processes.

Because of the dual nature of science, we need to expand our notion of narration beyond what we might consider the basic retelling of a narrative. In certain moments, there are narratives of great scientists whose stories tell of significant breakthroughs and advances in science. These moments will call forth a very recognizable type of narration as is found when a young child retells a tale from a story book. Yet there are other moments when a text delves into the intricacies of chemical change, the structures within a cell, or the formulas that are applied to motion. These cause the young reader to slow down and take in smaller portions at a time. Thus, the narrations become much more focused. They must assimilate the technical terminology fitting to the subject. They must be able to reproduce calculations that are properly formatted according to the conventions of a given scientific field. In such cases, there are moments when narration involves listing, outlining, defining, describing, illustrating and diagramming. These acts of knowing, then, form the means by which students assimilate and work with what they are learning.

A science curriculum that has become well loved amongst classical as well as Charlotte Mason educators is the Novare series written by John Mays. It’s a series of science texts that is sensitive to the dual nature of science by including sufficient historical context, that students can pick up on the narrative of science, while also cultivating the skills required to use mathematics, the language of science. I think it is instructive to consider some of the pedagogical principles Mays lays out, since they are in alignment with what we have described about the developing role of narration for older students in more technical subjects like science.

Mays is a big advocate for retrieval practice. At a number of points in his book From Wonder to Mastery, he reiterates the value of regular retrieval practice. For the younger years, narration is a natural practice as the texts we can access retain a narrative flair and literary quality. For instance, students can cultivate wonder by reading nature stories such as That Quail, Robert by Margaret Stranger. There are fascinating books that are image rich and accessible to young readers such as A Drop of Water by Walter Wick or the books in the “Scientists in the Field” series. There’s a wonderful series on the history of science called The Story of Science produced by the Smithsonian and written by Joy Hakim. All of these prepare elementary and middle school students for learning science alongside subjects such as nature study which gets them outside observing the natural world around them. Mays includes a list of books by great naturalists that likewise will expose older students to a rich world of authors who observed the natural world and wrote their findings in a literary style (see From Wonder to Mastery, 49).

As proponents of retrieval practice, the methods that Mays advises for science teachers are in the main quite sound. Jason Barney in A Classical Guide to Narration spells out the connection between narration and retrieval practice.

“Retrieval practice is not just what you do in studying for a test, though it is the most effective way to do that. It is the process of learning itself because it requires your brain to re-access the neural networks that were originally lit up as you were attending to that material.” (Jason Barney, A Classical Guide to Narration, 33)

And this is exactly what narration is, a process of “re-accessing” the material. And what this looks like in science is lots of regular short reviews. The ideas and calculations of science require effort and practice on the pathway towards mastery. I really like how Mays recommends an atmosphere of mastery. He writes, “Every single day in your class should be a mastery experience for your students” (185). Thus, taking moments to do short-form narrations of scientific concepts goes a long way towards shaping and molding students in the ways of scientific thought.

An Example Lesson from Novare

I think it is helpful to see how one would use narration with an example from an actual text. The following image is from page 107 in General Biology published by Novare (this is one of the pages from their sample pages available for free preview at Classical Academic Press).

Looking at this passage, you can see how the text already breaks the content down to small and accessible episodes. I would provide a “small talk” by listing the four reactions on the board. We would read carefully and closely the first paragraph one time and then turn the book over. My narration cue would be simply to say, “tell me what you recall about glycolysis.” One student might share that it means “sugar breaking” and that a small amount of ATP is released. Then I call for another student to add more to the picture, and that student says that a six-carbon molecule is broken down into a 3-carbon molecule. Another student might say that an electron is carried by a molecule, but can’t remember the name. Then the first student remembers that it was a NADH molecule. By this point, much of the paragraph has been narrated by what we would call a string narration. Now I can have the text turned back over, and I ask the students, “what did we miss?” They can see that the 6-carbon molecule is a glucose molecule and the 3-carbon molecule is an acid. In a few minutes we have accomplished a great deal to assimilate the knowledge of glycolysis and can move to oxidation of pyruvate.

Another narration technique we could use is to spend a few minutes closely observing the illustration at the bottom of the page. After those few minutes, we turn the text over and take out our white boards and dry-erase markers. I ask them to draw the illustration labelling as many items as they can remember on their own. Then I have them compare their illustration with their table partner, filling in any information they left out. Again, in very short order, they have assimilated a considerable amount of knowledge in a short amount of time.

Taken all together, this page might take an entire 45-minute lesson to get though all four reactions and the illustration. The next lesson begins with some guided questions to recall details from the text and the illustration, which might come in the form of a short quiz taking five to eight minutes. The retrieval practice is challenging but reinforces much of the information they need to know about how cells create energy.

Hopefully this deep dive into narration as it relates to science helps you deepen your understanding of the method of narration. Even if you don’t teach science, the skills described here are easily applicable to other subjects that contain detailed prose. The point is that narration is a sophisticated tool that can grow in complexity and nuance as students rise through the grade levels.

Training the Prophetic Voice by Dr. Patrick Egan is a must-read for classical Christian educators seeking to build a robust rhetoric program. Grounded in biblical theology, this insightful book provides a framework for developing students’ prophetic voices – the ability to speak with wisdom, clarity, and conviction on the issues that matter most.

As an experienced educator, Dr. Egan understands the vital role rhetoric plays in shaping the next generation of Christian leaders. Through time-tested principles and practical guidance, he equips teachers to cultivate students who can articulate the truth with passion and purpose.

Whether you’re looking to revitalize your existing rhetoric curriculum or lay the foundation for a new program, Training the Prophetic Voice is an invaluable resource. Discover how to empower your students to become effective communicators, courageous truth-tellers, and agents of transformation in their communities and beyond.

Order your copy of Training the Prophetic Voice today and unlock the power of your students’ voice in your classroom.

The post The Narration-based Science Lesson appeared first on .

Imagination. The word brings so much to mind for us today. If there’s one thing that everybody can agree on for children, it’s the need to help them develop a vivid imagination through school, play, and well… everything they do. Or perhaps, ‘develop a vivid imagination’ is the wrong way of putting it.

“Every child is born blessed with a vivid imagination,” said Walt Disney. “But just as a muscle grows flabby with disuse, so the bright imagination of a child pales in later years if he ceases to exercise it.”

So maybe it’s not children who need to develop an imagination, it’s us adults who need to rekindle it. 

Maybe the problem is school. Maybe we’re the ones who educate students out of imagination and creativity, as Sir Kenneth Robinson has claimed. In a TED talk from 2007, entitled “Do Schools Kill Creativity?” he argued that we have rethink schooling entirely for our new era because of how our organized structures of school only focus on one type of “academic achievement.” This has become a popular idea and might be connected to another recent movement in education: Howard Gardner’s idea of multiple intelligences. There isn’t just IQ, but other imaginative and creative areas of intelligence that traditional schooling disregards or at least categorizes as not as valuable. In addition to verbal and mathematical intelligence (which are often prominent in standardized testing), Gardner posits that there are visual-spatial, bodily-kinesthetic, musical, interpersonal, and other intelligences. The multiple intelligences theory has had its critics. One article said,

Gardner’s theory has come under criticism from both psychologists and educators. These critics argue that Gardner’s definition of intelligence is too broad and that his eight different “intelligences” simply represent talents, personality traits, and abilities. Gardner’s theory also suffers from a lack of supporting empirical research…. Despite this, the theory of multiple intelligences enjoys considerable popularity with educators. Many teachers utilize multiple intelligences in their teaching philosophies and work to integrate Gardner’s theory into the classroom. (see Gardner’s Theory of Multiple Intelligences (verywellmind.com))

Some parts of this idea resonate with a postmodern retreat from any standards in education. Everyone has their own special intelligence area, no matter plummeting math and reading scores. Perhaps there’s also a fair bit of sentimentality about childhood in our talk about imagination. But on the other hand, many of these other types of intelligence that Gardner proposed are staples of the classical tradition: music, gymnastic, the prudence to engage with other people in the human world, and the rhetorical skills to persuade and communicate well interpersonally. Maybe Gardner is just repackaging lost arts of the classical tradition as a new psycho-educational theory. Of course, we’ve all probably felt in our own lives how the drudgery of school or work or daily life can seem to socialize us out of imagination and our creative intelligences. 

But it’s not just one side of the aisle that is saying we need to reinvigorate education and modern life with imagination. Anthony Esolen, a conservative Catholic professor and social commentator, wrote a witty book entitled, 10 Ways to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child. It’s written kind of like C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters, with biting irony showing us what not to do. For Esolen the culprits of our loss of imagination actually is the result of our anti-traditionalism. It’s because we’ve lost or abandoned things that progressives would decry, like the power of memory in school, or because we are “effacing the glorious differences between the sexes.” We’ve lost traditional childhood games, and won’t let kids pick their own teams anymore. We overly separate children from the adult world, and we deny the existence of transcendent and permanent things, we also keep children indoors too much because we’re afraid of them getting dirty or hurting themselves. (I rely partly on Justin Taylor’s review on the Gospel Coalition for this assessment.)

To his list from over a decade ago we could add a host of growing modern phenomena:

• Overstimulation through media
• Over scheduling in “activities” and lack of free play
• Loss of fairy tales and quality imaginative literature in school
• Focus on career prep, practicality, STEM, standardized testing and grades

So perhaps we can land on a thesis with surprising contemporary agreement: we need more imagination in childhood and in school. But our agreement may be only surface deep, as the devil really is in the details.

What is imagination anyway? How do we cultivate it? What might Christianity and the classical tradition have to say about the matter? I hope to open the discussion for us of some of these very big and daunting questions. First, we’ll discuss what imagination is and how we use our imaginations all the time in all sorts of ways. Second, we’ll consider how we can cultivate the imagination in our classes and subjects, before concluding that a well-developed Christian imagination should be an important goal of our schools. 

