It’s at this time of year that we cultivate a sense of the incarnation with the buildup to the Christmas holiday. We see lots of decorations. There are school performances and church pageants. Our routines change to accommodate a plethora of Christmas parties. Despite the celebrating and decorating, there’s a deep concern about the commercialization of Christmas that questions whether we truly understand the importance of the holiday. We often hear this phrase, “Jesus is the reason for the season.” This article gets at that impulse and questions what exactly we are celebrating. What is it we are doing when we have this big moment in the year that the entire culture celebrates? Furthermore, how does Jesus’ incarnation inform us about the task of teaching. In this article, I argue that we as teachers are performing an incarnational ministry in the lives of our students.

The Incarnate Word

When we celebrate Christmas, we are really celebrating the incarnation of Jesus Christ. It is his bodily incarnation that stands right at the center of God’s salvation plan. The second person of the Trinity took on human flesh and dwelt among us. As Paul writes to the Philippians, Jesus, “though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.” (Phil 2:6-7). The word “form” here must be carefully explicated. It is not as though he “seemed” like God and “seemed” like a servant only by some outward appearance. John Calvin gets at the heart of Christ’s pre-existent form when he writes:

“The form of God means here his majesty. For as man is known by the appearance of his form, so the majesty which shines forth in God is His figure.”

John Calvin, The Epistles of Paul the Apostle to the Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians and Colossians, Calvin’s Commentaries, trans. T. H. L. Parker (Eerdmans, 1965), 247.

In other words, God’s invisible majesty was the quality or the existence that characterized Jesus before the incarnation. After the incarnation, the quality or the existence that characterized him was that of a servant.

Another word that is worthy of comment is the term “likeness.” This echoes the creation of human beings in Genesis 1:26 where God makes man “according to our image and likeness.” There is something about the creation of human beings that makes the incarnation possible. The “divine spark” that resides in all human beings means there is a unique quality that from the beginning of creation pointed to the connection between God and man.

Another passage that speaks to the divinity of Christ and the essential nature of his incarnation in the accomplishment of our salvation is Hebrews 1:3-4.

“He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high, having become as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs.

Hebrews 1:3-4 ESV

We see in this passage the extent to which Jesus was the creative force behind all of creation, both to make it and to sustain it. The author of Hebrews will go on later to reiterate how the creation of the universe by “the word of God” is an essential tenet of faith. We shall explore this concept in just a moment. For now it is important to establish how the eternal Word, the creative force of the universe, the eternal second person of the Trinity was incarnate not as an afterthought or “plan B,” but as the central driving force behind the work of God for our salvation from before the foundations of the world.

I am struck by the poetry of the hymn “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence,” rendered in English by Gerard Moultrie based on the Liturgy of St. James. One stunning phrase from verse 1 reads, “Christ our God to earth descended.” Here is a rich statement packed with the meaning we have explored so far. In verse 2, the liturgy goes on to express the theology of the incarnation, capturing the two natures of Christ and the work of salvation accomplished by his bodily sacrifice.

“King of kings, yet born of Mary,

As of old on earth He stood,

Lord of lords, in human vesture,

In the body and the blood,

He will give to all the faithful

His own self for heav’nly food.”

The Word Made Flesh

Elsewhere I have written about the educational heart of God. This concept has to do with God as a communicator speaking in comprehensible ways. It is both that he reveals himself to all of creation, but also that he has made us to be receptive to that revelation. Obviously, there remains a significant amount of who and what God is that is incomprehensible. Yet, he reveals enough that we may know him as he truly is and may know his plan of salvation.

When God created, he did so by speaking words. We first learn of God’s speech acts in Genesis 1. “And God said, ‘Let there be light,” and there was light.” (Gen 1:3). Each day of creation begins with God creating through his divine speech. Throughout the creation accounts, we can observe how much our God is a speaking God. In Genesis 2 he gives commands, speaks to Adam and expects that Adam will comprehend and obey his commands. Later in Genesis 3 we learn that Adam and Eve walked and talked with God in the garden (Gen. 3:8), and then God speaks to them after they have sinned, providing both the curse and the promise of the seed of salvation. These first three chapters in Genesis establish a framework for expecting that God speaks, we can understand when he speaks, and his speech will reveal to us the way of salvation.

Psalm 33 gives us further insight into the role of the “word” referenced in Hebrews 1. In Psalm 33:6, the psalmist expresses how “by the word of the Lord the heavens were made.” This phrasing sets a trajectory that enables us to understand how the persons of the trinity were involved in creation. The second person, referred to as the Word, was the agent of creation, and accomplished creation through speech.

Creation is not the only way we can understand God’s revealing nature. We can think about this in terms of God revealing words to us in Scripture, his written revelation. Consider how Paul advises Timothy to continue to immerse himself in the scriptures, which are “breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness.” (1 Tim. 3:16). This adds to the dynamic we are describing here. God makes known his thoughts to us in scripture and has created us so that we can understand these truths.

And then his ultimate communication to us came in what John calls the Word, the logos, that became incarnate. God not only revealed his mind through creation and scripture, but he sent himself in the second person of the trinity, his only Son. The opening of John 1 is packed with insights into this essential moment in the history of salvation.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

John 1:1-5 ESV

Here we have the divine nature of Jesus expressed in no uncertain term. He is the Word that was with God and was God. He is also the light that comes into the darkness, into the world that he has made.

The gospel goes on to say, “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14). This is the human nature of Jesus. This is the miracle that stands at the center of our salvation. God’s Word takes on human flesh. It is necessary for Jesus to be both fully human and fully divine in order to be offered as a perfect sacrifice for us.

The incarnation, therefore, is a central tenet of our faith. It is one of the two miracles upon which God accomplishes the work of salvation. Incarnation and resurrection together rest upon the divine and human natures of Christ Jesus. He must share the perfect holiness of God to be a worthy sacrifice. He must share our bodily nature in order to fully represent us in that sacrifice.

Incarnational Teaching

It is my firm conviction that the incarnation serves as a model for the Christian life in general and the presence of the teacher in the classroom specifically. I was recently reading a passage in the book Living in Union with Christ, written by Grant Macaskill (who happens to be one of my PhD supervisors). He writes:

“There is … a correspondence between what happened in the incarnation and what happens in us as our corrupt patterns of thought are transformed by the Spirit, our appetites are realigned, and our decisions are sanctified. In both cases, weak flesh is brought into proper communion with God through the work of the Spirit of the Son. That’s where the hope of Christian optimism lies: ‘If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Sprit who dwells in you” (Rom. 8:11).

Grant Macaskill, Living in Union with Christ: Paul’s Gospel and Christian Moral Identity (Baker, 2019), 103.

The Christian life, therefore, has an element of the divine nature of the Son coming into human flesh and dwelling among us through our bodies. In this way, I believe we can view ourselves as teachers in a fundamental way as bringing Christ Jesus into the classroom with us simply because, if we are truly in Christ, his presence dwells within. To put it another way, we become his hands and feet within the classroom.

Apart from simply being Christians in the classroom, I think that as teachers we have a special way we can have an incarnational ministry in the classroom. As teachers, we are enabling our students to learn how to comprehend the truth. Whether it is opening the Bible, a great book, moments in history, mathematical formulas or grammatical terms, there are many truths that we handle in the classroom on a regular basis. We get to stand within a dynamic where we recognize how the Author of truth has made himself known through what he has revealed in the universe and in the scriptures. It is also the case that we have in our midst these young minds, specially made by God to be receptive to the revelation he his provided.

Obviously there is a role that the Spirit plays in the lives of our students. We cannot assume that by applying a method our students will become heartfelt believers singularly devoted to the Lord. However, in this incarnational role we have, I do believe that by being the hands and feet of Christ, the way we live out our faith bears much weight in the eyes of our students.

So, this Christmas as we celebrate the baby Jesus with lights, the decoration, the presents, the festivities, let us meditate on the importance of the incarnation. This miracle is central to God’s salvation plan. It also happens that we ourselves as teacher can follow in the footsteps of Jesus, the great teacher, to enable our students to follow Jesus more closely.

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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

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What is this purpose? Education is about coming alongside students made in God’s image and helping them achieve their God-given potential. It begins with the question, “Who is this person that sits before me?” and goes on to probe both the limits and possibilities of her growth. Consequently, education is a branch of applied ethics, grounded in a particular conception of human flourishing, both individually and corporately. Like Kant’s categorical imperatives, we must ask ourselves, “If I were to educate every human person in this way, what sort of world would result?” 

Through asking questions like this, we can arrive at a way of educating that is counter-cultural, inspirational, and robustly biblical. This approach will take seriously the image-bearing status of our students and invite them into the good life as defined within a broader biblical framework of human flourishing. As a result, it will prepare the next generation of people like William Wilberforce and Mother Teresa, men and women equipped to lead and ready to serve no matter the cost.

Of course, this sort of quality education comes with a budget. To give students the attention and support they need calls for a sufficient number of well-trained and godly faculty. It is also dependent upon a well-developed curriculum, a safe and reliable facility, and supplies. This all costs money.

Like most non-profits, Christian, classical schools rely on the generosity of donors who believe in the mission to deliver the outcomes of the education. The process of partnering with donors to fund the mission, known as fundraising, can be a touchy subject, both for the giver and receiver. In this blog article, I will explore the relationship between education and fundraising, showing how the vision for education we seek to promote here at Educational Renaissance offers some help guidance for how we can provide for it financially. 

Science of Relations, Including Money

Earlier this week, I met with my colleague about an Upper School course we are designing on applied theology. We brainstormed objectives for the course like implementing spiritual disciplines, growing in awareness of personal vocation, mapping out convictions that align with faith and virtue, and developing a biblical worldview on key ethical questions. While we were in the flow of our brainstorm, my colleague wisely suggested that we include a unit on the theology of money. I responded immediately that I thought this was a great idea. We do not often reflect theologically on money–what is and how it can be used to bring glory to God. And yet these are precisely the sort of questions one could explore in an “Applied Theology” course. Press pause on the hypostatic union for a moment; what should we do about bitcoin? 

In A Spirituality of Fundraising (Upper Room Books, 2010), Henry Nouwen observes that money is a central reality in our lives, beginning when we are children (28). It is likely that our view of money is influenced by family upbringing more than anything else. Each of us grow up and develop a particular relationship with money just as we do with other facets of the created order.

