• The material cause is the physical “stuff” that makes up a thing’s composition. 
• The formal cause is the design, shape, or arrangement of a thing.

• The efficient cause is the agent that brings the thing into existence.
• The final cause is the purpose or end for which the thing exists.

Together these causes serve as the foundation for whatever knowledge we can know about anything that exists.

In this article, I will explore the final cause, or purpose, of teaching. It practically goes without saying that there is great confusion in the world today about what the purpose of education is, broadly speaking, and teaching in particular. What precisely is the teaching act and what is its end goal?

Let us take a modern primer on teaching as an example. Doug Lemov’s Teach Like a Champion series of primers on teaching techniques provide excellent advice for equipping teachers to lead effective, efficient, and dynamic classrooms. From implementing tactics like “Cold Cold” to “Least Invasive Intervention,” new teachers can quickly take charge of their classrooms and provide an environment for inspiring learning to occur.

But the underlying problem with Lemov’s approach is that it fails to provide a satisfactory final cause, or purpose, of teaching. The subtitle for his books continues to point to “putting students on the path to college” as the goal. This objective, though important, is outdated, shortsighted, and paints an incomplete picture of what it means to be human. It is outdated because college is decreasingly the primary target for high school graduates. With the exponential increase in the cost to go to college and the growing attractiveness of trade schools, the traditional college route can no longer be taken for granted as sufficient motivation for PreK-12 education. Second, Lemov’s implicit purpose for teaching is shortsighted because even if college is, or should be, the sole target for high school graduates, it is only preparing them for the next four years. But what about life after that? What about the early years of one’s career? What about marriage and family? What about church membership, community involvement, and civic participation? What about navigating life’s challenges as a son or daughter, uncle or aunt, husband or wife, father or mother? With this wide range of stages and challenges for people to navigate, how can PreK-12 education only focus on college?

This leads to my final point: these techniques, though useful in some respects, paint an incomplete picture of what it means to be human. Not only do they only aim, at best, to prepare students for a four-year phase, the focus on the cognitive domain of a student’s development generates confusion about what it means to be human. To put a sharper point on it, Lemov’s work is not merely a myopic focus on the cognitive domain to the neglect of say, the moral. It is ultimately an economic, or careerist, approach to human development. In our secular world, the focus is on living one’s best life now: on experiencing as much pleasure as possible, accumulating as many possessions as one can, earning as much status as possible, and living with optimal comfort. In this sense, we could just as easily rephrase the Teach Like a Champion subtitles to “putting students on the path to an affluent and comfortable life.”

This is a sorrowful and depressing vision for the good life indeed. God created our students for so much more than to merely pursue a comfortable life. Made in the image of God, humans are created with the unique capacities to reason, to create, to cultivate beauty, and, ultimately, to steward their lives, including the people and duties they are responsible for, with excellence. If our students are to fulfill this vocation, their teachers need to grab hold of a bigger vision for the goal of what they do. They need a final cause, as Aristotle would put it, that is worth true dedication to their craft.

Let us explore, then, some alternative ways to think about the great cause of teaching.

Putting the Puzzle Together

In The Idea of a Christian School (Cascade Books, 2024), Educational leader Tom Stoner argues that education is one of the most powerful influences in our lives. A key reason, writes Stoner, is that education aids a child in her constructed understanding of the world. The formation of this understanding is like putting together a puzzle. Each piece represents a different bit of information children receive, including ideas, emotions, experiences, facts, and knowledge (2). Schooling plays a major role in the assembly of this puzzle. 

So it seems that one way dimension of the goal of teaching is to help a child develop a coherent understanding of the world, one in which all the pieces fit together. Note that even with this cognitive focus, the goal is not college; it is human development. In addition, Stoner will go on to demonstrate that behind the scenes of helping a child “put the puzzle pieces together,” lies a particular vision of the good life. The puzzle, when put together, makes a big picture. What is that picture? Drawing from the classical tradition of the ancient Greeks, Stone believes that this picture, or vision, inevitably dictates a school’s priorities, including what teacherse expected to accomplish in the classroom.

In other words, teaching possesses a cognitive aim, helping a child make sense of her world, and a moral one. The moral aim is to help students grasp a particular vision for human flourishing and desire it. In this way, the goal of teaching, we could say, is not only educational, it is formational. 

One Goal in Seven Laws

John Milton Gregory, author of The Seven Laws of Teaching, seems to agree. In the opening pages to his book, Gregory puts forward a vision of human flourishing that find its culmination in “the full grown physical, intellectual, and moral manhood, with such intelligence as is necessary to make life useful and happy, and as will fit the soul to go on learning from all the scenes of life and from all the available sources of knowledge” (11). The goal of teaching, for Gregory, is the work of transforming a child into a mature and intelligent human. 

Interestingly, however, Gregory does not stop there. In his exposition of the seven laws of teaching, Gregory offers clues for the ways the different elements of the teaching process fit together to achieve this purpose. For example, the first law focuses on knowledge and the importance of the teacher knowing that which she would teach. The second law focuses on the role of learner, a pupil who attends with interest.