What Is Imagination?

First, let’s try to answer the question “What is Imagination?” It’s one of those terms we’re happy to use all the time, but I’m not sure anyone really knows what we’re talking about. Is it just another word for creativity? Or is it a faculty of the human mind? Is imagination just something we use at Disneyland, or when reading fantastical literature, or is it more far reaching than that? Well, I think the latter in both cases. The imagination is an ability of ours as human beings that deeply informs who we are, how we think, and how we live and relate to others, even if we don’t consider ourselves a very imaginative person. 

When I am trying to define important ideas like this, I often go to Aristotle, that great philosopher, at least as a starting point. Avid readers of Educational Renaissance will no doubt be laughing here, because have been writing on Aristotle’s intellectual virtues for a few years already. But you will remember that, no, imagination is not one of the intellectual virtues, and I’m not about to make it one. I don’t even think the imagination is mentioned in Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics… but I was reading Aristotle’s De Anima (“On the Soul”) this summer for a series on The Soul of Education and having unthinkingly assigned myself the absurd task of imagining up a talk on imagination some months ago for the ACCS Endorsed Teacher Training Workshop at Coram Deo Academy (where I serve as Principal), I happily happened upon a passage where Aristotle does in fact define imagination. And I think his definition actually helps us as educators to understand what we’re really after for our students.

The word ‘imagination’ in English pretty clearly features the word ‘image’ in it. And Aristotle roughly defines it as the faculty of bringing images before the mind. In Greek the word is phantasia which comes from a word for light and vision, having a similar idea. It’s the ability to bring pictures before your mind that you are not currently seeing or experiencing; in fact, for Aristotle, it could be more than just pictures, it could include other senses like smells or sounds. It is not sense or memory, because if imagination were just limited to what we were experiencing or had experienced, it would be very limited. The very power of imagination is that we can blend and expand on those things we have seen or experienced from our memories, creating something new. It is a synthetic faculty, bringing together disparate things to make of them something that did not exist before. In that sense, imagination is not like the intellectual virtues which for Aristotle are always true, it’s not knowledge or understanding, because those can’t be false but imagination can be. We can have “vain imaginations” as scripture says, but we can also have the glorious imaginings of faith, where we walk precisely not by our sight.

I hope you can see that on this definition, imagination actually looms larger in education than Disney could have imagined. Imagination is connected to memory, creative production and thought. It is like a master faculty of the human mind that underlies all sorts of more developed intellectual abilities. On this definition, then, I would assert that Disney’s claim that children are born with a vivid imagination is plainly false. Children are certainly born with an imaginative ability that they will naturally use as human beings, but it’s only the trained and developed imagination of the great painter or artist, engineer or writer, that is vivid and alive to its full potential. 

It certainly is possible that children would begin to disuse their imaginative and creative abilities in some areas through traditional schooling, but it is likewise true that they are learning to imagine in ways that they never could have on their own, if it weren’t for us. J.R.R. Tolkien did not lose his imagination by learning Latin and Greek and old English and history. It was the store of memories that he gained through his studies that allowed him to build a compelling imaginative world that arguably exceeded the depth and breadth of any imaginative writer before him. 

I use the example of Tolkien because I think it illustrates the point well. But I think there is a real danger in limiting our view of imagination to fantastical literature only. Imaginations of all different sorts underlie all of the subjects that we teach and in fact our very lives. I mentioned before the possibility of good or bad imaginations. Scripture would teach us to consider that some human imaginings are fleshly, worldly and stereotyped, while others might be spiritually led and philosophically grounded. Aristotle himself asserts that “imagination may be false.” 

This brings us to the first and perhaps the most important point for us to remember as classical Christian educators about the imagination. The imaginings of the heart may be deceitful, they may lead us astray. This is so important to know as we are shepherding our students morally and spiritually. But it is also key academically. The problem in science or math or history class may be that the students imaged into their own mind an inaccurate representation of the truth that we are trying to teach them. We must work with them to correct the picture that they think they know and help them imagine appropriately. Often, this entails going back to the source images, storyline, details. We have to get them to talk out and explain the picture they have in their minds, so that we can surgically assist them in altering it. This process can be difficult; it’s more difficult if we aren’t even aware of how things went wrong. This is also why getting the initial exposure of the vision of some truth right is so important: it’s easier to teach something the right way first, than to struggle with trying to reteach again and again and again.

But before we go too far into applications of this understanding of the imagination, we need to pause and detail just how broad this faculty of imagining really is. A few weeks ago my dad was visiting us from California. And I asked him what he thought about the imagination. My dad is a Christian therapist or counselor, so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that he immediately brought up the role of the imagination in mental health and addiction. He talked about how in dealing with challenging and painful circumstances, healthy individuals are able to, in some sense, escape or find positive refuge in imagining a calm and peaceful environment of some kind. He teaches his clients to do this. It made me think of a poem by William Wordsworth that I memorized in high school and taught in some of my first years of teaching:

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Did you catch that last stanza? Seeing this pleasant nature scene provided Wordsworth with a type of wealth, that he could then recollect, imagine again to himself afresh when in “vacant or in pensive mood.” He had gained the ability to cheer his heart against the trials of life. This is part of what our children miss, when they don’t have time in nature.

So, there is this positive role that imagination plays for aesthetics, for quality of life, and even for developing good taste for the higher pleasures. This is part of what a rich classical education is meant to give our students. But negatively, my dad also discussed the role of the imagination in addiction, how addicts will imagine to themselves beforehand the satisfaction of their desire. This shows us that the imagination is a moral and spiritual faculty, that requires self-control and training to focus on, to think on, as Paul says, “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise” (Phil 4:8). The content of our and our students’ imaginings matters and it’s not something we should leave up to chance. Charlotte Mason, the British Christian educator of the late 19th century, also discusses the positive moral value of giving students a vital relationship with every area of knowledge. Without this, human beings are more easily a prey to the lower and immoral pleasures on offer in our world.

In addition, imagination plays a role in living a prudent and virtuous life through our ability to imagine possible futures. Through imagination we can anticipate the negative consequences of our actions. While we can’t know the future, we can envision potential futures playing themselves out based on how we act and how we would imagine others to act in response. We can also imagine where we want to go in our lives, in our organizations, and we can develop an ideal vision of the future that can serve as our NorthStar while working out the day-to-day realities that befall us. This is how imagination plays in to the intellectual and moral virtue of prudence, both for individuals and for groups of people. We can only act prudently for our own good when we can imagine what will be good for us.

For this to happen our memories need to be stocked with real-world experiences and surrogate experiences through literature and history. This is why the saying, “Those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it,” has such cache. But reading itself requires imagination for true understanding. We must actively picture to ourselves what we are reading about. Reading is not a passive experience. And in fact, one of the great strengths of reading over more entertainment-focused media, like the screen, is that the mind must do more work to imagine to itself a vision of the content read. Don’t get me wrong! Children can’t picture to themselves what they’ve never seen. But passive entertainment does not stoke a child’s imagination. Reading aloud is a lost art, and we should help students develop their imagination through lots and lots of practice.

How can we cultivate imagination in our classes and subjects?

Well, we can begin by ruling out some things. We don’t cultivate this active faculty of the imagination through iPads, screens, videos, and edutainment. These are crutches for the imagination. It’s not that children should never experience the delights of video; images delight the mind and can help to stock the memory, but if all their imaginative work is done for students, this will not give them the practice of drawing from their own stock of memory to creatively render ideas to themselves through their imagination. Everything in its place. Our world has no lack of exposure to images by way of screen. So instead, we want to provide for them the vibrant life-giving materials of a Christian and true imagination, and engage the memory, then prompt creative production with true, good and beautiful models. The key here is that students do not have everything handed to them on a silver platter, but just enough to get their minds going. We don’t want to overstimulate. 

So what should we do? Well, parents should provide their children with hours of uninterrupted imaginative play. This provides children with the possibility of imaginative flow. We all know how detailed imagination and creativity take time and thought. If every minute of every day is schedule for children, there is no margin, no open space for this. While much of this applies to parenting and not teaching, schools too should beware of the modern temptation to fill every minute and pack every afternoon and evening with sports and extracurriculars. We have a tendency as a culture to believe that more is always better. Chris Perrin of Classical Academic Press has been keen to remind us that the origin of the word ‘school’ is the Greek word ‘schole’ which meant leisure. Often we are going at anything but a leisurely pace at school, and this has negative ramifications for children’s imagination. 

At the same time, this fact about imagination helps be on our guard against some modern ideology around attention span. When pundits claim that a child of a particular age only has a 10 minute or 15 minute attention span, we should be incredibly skeptical. That same child could be glued to the TV for hours on end, exercising perfect attention. Or that child could spend hours at the craft table with crayons and scissors and nothing but his vivid imagination. And yes, the child might struggle to attend to a new and abstract concept in math for which he has not been given any concrete or pictorial representations. Attention span for children is not a fixed entity. It is possible that if your students are struggling to attend that you have not set up the knowledge in such a way as to engage their imagination. 

How else can we cultivate the imagination? Well, I mentioned reading aloud, and so I would be remiss as the author of A Classical Guide to Narration not to call for the narration of classical literature after one reading aloud. If you didn’t know, narration is a practice where students are asked to tell back in detail after a single reading of some rich text. Instead of summarizing or analyzing, the student who narrates has to imaginatively relive the text as he tells it all back point by point. It’s this imaginative recreation of a story or description or explanation that seals this new knowledge in long term memory and engages the imaginative powers of the student. It will over time help students develop a rich verbal and linguistic imagination. 