This relational existence is precisely what prompted Charlotte Mason to ultimately define education as “the science of relations.” She writes,

A child should be brought up to have relations of force with earth and water, should run and ride, swim and skate, lift and carry; should know texture, and work in material; should know by name, and where and how they live at any rate, the things of the earth about him, its birds and beasts and creeping things, its herbs and trees; should be in touch with the literature, art and thought of the past and the present. I do not mean that he should know all these things; but he should feel, when he reads of it in the newspapers, the thrill which stirred the Cretan peasants when the frescoes in the palace of King Minos were disclosed to the labour of their spades. He should feel the thrill, not from mere contiguity, but because he has with the past the relationship of living pulsing thought; and, if blood be thicker than water, thought is more quickening than blood. He must have a living relationship with the present, its historic movement, its science, literature, art, social needs and aspirations. In fact, he must have a wide outlook, intimate relations all round; and force, virtue, must pass out of him, whether of hand, will, or sympathy, wherever he touches.

School Education, p. 162, bold emphasis mine

I quote this passage in full because it captures so well the relational existence that we are all born into. True knowledge of the world, including money, expands beyond the domain of information. While we can speak abstractly about income and expenses, P&L statements, and cash budgets, these numbers impact us personally when they are ours to manage. Consequently, depending on our upbringing and training, we can view finances as a terrifying enigma, a necessary evil, or a God-given aspect of responsible living. When viewed as the latter, we can approach finances and fundraising just as we do the throne of grace: with confidence in the faithfulness of our gracious and generous God.

Relocating our Source of Security

Effective fundraising begins with a proper view and relationship to money. It also requires a new way of relating to material resources. For most people, money is a chief form of security. This is in large part why fundraising is such a touchy subject. To admit the need for money leaves one feeling exposed. To ask for it even more so.

But it does not have to be. Nouwen writes, “The pressure in our culture to secure our own future and to control our lives as much as possible does not find support in the Bible. Jesus knows our need for security…What is our security base? God or Mammon?” (32). In this chapter, Nouwen clarifies that money holds an important place, but never as the foundation. As believers, we must put our trust in God and constantly through prayer recalibrate our dependence on Him alone.

Can we trust God? Yes, we can! His transcendence and sovereignty know no depths. As the prophet Isaiah writes,

Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, or with the breadth of his hand marked off the heavens? Who has held the dust of the earth in a basket, or weighed the mountains on the scales and the hills in a balance? Who can fathom the Spirit of the Lord, or instruct the Lord as his counselor? Whom did the Lord consult to enlighten him, and who taught him the right way? Who was it that taught him knowledge, or showed him the path of understanding?

Isaiah 40:12 NIV

Here the prophet underscores the unquantifiable distance between the knowledge and power of God and ourselves. This is an important truth to keep in my mind as we approach fundraising. Our security base cannot be our ability to forecast expenses, increase enrollment, or attract new donors. The only true base of security for believers is God alone.

Viewing Donors as Whole Persons

As Christian, classical educators, we talk often about the fact that we are educating whole persons. Here we are getting at the idea that humans are more than their grade point average, trophy case, or SAT score. They have minds, but they are not merely minds. They have bodies, but they are not merely bodies. They will likely one day join the work force and earn a salary, but this is not their sole purpose of existence. Therefore, we provide students with a liberal (generous), well-rounded education that will prepare them to thrive intellectually, physically, spiritually, and yes, economically.

Likewise, we should approach people with means to support the school as more than the biggest gift they can give. Donors are whole persons with families, interests, challenges, and aspirations. They have spiritual needs just like you and me, and need biblical encouragement. When we begin to view donors as whole persons, we grow more generous ourselves as we look for opportunities to bless and serve them.

It can be tempting to approach donors with a feeling of desperation and even helplessness. We feel the pressure of school expenses adding up and, as a result, fundraising can start to feel like begging. But, again, Nouwen is helpful here. He argues that fundraising is the opposite of begging; it is the invitation to join a compelling mission. He writes,

We are declaring, ‘We have a vision that is amazing and exciting. We are inviting you to invest yourself through the resources God has given you–your energy, your prayers, and your money–in this work to which God has called us to do.’

A Spirituality of Fundraising, p. 17

Seen in this way, fundraising is a form of ministry, not begging, in which we play the role of gift-giver even as we ask for monetary gifts to support the mission of educating the next generation.

Conclusion: The Role of Teachers

If you are a teacher reading this article, and you are still reading, well done! I am grateful for your attention. Many teachers are uncomfortable with the idea of fundraising and did not become a teacher to ask people for money. That is fine. But my hope in writing this article is that it will help you remember and appreciate the financial side of your school. I actually believe you will become a stronger faculty member and broader contributor to your school’s culture if you can appreciate this important dimension of your school’s sustainability.

In Journey to Excellence (ACSI, 2017), Ron Klein writes, “While the active fundraising effort of others is important for progress, the faculty’s subtle, indirect culture of gratefulness and appreciation for donors is no less crucial” (98). Teachers, understand that your school is a non-profit and relies on donors. It is very likely that your salary is dependent to some extent on the generosity of donors and therefore the efforts of those charged to raise funds. When appropriate, offer your gratitude to these partners in your school’s mission and prayerfully consider inviting potential new partners to learn more about your school.

Fundraising does not have to be a necessary evil. When we trust the Lord as our ultimate security and believe that our school’s vision is a cause worth getting behind, inviting others to partner together can bring an unexpected amount of joy.

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Aristotle’s intellectual virtue of artistry (Greek: techne) is by its very nature creative and productive. In order for it to flourish in a school culture, it must draw some of its lifeblood from the natural creative and productive impulse of children as human beings. When they see the products and beautiful creations of the masters of these living traditions, then they will naturally want to imitate them (see Comenius, The Great Didactic, 195-196). Drawing from this natural desire will make unnecessary the carrots and sticks of modern education’s manipulative motivational techniques. 

The Example of the Renaissance Guilds

We might be tempted to think that the structure of a system, like a school, has nothing to do with the cultivation of high levels of artistry or genius. We are tempted to think primarily in terms of in-born talent as a fixed entity (see Aristotle and the Growth Mindset • Educational Renaissance), but research on geniuses and elite performers points in another direction. In his book, The Talent Code, Daniel Coyle notes that geniuses “are not scattered uniformly through time and space” but “tend to appear in clusters” (61-62): 

Athens from 440 B.C. to 380 B.C., Florence from 1440 to 1490, and London from 1570-1640. Of these three none is so dazzling or well documented as Florence. In the space of a few generations a city with a population slightly less than that of present day Stillwater, Oklahoma, produced the greatest outpouring of artistic achievement the world has ever known. A solitary genius is easy to understand, but dozens of them, in the space of two generations? How could it happen? (62)

The scholar David Banks proposes a number of possible explanations that we might expect: the prosperity of Florence, its relative peace and freedom, etc. Unfortunately, each one of these is disproved by the historical record. Instead, the flurry of genius-level work is best explained by a social structure and educational process relentlessly focused on deep practice: the craft guilds:

As it turns out, Florence was an epicenter for the rise of a powerful social invention called craft guilds. Guilds (the word means “gold”) were associations of weavers, painters, goldsmiths, and the like who organized themselves to regulate competition and control quality. They had management, dues, and tight policies dictating who could work in the craft. What they did best, however, was grow talent. Guilds were built on the apprenticeship system, in which boys around seven years of age were sent to live with masters for fixed terms of five to ten years. (64)

The apprenticeship process that we have discussed throughout this series, it seems, can have better and worse cultural structures for training students in artistry. On a side note, the hierarchy of excellence seems to foster artistic genius more readily than the democracy of talent. In addition, the experience of apprentices at the bottom of the hierarchy mirrors the recommendations of Comenius for students to begin with the most basic and practical skills of the craft, and not with elaborate theory. As Coyle further explains,

An apprentice worked directly under the tutelage and supervision of the master, who frequently assumed rights as the child’s legal guardian. Apprentices learned the craft from the bottom up, not through lecture or theory but through action: mixing paint, preparing canvases, sharpening chisels. They cooperated and competed within a hierarchy, rising after some years to the status of journeyman and eventually, if they were skilled enough, master. This system created a chain of mentoring: da Vinci studied under Verrocchio, Verrocchio studied under Donatello, Donatello studied under Ghiberti; Michelangelo studied under Ghirlandaio, Ghirlandaio studied under Baldovinetti, and so on, all of them frequently visiting one another’s studios in a cooperative-competitive arrangement that today would be called social networking. (64)

This apprenticeship system can be thrown in stark relief with our common vision of what a “liberal arts education” should look like. Are our teachers masters of the liberal arts? Are our students cooperating and competing within a culture focused on rewarding excellence? Or are they simply hearing lectures on knowledge, taking notes and taking tests? Is their educational experience properly artistic in nature, focused on production in the common, liberal and fine arts? Are they systematically and structurally encouraged to try to solve problems of a production, even if they fail again and again along the way? Or are they motivated by grades, and jumping through the hoops of a rigid system?

In short, apprentices spent thousands of hours solving problems, trying and failing and trying again, within the confines of a world build on the systematic production of excellence. Their life was roughly akin to that of a twelve-year-old intern who spends a decade under the direct supervision of Steven Spielberg, painting sets, sketching storyboards, setting cameras. The notion that such a kid might one day become a great film director would hardly be a surprise: it would be closer to unavoidable (see Ron Howard). (64-65)

The Renaissance Guilds offer us a compelling vision of how the academy could be structured for artistry in a way that transcends the conventions of the modern school.

Adopting an Apprenticeship Model of Grading

This leads us to a first implication for the academy of our better understanding of Apprenticeship in the Arts. Students should be induced to create and produce with excellence, not by the overuse of fear or love, grades, punishments or rewards, but by their natural desire for imitation, creativity and production. Charlotte Mason put it this way: 

These principles are limited by the respect due to the personality [i.e. personhood] of children, which must not be encroached upon whether by the direct use of fear or love, suggestions or influence, or by undue play upon any one natural desire. (vol. 6, p. 80)

For this reason, and to avoid the grade inflation so typical of schools today, at the school where I serve as principal we have adopted an apprenticeship model of grading for our younger students and in artistic subjects for older students . 

This Apprenticeship model attempts to assign accurately a student’s level of mastery of grade-level artistic expectations. Since, as we discussed before, so much of K-12 education consists of training in the arts (if we include all the skill development of the liberal arts as well as the fine and performing arts!), it makes the most sense to assess students’ progression through the traditional vision of apprenticeship. When learning an art, every student begins at the level of novice, where the entire nature of the art and its practice is still new and unknown to the student. Through introduction to the art and early experiences in beginning to imitate a master, the student proceeds to the status of apprentice. At this point the student must still be watched closely by the master as he or she is producing, since the apprentice is liable to make mistakes and therefore still in need of some hand-holding and regular demonstration or correction to help the student practice the art correctly. After the student has gained some facility and can work mostly on his or her own, he has attained the status of journeyman, being able to produce the goods of the art dependably and with a measure of both autonomy and excellence. Finally, when a student displays a high level of artistry, excellence and a seasoned understanding that implies the ability to teach or train others in the craft, he or she has become a master, at least of that subskill. 