If we put all of Gregory’s laws together into a singular formulation of the goal of teaching, it might go something like this: The goal of teaching is to cultivate a student’s growth in wisdom and virtue through the dynamic interrelation of teacher and student as they conjointly pursue knowledge for ever-deepening understanding.

Tried and True

So far in this article, I have examined one primer on teaching, the Teach Like a Champion series. More recently, Daniel Coupland, professor of education at Hillsdale College, published his own primer: Tried and True (Hillsdale College Press, 2022), “a teaching manual of best practices for sound pedagogy.” This book seeks to introduce the fundamentals of teaching for a new teacher through fourteen “imperative statements.”

Interestingly, Coupland himself does not articulate an overarching goal of teaching. He therefore does not align with Lemov on a college-preparation approach, but nor does he offer an alternative. No doubt, in interest of his primer remaining brief and practical akin to Strunk and White’s grammatical primer The Elements of Style, he avoids the philosophical. The result, however, is that the book comes across as overly focused on the cognitive, that is, the head knowledge without the heart (moral and spiritual formation).

To his credit, Coupland does spend a chapter on connecting one’s teaching to the broader purpose of one’s school. His first imperative statement is to “Follow the School’s Mission.” Certainly whatever the goal of teaching is, it is inextricably linked with the purpose of the school in which it occurs. Insofar as the school’s mission does articulate a purpose for what happens in the classroom, this could provide a satisfactory goal for teaching.

Another way the primer points to a broader goal of teaching is Coupland’s seventh imperative, “Plans Lessons Purposefully,” in which he advises teachers to focus on student learning. Here he distinguishes between the nebulous phrase “covering content” and actually teaching it. Coupland encourages teachers to craft objectives for each lesson regarding the knowledge, skill, or experience they are aiming for their students to obtain. This emphasis on the cognitive aspect of teaching is not dissimilar from Gregory’s. The chief difference is that while Gregory goes on to articulate a moral dimension of the goal of teaching, Coupland remains focused on the cognitive.

What Bloom Gets Wrong

Here, of course, I cannot help but think of Jason Barney’s recent work on Bloom’s taxonomy. In Rethinking the Purpose of Education (Educational Renaissance, 2023), Barney offers a critique of Bloom’s organization of the cognitive aims of education and proposes a replacement through retrieval of Aristotle’s intellectual virtues. In doing so, Barney helpfully points out that the training of intellectual abilities and skills is at best an incomplete picture of what it means to educate humans.

In Chapter 4 specifically, B​​arney maps out a correspondence between Bloom’s six objective categories in the cognitive domain with Aristotle’s five intellectual virtues, including the seven liberal arts. After commenting on this correspondence and then offering a restructured approach in which Bloom’s is filtered through Aristotle’s virtues, Barney writes, “In summary, then, Aristotle’s intellectual virtues restore the intellectual virtues of the body and heart, the educational importance of beautiful craftsmanship and skill, as well as the moral wisdom of a life well lived. In addition, the virtue of philosophic wisdom clarifies a new crowning achievement of true education that Bloom’s Taxonomy does not have the resources to grasp” (72).

In this way, through returning to an Aristotelian framework, Barney proposes a profound and deeply human purpose of education, and by extension teaching, that will prepare students for a life, not mere college experience, of flourishing.

Conclusion

In this article, I have explored various ways to think about the final cause, or goal, of teaching. If we are to train teachers well in the craft of teaching, they need to understand the purpose for this craft. While teaching primers are valuable for providing techniques and practices for immediate implementation in the classroom, if they are disconnected from the final cause of teaching, the work will grow stale. In this way, we could say these primers address the material and formal cause of teaching, but do not address the efficient cause (the teacher) or the final cause (the goal). My hope is that through reading this article, you have gained an expanded vision for what this goal could be and the implications teaching possesses for helping students experience a full and flourishing life. In the end, the cause of teaching is not merely final, it is truly great.

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

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

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

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

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

Four Emphases of a Bible Lesson

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

Here are brief descriptions of each:

Biblical Studies

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

Theological Studies

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

Spiritual Formation

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

Discipleship

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

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

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

Elements of a Narration-Based Bible Lesson

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

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

Text in the Center

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

A Strategic Setup

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

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

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

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

A Dramatic Reading

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

A High Expectation of Telling

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

A Discussion and Response

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

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

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

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For example, a teacher responsible for teaching The Great Gatsby must consider how the book will be taught, what she will focus on, and how she intends for students to develop and grow through the study. Each day, she walks into a room full of students in need of direction for approaching the text. This requires leadership.

In modern educational circles, we often speak, not of leadership, but of “classroom management.” Unfortunately, this phrase is embedded with faulty assumptions about who students are, what the purpose of learning is, and how we are to manage them toward some desirable end. As a result, classroom management techniques are problematic in two key ways.

First, classroom management techniques are often behavioristic. In other words, they seek to address the behavior of students through systems of external rewards and consequences, rather than aiming to form the whole person of the child, especially the heart. Strategies are deployed to artificially motivate behaviors of respect, obedience, service, and even kindness in a way disconnected from the child’s internal moral development. Is this child growing in a love and understanding of the idea of respect for authority? How is the child becoming more servant-hearted in her disposition? These questions are not usually asked in typical classroom management conversations.