In order to help students do this well as part of our lessons we should be sure to prepare them for the rich text that will be the main feature of each new lesson. For example, we can set up the reading by providing them with the right images of real plants, animals, buildings, geography, or items, that are featured in the text. We want them to understand it, and so we should provide them with the vivid images that will make sense of the story or scientific explanation. They will naturally then use those images as they narrate the text in front of the class or to a partner later on. 

Another important way to develop the imagination of our students is through Artwork Study, or Picture Study, Charlotte Mason called it. The idea is to place before students the pictures, paintings and artwork of our greatest artists from down through the ages. Give them a couple of minutes to take it all in quietly. Turn the reproduction over. Then have students recount as many details as they can before discussing it. This does not require special training in art or art history to do. We can stock the memory and learn the language of our great visual artists and in this way develop the visual imagination of our students. I could go on to talk of nature study and natural history outdoors. Learning to name the plants and animals in our own area is a wonderful way to start, as is basic sketching of our findings in a nature journal during our excursions.

Of course, we don’t want to leave out geometry and spatial reasoning, as if there were not an imagination proper to mathematics. This calls for a slow, deliberate movement from concrete to pictorial to abstract. In other words, whatever curriculum we use we should be sure as teachers to provide the imagination with the raw materials it needs in the proper order or sequence. Artistry in any area requires a detailed vision of what could be. We want to help students gain the developed imagination of design thinking and engineering. This may in fact be why we value manipulatives and scientific experiments, because they help lead to a mathematical and scientific imagination.

A Christian Classical Imagination

All this seems to follow from the fact that the imaginative faculty is responsible for bringing new images to our minds from the storehouse of our memory. Integration and synthesis are the acts of the creative imagination. This imagination is a far-reaching master faculty of the mind, and we would do well to recognize how crucial it is to cultivate it in school.

So I conclude that a Christian imagination and a well-informed classical imagination, trained in the liberal arts and sciences, fed on the Great Books and Great Conversation, full of true, good and noble ideas, is a if not the major outcome that we are seeking in our sort of education. We want our students to be imaginative in this sense.

In Mere Christianity C.S. Lewis wrote something striking about what it means to be original that has stayed with me. He said,

“Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.”

I think that what Lewis said of originality applies to how we think about cultivating the imagination in school. Imaginative expressions should aim at truth-telling. The best developed imagination, originality itself, actually comes from submission to the truths of the Great Tradition, of Christianity first and foremost, but also the best that has been thought, said, written, painted, composed, experimented before us. 

The post The Role of Imagination in Education appeared first on .

To prepare for a launch year, there are a number of elements for school founders to discuss, care for, and organize into a cohesive plan. These elements, many of which are minute, taken individually may at times feel trivial, disconnected, and unimportant. The truth is, however, these factors and logistics combine to form not simply a plan, but a culture. If school cultures are made up of the habits and routines that together form a school’s identity, then these elements are nothing less than the invisible glue that holds the broader school culture together.

In this article, I am going to suggest five elements new schools want to get right regarding specifically their faculty culture on Day 1. While there are just about a million things founding school leaders could prioritize when building their team of faculty, these five elements will strategically position the school to cultivate a great faculty culture throughout its first year of operation.

1. General Expectations

This is the least inspiring of the elements, so I will address it first. The truth is that any functional work environment requires clarity and accountability regarding the basic expectations all employees will be held to fulfill. What is the dress code? What time should faculty arrive each morning? How long should they remain on campus after school is dismissed? What is proper email protocol for style, formatting, and response time?

These questions may feel mundane, but the truth is that ambiguity in these areas over time chips away at a cohesive culture. As Patrick Lencioni points out in Five Dysfunctions of a Team, a lack of clarity leads to a lack of commitment. While it is important to balance procedural clarity on the one hand with professional independence on the other, upfront communication regarding the general expectations that matter will prevent unnecessary confusion and a lack of commitment in the long-term.

2. Relationships

How are the various constituents of the school going to interact with one another? How will they speak about one another? Schools exist as a unique social conglomeration of children and adults, parents and teachers, with varying levels of authority. It is important for the school to provide clarity for faculty on Day 1 regarding how students will be permitted to speak to their teachers, how teachers will interact with parents, and how teachers will speak about parents.

The two leading values for a healthy relational culture are kindness and respect. Kindness is the disposition of goodwill we all desire to be exhibited toward us, and therefore should exhibit toward others. Kindness begins in the heart and is manifested through action: the words we say, the gestures we use, and the responses we have, especially in pressure-filled moments.

Respect is the due regard we owe one another. In a school setting, there are two general types of respect. The first type is the respect we owe all people based on their personhood and worth as divine image-bearers. In this sense, all members of the school, including children, should be recognized and treated as persons. The second type is the respect we owe various constituents of our community based on their role and position in authority. You can lay the groundwork for a strong faculty culture by taking time up front to talk about the ways different groups within the school will interact and providing specific examples for how kindness and respect should be modeled.

3. Parent Partnership

Parent partnership may sound like a carry-over from “relationships,” but the emphasis is different. Cultivating a faculty culture of parent partnership means forming teachers who understand that parents should be viewed as assets, not obstacles, in the educational journey. The reality is that teachers learn so much about a student in a single year, but this knowledge pales when compared to what the parents know about the child from years in the home. School leaders can promote a faculty culture of parent partnership by instilling good practices for keeping parents informed and inviting them to provide insight into a child’s needs and growth areas.

It is worth mentioning as well that a faculty culture of parent partnership will greatly assist with yearly retention. Parents will choose to re-enroll their children if and when they believe and trust that the school is delivering on its commitments. The primary vantage point parents possess for making this determination is through the relationship they have developed with their child’s teacher. This is all the more reason to prioritize parent partnership for teachers on Day 1.

4. Planning Ahead

This may sound obvious, but again, I return to the importance of details and building institutional habits. In the first year, it is important for schools to establish what kind of school it is going to be, particularly in the classroom. Will it be a school that flies by the seat of its pants, plagued by a lack of preparation, unpredictable decisions, and the tyranny of the urgent? Or it will take time to slow down and prepare, investing the extra time on the front end to sow seeds of preparation and calm?

School leaders, especially in the first year, will not have time to review with teachers every planning detail. My suggestion, therefore, is that they prioritize holding teachers accountable to writing and submitting good lesson plans. A good lesson plan provides the avenue for a teacher to think through the plan for the day, from time-bound procedures to teaching objectives to classroom assignments. Planning in advance will reduce the burden on a teacher’s working memory and allow her to be more present with her students. If a school can establish a faculty culture of planning ahead, particularly through good lesson planning, it will save itself from a plethora of issues down the road.

5. Text-Centered Learning

For a school just opening its doors, it needs to decide what will be the core values of the classroom. What matters most in the daily instruction of students? While there are lots of possibilities to choose from, I suggest that for classical schools specifically, it is important to instill a faculty culture of text-centered learning. Here I mean a form of learning in which the text, not the teacher and not the student, serves as the primary GPS for what will be taught and learned. This is not to suggest that the text is or should be infallible. Nor is it to imply that the teacher’s or student’s opinions do not matter. Rather it is to clarify that amidst all the opinions and ideas swirling around in a particular lesson, we are going to let the text, assuming it is well-chosen, be our chief object of inquiry. This is the surest way to implement the core elements of a liberal arts education.

One practical way to promote a text-centered culture is through narration. Narration, which we have written about extensively at Educational Renaissance, is a teaching method that exposes students to rich content and then gives them the opportunity to share in detail what they recall about the content. This practice instills in teachers and students alike an acute alertness to understanding the text before moving on to exercises in analysis and critique.

Conclusion

If school founders can instill these five elements in their faculty culture, they will be well on their way to not only a great inaugural year, but to a successful first chapter in the school’s short history. Amidst all there is to do and plan, the key is to prioritize what matters most and remain committed to these values. May the Lord lead and guide you as you seek to do the Lord’s work for the sake of your community and the next generation!

The post 5 Elements of Faculty Culture for a New School to Implement on Day 1 appeared first on .

There’s a lovely edition of Saint George and the Dragon written by Margaret Hodges and illustrated by Trina Schart Hyman that is an excellent book for young readers or reading aloud as a family. It is a retelling of the famous rendition of the story in Edmund Spenser’s Faerie Queene. A story that connected Saint George to English royalty. With the coronation of King Charles III this weekend, we will see many symbolic representations of Saint George as he has been venerated as the patron saint of England since the Middle Ages. From the England’s Saint George flag (red cross on white background) to the stained glass window in the nave of Westminster Abbey depicting George fighting the dragon, there are emblems that keep alive the memory and significance of Saint George today.

We see the story of Saint George appear frequently under different names. Take, for instance, the story of Harry Potter saving Ginny Weasley from the Basilisk in the second novel in the Harry Potter series. Here Potter plays the heroic Saint George role. This interpretation has been posited by Jordan Peterson. He writes:

“She [Ginny] is the maiden—or the anima, the soul—forever incarcerated by the dragon, as in the tale of St. George. It is up to Harry, orphaned hero, to wake and rescue her.”

Jordan Peterson, Beyond Order: 12 More Rules for Life (Random House, 2021), 79.

Peterson has been an important intellectual voice raising our attention of Carl Jung, an individual who provides a wealth of insight into the heroic individual. Viewing the heroic stories of figures such as Harry Potter, Bilbo Baggins and Saint George, Peterson sees how the heroic archetype emanates from the ultimate heroic figure: Jesus Christ. Peterson writes:

“In the desert, Christ encounters Satan (see Luke 4:1-13 and Matthew 4:1-11). This story has a clear psychological meaning—a metaphorical meaning—in addition to whatever else materials and metaphysical alike it might signify. It means that Christ is forever He who determines to take personal responsibility for the full depth of human depravity. It means that Christ is eternally He who is willing to confront and deeply consider and risk the temptations posed by the most malevolent elements of human nature. It means that Christ is always he who is willing to confront evil.”

Jordan Peterson, 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos (Random House, 2018), 180.