Apprenticeship Model Grade Levels

• Novice — a student who is new to the art and unacquainted with the processes that lead to proper production
• Apprentice — a student who is imitating the processes with some measure of success, but is also in need of frequent support and correction by the master
• Journeyman — a student who can produce the beautiful goods of the art with some autonomy and creative artistry
• Master — a student who consistently displays artistry and independent creativity, as well as the mastery that implies the ability to train others in the art

Adopting this sort of grading philosophy and system in a school can help clarify for teachers, students, and parents the actual nature of much of the educational project. When traditional grades are used it is often unclear whether or not students should be graded mainly on the completion of assignments or their effort, as opposed to their understanding and mastery. While no doubt students who work hard should be recognized in some way, when artistry is being judged it can actually be demotivating to students to adopt an A for effort standard. Objective grading honors the facts that students’ consciences are sensitive to and can observe quite clearly in front of their faces: some students produce more excellent and beautiful work than others. 

At the same time, this apprenticeship model avoids the judgmental approach of a traditional, objective grading system, because it creates a story arc of progression from the lower levels. Everyone starts out as a novice in any area of artistry. Very few students will attain mastery of any art or subskill in a given year in which it is introduced. When this expectation is introduced and normalized in a school culture, the rare situations of student mastery can be appropriately recognized and celebrated in a way that encourages all other students to continue to strive for excellence. 

That said, overemphasizing the judgment of grades can also be detrimental and ineffective. So even though it is important to retain the assessment of students’ mastery levels, perhaps the more effective assessments are cultural. When students are being trained to produce in a craft, their work should be displayed before their peers, their parents and the school community. This inspires the natural motivation to do their best and involves the natural judgment process of the community for what artistry looks like. Because of this, academic events, performances and competitions provide the natural clearinghouse for developing a culture of artistry. 

Many of these school events almost go without saying in the school calendar, but their value is often overlooked and neglected. Why do students work so hard for artistry in sports, when they might not for other school activities? Because their artistry is clearly on display and being judged through the natural cooperative-competitive environment of the game or tournament, with spectators watching for their success. In the same way, a classical Christian school can make much of liberal arts through academic events like a Spelling Bee, Speech Meet, or public debate, with rules strictly followed and mandatory participation, and with audiences and judges in attendance. In the same way, when classes perform recitations (i.e. memorized passages of scripture, poems or historical speeches) in front of the entire school and teachers are encouraged to impart a dramatic flair, the training of the rote memory turns into the artistry of rhetoric. 

Viewed in this light, school concerts and plays, competitions and games, art galleries, and displays of student work at events are not nice extras at a school. Instead, these school community activities become earnest teaching and learning moments that apprentice students in the arts and create a culture of craftsmanship in the academy. Academic events should be chosen with care and conducted with reverence for the mission and beating heart of the school. Although a school calendar can become overscheduled, we should remember that such performances, whether high or low stakes, are opportunities for cultivating the natural motivation of students to excel in artistry. Such opportunities are potentially transformative educational experiences and should be viewed as a crucial piece of the curriculum or course of study. 

Understanding the motivational value of proper grading in an apprenticeship model as well as the role of academic events, competitions and performances can go a long way toward creating a culture of artistry and excellence at a school. But we should not be unaware of the deeper spiritual ramifications of this process. 

Apprenticeship in Christian Perspective

First, we need to remember that the creation of beautiful and good things is innately human. God created mankind in his image as the stewards of creation and he commissioned human beings with the cultural mandate: the call to fill the earth and subdue it. This is rightly interpreted as an invitation to all the creative arts, or techne which use the stuff of earth as the raw material for the creating beautiful and good artifacts. (Read Aristotle’s Virtue Theory and a Christian Purpose of Education.) That is precisely what we see happening in Genesis 4. In spite of sin and its disastrous effects displayed in Cain and Abel, we see the progenitors of various common, liberal and fine arts:

Adah gave birth to Jabal; he was the father of those who live in tents and raise livestock. His brother’s name was Jubal; he was the father of all who play stringed instruments and pipes. Zillah also had a son, Tubal-Cain, who forged all kinds of tools out of bronze and iron. (Gen 4:22 ESV)

Thus the apprenticeship model was born. We might note that it was initially passed down in families; apprenticeship and the father-son, mother-daughter relationship went hand in hand. 

So apprenticeship in true, good and beautiful arts is human and therefore part and parcel of a redeemed Christian life. As human beings created in the image of God, our lives are most whole and fruitful when they fulfill the creation mandate through some type of artistry, through culture-making to borrow Andy Crouch’s term.

But secondly, we can note from the traditional and familial nature of apprenticeship, that it often carries with it, by nature, the lifestyle of the master craftsman. All the arts are embodied by their master craftsmen in a way of life, involving their beautiful creation and practice of the art, ideally alongside a full and good life. But let me be clear, this very fact means that apprenticeship in the arts as a means of bringing up children in the discipline and nurture of the Lord (see Eph 6:4) must be embodied as part and parcel of a whole Christian life. 

So if Christian parents apprentice their child to a pagan man who is a master of rhetoric, they should not be surprised if their child eventually takes on the moral and spiritual faults of this man, even if they also gain some of his rhetorical skill. That is how human beings work. In the same way if a young girl is apprenticed to an immoral dance or music teacher, who is immersed in a pluralistic world with its values, it is not impossible that over time the influence of that world will be transferred to her alongside the art. 

This is one of the forgotten premises by which our Christian classical schools attempt to operate. In the modern factory model of education we have forgotten what Jesus said: “A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is fully trained will be like his teacher” (Luke 6:40 ESV). Disciple – apprentice – student. We have forgotten that these are roughly equivalent terms

Of course, when we follow Quintilian’s lead and partially apprentice children to many different arts (see On the Education of the Orator I.12), we minimize the potentially negative influence of any one teacher, but we do not really depart from this principle. In fact, we might say that at an ideal classical Christian school, a university or wholeness of the arts and sciences, this apprenticeship process under the leadership of a head master, a head magister or teacher, or else a principal or chief teacher (this is what these words original meant), the whole school of teachers pass on a communal way of life together. The culture of the school with all its teachers, curriculum, classes and traditions, apprentices the individual students.

This insight about apprenticeship as resonating with the nature of true Christian classical education is well-summed up in a statement of the school where I serve as Principal, Coram Deo Academy. We say that we apprentice students into the Great Conversation for the purpose of the Great Commission and the Great Commandment. 

To sum up, so far I have indicated by two statements the way in which apprenticeship in artistry, i.e. various arts, established traditions of craftsmanship, whether liberal, common or fine, contributes to the spiritual development of children. Those two ways are, first, through the fulfillment of our human calling in the creation mandate to act as sub-creators of good and beautiful things. This is what it means to fulfill our purpose as human beings, and therefore artistry is part of how we experience the redeemed Christian life. But second is through Christian apprenticeship into the life of good works established for us by Christ the true Master’s life, death and resurrection, the life of those apprenticed to him and characteristic of the family of God. And we should recall again the warning attached to this point, that non-Christian masters, teachers, artisans are by nature liabilities as well as potential sources of the blessing of artistry. 

Entwining the Spiritual and Artistic Goals of the Academy

Because of this, the classical Christian school rightly has a high bar of qualifications for its faculty based on spiritual maturity. The character of the teachers will inevitably have a long term influence on the character of the students. Structurally, then, the leadership of a school should not only develop careful recruiting and hiring processes that are intended to ensure the Christian maturity of its teachers, they should bake into the life of the school some measure of the spiritual practices of the church that aim at developing spiritual maturity. It is not that classical Christian academies should attempt to replace the worship and community of the local church, but by involving the faculty and staff in the rhythm of prayer, worship, and scripture reading, characteristic of the universal church, the discipleship—or, should I say, apprenticeship—of the Christian life become evident in the school culture. 

It is important, in this connection, to fuse our goals for training in artistry through assessment and artistic events, with discipleship in an appropriate and not an artificial way. The cross country coach can lead students in prayer before a race. The Spring Concert can feature the famous poems, spirituals and hymns of Christian worship, artfully performed. Academic events can include brief homiletical exhortation and instruction as part of the program, alongside the competition or performance itself. Assessments, awards and recognition of artistry can be publicly relativized to higher spiritual ends. Excellence in artistry can be deliberately and intentionally pursued soli Deo gloria, with glory to God alone, as J.S. Bach signed his masterful musical compositions. 

Further, the leadership of a school must be careful not to compromise core spiritual commitments for artistic ends, whether in hiring faculty or staff or in the nature of the content or practices. It can be so easy to tolerate that borderline coach or drama teacher, or to skate the line of acceptability in some way. Because, after all, the sports team or play is so important to the kids and their families…. Often this is a false dichotomy, but even when not, we should be willing to sacrifice high quality artistry for gospel purity whenever necessary, remembering Jesus’ words: “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Mark 8:36 KJV) The value of intellectual virtues can never outweigh that of spiritual virtues. As Paul says, “For while bodily training is of some value, godliness [i.e. piety] is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come” (1 Tim 4:8 ESV). That said, artistry can be used in support of higher ends; prime examples are musical worship and preaching (derived from two of the traditional liberal arts, music and rhetoric). 

The classical Christian school is the ideal place for this beautiful fusion to occur and be actively trained. Such considerations should color an academy’s vision of their school’s or their students’ future greatness. Kolby Atchison has discussed the application of the Hedgehog Concept from Jim Collins Good to Great to classical Christian schools. Decisions about which arts to pursue and prioritize, when the list of possible arts seems endless, would benefit from careful thought about a school’s Hedgehog Concept: what the school can be the best in the world at will involve the culture, events and arts that are emphasized in the curricular and extracurricular programs. Innovations in a school will often occur here as leaders capitalize on local opportunities and the community’s unique giftings.

After all, we can become like the Renaissance Guilds in every area of artistic excellence possible. Greatness requires focused effort on particular arts. And true Christian artistry focuses us even more narrowly on what will serve Christ in our generational moment. As C.T. Studd wrote in his famous poem, “Only one life, ’twill soon be past, / Only what’s done for Christ will last.”

Earlier Articles in this series:

1. Bloom’s Taxonomy and the Purpose of Education

2. Bloom’s Taxonomy and the Importance of Objectives: 3 Blessings of Bloom’s

3. Breaking Down the Bad of Bloom’s: The False Objectivity of Education as a Modern Social Science

4. When Bloom’s Gets Ugly: Cutting the Heart Out of Education

5. What Bloom’s Left Out: A Comparison with Aristotle’s Intellectual Virtues

6. Aristotle’s Virtue Theory and a Christian Purpose of Education

7. Moral Virtue and the Intellectual Virtue of Artistry or Craftsmanship

8. Practicing in the Dark or the Day: Well-worn Paths or Bushwalking, Artistry and Moral Virtue Continued

9. Apprenticeship in the Arts, Part 1: Traditions and Divisions

10. Apprenticeship in the Arts, Part 2: A Pedagogy of Craft

11. Apprenticeship in the Arts, Part 3: Crafting Lessons in Artistry

12. Apprenticeship in the Arts, Part 4: Artistry, the Academy and the Working World

Final article in this series:

14. Apprenticeship in the Arts, Part 6: The Transcendence and Limitations of Artistry

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Of these groups, which is most critical for the success of the school? While a compelling case could be made for each one of them, I have come to believe that the answer is faculty. Faculty are the front line workers and first responders of the school. They are not only expected to interface with school customers (parents) on a regular basis. They are responsible for facilitating the day-to-day service (curriculum and instruction) of the organization. In short, their role is indispensable for the success of the school. 

For this reason, it is crucial for school leaders to recruit, retain, and professionally develop their teachers. And while factors like compensation, workload, and administrative support are important, I contend that it is the faculty culture that is most pivotal for the overall flourishing of individual faculty members. In this blog, I will offer some ideas regarding what makes for a strong faculty culture and conclude with questions administrators can ask themselves as they seek to lead the faculty culture in the right direction.

A Positive Work Culture

Recently I was speaking with a friend of mine who works for a financial services company. His job is to help people manage their money prudently and effectively. In our conversation, he shared that his company consistently ranks nationally as a place where employees love to work. Having now worked for the company himself for about a year, he could confirm the positive report personally. 

I pressed my friend on the secret to his employer’s success in this area, and his response was simple: culture. The culture of the company, he observed, was supportive, encouraging, and full of integrity. It therefore provided a place where employees loved to work. When describing the company, my friend shared that the financial advisors are trained to always do what is in the best interest of the client. Additionally, each advisor is valued and therefore equipped and empowered to excel at their jobs. Leadership ensures that each employee is reaching their full potential. These factors combined contributed to a strong work culture in which employees were happy, fulfilled, and committed to doing as best they could for the company.

The Wells Fargo Scandal

What my friend shared may sound like common sense when it comes to company culture, but it is rarer and harder to achieve than it sounds. Consider what happened with the Wells Fargo account fraud scandal in 2018 as a counter-example. The New York Times reports:

“From 2002 to 2016, employees used fraud to meet impossible sales goals. They opened millions of accounts in customers’ names without their knowledge, signed unwitting account holders up for credit cards and bill payment programs, created fake personal identification numbers, forged signatures and even secretly transferred customers’ money.

In court papers, prosecutors described a pressure-cooker environment at the bank, where low-level employees were squeezed tighter and tighter each year by sales goals that senior executives methodically raised, ignoring signs that they were unrealistic. The few employees and managers who did meet sales goals — by any means — were held up as examples for the rest of the work force to follow.”

Can you hear the difference? At my friend’s company, the needs of the customer are always put first. At Wells Fargo, serving customers became a means to an end. As a result, employees began to cut corners, going so far as to create fraudulent accounts in order to make more money. But it was not even merely about the money. The management of the company became so constrictive that employees felt that the only way to meet their sales goals, and keep their jobs, was to lie, cheat, and steal. 

In contrast to a culture marked by support, encouragement, and integrity, this culture had become toxic. It became marked by high demands, no support, unrealistic expectations, and a vacuum of values.

School as a Service Industry

While schools and financial service companies are very different industries (to state the obvious), I do think there are insights here we can glean as we seek to build a strong faculty culture.

For example, it can be helpful as a thought exercise to think about school as a service industry. Classical schools exist to shape and develop students into particular types of people. This service is performed at a price agreed upon between school and family called tuition. At the end of the day, parents with children enrolled at our schools are looking to see evidence that their children are growing. 

One important way schools can increase the quality of this service is by being very specific about the ways in which our school programs are helping students grow. At Christian, classical schools, growth is not only measured by academic output. There is more to being human than cognitive firepower. Teachers at our schools are helping students grow holistically–in mind, yes, but also in virtue and wisdom, in body and soul. We need to keep putting this vision before teachers and parents, educating them in the “service” we provide. To do so most effectively, I have learned, requires a robust philosophy of our students, viewing them as persons made in God’s image.

It is also important to let core values guide the school’s approach to instruction. In the Wells Fargo example, the work culture’s decline merely followed the path of its lack of values. Employes were given unrealistic goals and harsh threats, prompting many of them to cut corners by creating artificial accounts to meet deadlines. Values of honesty, integrity, and humility were replaced by a Darwinian survival of the fittest mentality. It was only a matter of time before a collapse would occur. 

At our schools, we need to lead with our core values. What do we care most about? What are we measuring? Regardless of outcomes, what approach to work are we committed to? These are the questions school leaders need to ask in order to build a strong and healthy faculty culture.

Reforming the Formers

Of course, there are limitations to thinking about school as a service industry or as a company. The purpose of a school, after all, is not to maximize profit, but to achieve the mission of the school. And in order to achieve an organizational mission, we need to help teachers understand the role they play in this mission.

In You Are What You Love (Brazos Press, 2016), James K.A. Smith proposes that teachers should be thought of as “formers.” His general thesis of the book is that humans are, in essence, embodied affective creatures. That is, we are lovers who are shaped over time by what we do. 

Education, in light of this view of humans, is not primarily a project of knowledge-transfer, but in love formation. Teachers are not primarily instructors, lecturers, or information disseminators. They are formers and shapers, leading students in a process to become particular types of people. In the classical tradition, this vision is rooted in virtue. We seek to grow and help our students grow in virtues, that is, the objective moral ideals that God has woven into the very fabric of the universe.

Smith writes,

“Since education is a formative project, aimed at the Good, the True, and the Beautiful, then the teacher is a steward of transcendence who needs to not only know the Good but also to teach from that conviction. The teacher of virtue will not apologize for seeking to apprentice students to the Good, the True, and the Beautiful. But she will also run up against the scariest aspect of this: that virtue is often absorbed from exemplars” (159). 

Smith goes on to offer four communal practices for reforming the formers at our schools: eating, praying, singing, and thinking and reading together. While these practices are not directly related to teaching per se, they are doing something even more important: creating a culture. By taking time to eat together, worship the Lord, and grow in understanding, schools communicate to teachers that they care more about bottom-line outcomes. They care about all constituents of the school growing as persons, including faculty. This emphasis, more than anything else, is what is going to shape a strong faculty culture for years to come.

Questions for Continuing the Conversation

As school leaders seek to build a strong faculty culture in their schools, they need to consider how they can best shape, support, and encourage each faculty member. Instead of pressuring teachers with unrealistic goals guided by a “win-at-all-costs” mentality, school leaders need to lead with core values, provide strong support, and make time for practices oriented toward helping teachers grow themselves as humans in wisdom and virtue.

To this end, here are some closing questions I pose to school leaders as they think about faculty culture:

1. Are the goals and benchmarks we set for teachers specific and realistic?
2. Are we providing appropriate support for them to reach these goals?
3. Are we taking time to celebrate victories as a faculty? 
4. How are we showing that each employee at the school is valued? 
5. Are we cultivating a faculty culture in which every decision is made in the best interest of the student (without being child-centered)? 
6. How are we appropriately (and inappropriately) incentivizing faculty members?

May God guide and strengthen you as an educator as you seek to not only achieve particular organizational outcomes, but contribute to a culture that is growth-oriented, teacher-supportive, and ultimately, a small taste of the coming kingdom of God.

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Moreover, some Christians fear, utilizing brain science to boost cognitive performance through strengthening the brain sounds like a mad scientist’s version of humanistic self-help. In our secular age, God-talk has been pushed to the margins and human innovation has taken center stage. The good news, we are told, is that with the right life plan in place, we can grow strong enough to turn our lives around on our own.

How, as Christians, can we maintain our convictions about the reality of a spiritual realm and our desperate need for God’s grace while simultaneously availing ourselves to the best of current neuroscience? What insights might scientifically-observable processes like neurogenesis and neuroplasticity yield in our calling to conform ourselves to the image of Christ?

In this blog, I will draw connections between recent findings in neuroscience with the aims of a liberal arts education. Along the way, I will consider the relationship between the body and soul, including the brain and the mind, within the context of growing spiritually and morally. Ultimately, I aim to demonstrate that a working knowledge in how to care for one’s brain is one way we can steward our human bodies well and to lead lives of virtue and wisdom in service to Jesus Christ.

Growing New Brain Cells Through a Love for Learning

One of the most stunning insights from current neuroscience is that we can grow new brain cells. As humans age, we lose brain cells over time, which is partially what leads to neurodegenerative diseases like Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. Aging, of course, is unpreventable and irreversible, but the research is clear that caring for our brains can slow the aging process. By adjusting the way we eat, sleep, and exercise, we can create new brain cells that actually grow one’s brain and increase one’s cognitive capacity.

In Biohack Your Brain (HarperCollins, 2020), Dr. Kristen Willeumier (PhD, UCLA) offers practical tips for increasing neurogenesis, that is, growing new brain cells. Some of these tips include eating blueberries, learning new words, and writing with your nondominant hand (22). Interestingly, Dr. Willeumier writes, cultivating curiosity is another way for spurring neurogenesis. When humans learn for the sake of pure joy and a love for knowledge, new brain cells are created and neural connections are strengthened (184).

One of the key aims of a liberal arts education, of course, is precisely this: to cultivate a love for learning. As Kevin Clark and Ravi Jain have demonstrated in The Liberal Arts Tradition, a fantastic summary of Christian, classical education, tuning the heart is a critical stage that precedes training in the liberal arts. This stage they call “musical education” and it serves as the soil for knowledge of God, humanity, and creation to later flower (7).

It is thus important to point out that the goal of cultivating a love for learning in the earliest years of education has both affective and neurological benefits. As we put specimens of goodness, truth, and beauty before our students for them to love and pursue, their hearts (metaphorically-speaking) and brains grow.