It is important to note that Peterson, a clinical psychologist and professor of psychology, has interpreted this passage from a psychological standpoint. He leaves open a more theological understanding of these passages and the nature of Christ. For this reason, we can see how Peterson’s psychological read of Christ is not in conflict with the theological conviction that Christ dies for sins as an atonement.

Having brought up Saint George, the dragon and Jordan Peterson, we are well situated to understand the relevance of Carl Jung to literature, history, mythology, psychology and philosophy. In this article we will explore Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious and how it plays out in archetypes we see in narratives, myths and dreams. Once we have a good grasp of Jung’s framework, we can then consider what role Charlotte Mason’s method of narration might play relative to this framework.

Jung and the Collective Unconscious

Carl Jung (1875-1961) was a Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst who founded analytical psychology. He is best known for his theories of the collective unconscious, archetypes, and the psychological complex. His work has had a profound influence on modern psychology and psychiatry, as well as on philosophy, anthropology, literature, and religious studies. A protégé of Freud, he later broke away from his

Jung first presented his theory of the collective unconscious to the public through his essay “The Concept of the Collective Unconscious,” published in 1936. He begins his definition by differentiating the collective from the personal unconscious. He writes:

“While the personal unconscious is made up essentially of contents which have at one time been conscious but which have disappeared from consciousness through having been forgotten or repressed, the contents of the collective unconscious have never been in consciousness, and therefore have never been individually acquired, but owe their existence exclusively to heredity.”

The Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Vol. 9.1 (Princeton University Press, 1969), par. 88.

So, the personal unconscious can be understood as a storehouse of material that was once conscious for the individual. But the collective unconscious was never any individual’s personal consciousness. Jung goes on to state:

“In addition to our immediate consciousness, which is of a thoroughly personal nature . . . there exists a second psychic system of a collective, universal, and impersonal nature which is identical in all individuals. This collective unconscious does not develop individually but is inherited. It consists of pre-existent forms, the archetypes.”

The Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Vol. 9.1 (Princeton University Press, 1969), par. 90.

To be clear, individuals experience this collective unconsciousness but it does not reside in any individual, but is a shared set of forms that Jung calls “archetypes.” Jung first studied this concept by analyzing the dreams of patients, a practice his predecessor Freud had likewise analyzed. As such, one of the primary methods deployed by Jung to identify archetypes of the collective unconscious was to analyze dreams. And while this method can be both fascinating and productive, I want to quickly move on to other avenues of study pursued by Jung. By this I mean the archetypes found in mythology and fairy tales. Jung writes in his essay “Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious”:

“Another well-known expression of the archetypes is myth and fairytale. But here too we are dealing with forms that have received a specific stamp and have been handed down through long periods of time.”

The Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Vol. 9.1 (Princeton University Press, 1969), par. 6.

What this means is that archetypes have a mythological character that appear over and over again in literature and artwork. This is exactly what we see in the story of Saint George and the Dragon, a mythological archetype that gets re-packaged over and over again in literature under new guises—such as Harry Potter and Luke Skywalker—but connect to something heroic in human potential. We see this spelled out in detail in a stunning passage from one of Jung’s last works Mysterium Conjunctionis:

“In myths the hero is the one who conquers the dragon, not the one who is devoured by it. And yet both have to deal with the same dragon. Also, he is no hero who never met the dragon, or who, if he once saw it, declared afterwards that he saw nothing. Equally, only one who has risked the fight with the dragon and is not overcome by it wins the hoard, the “treasure hard to attain.” He alone has a genuine claim to self-confidence, for he has faced the dark ground of his self and thereby has gained himself. This experience gives him faith and trust, the pistis in the ability of the self to sustain him, for everything that menaced him from inside he has made his own. He has acquired the right to believe that he will be able to overcome all future threats by the same means.”

The Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Vol. 14 (Princeton University Press, 1970), par. 756.

For Jung, the dragon resides within and must be confronted in order for the individual to truly know oneself and valiantly face the trials of life. One might be tempted to hear in this a form of self-realization that runs counter to faith in Christ for salvation; for Jung plays up the “faith and trust” in self. And while we must recognize that Jung was not friendly to the Christian faith, he saw how many of his concepts were actually grounded in Christian ideas. For instance, he identifies how the concept of archetype relates to the Imago Dei. One the subject of archetypes, he marshals evidence from both Irenaeus and Augustine to show how God has placed these archetypes of his divine nature within us. (see The Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Vol. 9.1 (Princeton University Press, 1969), par. 5.)

To express this all succinctly, what Jung posits is that our imaginative enterprises from ancient myths to modern literature express something deep within us that connects to a transcendent reality. The more we understand particularly the heroic archetype, the more capable we are as individuals to encounter the chaos of our world and the struggles we confront within. To put it another way, the ancient quest for happiness or eudaimonia is the hero’s journey for which we are best equipped by reading and assimilating this heroic pattern from the great works.

A Note on Jungian Interpretation of Literature

Reading literature in light of Jungian archetypes can be both enlightening and fun. I have introduced Jung to high school students in my Modern World Humanities class. It can be eye opening to see beloved characters from in a new light. Take, for instance, a few characters from the Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. We have a complex of characters that are archetypal. Victor Frankenstein is a tragic hero who we see leaving the home, pursuing new avenues of scientific discovery, and then needing to protect his one true love from the monster he created. Victor’s father is the wise old man, giving sage advice at various points to Victor. Elizabeth Lavenza is at various points the damsel in distress and the nurturing mother. And the monster is the villain that the hero must confront to protect the damsel in distress. Seeing these characters in this light adds meaning to our reading of the text and can bring insight into the message of the novel.

Furthermore, there can be productive discussion about Jung’s concept of the shadow self. Jung describes the shadow as a dark part of one’s inner self that must be confronted to become a whole person. He writes:

“But if we are able to see our own shadow and can bear knowing about it, then a small part of the problem has already been solved: we have at least brought up the personal unconscious. The shadow is a living part of the personality and therefore wants to live with it in some form. It cannot be argued out of existence or rationalized into harmlessness.”

The Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Vol. 9.1 (Princeton University Press, 1969), par. 44.

In the case of Victor Frankenstein, the monster represents his shadow self. He must confront that shadow and attempt to reconcile himself with it. Returning to the narrative of Saint Peter, we could then say that the dragon is not only an external force that must be confronted, but the dragon resides within. There is something profoundly Christian about this insight that residing within all of us is the villain we must heroically confront. And yet we are incapable of defeating the dragon apart from the help which God provides in Christ. I hear echoes Luther’s famous dictum simil justus et peccator “at once justified and a sinner.”

For Jung, literary criticism only played a small part of his understanding of the collective unconscious and the interpretation of archetypes. Yet he produced a brilliant essay on the matter written in 1922 entitled “On the Relation of Analytical Psychology to Poetry.” In this he looks not only at poetry but at all forms of art as a means of expressing the collective unconscious for that era. He writes:

“The artist seizes on this image, and in raising it from deepest unconsciousness he brings it into relation with conscious values, thereby transforming it until it can be accepted by the minds of his contemporaries according to their powers.”

The Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Vol. 15 (Princeton University Press, 1971), par. 83.

By “this image” Jung means something primordial or ancient in nature that wells up within the artist from this collective unconscious into a specified consciousness through the artist. We might refer to this as the artist’s muse to capture the idea using more classical language. When we are analyzing artwork, we are really getting at the message of the piece and how it communicates not only to the specific context in which it arose, but if it has enduring value, then also the transcendent values that still speak to us today.

We must be careful not to collapse all readings of literature and art into a reduction of Jung’s archetypes, a tendency all too easy to follow when we first learn of the archetypes. Dawson comments on this tendency:

“Take a text. Read the surface narrative. Stamp an archetypal pattern on to it. Assume its significance. Indulge in some woolly generalization. Case closed.”

Terence Dawson, “Literary Criticism and Analytical Psychology” in The Cambridge Companion to Jung (Cambridge University Press, 2008), 286.

The temptation is to hear only one story repeated over and over instead of hearing how the great metanarrative becomes expressed in unique detail and complexity generating insights that cannot be generalized. So, while I highly recommend reading literature with Jungian archetypes in mind, do so with the caution that such a method helpfully unlocks the potential meaning of the text rather than making all texts say exactly the same thing.

The Assimilation of the Heroic

Thus far I have focused almost entirely on Jung and now I must introduce him to another character, Charlotte Mason (1842-1923). Or perhaps I should say I should introduce Mason to Jung, for she precedes him by a generation. It is clear that Mason was deeply interested in psychology as each of her six volumes on education refer to the subject in some manner. She shows an astonishing awareness of figures in America and Germany, with William James (1842-1910), Johann Herbart (1776-1841) and Friedrich Fröbel (1782-1852) featuring prominently. She shows know awareness of the Vienna School inasmuch as no references to Freud or Jung are to be found in her writings. (A piece with some references to Freud was commissioned for the The Parents’ Review written by Sir Maurice Chaig entitled “Some Aspects of Education and Training in Relation to Mental Disorder” and was published in 1924, one year after Mason’s death).

Mason shows herself to be competent if not groundbreaking as it relates to the field of psychology, especially as it relates to childhood development and learning theory. It should be noted that her forward thinking about neuroplasticity—a term she never used but referred to with phrases like “a mark upon the brain substance” (vol 6, 100)—was eventually validated almost 100 years later through neurological studies as recently as the 1990s. I mention all this to indicate that it does not seem to be a stretch to consider Mason’s writings on educational philosophy highly compatible with the roughly contemporaneous works emerging in the field of psychoanalysis on the continent during her lifetime.

Much could be made regarding the psychological significance of her philosophy of education, especially concepts such as viewing children as whole persons or training children in habits. What I want to dig into though from a psychological perspective is narration. While this might seem a wholly academic process, I contend that it has psychological significance in light of Jung’s insights about the collective unconscious. To that end, let’s explore some of Mason’s thoughts as it regards the impact narration has on children.

We begin by understanding how narration is fundamentally about assimilation and not memorization. Central to Mason’s method of narration is cultivating the child’s power of attention to be properly deployed on living texts. She writes:

“He will find that in the act of narrating every power of his mind comes into play, that points and bearings which he had not observed are brought out; that the whole is visualized and brought into relief in an extraordinary way; in fact, that scene or argument has become a part of his personal experience; he knows, he has assimilated what he has read.”

Charlotte Mason, A Philosophy of Education (Living Book Press, 2017), 16.

Narration, then, bring the full power of the mind into contact with the rich details of the text, enlivening the imagination to picture or visualize the scene at hand. Note how she recognizes that this power of attention assimilates something into the child’s personal experience. By reading something like Saint George and the Dragon, the child assimilates that narration into himself as though it was a personal experience. That child becomes well practices in the heroic encounter with the forces of evil. She differentiates this from memorization, which lack this power of assimilation.

“This is not memory work. In order to memorise, we repeat over and over a passage or a series of points or names with the aid of such clues as we can invent; we do memorise a string of facts or words, and the new possession serves its purpose for a time, but it is not assimilated; its purpose being served, we know it no more.”

Charlotte Mason, A Philosophy of Education (Living Book Press, 2017), 16.

There is a place for memory work, not doubt, but it cannot bring into the character and development of the child with the same force as narration. This helps us understand an intangible aspect of narration. When we narrate, the goal is not to somehow quickly memorize the text in order to tell it back. Instead, the goal is to powerfully visualize the text, to take it into oneself so that the telling back is actually to share something that is becoming very personal to the reader. This personalization process entails an emotional and aesthetic quality that we as educators must be mindful to cultivate as students grow in the art of narrating.

Mason advises us to be rather choosy about the books we place before our young readers. we are to guide them away from “twaddle” (Vol 1, 176) and bring them into contact with “living books” (Vol 6, 154). She views what we read as the food of the mind. It feasts on ideas. And so our reading should be full of living ideas. As we grow healthiest with nutrient dense foods, so our reading should be dense with these living ideas. We are not merely interested in giving them intellectual power, we must also present to our children living books that cultivate their character, their duty, and their industriousness. She writes, “The great tales of the heroic age find their way to children’s hearts.” (Vol 6, 181) So, the prerequisite to narration having the outcome of plugging into the collective unconscious that Jung elaborates is to curate a wide array of living books from “a liberal range of subjects.” (Vol 6, 156)

This process of narration cultivates the wellbeing of children with the goal that children grow to have what Mason describes as “unity” and a healthy relationship of “oneself with oneself.” This links up nicely with the Jungian sense that the heroic encounter with dragons is an internal process of encountering the darkest parts of ourselves. Mason recognizes that her method has a psychological effect for children. She writes:

“They are curiously vitalised; not bored, not all alive in the playing-field and dull and inert in the schoolroom. . . . There is unity in their lives; they are not two persons, one with their play-fellows and quite other with their teachers and elders; but frank, fresh, showing keen interest in whatever comes in their way.”

Charlotte Mason, School Education (Living Books Press, 2017), 62-63.

How often have we seen students taking on different personality traits in different contexts? Mason contends that schooling that enables children to have an encounter with living ideas promotes the kind of unity of character that enables them to be the same person wherever they find themselves.

Ultimately, it is the internal battle we must enable our students to fight with valor. Mason in her volume The Formation of Character envisions this internal struggle. She writes:

“Modern scientists have added a great deal to the sum of available knowledge which should bear on the conduct of those relations of oneself with oneself which are implied in the terms, self-management, self-control, self-respect, self-love, self-help, self-abnegation, and so on. This knowledge is the more important because our power to conduct our relations with other people depends upon our power of conducting our relations with ourselves. Every man carries in his own person the key to human nature, and, in proportion as we are able to use this key, we shall be tolerant, gentle, helpful, wise and reverent.”

Charlotte Mason, The Formation of Character (Living Books Press, 2017), 86.

This encounter with the self is fundamental to individual wellbeing. And, as she notes, only when we have truly reconciled accounts internally can we conduct ourselves masterfully with the external world.

Hopefully this walk through Jung’s theory of the collective unconscious and Mason’s method of narration has stimulated your thoughts on educational philosophy. One of the reasons I have elaborated this particular connection is to prepare myself to speak on this topic at the Charlotte Mason Centenary Conference in Ambleside, England this summer. I am honored to present at one of the expert panels on day 3 of the conference. There is a profound sense of privilege to walk the town where she spent a significant portion of her life a century after her passing.

The post Reading for Meaning: Tapping into the Collective Unconsciousness appeared first on .

“Child,” said Aslan, in a gentler voice than he had yet used, “perhaps you do not see quite as well as you think. But the first step is to remember. Repeat to me, in order, the four signs.”

Teaching a Bible lesson can be a teacher’s most intimidating class of the day. On the one hand, the biblical text is probably quite familiar, leading to great confidence. But on the other hand, the weight of the responsibility–teaching truths from the Word of God to children–can be overwhelming. 

One cannot help but think of Jesus’ caution in the Gospel of Matthew: “Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea” (Matthew 18:6). Or, consider the warning from James’ letter: “Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness” (James 3:1).

The Bible is clear that teaching is a high office, and that teaching children is especially weighty. When it comes to teaching the Bible itself, teachers ought to take special care that their lessons are reverent, edifying, and biblically supportive. One way they can do so is through the teaching tool of narration.

In this article, I will offer four types of emphasis a teacher can make when designing a Bible lesson and then walk through how a teacher can use narration to cultivate reverence for holy scripture in students and unlock opportunities for students to encounter biblical truth for themselves.

Four Emphases of a Bible Lesson

In my experience, there are four general types of emphasis a teacher can take when designing a Bible lesson. These four are: Biblical Studies, Theological Studies, Spiritual Formation, and Discipleship. It is worth pointing out that these emphases are not mutually exclusive, and there is overlap between the categories. But as a teacher plans a Bible lesson, my encouragement is to choose one or two of the emphases rather than try to cover all four every time.

Here are brief descriptions of each:

Biblical Studies

The purpose of a lesson focused on biblical studies is to help a student grow in his or her understanding of how to uncover the original meaning of a text, what biblical scholars call exegesis. The tools at hands are word studies, historical-cultural backgrounds, literary elements, and more. These lessons will elevate a student’s biblical literacy and enable them to approach the biblical text with care for what the author was originally trying to communicate.

Theological Studies

A theology-focused Bible lesson moves at a quicker pace through the exegetical work of biblical studies in order to lead students to reflect theologically on the passage. What does the text teach or imply about our understanding of God, creation, and humanity? These lessons may underscore classical doctrines like God’s triune nature and the hypostatic union of Christ. Or they may broaden a student’s canonical understanding of scripture: how all the books of the Bible fit within a single narrative of God’s providential action throughout history. 

Spiritual Formation

A lesson with spiritual formation aims is interested in helping shape a student’s spiritual life and relationship with God. As God granted young King Solomon with a discerning mind (literally a “hearing heart”), this approach to scripture develops in students a a sensitivity to the inner workings of the Holy Spirit. Through discussions on the character of God and prayerful readings of scripture (e.g. lectio divina), teachers can help foster an intimacy with their Heavenly Father. We want students to know God personally, not simply know about Him propositionally.

Discipleship

Finally, a Bible lesson with a discipleship emphasis focuses on the practical application of being a follower of Jesus. To be a disciple is to be a student, sitting under the instruction of a teacher. For Christians, our teacher is Jesus himself and we are called to submit our lives to His instruction and authority. Christian discipleship is, therefore, the goal of putting all of life’s challenges, doubts, decisions, and relationships under the lordship of Christ. 

How do you know which emphasis or emphases to use when teaching a Bible lesson? It primarily depends on the biblical passage the class is studying. Some passages require more biblical studies setup in order for students to understand the original meaning of the text. Others lend themselves more toward the practical application aims of discipleship. 

Secondarily, it depends on the sort of balance you aim to strike as a teacher. As you create your pacing chart for the year and map out units of lesson plans, analyze the frequency of the four emphases. If you notice that you tend to focus on the practical, balance out your plans with a word study or theological discussion. If you can feel that your lessons have been overly academic, create a lesson in which students reflect in a prayerful reflection exercise. 

Elements of a Narration-Based Bible Lesson

With these four emphases of a Bible lesson in mind, let us now examine how we might teach a Bible lesson using narration. As Jason here at Educational Renaissance puts it in A Classical Guide to Narration (Circe Institute, 2020), narration, simply put, is “a teaching practice in which students are asked to communicate back the substance of content they have learned” (11). It has two core components: the exposure of students to content and the students’ narration of that content.

When a teacher commits to teaching the Bible using narration, she ought to include some core elements. These elements can be found in Charlotte Mason’s writings, especially in Part 5 of Home Education, as well as in other places. In what follows, I will distill the core elements of using narration when teaching Bible based on Charlotte Mason’s writings and my experience using the tool myself in the classroom.

Text in the Center

The first element of a narration-based Bible lesson is to keep the text in the center. So often in education today, lessons are child-centered (what does the child want to learn?) or teacher-centered (what do I want to teach?). But a narration-based lesson is ultimately about the text. What does the text say and how can I help my students walk away with a greater understanding of what it means? Additionally, how can my students walk away with an affinity toward the text in a way they previously did not? In order for narration to be used, both teacher and student most approach the text with an attitude of reverence and willingness to hear.