Cultivating Intelligence and Intellectual Virtue Through the Trivium

Not only can we grow new brain cells with certain practices, but there is growing research that we can actually increase intelligence. Dr. Willeumier writes, “In terms of intelligence, research shows we can change our brain to boost intellect in a number of ways. Primary among them, perhaps unsurprisingly, is by learning new information and skills, which helps to strengthen neuronal communication and rewires parts of the brain responsible for cognitive thinking” (42). Additionally, research shows we can increase intelligence by how we eat, sleep, exercise, and handle stress.

There are many ways to think about intelligence, but we all have three main types. First, we have what is called crystallized intelligence: the knowledge, facts, and skills we have accumulated over time. Second, we have fluid Intelligence: the ability to problem solve. Finally, we have emotional intelligence: the ability to interact and connect socially with others.

Interestingly, it turns out that reading long-form narratives is the best way to boost all three.¹ Reading for extended amounts of time, at least thirty minutes, improves overall neuronal connectivity and the integrity of white matter in the brain (188). Along with reading, several other modes of language acquisition strengthen cognitive capacity. Learning new vocabulary, studying a new language, and writing all contribute to strengthening memory, growing new brain cells, and staving off neurodegenerative diseases.

In the liberal arts tradition, the language arts are known as the Trivium. These are tools for fashioning, or producing, knowledge, as opposed to subject areas, or sciences, to be studied in theory only. In other words, they are the skills for learning and using language. However, the purpose of the Trivium is not merely to increase one’s intelligence. It is growing in wisdom and intellectual virtue, ultimately to service God and neighbor (47).

As Christian, classical educators, we want to promote the pursuit of objective truth, beliefs that correspond to reality. It is encouraging, and not surprising, to see that language acquisition has been shown neurologically to increase one’s intelligence. But let us not lose sight of the fact that intelligence is not the end goal for Christians. We are to use our minds to honor and serve the Lord, especially the way we use language. While all humans will use language whether they receive a classical education or not, the Trivium prepares students to use language wisely and in service to others.

The Brain and Gymnastic Education

For time immemorial, philosophers have argued about the relationship between the mind and body. How do these two parts of a person relate? Are they ultimately one thing or two? More recently, this debate has taken a scientific edge. Are mental states reducible to firing neurons?

In an article for Biola University’s Center for Christian Thought, “Neuroplasticity and Spiritual Formation”, Dr. Jeffrey Schwartz, a research psychiatrist at UCLA, offers an interesting take on the relationship between the mind and the brain. The brain, he believes, serves as the passive recipient of experience, taking in the sensory data of the natural world. The mind, on the other hand, serves the active role of making decisions and choices about how to focus one’s attention.

Applying this approach to a current issue, Dr. Schwartz writes, “Many people are concerned about the effects of the internet on our distractibility. If ever there was an era in which the brain could be readily recognized as constantly putting out a call, ours is it. Because of this, more than ever, we now have to bring in the mind to decide what to listen to. A lot of what the brain is putting out calls about is not particularly good to listen to—certainly not to focus on.”

In this quotation, Dr. Schwartz suggests that while the brain serves as the central station for receiving sensory data, the mind’s job is to determine which data to focus on. In this way, Dr. Schwartz seems to conceive of the mind as the seat of the will, conscience, and affections. However, what Dr. Schwartz does not emphasize, at least in this article, is that the brain, neurologically-speaking, is very much active in these moments as well.

What I want to suggest is that perhaps we should think of training the brain as a form of gymnastic education, the broader training of the body. Clark and Jain write, “Education is not merely an intellectual affair, no matter how intellect-centered it must be, because human beings are not merely minds. As creatures made in God’s image, we are composite beings–unions of soul and body. A full curriculum must cultivate the good of the whole person, soul, and body” (29).

If Clark and Jain are right about the importance of promoting a fully-orbed Christian anthropology, and I believe they are, then it seems that caring for and training the brain is to be included. Fortunately, given the close connection between the mind and the brain, our lessons already lend themselves to this sort of training. As I have already shown above, training in the language arts grows new brain cells and strengthens neural networks. But it is worth stating and remembering that God has given us brains, which are physical organs, and we should care for them as we do other parts of our physical bodies.

Physicality and Christian Formation

There is one final point I would like to make about the relationship between the brain and liberal arts education. It is the idea that Christian formation, which is ultimately a spiritual process, often occurs through physical means.

In “The Physical Nature of Christian Life: Formation and Flourishing”, Dr. Brad Strawn and Dr. Warren Brown, psychology professors from Fuller Theological Seminary, write, “Humans cannot be reduced to disembodied souls or immaterial minds. We are embodied and embedded creatures. Our physicality matters, including our brains. Humans are formed and transformed through embodied and embedded experiences. Personhood is not the immaterial reality, but an embodied one.”

There is much to unpack in this quotation, and I do not agree with all of their philosophical conclusions, but I do think they point out something important. Sometimes when thinking about how to help students grow spiritually, we think of their relationship with God in individualistic and gnostic terms. In other words, we summarize Christian formation as a private encounter between God and their individual souls. But what these psychologists helpfully remind us is that often our relationships with God grow in communal settings. Whether it be the weekly church gathering, summer Bible camp, or small group Bible studies, we grow as Christians through embodied and communally-embedded moments.

Thinking about how adults grow in these settings as much as children, the psychologists write, “Many of the same formative social processes are at work in adults as in children: imitation, attachments, and life-forming narratives. What is at stake in ongoing adult development is the degree to which wisdom and virtue come to characterize persons.”

As we seek to cultivate wisdom and virtue in our students, as well as ourselves, we should remember that this endeavor, though moral and spiritual in nature, has a connection to our physicality. We should think through how we can harness physical experience to form our students in wisdom and virtue.

Conclusion

There is a lot more that could be said here. As we educate the hearts, minds, and souls of our students, how should we understand what is happening to the brain? In this blog, I have reflected on the relationship between neuroscience and the liberal arts. As educators, I believe we can use the insights of modern brain science to not only take better care of our physical bodies. We can use these insights to strengthen the liberal arts education we offer our students to help them grow in wisdom and virtue, and ultimately, in service to Jesus Christ.

Endnotes

1. Kidd DC, Castano E. Reading Literary Fiction Improves Theory of Mind in Science (6156): 377-380)

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This has been a deliberate rhetorical and pedagogical move: an attempt to begin with what is near at hand and understood by modern educators, before exposing its weaknesses and proposing a productive solution based in ancient wisdom. Sometimes on Educational Renaissance we begin with what is new before arcing back to what is past; other times it is appropriate to begin with the wisdom of the past before connecting it to modern research. It may sound strange to some, but in this case I think that Bloom provides the perfect entree to Aristotle.

In this article I will begin situating Aristotle’s intellectual virtues as a part of his holistic philosophy of education. And since Aristotle’s viewpoints are not necessarily authoritative, however much we may revere the accomplishments of “the philosopher,” as Aquinas called him, we will have to lay out how Christians might appropriate his philosophy within a Christian worldview. After all, the early Christian apologist Tertullian’s famous question, “What has Athens to do with Jerusalem?” still needs to be answered today, even if centuries of Christian thought have done so adequately in their own cultural moment. 

We will thus first delve into Aristotle’s philosophy in the opening book of the Nicomachean Ethics. It is necessary to lay a good foundation in Aristotle’s thought generally, if we are to understand his intellectual virtues specifically. Second, we will see how his intellectual virtues fit within his broader paradigm of human happiness as the proper goals of education. Third, along the way we will make reference to the Bible and Christian theology in order to show how Aristotle’s philosophy might be appropriated within a truly Christian understanding of life and education.

The Purpose of Education as the Purpose of Life

I opened this series by remarking on one of the major themes of the classical education renewal movement: rethinking the purpose of education as much broader and more holistic than modern education has been making it out to be:

It is not merely job training or college preparation, but the formation of flourishing human beings. The cultivation of wisdom and virtue is the purpose of education. There is joy in seeking knowledge for its own sake and as an end in itself.

Each one of these statements can be traced back to Aristotle. Human flourishing is a modern cipher for the good life or the life of eudaimonia, the Greek word for happiness or blessedness, which Aristotle proclaims to be the ultimate telos, end or goal, of human beings. All other goals are simply the means to this end (see Book I, Chapter 2). And the master art that aims at this end directly and encompasses all the lesser arts is called by him politics, under which he would lump strategy, economics, rhetoric and even all the sciences. Each in its own way aims at one of the goods that contribute to human happiness collectively.

It is interesting in this connection to compare the conception of Augustine’s City of God as a contrast to this polis or city of man. Because man is a political animal the appropriate unit of happiness for human beings is not the isolated individual, but the city. After all, who could be happy without friends? Or, for that matter, without the benefits of specialization and civilization?

But given the realities of a functioning city-state with the basic specialization that Plato had earlier described in his Republic, the most secure way for an individual to achieve this happiness is by the cultivation of virtue and wisdom, understood as the moral and intellectual excellences, respectively (see chapter 10 and 13). Moral excellence, Aristotle says, is attained by the cultivation of habits, whereas intellectual excellence is born and grown by instruction or teaching, requiring much experience and time (see Book II, chapter 1). 

Since human happiness consists in an active life in accordance with perfect virtue of the soul (see Book I, chapter 13), education becomes the prime means of attaining happiness through developing habits in accordance with the moral virtues and instructing the mind or rational principal in accordance with the truth. Another way of saying this is that the contemplative life, as opposed to the pursuit of pleasure or honor (see chapter 5), is the best method of attaining to happiness in this life, even if good fortune still plays some role (see the end of chapter 8 and 10-11). Aiming either at bodily pleasure or the emotional satisfaction of honor will ultimately fall short, while the cultivation of the mind or rational principle will lead to the proper ordering of the whole human person.

In earlier articles on Educational Renaissance, I have already laid out a couple ways of reconciling many of these reflections with a Christian understanding of the purpose of life. In “Aristotle and the Growth Mindset” I traced the renaissance arc back to Aristotle starting from Carol Dweck’s popular idea of a growth mindset vs. a fixed mindset. Aristotle theorized that excellence or virtue was the main contributor to happiness—an idea that provides more of a solid philosophical foundation for Dweck’s social scientific study of “success”. As human beings, we may not be the masters of our own fate, but to confine human happiness (and therefore virtue as well) simply to chance or fortune does not seem to jive with reality. We have some level of choice and will in our own happiness, just as we can decide to pursue a life of virtue and make deliberate strides toward that end.

The Moral Virtues and Christian Salvation

From a Christian perspective, while divine gift and human responsibility may be reconciled in various ways, the participation of human beings in their ultimate good or blessing is a matter of both. True and lasting happiness comes as a result of God’s gracious action in salvation and believers “work[ing] out [their] own salvation with fear and trembling” (see Philippians 2:12). Christian sanctification and piety have traditionally been thought to involve the cultivation of all the moral virtues. Salvation involves the conversion of the heart.