A Strategic Setup

As one plans a text-centered, narration-based Bible lesson, the next key element to consider is how to prepare students to narrate the text as fluently as possibly. This will vary greatly depending on the biblical passage being studied. As I prepare to teach a Bible lesson, I often ask myself, “What road blocks do I anticipate might get in the way of a student narrating smoothly?” Here the emphasis on biblical studies described above can be helpful. As biblical scholars will tell you, there is distance between the Bible, as a collection of ancient documents, and our 21st century vantage point. In order to bridge the gap, consider these questions as you plan your pre-narration setup:

• What words or phrases can I define that are essential to the passage’s meaning?
• What assumptions does the biblical author make about what the reader may know or believe?
• Would a map be useful to put a concrete picture before students of geographical locations referenced in the passage?
• What characters need introducing? What other literary techniques are being deployed that could help a student latch on to the text better?

It is also important to note that one need not limit their setup to an emphasis on biblical studies. There are other setup questions one can ask that prepare students for an enthusiastic encounter with the text so that students are “animated by expectation,” as Charlotte Mason puts it. For example:

• What theological ideas do you plan to draw out later on in the class discussion?
• What current events or topics that students are dealing with will be directly addressed by the passage?
• How can I set a tone for the reading that will prepare students for a spiritual encounter with God through the reading of the text?

A Dramatic Reading

A third key element for a narration-based Bible lesson is a dramatic, or intentional, reading of the text. By ‘intentional’ I mean a deliberate attempt to read the text in a way that will capture the attention of students while faithfully convening the meaning of the passage. I use the word ‘intentional’ rather than ‘enthusiastic’ because not all biblical passages ought to be read with high energy or cadence. But they should all be read with intentionality in order to match their voice to the drama of the text. When a passage is read well, students tend to be much more engaged and then go on to narrate with heightened lucidity. It is worth noting here the rich history of public readings of scripture, especially in pre-literate cultures. When students read the Bible aloud with reverence and drama, they are participating in a perennial traditional of the church.

A High Expectation of Telling

A fourth key element for the lesson is a high expectation for the narration itself. What I have found fascinating over the years is the relationship between quality narrations and classroom culture. When teachers have no or low expectations for what their students can actually narrate, the lesson can fall flat on its face. To set up a passage strategically and then read it with flair, only to see students tell back very little, is deflating. In order to avoid this problem, communicate clearly your expectations for the narration: details, author’s vocabulary, accurate order of events, etc. Then, when engaged in the narration exercise, do not settle for less than your students’ best. “What else?”, I can often be overheard asking when teaching using narration. Why? Because I know my students are capable and believe there is more that they know and remember if simply given the opportunity to stretch.

A Discussion and Response

Finally, in a narration-based Bible lesson, the narration is the climax of the lesson, but it is not the ending. Students narrate the text in order to assimilate the knowledge, to make it a part of themselves, if you will. But once the knowledge is assimilated, the question becomes “How should we respond?”. One idea is to draw out a moral or spiritual principle from the text for class discussion. This allows students to really chew on the knowledge and make connections. Another is to take the opportunity for students to transcribe a particularly beautiful passage in their journals. I have also seen teachers lead students to create intricate illustrations from a biblical scene of say, Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, or produce a hand-drawn map of Abram’s journey from Ur to Canaan. The opportunities for students to interact with the text are practically endless and allow them to connect the knowledge they narrated with other facets of their education.

Conclusion

I began this article with a quotation from the Narnian Chronicles. In The Silver Chair, Aslan, the Great Lion, calls Jill Pole out of our world in order to complete an important task to save Narnia. Aslan gives Jill four signs that she is to follow in order to successfully complete her assigned task. Jill’s initial response to the information is one of hubris: “Thank you very much. I see.” Aslan, in his wisdom, however, perceives the actual limits of Jill’s understanding and proceeds to use a form of narration to teach her.

The point is this: So often in Bible classes, teachers put together great lessons and share wise insights with their students, but in doing so, they fail to give students the opportunity to see for themselves. Through the teaching tool of narration, teachers can empower students to encounter biblical truth for themselves through assimilating the knowledge of God’s Word and then engaging with it through deep interaction, all under the wise tutelage of the teacher.

As the church continues to navigate passing on the faith to the next generation in a growingly post-Christian world, narration can be a valuable tool for engendering reverence, intimacy, and the prospect of “true sight” in our students.

If you were inspired by this article, you can go deeper by registering for Kolby Atchison’s upcoming live webinar, Teaching a Narration-Based Bible Lesson, on Monday, April 24 at 4:00 PM (Central) live on Zoom.

Gain practical skills to help your students flourish in their study of God’s Word. You will have the opportunity to ask questions as you aim to implement narration in your own Bible lessons.

The post Teaching a Narration-Based Bible Lesson appeared first on .

In this series, I have been exploring Charlotte Mason’s notion that education should be approached through a trifold lens of atmosphere, discipline, and life. Stemming from her view of children as persons, Mason argues that we are limited to three and only three tools to educate. All others encroach in some way or another upon the inherent dignity of the child.

She writes,

Having cut out the direct use of fear or love, suggestion or influence, undue play upon any one natural desire, emulation, for example, we are no longer free to use all means in the education of children. There are but three left for our use and to each of these we must give careful study or we shall not realise how great a scope is left to us.

Towards a Philosophy of Education, p. 95

In the first installment of this series, I took a closer look at what Mason calls the instrument of atmosphere. I explained that for the British educator the goal is to cultivate an environment of learning for persons: one oriented toward relationship, order, and natural beauty. From a classical perspective, we can say that cultivating an atmosphere in this vein is a foundational step for passing on a Christian paideia. 

In the second installment, I explored the instrument of discipline. Here I underscored the importance of training students in good habits as opposed to promoting mere behavioral compliance. While behaviorism focuses on reproducing particular external behaviors through systems of reward and punishment, habit training aims at the heart. Through the repeated practice of good moral habits, children develop virtuous character and the strength, with God’s help, to choose good over evil.

In this third and final installment, I will examine Mason’s notion that “education is a life.” For those unfamiliar with Charlotte Mason, the term “life” could conjure up a few different meanings. Does she mean one’s practical, or everyday life, in the sense that learning should become part of a child’s daily experience? Could she mean “life” in the sense that formal education cannot be contained within the perimeters of a physical classroom or schedule of lessons? Or does she mean “life” in the sense that real education is oriented toward the holistic flourishing of the child, during the school years and beyond?

In this article, I will aim to demonstrate that all three aspects described above are present in Charlotte Mason’s broader notion that our educational efforts ought to be oriented toward feeding the life of the child’s mind. The mind is not a blank slate to be inscribed with the thoughts of others nor is it a receptacle to be filled with atomized pieces of information. Rather, the mind is a living, even spiritual, entity that requires sustenance through ideas encountered in books, art, music, and nature. When the mind is fed probably, the whole child receives the intellectual, spiritual, and moral nourishment to lead a life of flourishing.

The Mind of a Person

Like the first two articles in this series, I will begin this discussion with Charlotte Mason’s notion that children are persons. This is the foundational premise upon which the entirety of her philosophy hangs. Children begin their formal education with a pre-existing intellectual appetite as well as thoughts about how the world works. They are eager to engage, explore, discover, and learn, long before they are led to do so in the classroom or homeschool.

While a conventionally modern analogue for the human mind is a blank slate, Mason compares the mind to an organism– an active and living thing that requires sustenance to continue living. She writes,

The mind is a spiritual octopus, reaching out limbs in every direction to draw in enormous rations of that which under the action of the mind itself becomes knowledge. Nothing can stale its infinite variety; the heavens and the earth, the past, the present, and the future, things great and things minute, nations and men, the universe, all are within the scope of the human intelligence.

Towards a Philosophy of Education, p. 330

Here we see the sheer breadth of the human’s ability to explore, discover, and understand. The mind longs to truly know and insofar as it can continue to find knowledge, it lives on.

The Transformative Power of Knowledge

For Mason, it is important to note that knowledge takes on a transformative role as it becomes part of a child. Now, in contemporary society, we have become all too accustomed to the idea that truth is subjective and, therefore, relative to the individual. This generates mass confusion and the ultimate breakdown of rational dialogue as people speak of “my truth” or “your truth,” as if facts change based on who believes them.

However, as Christians, our foundation for truth is Christ himself . Our epistemological framework for knowledge is God’s transcendent nature, which is immutable. As a result, we can believe with confidence that ultimate truths about reality do not change; they are objective, or outside of us. True knowledge, then, is when people believe believe what is actually true (and have some warrant or justification in this belief).

When Mason emphasizes that knowledge must become part of a child for true learning to occur, she does not mean in the subjective sense that prevails in our culture. Rather, she is emphasizing the transformative power of knowledge. Karen Glass offers a helpful analogy to explain this phenomenon:

If you go to the cupboard looking for sugar and sugar is there, the cupboard is functioning as it should. If you ask a question and a child can produce the correct answer, you might assume that education was successful. The child “learned” the correct answer to the question. But what if that is entirely the wrong picture, and education is not about producing correct answers to drear questions? What if the mind is a hungry, living entity and not a receptacle at all? The cupboard is unaffected and unchanged by the presence of the sugar and other items within. It produces them upon request, but it remains exactly as it was before. So it is with children who dutifully produce the right answers but are unmoved by what they know.

In Vital Harmony, p. 67

Glass, in her exposition of Mason’s thought, makes the point well here that real learning ought to change a person. Mere information recall does not constitute true knowledge in whole-person education. While a cupboard is ambivalent to whether it holds sugar or not, a mind is transformed by the ideas it digests. You can gauge the nourishment of a child’s mind, not be how much they know, but by general indicators of life in general: eagerness, diligence, passion, and a zeal for growth.

Facts vs. Ideas

To truly feed a child’s mind, we must move beyond presenting them with mere facts or information. The instrument of “life” that Mason is referencing is the life of the mind fed on living ideas. To be sure, facts are important, and we want children to form true beliefs about God, creation, and humankind. The key is to present these facts within inspiring ideas that will feed a child’s soul, not merely fill a mental repository.

What is an idea? Charlotte Mason writes,

A live thing of the mind, seems to be the conclusion of our greatest thinkers from Plato to Bacon, from Bacon to Coleridge. We all know how an idea ‘strikes,’ ‘seizes,’ ‘catches hold of,’ ‘impresses’ us and at last, if it be big enough, ‘possesses’ us; in a word, behaves like an entity. If we enquire into any person’s habits of life, mental preoccupation, devotion to a cause or pursuit, he will usually tell us that such and such an idea struck him. This potency of an idea is matter of common recognition. No phrase is more common and more promising than, ‘I have an idea’; we rise to such an opening as trout to a well-chosen fly. There is but one sphere in which the word idea never occurs, in which the conception of an idea is curiously absent, and that sphere is education! Look at any publisher’s list of school books and you shall find that the books recommended are carefully dessicated, drained of the least suspicion of an idea, reduced to the driest statements of fact.

Towards a Philosophy of Education, p. 105

In short, an idea is an aspect of knowledge that comes in contact with the mind, like two objects colliding in motion. Not all facts are ideas, but they become ideas when the mind assimilates and grasps knowledge for itself. This is why the teaching tool of narration is so powerful (you can read about its history in the classical tradition here). When we give children meaningful books to read and narrate, ideas are unlocked through the telling-back process. No two narrations are the same because no two minds are the same. Each mind will be drawn uniquely to distinct ideas even as they ideas remain grounded in objective truth.

Shedding light on how facts become ideas when they are integrated into a child’s broader base of knowledge, Maryellyn St. Cyr, of Ambleside Schools International, writes,

Facts are clothed in ideas. Facts are taught in relation to a vast number of things and integrated into a body of knowledge (part to whole). The learner assimilates this knowledge when it is reproduced or carries a meaningful connection. Learners can act upon information seen or heard through verbal and written narration, individual or cooperative relationships, or visual demonstrations of art and movement .

When Children Love to Learn, p. 103

Conclusion: Towards a Liberal Arts Curriculum in Ideas

For children to love learning and cultivate a vibrant intellectual life, they need more than an inspiring classroom atmosphere. They need to be taught a curriculum that is ideas-rich and be given opportunities to assimilate these ideas for themselves. Rather than pre-digesting knowledge as adults and transplanting it into bite-sized pieces for children to swallow like a pill, Charlotte Mason advises that we have children read living books with rich narrative content.

A classical liberal arts curriculum, complete with stories, poetry, music, art, and nature, is the key to nourishing a child’s mind in this way. The goal is not for students to recall every bit of information from their studies with scientific exactitude, but to provide avenues for their minds to latch on to a few select ideas that will change them forever. Coupled with the teaching tool of narration, educators will find that through ideas-rich education that children will learn more and retain more as their minds are awakened and inspired to truly know in the fullest sense possible.

How to begin? I will leave the closing word for Charlotte Mason herself:

All roads lead to Rome, and all I have said is meant to enforce the fact that much and varied humane reading, as well as human thought expressed in the forms of art, is, not a luxury, a tit-bit, to be given to children now and then, but their very bread of life, which they must have in abundant portions and at regular periods. This and more is implied in the phrase, “The mind feeds on ideas and therefore children should have a generous curriculum.”

Towards a Philosophy of Education, p. 111

The post “Education is a Life”: Igniting a Love for Learning in the Classroom appeared first on .

A new book landed on my desk around the beginning of the school year. Robert Greene’s Mastery (New York: Viking, 2012) touches on a number of points that are worthy of exploration and consideration. It reads like a mix of historical biography and self help by a writer who is a master of his craft. I first came across Robert Greene when I listened to his 48 Laws of Power (New York: Viking, 1998) as an audiobook. At that point I largely dismissed Greene as a relevant voice in my life due to how Machiavellian his self-help advice came across. Yet, in Mastery one finds solid career advice based on the apprenticeship model from the Middle Ages. Intermingled in his delineation of one’s journey toward mastery, Greene chronicles the careers of past masters such as Leonardo, Mozart, Einstein, Darwin, Benjamin Franklin, Marie Curie, Carl Jung, and a host of others.

In this article I would like to delve into the second section of Mastery to explore the three phases of apprenticeship as spelled out by Greene. Because the book reads as advice given to an individual embarking on a new career, there is some translation that needs to occur to nuance Greene’s apprenticeship for a school environment. I will endeavor to examine Mastery from three vantage points: 1) the classroom environment as a locus of apprenticeship, 2) the teacher as apprentice, and 3) the work an administrator can do to create a culture of apprenticeship.

The Three Phases of Apprenticeship

Let us begin not with the three phases, but with the master idea of apprenticeship: transformation. Greene writes:

“The principle is simple and must be engraved deeply in your mind: the goal of an apprenticeship is not money, a good position, a title, or a diploma, but rather the transformation of your mind and character–the first transformation on the way to mastery.”

Robert Greene, Mastery, 55.

I cannot help but hear echoes of Romans 12:2, “be not conformed to this world, but be transformed (μεταμορφόω) by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Our spiritual apprenticeship to Christ Jesus is modeled upon the disciples journeying with Jesus. Our minds and our character undergo a metamorphosis through long years of following Christ. I cannot imagine Greene has this in mind when he writes this, yet the profundity of the truth is well worth noting. The journey of the apprentice in whatever field we might consider is to become someone who is disciplined and focused.

The first phase of apprenticeship is what Greene calls “deep observation.” He lays out two broad categories that one observes in an apprenticeship.

“First, you will observe the rules and procedures that govern success in this environment – in other words, “this is how we do things here.” . . . The second reality you will observe is the power relationships that exist within the group.”

Robert Greene, Mastery, 57

I find Green to be fairly Machiavellian here, especially by framing his second category around power. Now it is true in an educational environment that there is an authority structure – the teacher-student dynamic. It might also be true that certain students wield a kind of power. I find the insights from Jordan Peterson helpful to temper power as the singular characteristic of hierarchies. He would contest that a framework of competence might be a better understanding of group dynamics. Now, competence is a form of power, the power of expertise, but it is different than the form of power that often gets expressed as dominance and unfair privilege.

Okay, so apart from that little diatribe, what Greene lays out is a phase of apprenticeship that features learning the skills of observation, focus, attention, and noticing things. Observation includes the social environment and human interactions. I like how he begins with noticing before making judgments. In education we often want to move quickly to analysis and judgement. Perhaps this is a liability in discussion-based learning. But there is genuine benefit to cultivating the simple skill of noticing things. One of the best tools for cultivating the skill of observation is the practice of narration.

The second phase of apprenticeship is what Greene calls “the practice mode,” which he defines as “practice toward the acquisition of skills.” (58) I think this is the phase that amounts to the biggest portion of apprenticeship, which does not mean it is the most important phase, but it stands to reason that much of our time on task occurs in this phase. Greene spells out what we might call a mimetic form of instruction.

“The natural model for learning, largely based on the power of mirror neurons, came from watching and imitating others, then repeating the action over and over. Our brains are highly suited for this form of learning.”

Robert Greene, Mastery, 59

Watching, imitating and doing over and over is the most visible part of the master’s workshop. Imagine the activity of the great workshops of the Renaissance where apprentices look over the shoulder of the master, go to their own station and practice repeatedly, often with the master then looking over their shoulders.

While there is much that we learn that gets expressed in language or numbers, Greene spells out how there are certain kinds of information that amount to “tacit knowledge” or knowledge that is difficult to put into words. The Medieval model of apprenticeship enabled the learner to put into practice this tacit knowledge, accumulating the 10,000 hours, a la Anders Ericsson, which might take a decade to master. Imitation and practice, then, is a significant idea derived from this second phase of the apprenticeship as Greene describes it.

Furthermore, practice develops over time. As an individual increases in skill, there is an effect Greene describes as the “cycle of accelerated returns” where practice becomes both easier and more rewarding. This correlates well with what Cal Newport shares about passion, enjoyment and interest coming after the accumulation of skill. For something like math, it might take years of work and training to get to the point where true enjoyment emerges. The same is true with excellent literature that demands considerable attention to detail and understanding of literary conventions. We might experience the opposite of joy and passion when encountering these domains early in our apprenticeship. Yet when we gain the requisite time on task, joy and passion emerge.

The third phase of apprenticeship is what Greene calls “experimentation” or “the active mode.” In this phase the apprentice attempts to work independently. Greene writes:

“As you gain in skill and confidence, you must make the move to a more active mode of experimentation. This could mean taking on more responsibility, initiating a project of some sort, doing work that exposes you to the criticism of peers or even the public. The point of this is to gauge your progress and whether there are still gaps in your knowledge. You are observing yourself in action and seeing how you respond to the judgments of others. Can you take criticism and use it constructively?” (62)

Robert Greene, Mastery, 62

Some of the words that stand out to me in this description of the active phase are “responsibility” and “criticism.” In earlier phases of apprenticeship, you can imagine the apprentice working almost mechanically. At one level there is observation where the apprentice is soaking everything in. At the practice stage the apprentice is building the habits over and over accumulating skill. Then at this level there is genuine ownership, a sense of personalization of the task at hand. When one takes personal responsibility for one’s own work, there comes with it a vulnerability or exposure of one’s weaknesses. This is why the goal of this phase is to learn how to take criticism well.

I am reminded of the growth mindset. Carol Dweck describes a form of constructive criticism, “Growth-minded teachers tell students the truth and then give them the tools to close the gap.” (Mindset, 203) As students work at the cutting edge of their knowledge and skill, honest and forthright communication enables them to have an accurate picture about what they are doing well, but also about what they are not doing well. Yet the child cannot be left there, they must then be given the tools to improve. In the apprenticeship mindset, we can add to Dweck paradigm that a significant part of education ought to be teaching students how to find for themselves the tools to improve, so that when they get to the active stage, they can receive criticism and then creatively explore ways they can improve.