In “Excellence Comes By Habit: Aristotle on Moral Virtue” I referenced the Christian idea of common grace to account for the fact that human beings can exhibit moral virtues even in an unregenerate state. For this reason, it is helpful to distinguish between moral and spiritual virtues. Medievals, in particular, adopted a sevenfold paradigm to sum up the moral virtues of Greek philosophy and the Christian virtues mentioned by Saint Paul at the end of 1st Corinthians 13. The cardinal virtues were justice, temperance, fortitude and prudence (interestingly this last was one of Aristotle’s intellectual virtues), and above them were the theological virtues of faith, hope and love. It might be possible for a noble pagan to display the cardinal virtues to some degree, but only a true believer could possess the theological virtues.

For Christians, then, true and eternal happiness involved the possession of both the theological and the moral virtues. As the writer of Hebrews said, “Without holiness, no one will see the Lord” (12:14). The purpose of life, and therefore the ultimate purpose of education as well, consists in the cultivation of moral and spiritual virtues for the enjoyment of eternal happiness. Of course, for Christians this happiness must be God-centered; it is the beatific vision of God himself that wells up in eternal joy for the everlasting life of the believer. Or as the Westminster Catechism has it, “What is the chief end of man? To glorify God and enjoy him forever.” And while salvation is in some sense future, the beginning of the happiness associated with eternal life in Christ is available in part to the believer even now through the process of sanctification. Holiness leads to happiness.

For Aristotle, on the other hand, eudaimonia is attained through the godlike cultivation of excellence in this life alongside good fortune and good friends. Active pursuit of the moral and intellectual virtues, without much emphasis on piety or spiritual virtues, seems for him to sum up the happy life. This life of contemplation, fortune and friends may be godlike but it does not focus upon God. Aristotle’s conception of happiness by excellence certainly leaves something wanting, but perhaps we can see it as providing a part of which the full Christian revelation is the whole. 

Where Have All the Intellectual Virtues Gone?

While Aristotle certainly has the greater lack (the centrality of God in human happiness), perhaps I am not going too far out of bounds to suggest that the traditional Chrstian virtue paradigm is missing something. Moral and spiritual virtues have been well accounted for, but what of intellectual virtues? Do they play no part in the Christian’s happy life? Of course, there is a rich Christian theme of relativizing the intellect to the spirit. And in light of Aristotle’s neglect of the spirit, we can easily see why the apostle Paul would say things like, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up” (1 Cor 8:1). Or why he would elaborate in detail on the folly of the cross over against the wisdom of the world in 1 Corinthians 1:18-25. On the other hand, Paul does conclude that section by stating that “the foolishness of God is wiser than men,” and he goes on to claim that he and the other apostles do indeed impart “among the mature” a “secret and hidden wisdom of God” (2:6, 7). So perhaps the Bible finds more of a place for the intellect in the happiness equation than we might think. 

In fact, it is worth asking the extent to which the spiritual, intellectual and moral are overlapping and interpenetrating categories for Paul. We might say that, rather than excluding the intellectual virtues from the equation, the introduction of the spiritual reframes the nature of the intellect just as it does the heart. As he explains,

What we are saying is not in words taught by human wisdom, but in those taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual things in spiritual words. But the soulish man [“natural” ESV, but perhaps we should think of Aristotle’s soul-focused paradigm even in the Nicomachean Ethics] does not receive the things of the Spirit of God; for they are foolishness to him and he is not able to understand them, because they are spiritually evaluated. But the spiritual person evaluates all things, but he himself is evaluated by no one. For “who has known the intuition [Greek nous] of the Lord, who will teach him?” But we have the intuition of Messiah. (1 Cor 2:13-16, orig. trans.)

The spiritual frame provides an entirely new source and measure of evaluation for moral and intellectual categories. While hundreds of years and the introduction of various usages may have obscured the definitions of these words, perhaps it is not without significance that Paul is here using the words for two of Aristotle’s intellectual virtues in Greek, sophia or philosophic wisdom, and nous or the understanding of first principles that is wisdom’s necessary forerunner. Although more digging might be necessary to determine the extent to which Paul’s use of nous conforms to Aristotle’s definition of perceiving first principles, we can at least conclude from this passage that spiritual and intellectual virtues are not, for Paul, in the end contradictory.

Divine revelation and the Spirit of God may revolutionize the content of intellectual virtues even from their very starting points in perception of the world and human reasoning, but it is not as if wisdom and understanding are done away with. In fact, we might say that it is at the level of our intuition, the starting point for proper reasoning, that the greatest shifts have taken place. We have the Messiah’s new and spiritual perception of the world and so we reason from different first principles and even from different particulars. We see the world in a cross-centered way, a God-centered way, and not in a man-centered way. The Greek saying, attributed to Protagoras, “Man is the measure of all things,” has been decisively demolished for the Christian as an intellectual stronghold in a way that even Plato’s transcendentalism could not match.

But the intellectual virtues themselves remain, or more properly are restored. After all, a “worthless intuition” is one of the things that God gave the Gentiles over to in Romans because of their idolatry (1:29). So Christians are “no longer to walk as the Gentiles do in the futility of their intuition” (Eph 4:17), but instead should “be transformed by the renewal of the intuition” (Rom 12:2). In the New Testament, salvation involves the reclaiming of the mind, as much as the heart. And the Spirit of God is the source of this intellectual restoration.

This is no less than we would expect from the example of the Old Testament. For instance, consider the inspiration of Bezalel in his craftsmanship for constructing the holy articles of the tabernacle:

The Lord said to Moses, “See, I have called by name Bezalel the son of Uri, son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah, and I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with ability and intelligence, with knowledge and all craftsmanship, to devise artistic designs, to work in gold, silver, and bronze, in cutting stones for setting, and in carving wood, to work in every craft. (Exodus 31:1-5 ESV)

The multiplication of intellectual virtue terminology fused with the language of spiritual filling clearly points to a beautiful harmony between the intellect and the Spirit. In this passage we even have Hebrew words that evoke the whole gamut of intellectual virtues. The word translated ‘ability’ by the ESV is the well-known hokma or wisdom made famous by the book of Proverbs, followed by a word for ‘skill’ or intelligence, knowledge and craftsmanship (think of Aristotle’s techne). This biblical support for the role of intellectual virtues could, of course, be multiplied from the book of Proverbs itself, which sees wisdom as a tree of life and more valuable than any earthly good. In a developed Christian view of sanctification, then, we would do well not to neglect the intellectual virtues.

A Christian, Classical Purpose of Education

We can then propose the active cultivation of the moral, intellectual and spiritual virtues as the proper purpose of life. And therefore, education’s grand goal is itself the same as that of Christian discipleship: the preparation for eternity through the cultivation of holiness in all aspects of life. While the biblical conception of holiness may not be confined to the pursuit of moral, intellectual and spiritual virtues, it certainly includes it. After all, Peter himself instructs us to add to our faith virtue, and to virtue add knowledge (see 2 Peter 1:5), perhaps deliberately endorsing the spiritual, moral and intellectual realms. 

We can compare this trifold purpose of education with that of John Amos Comenius, the great Czech Christian educational reformer of the 17th century. In his Great Didactic he argues that this life is but a preparation for eternity, since as we have said, “the ultimate end of man is eternal happiness with God” (p. 36; trans. by Keatinge). As creatures made in the image of God, human beings are rational creatures, stewards of creation and the image and glory of their creator (p. 36):

From this it follows that man is naturally required to be: (1) acquainted with all things; (2) endowed with power over all things and over himself; (3) to refer himself and all things to God, the source of all.

Now, if we wish to express these three things by three well-known words, these will be

(i.) Erudition.

(ii.) Virtue or seemly morals.

(iii.) Religion or piety.

Under Erudition we comprehend the knowledge of all things, arts, and tongues, under Virtue, not only of external decorum, but the whole disposition of our movements, internal and external; while by Religion we understand that inner veneration by which the mind of man attaches and binds itself to the supreme Godhead. (pp. 37-38)

Comenius later sums up these three goals of Christian education, which is intended to prepare students both for this life and the life to come, under the titles of learning, virtue and piety. The first would correspond to the cultivation of intellectual virtues, the second to moral virtues, and the last to spiritual virtues. These three areas fulfill man’s nature and fit him for eternal happiness with God. 

But what of Aristotle’s concern for good fortune and good friends to constitute human happiness in this life? The role of earthly goods is relativized to the point of insignificance by the introduction of God and eternity into the equation. The excellences of the body (being born with good looks or good health… remember that the intellectual virtues would cover bodily skill and the moral virtues proper care of the body) are excluded as “extrinsic ornaments” and not ultimately necessary to eternal happiness in light of the resurrection. Learning, virtue and piety are the proper goals of Christian, classical education:

In these three things is situated the whole excellence of man, for they alone are the foundation of the present and of the future life. All other things (health, strength, beauty, riches, honour, friendship, good-fortune, long life) are as nothing, if God grant them to any, but extrinsic ornaments of life, and if a man greedily gape after them, engross himself in their pursuit, occupy and overwhelm himself with them to the neglect of those more important matters, then they become superfluous vanities and harmful obstructions. (pp. 37-38)

Comenius’ reframing of these age-old philosophical questions in Christian terms provides a solid foundation for our restoration of Aristotle’s intellectual virtues as proper goals of education. The intellect is not the entire story, but it should be situated over the heart and under the superior direction of the Spirit. 

In Christian education, the ornaments of life can be relativized in a way that is impossible from the standpoint of mere classical education. Test scores and advancement, money and influence, fame and success are not the proper goals of a truly Christian education, because they are liable to becoming “superfluous vanities and harmful obstructions”; that said, they may serve as helpful sign-posts and markers along the way, as long as our true goals remain clearly in view: moral, intellectual and spiritual virtue, for the eternal enjoyment of God himself. It is in this context that we can then explore the cultivation of Aristotle’s intellectual virtues as part of the purpose of a truly Christian, classical education.

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How are teachers to begin the school year in such times? Let me suggest three principles for returning to school amidst the pandemic, which can be applied whether schools begin in-person, remotely, or using a hybrid model. These principles will also apply to home-schoolers, who have had to face their own unique challenges during this season.

1. Review your core values.

Amidst a catastrophe, our feeble human plans are the most vulnerable victims. Just as schedules are solidified, teaching assignments are confirmed, and re-opening guidelines are published, they can all come crashing down with a single government news conference. As a result, the mantra across industries has quickly become adaptability and flexibility.

But teachers can’t afford to simply be flexible. Their work is too important. Flexibility is crucial, don’t get me wrong, but flexibility is not a sure foundation anymore than is a trampoline. Core values alone serve as the foundation, whether for a person, classroom, or school. 

Core values are foundational because they don’t change even if circumstances do. A core value is a vital and timeless guiding principle. It serves as a compass or road map along a difficult and precarious journey. In order to persevere through the 2020-21 school year, which is shaping up to be one of the most interesting school years to date, teachers need to review and lead with their core values. 

These values can take different forms, but the key is that they must be general, not specific, and abstract, not concrete. “Love for Learning” can serve as a core value; “Using the school’s LMS effectively” cannot. If you’re not sure what your core values as a teacher are, pull out your journal and do a brainstorm. What are the enduring attributes of your classroom and the way you teach that shouldn’t change regardless of circumstance? Begin with a list of 10-15 ideas. Try to bring your list down to 3-6. Those are your core values. To get you thinking, here are some potential options: “Cultivating Virtue,” “Growth Through Adversity,” “Christlike Service,” or “Teamwork.” 

Once a teacher has honed in on her list of core values, she needs to share these values with her class on Day 1. It will be tempting to begin with a discussion on the current status of the pandemic or perhaps the school’s mask guidelines, but teachers must lead with their core values. These will serve as the engine that moves you through the year, not your desk arrangement.

2. Look to the past to find hope for the present.

One of the greatest fears in times like these stems from the fact that we don’t know the future. How long will the pandemic last? Will the government maintain high-control? Will my students stay focused and driven amidst the distractions around them?

To help our students (and ourselves) persevere through this time, we must remind ourselves of the great stories of the past. This isn’t the first time our world has suffered a pandemic and it likely won’t be the last. When did humanity become so arrogant as to think they are immune to viruses? 

But there is hope. Hope in the God who calms the seas and knows the stars by name, and hope in the ways He has equipped His people to persevere in the past. People have gone through far worse circumstances than we are at present and we should look to them for encouragement and wisdom. Patrick has written on both the Black Plague and the Spanish Flu to cross-reference and provide insight for our own pandemic; I would encourage you to check those articles out. 

Through studying history, we can begin to put together a mental framework for how catastrophes fit into our broader understanding of human history. We can learn how some events, such as the 1755 Lisbon earthquake, were used by skeptics to question the goodness of God, while others, such as the terrorist attacks on September 11, sent people in droves back to church.

Through looking to the past, we discover nuances and patterns, as well as hope for the future. Applying this principle in your classroom will not only help your students grow as young historians; it will bring them a sense of reassuredness as they view the present situation in a contextualized manner.

3. Cast vision for life after the pandemic.

Believe it or not: this pandemic will end. In some way or another, life will eventually return to normal and this experience will be behind us. Some things will have changed, to be sure, and we ourselves will have changed. But let us remember the wisdom of the Persian poets: “This too shall pass.”

Teachers can cast vision for their students at the beginning of the school year by helping them understand the present pandemic as an episode in a story of which there is hope for a redemptive ending. As Patrick aptly observed in his graduation address, the generation that overcame World War II, earning the moniker “the greatest generation,” is the same demographic cohort that survived the Spanish Flu as high school students. It is not unreasonable to conclude that the catastrophic events they experienced during their late adolescent years prepared them for the greater challenge that awaited them.

Similarly, we can cast a vision for our students that we do not know what the future has in store for them. We do not know how this present crisis is shaping and molding them for some greater challenge ahead. But we do know that God is faithful and He will not abandon them in their time of need. There are good things in store for God’s people.

Another way to cast vision for your students for life after the pandemic is to remind them of their biblically-mandated role here on earth. Christians are to be faithful stewards of the Lord, representing God’s rule and order in creation as they bear the Divine Image. They are to subdue creation, cultivating Christ’s goodness, truth, and beauty within it. Even during these times, our students have a calling, a vocation, to fulfill.

There is a key moment in The Return of the King, the third and final installment of J.R.R. Tolkein’s beloved Lord of the Rings trilogy, in which Gandalf the wizard reflects on his own role as a steward. Gandalf is no political leader, but as an inhabitant of Middle Earth, he feels a moral duty to ensure that the good things left in his care are not neglected. 

Speaking to Lord Denethor, himself a steward, Gandalf declares,

“The rule of no realm is mine, neither of Gondor nor any other, great or small. But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care. And for my part, I shall not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in days to come. For I also am a steward. Did you not know?”

As we return to school this fall, let us remember these words as we teach our students. Schools may open and they may close. There may be moments when the virus surges and when it declines. But as teachers, we must not be distracted by such things. We must remain true to our core values, look for wisdom from the past, and see to it that after the night is over, the worthy things left in our care “can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again.” These worthy things are our students, children of the living God.

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It is not only the classical education renewal movement that views technicism as a problem. For instance, in a leading educational journal David Carr and Don Skinner note the wide influence of technicist models on theory about learning and the professional role of the teacher, and then bemoan how “their baleful influence—on, for example, latter day talk of learning objectives, attainment targets, performance indicators and curriculum delivery—is everywhere apparent in the contemporary ‘audit culture’ of educational theory and policy….”[1]

Now let’s not get this wrong. An ‘audit culture’ is a very fine thing, if what we are concerned with is factories, markets, money and products. But it is at least a questionable theoretical assumption that schools should be modelled on this plan. Inevitably, such a pattern turns the focus away from many of the things that really matter in education, like the cultivation of wisdom and virtue. A government bureau of education can hardly be concerned with such things, when handy charts and graphs stand before them emphasizing the bottom line and the achievement gap.

Defenses of Technicism in Education

If there is a defense given for a technicist model of education, it rests on the assumption that education is an applied science, like the medical practice. In this line of thinking teachers themselves need not be concerned with the theory behind the practices they employ (Who cares for all that heady stuff, anyway?), only with efficiently employing them in order to get results, measured of course in high test scores.

After all, the average doctor only needs to be able to diagnose and treat patients, rather than understand all the detailed scientific theory that may undergird such practices. It is hard to argue against an analogy with so revered a profession as medicine, but here the analogy must fail.

Who will be a better teacher? One who has been given five ways to manage behavior in the classroom and eight types of lesson plans, or one who has refined and honed teaching practices over years of seeking the truth in the theories of educational philosophers? How can an unreflective teacher impart and embody wisdom?

An Antidote to Technicism

The theology of wisdom in Proverbs 1-9 provides an antidote to the technicist over-fascination with techniques and quantitative assessment. The Hebrew concept of ḥokmâ or wisdom likely grew out of the idea of skillful expertise in some craft, i.e. technical skill. Yet in Proverbs we see it broadened and deepened into the masterful understanding for life that the English word ‘wisdom’ evokes for us today. The roles of parent and sage are fused within this holistic and value-laden passing on of the tradition.

It’s interesting to note that in Aristotle, likewise, the term ‘wisdom’ (Greek sophia) could be used to refer to a competent artisan, a person skilled in some technē. Such was the language of common speech. However, Aristotle prefers to reserve ‘wisdom’ for the highest philosophic wisdom that joins scientific knowledge (episteme) with intuitive reason (nous).[2] Here too then we have a broader conception of wisdom in the Greek philosophical tradition than mere craftsmanship, even if craftsmanship was still included.

Being wise may include technical skill, but it also transcends it. But how does this broad understanding of wisdom help us avoid technicism in education?

(Enjoying this article? Check out its twin: The Problem of Scientism in Conventional Education.)

A Holistic Wisdom Manual

Proverbs 1-9 is, in many ways, the prime educational text in the Bible and therefore relevant for a Christian philosophy of education. In Proverbs the prototypical son is being educated for life, the royal son is being educated to rule, and the noble’s son to carry out his official duties in the royal court. The book bears all the marks of being a training manual for these various domains. But at the same time this training in technical proficiency is carried out by the father/sage in a heavily value-laden context. The student is to love wisdom and to seek it above riches; he is to reject folly in both his princely duties and his personal life.

In Proverbs wisdom is not broken apart into pieces, but instead includes both the training for practical duties and the moral formation for a wise life.

Christian classical education in the tradition of Proverbs does not reject technē, all the techniques and quantitative measures. It simply puts them in the proper role of subservience under qualitative values and ideals for life. This new role will inevitably transform modern techniques for teaching and grading, since all the techniques classical educators use must be fitted to wisdom’s ends.

Nevertheless, the techniques, arts, and judgments themselves remain intact under the guidance of wisdom. After all, Wisdom herself rules over all technē as a master craftsman, who was with God at the beginning as he wisely ordered all of creation:

²² “The Lord possessedme at the beginning of his work,
    the first of his acts of old.
²³ Ages ago I was set up,
    at the first, before the beginning of the earth.
²⁴ When there were no depths I was brought forth,
    when there were no springs abounding with water.
²⁵ Before the mountains had been shaped,
    before the hills, I was brought forth,
²⁶ before he had made the earth with its fields,
    or the first of the dust of the world.
²⁷ When he established the heavens, I was there;
    when he drew a circle on the face of the deep,
²⁸ when he made firm the skies above,
    when he establishedthe fountains of the deep,
²⁹ when he assigned to the sea its limit,
    so that the waters might not transgress his command,
when he marked out the foundations of the earth,
³⁰     then I was beside him, like a master workman,
and I was daily his delight,
    rejoicing before him always,
³¹ rejoicing in his inhabited world
    and delighting in the children of man. (Proverbs 8:22-31 ESV)

God’s wise ordering of creation is here paralleled with the wisdom sought by sage and student alike. It’s as if, hovering in the background of this passage, the doctrine of the image of God is asserting wise culture-making as the proper role of human beings. Through participation in God’s wisdom, we too can become master craftsmen, wisely ordering God’s world for his purposes.

The note of delight and rejoicing likewise signals the way it should be. Just as wisdom rejoices in God’s creation, sage and student rejoice in the flow of thought as they contemplate God’s “inhabited world” and his image: “the children of man.” What a contrast to the sour faces and frenetic atmosphere of so many schools and classrooms run by the technicism of modern grades and manipulative behavior management systems.

The Teacher as Philosopher rather than Technician

This holistic vision of a wisdom education in the vein of Proverbs requires much of the teacher. In classical education, likewise, the teacher must be a magister of the arts, a sage, a philosopher; must be a participant in the Wisdom that comes from above. Only then can the teacher cultivate wisdom in the young and simple. Only then will the teacher wisely order techniques, practices and assessments to the right ends.