Greene goes on to dig deeper into the emotional detachment one must learn in the final phase of apprenticeship.

“It is always easier to learn the rules and stay within your comfort zone. Often you must force yourself to initiate such actions or experiments before you think you are ready. You are testing your character, moving past your fears, and developing a sense of detachment to your work–looking at it through the eyes of others.”

Robert Greene, Mastery, 63

Stepping out of the comfort zone can occur at all stages. I think about students who question whether the answer they produce in my Geometry class is correct. I begin to shift that assessment back onto them. How do you know? Have you checked your work? What if the textbook is wrong? Can you be confident that you have gotten the right answer even if it doesn’t match what others have produced? The answer is either correct or incorrect. If the student is able to assess that on their own, they begin to have a detachment from relying on others to tell them the answer is correct – as though correctness is some mystery only revealed by the text or the teacher.

Greene concludes his delineation of the three phases of apprenticeship by relating it to the nature of work today. We are moving beyond the industrial factory-model of work. Everyone can be a creative by writing blog, producing videos or podcasts, hosting webinars, or starting a business. The apprentice mindset enables individuals to not view themselves as cogs in an economic machine, but to explore new possibilities for creative careers. He writes:

“In general, no matter your field, you must think of yourself as a builder, using actual materials and ideas. You are producing something tangible in your work, something that affects people in some direct, concrete way. To build anything well – a house, a political organization, a business, or a film – you must understand the building process and possess the necessary skills. You are a craftsman learning to adhere to the highest standards. For all this, you must go through a careful apprenticeship. You cannot make anything worthwhile in this world unless you have first developed and transformed yourself.”

Robert Greene, Mastery, 64

The apprenticeship model Greene develops points to the fact that we cannot view the work of our students (nor our own work for that matter) as fixed. If we view ourselves as capable of transformation, the apprenticeship model provides a pathway to enact coaching and skills formation as a natural part of life.

Apprenticeship in the Classroom

When we are working with our students in the classroom, the three modes or phases of apprenticeship provide a helpful framework for the different kinds of work we are doing. I think it is important to keep in mind that these modes of apprenticeship are not strictly sequential, nor are they bound to long spans of year before one moves into another phase.

Beginning with deep observation, the first phase, I would encourage teachers to utilize the concepts of atmosphere and habit training to coach students in “how we do things here.” This is true with regard to how we carefully read texts or patiently observe something in nature. There are procedures and routines that must be learned, such as sitting in a ready position or having a moment of silence after the reading of scripture. Then there is the emotional/social intelligence component, where one of the ways we are training students is to have facility in relating with all kinds of people in different kinds of situations. This argues for a teacher’s direct involvement in breaks and lunch, in order to coach students well in the hugely important task of cultivating social skills.

Narration, or telling back, is essential to the task of deep observation. We cannot tell back what we have not given our attention to. While we tend to think of narration as part of a method, it is in and of itself a skill to be cultivated. Students can grow in the ability and capacity to narrate with greater attention to detail, to more fully convey the meaning of the author by utilizing his or her language and style, and to follow with greater nuance the sequence and order of thought in an episode. When we think about deep observation, the depth with which we are able to assimilate texts, music, artwork and nature provide a foundation for the next phases of apprenticeship.

The second phase, the practice mode, is where the bulk of the work occurs in a student’s life. We are wise not to consider this solely as homework. Much of the most effective practice a student or apprentice ought to do occurs under the watchful eye of the teacher. This provides greater scope for demonstration (“watch how I do it”) and correction (“instead try it this way”). Here I think the concepts in Make It Stick are invaluable. Spacing and interleaving are preferable to massed practice. At the heart of deliberate practice is a faithful guide – a master – who is able to place before the student the correct number of problems that will accomplish the most growth for the apprentice. This might entail a reduced number of practice problems in math or shorter writing assignments so that greater focus can be placed on discrete skills.

The active or experimentation mode, the third phase of apprenticeship, sees the students exploring their boundaries. We might hear a student ask, “What if I tried it this way?” or say, “I got the same answer but my steps were different.” A wise master poses open ended questions that force the student to be creative, considering an issue from a different angle. Teachers can provide a class with a problem to solve that requires teamwork, collaboration and may involve trial and error.

The big takeaway from thinking through the apprenticeship model in this way is that all phases are relevant to the group of students in your classroom. It could be a lesson weaves together observation, practice and experimentation. The phases might move back and forth between practice and observation with experimentation coming days later when the requisite knowledge and skill can be unleased on an interesting problem, issue or question. Perhaps a unit can be structure around this broad series of phases. I could see a quiz or exam structured accordingly. The key is to see how guiding students towards mastery involves all three: observation, practice and experimentation. Our role in this is to establish these guiding principles and then to be the master in the workshop alternately demonstrating and then providing feedback.

Teachers as Apprentices

The bulk of my thoughts has centered on the classroom environment. However, I think it is equally important to view our task as teachers as a craft. Whether you are in your early years as a teacher or have been in the classroom for decades, take as many opportunities as you can to observe other teachers. One of the brilliant tools available with TLAC is that there is video content where techniques and best practices can be watched. Some of the most important skills a master teacher deploys are actually quite difficult to put to words. We develop intuitions about which student needs attention, when to raise or lower a voice, whether to turn my back when writing on the board or where to position myself when the class returns from PE. It’s quite another thing if one sees another teacher doing these things. We catch much by way of osmosis. What this points to is getting outside your classroom to catch by any means available a glimpse into a colleague’s room.

Practicing lessons is most often done when a teacher is in college. They practice lessons, do a semester or year-long placement, and then are launched into their career. Daily teaching is indeed a form of practice, but it might not be deliberate practice. We might very well reinforce rather bad teaching habits unless some planning or focused attention on some technique is applied. Here I think a wise teacher will insert into lesson plans notes about techniques they will practice. I might note to myself, “walk up and down the rows in my classroom” or “use cold calling today” or “wait for more hands during history class.” Narrowing the aperture in this way gives us more leverage to cultivate discrete skills and perhaps track our growth in certain areas.

Talk with your supervisor about techniques you are working on in your classroom. Invite him or her to come observe you, telling them that you are trying something different today and would like their feedback. This is where you are simultaneously practicing the craft of teaching but also experimenting with the edges of your comfort zone.

You don’t have to be far into your tenure as a teacher to take another teacher under your wing. Oftentimes our pathway to mastery lies not in practicing in isolation, but in taking opportunities to coach and mentor other teachers. This doesn’t need to be formalized in any way. I have seen teachers only a few years into their careers come alongside new faculty to “show them the ropes.”

Creating a Culture of Apprenticeship

Observation, practice and experimentation should be encouraged amongst the faculty, and if you are an administrator there is much that can be done to plan training around the apprenticeship model. Here are a couple of ideas that I have implemented at various times and hope to build on in the future.

First, the most impactful thing you can do as an administrator is to observe your teachers. When I go into a classroom, I literally open a new Word document and simply type what I see and hear. I have told my teachers that I am here to learn and not to judge (a technique I learned from Jason). I need to be able to see what is happening in the classroom to understand the “teacher personality” of the teacher. I am often surprised to hear the teacher’s voice while teaching, which can be quite different than their voice when interacting one on one. I need to see how the students are behaving. I look at the décor and the arrangement of the furniture. I catch the major transitions and subtle looks between the two students in the corner. Untied shoes, untucked t-shirts, but also kind words, helpfulness and genuine thoughtfulness all get noted. I try to spend fifteen to thirty minutes in the classroom, which is quite a lot of time. Before I leave, I send a copy of my notes to the teacher. I include items of feedback and advice in and amongst the notes. I send my notes without expecting any reply, but sometimes I will get a good interaction going. Sometimes I will ask the teacher to interact with the notes during our next one-on-one meeting. The big idea here is that observation with feedback supports the teacher as he or she strives towards excellence in their craft.

Second, do what you can to enable teachers to observe one another. This is professional development gold! You yourself might need to sub or to hire subs to make this happen. At my previous school I devoted a week to peer observation, scheduling peer observations like a round robin tournament. Some preliminary planning sought to identify individuals that might have a technique or practice that would benefit another teacher. Some of the pairings were simply serendipitous. What I found was that peer observation injected a potent shot of energy into our work as teachers. Conversations around teaching practices lasted weeks after the peer observations. What’s more, it significantly boosted the culture of mutual learning I had wanted to implement for years. Why had I not attempted this peer observation things sooner?

Finally, my most recent experiment involves short practice lessons in small groups of teachers. By teaching other colleagues in a compressed format, we get outside the daily routines with the students and get highly valuable feedback from our peers. The format I used was to have groups of four teach lessons in five to seven minutes (which means it has to be short and to the point, likely a portion of a lesson), and then for three to five minutes the other teachers provide feedback (similar to my observation model above). Each teacher gets roughly ten minutes in the “hot seat” and then at the end we all discuss some of our big takeaways. It’s a fifty to sixty minute exercise that gets us into the mode of deliberate practice with one another. It also provides an opportunity for experimentation, the third mode of apprenticeship.

Hopefully this short interaction with Robert Greene’s book Mastery has stimulated your thinking about how an apprenticeship approach can impact your classroom or school. As I’ve reflected on this book, I find myself viewing my vocation as simultaneously one of an apprentice moving toward mastery and a master coaching apprentices. If this idea of apprenticeship has sparked your imagination, I would like to direct you to a resource created by my colleague, Jason Barney – the apprenticeship lesson plan. In this free resource, you will discover ways in which you shape your lessons around coaching and apprenticeship derived from Comenius’ method of teaching.

The post The Pathway to Mastery: Apprenticeship in the Classroom appeared first on .