Part of the problem with technicist education is how the quantitative measures lure us in to blindly trusting them in spite of the value judgments that they represent. The modern system of grades is perhaps the easiest example of this. Teachers indoctrinated into conventional education regularly create assessments and assign quantitative measures (numbers or points of some kind) to various questions and tasks they have posed, almost arbitrarily. But once they have done so, they have almost undying faith in the trustworthiness, fairness and objective truthfulness of those point values. They never question their own process of value judgments that went into the test they created. The numbers are simply “objective facts,” givens in a world of subjective preferences, and therefore any deviation from them or questioning of their own assumptions is tantamount to falsehood and deceit. To such technician teachers, for a hard-working student to appeal a grade on a test is tantamount to a rebellion against modern know-how, a return to a time of barbarism and superstition.

Perhaps even worse is a belief in the perfect truthfulness, fairness and objectivity of any particular curriculum purchased from a publisher, as if it were impossible for a fully vetted curriculum, complete with quizzes and assessments, review assignments and extra practice sets, to be in any way deficient. Of course, I do not discount the value of well-made curriculum programs; in the best cases the vetting process ensures that common sense and experience will trump some of the absurdities that an individual teacher could descend to. But my point is that we have too much blind faith in such things. We are not philosophers enough to doubt the assumptions on which such elaborate systems of “learning” are based.

Let those of us who teach be always sure to consider wisdom more valuable than gold and silver. Numbers only make sense within a story of value. When we fall into the technicist trap, we abandon our God-given capacity for wise rule over creation. We end up trading in quality for quantity and are left wondering why our proven techniques have not yielded the promised results.  

[1] David Carr and Don Skinner, “The Cultural Roots of Professional Wisdom: Towards a Broader View of Teacher Expertise,” Educational Philosophy and Theory, 41, no. 2 (2009): 144.

[2] See Aristotle, Nichomachean Ethics VI.7, 1141a.

Nota Bene: An earlier version of this article appeared on Forma: The Blog of the CiRCE Institute, January 2015, under the same title: https://www.circeinstitute.org/blog/problem-technicism-conventional-education.

Like this article? Check out its twin: The Problem of Scientism in Conventional Education.

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Similarly, within the Christian classical school movement, some have asked, “What has Charlotte Mason to do with Dorothy Sayers?” In other words, can the pedagogical insights of the British educator Charlotte Mason be conducive for classical education today? Where is there harmony? Where is there discord?

While a full treatment of this question, and the subsequent questions I posed, would require more than a single blog post, I want to begin the conversation by highlighting one prominent interpretation of classical education and then dispelling of two myths that would suggest Charlotte Mason and the tradition are at odds. The interpretation of classical education I will highlight comes from Kevin Clark and Ravi Scott Jain’s The Liberal Arts Tradition: A Philosophy of Christian Classical Education, which has become a seminal text in the Christian classical school movement.

A Paradigm for the Liberal Arts Tradition

To get started, let me first summarize Clark and Jain’s proposed paradigm for the liberal arts tradition. To be clear, I am not suggesting, nor do the authors, that this paradigm gets everything right about the western tradition of education. The history of education in western civilization spans millennia and cultures. It therefore encompasses a variety of thinkers and ideas that vary depending on their context and position within its development. Nevertheless, to suggest that there is no tradition at all is equally incorrect. Through careful study, we can observe some common threads present across time and place, which together bear witness to a single living tradition. It is precisely this rich heritage of education which Clark and Jain seek to uncover and illuminate for modern day scholars and practitioners alike.

The authors define the purpose of the liberal arts tradition in the West as follows: “Grounded in piety, Christian classical education cultivates the virtues of the student in body, heart, and mind while nurturing a love for wisdom under the lordship of Christ.” To unpack this purpose statement and help their readers keep the big picture in mind, they divide the paradigm into multiple categories—Piety, Gymnastic, Music, Arts, Philosophy, and Theology—or PGMAPT, for easy remembering. Let me briefly walk us through each category now.

Piety is the abiding love, gratitude, and loyalty members of a tradition share for their heritage. When fully realized, piety harnesses the heart and will toward a proper sense of duty for what has come before.

Gymnastic is the focused and intensive training of the physical body. As embodied souls, or ensouled bodies, humans must gain mastery of their physical bodies if they are to truly flourish in a physical world.

Music (not to be confused with the modern “subject” of music) tunes the heart to wonder, delight, and love. It forms the affections and moral imagination of the youngest students. Rather than focusing exclusively on instruments or singing, musical education is directed toward joyful engagement with reality. 

The Arts refer to the Liberal Arts, both the Trivium (language arts) and Quadrium (numerical arts). Together they are to be understood as the tools of learning, the intellectual skills required to create and justify knowledge.

Philosophy is the pursuit of wisdom and knowledge about the world, understood in a threefold division: knowledge about humans, nature, and metaphysics. Together these divisions point toward a single unified and synthetic view of knowledge and reality.

Finally, Theology is the study of divine revelation, which is the culmination of knowledge in the western educational tradition. Theology provides the unifying framework for all the liberal arts and sciences. 

The Learning Tree

Together these categories work together sequentially, resulting in a paradigm, or a comprehensive structuring, of the liberal arts tradition. To help their readers grasp this structuring, Clark and Jain liken it to a tree. 

The roots of the tree are piety, for, without piety, a person would have no reliable map or compass for one’s purpose in life. Piety serves both as a launching pad and source of sustenance for one’s understanding and approach to a meaningful life. Next come Gymnastic and Music, located on the lowest part of the tree trunk, indicating that these categories begin during the earliest years in a child’s education. Physical development and self-control, for example, are crucial during this stage. What initially begins with basic head movement and rolling on the floor quickly turns into crawling, walking, and soon enough, running and jumping. Likewise, the minds of children are incredibly active and curious, seeking to absorb everything in their paths. Therefore, the right stories, songs, and art should be offered and assimilated for their moral imaginations to flourish. 

With this foundation laid in the early years, training in the liberal arts occurs next. Not understood as stages in childhood development, but rather as dynamic tools of learning across grade levels, students learn how to use these tools as they engage with linguistic and mathematical content. The language tools have to do with all that is necessary to read and interpret a text, think critically, engage in discussion, and communicate both orally and in writing with eloquence. The number tools have to do with understanding the complex relationships between quantity, size, location, and shape, and then applying this knowledge toward practical outcomes. 

Together the liberal arts of language and number are the tools of learning that equip a student to think independently and dynamically. And while the training in these skills includes the transmission of some knowledge content, the focus is on honing skills that they may then go on to utilize in their own pursuits of knowledge down the road. Philosophy, the pursuit of wisdom, consists of all the subjects, or fields of knowledge, that one can study, such as chemistry, biology, economics, history, or literature. Philosophy, as the domain of all knowledge, is located at the highest point on the tree trunk, indicating that if a student has made her way up to this point, she is now ready to begin the real work of the tree: bearing fruit. This feature of the illustration is crucial for it reminds us as educators that the ultimate purpose of education is not mere knowledge, but virtue formation and the cultivation of desire directed toward the good, true, and beautiful.

And where does theology belong on the tree you might ask? Interestingly, theology itself is not located in any one particular place on the tree, but instead is situated above the tree. This unique positioning communicates that knowledge and understanding of the Triune God transcends all the other categories of education.

Dispelling Two Myths about Charlotte Mason and the Liberal Arts Tradition

Now that I’ve sketched out Clark and Jain’s comprehensive interpretation of the liberal arts tradition, I want to now dispose of two myths that question whether Charlotte Mason’s educational principles fit within the tradition.

The first myth is the simplistic notion that while Charlotte Mason emphasizes ideas, classical education focuses on something else entirely: facts. While it is true that Charlotte Mason greatly emphasizes the power of ideas, it is not accurate to say that classical education, or the liberal arts tradition more broadly, focuses on facts. The popularization of this viewpoint is, of course, understandable. The birth of the classical Christian school renewal movement began, in some ways, with Doug Wilson’s interpretation and application of the Trivium as he understood medievalist Dorothy Sayers to be explaining it. According to this treatment of the Trivium, the elementary years should focus exclusively on fact memorization as a way of honing the liberal art of grammar.

Recently, however, this view of grammar has been shown to be insufficient and inconsistent with the liberal arts tradition. The liberal art of grammar, as it would come to be shown, has more to do with reading and interpretation of language rather than fact memorization, and, additionally, was never historically confined to a particular stage in childhood development. So the idea that classical education necessarily elevates facts over ideas isn’t historically accurate and therefore not essential to the liberal arts tradition. More and more classical schools today are moving away from this approach, in fact, while retaining Sayers’ fundamental insight that young minds can and should be intellectually challenged appropriately. 

The second myth I wish to dispel is that Charlotte Mason elevated, above all else, the cultivation of a love for learning, while classical educators prioritize academic rigor. In response to this myth, let me say that Charlotte Mason was indeed passionate about awakening the minds of children to real knowledge. She believed that each child was a person made in the image of God, and, therefore, parents and teachers are limited to certain methods for raising and teaching these young scholars. She was deeply committed to educating children in a way that is befitting of their personhood: morally, spiritually, intellectually, and physically.

But this conviction is in no way incompatible with an academically rigorous education. In fact, it is reasonable to argue that this high view of children warrants an academically rigorous education properly defined. Children are not be treated as mere cattle on a farm or products on an assembly line. They enter this world with immense potential to think, create, explore, write, observe, perform, analyze, and more. As a result, the sort of work we give children to do in the classroom ought to activate and strengthen these capacities to the limits of each child’s potential. Charlotte Mason herself pokes fun at the sort of educational environments that are free of hardship, adversity, and genuine challenge. Humans, as it turns out, thrive in the face of challenge and experience real joy when coached to achieve excellence.

Now, to be sure, Charlotte Mason did question the usefulness of grades and competition as tactics for motivating children to learn. Stemming from her view of human minds as living and hungry for knowledge, she firmly believed that knowledge itself ought to be the reward for the worthy work of learning. Interestingly, the strength of intrinsic motivation for learning has been confirmed in recent literature. For example, in David Pink’s Drive, the author shows that modern research has revealed that for worthy tasks, like learning, intrinsic motivation is more powerful for long-term gains and sustained achievement. So although Charlotte Mason was careful to not permit motivators often associated with academic rigor to enter her classrooms, there turns out to be good reasons, which are actually a,menable toward academic rigor, for doing so.

Hopefully I have whet your appetite for the possible harmony Charlotte Mason and the liberal arts tradition may share. In my next article, I will continue the conversation through providing some specific examples, such as narration (download Jason’s eBook here), habit training (download Patrick’s eBook here), and nature study from Charlotte Mason’s pedagogical practices that fit within Clark and Jain’s PGMAPT paradigm. For now, I encourage educators today who are interested in synthesizing these inspiring approaches to education to step back into their classrooms and give these ideas a try!

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