Second, classroom management techniques are often task-oriented rather than people-oriented. This makes sense since the phrase emerged during the post-industrial revolution in which the effective and efficient completion of tasks was prized above all else. Now, at its best, modern business management theory is people-oriented, but most managers too easily slip into the mindset of “How do I get this employee to perform this task?” rather than “How do I lead this employee on a path toward growth and increasing expertise?” The latter focuses on the development of the talent and skill of people, not simply whether they are hitting the deadlines. 

To equip teachers to grow as true leaders of their students, in this article I will recommend three recently published leadership books that contain relevant ideas for classroom leadership. These resources will help teachers see their true leadership role and therefore embrace the responsibility for them to invest deeply in the lives of their students. While teachers will need to push through some of the business-focused examples of these resources, the underlying ideas are both relevant and applicable for classroom leadership today.

Multipliers by Liz Wiseman 

The first book I want to recommend is Multipliers (HarperCollins, 2017) by researcher Liz Wiseman. In this book, Wiseman sets out to show how leaders can make people under their supervision smarter, rather than targeting mere compliance. Early on, she differentiates between two managers, the Genius Maker and the Genius (9). The genius maker grows people’s intelligence by “extracting the smarts and maximum effort from each member on the team.” This type of leader talks only about 10% of the time, thereby making space for others to grow through active participation in coming up with solutions to a problem. 

In contrast, the genius is self-oriented. He is smart and successful, and everyone in the room knows who has the best ideas. He may facilitate “conversations” but soon these turn into opportunities for him to share his correct views with others. After all, he is the genius. Why not just listen to him? The result is that people do not have the permission to think for themselves or the legitimate responsibility to make decisions. It all goes back to what the genius thinks is right. 

For Wiseman, the genius maker is a multiplier of of intelligence while the genius is actually a diminisher. At heart, multipliers “invoke each person’s unique intelligence and create an atmosphere of genius–innovation, productive effort, and collective intelligence” (10). The upshot is that these leaders not only access people’s current capability, they stretch it. People actually report getting smarter under the supervision of multipliers. The fundamental assumption of a multiplier is “People are smart and will figure this out” whereas the assumption of the diminisher is “They will never figure this out without me” (20). 

Teachers can become multipliers of intelligence in their classrooms by resisting the urge to be the residential genius. Although they are older, smarter, and more experienced, these assets can be leveraged to empower their students toward growing their own abilities, rather than making it all about the teacher.

Diagnostic Questions for Teachers:

• Do you empower students in your classroom to make major contributions to class culture, discussions, learning, and skill demonstration? 
• Is there room in your classroom for students to make mistakes as you stretch them to attempt difficult assignments?
• Do you ask your students to explain complex concepts to their peers rather than yourself?
• Does your approach to grading grow student intellectual confidence or does it foster dependence on your own intelligence?

Boundaries for Leaders by Dr. Henry Cloud

Boundaries for Leaders (HarperCollins, 2013) is written by clinical psychologist Dr. Henry Cloud, an author recognized for his work on cultivating healthy relationships. In Chapter 1, he writes, “This book is about what leaders need to do in order for people to accomplish a vision” (2). The key word here for Cloud is people. He will go on to argue that people perform their best work in healthy work cultures that take into consideration the psychological well-being of both employer and employee. By setting good boundaries in place and leading in a way that people’s brains can follow, Cloud contends, good results will come. 

Cloud writes that boundaries are made up of two things: what you create and what you allow (15). A boundary is a property line, marking out who is responsible and for what. When someone is given real ownership of something, anything that happens under their supervision only happens because they created it or allowed it. 

In top-performing classrooms, teachers teach in a way that makes it possible for their students’ brains to function as they were designed (25). This happens through setting good boundaries. Cloud writes, “Show me a person, team, or a company that gets results, and I will show you the leadership boundaries that make it possible” (26).

As a psychologist, the author is aware of how the human brain works and what leaders can do to maximize brain health and productivity. In turn, teachers can use these insights as they seek to pass on knowledge, skills, and virtues to their students.

For example, it is helpful for a teacher to understand that the brain relies on three essential properties to achieve a particular task, be it the following of a classroom procedure or the completion of an assignment:

1. Attention: the ability to focus on relevant stimuli, and block out what is not relevant (“Do this”)
2. Inhibition: the ability to “not do” certain actions that could be distracting, irrelevant, or eve destructive (“Don’t do this”)
3. Working Memory: the ability to retain and access relevant information for reasoning, decision-making, and taking future actions (“Remember and build on this relevant information”)

As teachers design their lessons and think through what they want their students to accomplish for the day, it is beneficial to think through these three neurological elements for the completion of a task. When we ignore one or more of these elements, we risk short-circuiting our students optimal use of the way God designed their brains.

Diagnostic Questions for Teachers:

• What student behaviors in your classroom have you created or allowed?
• How do your lessons promote student attention on what is most important for the curricular objective?
• What procedures and expectations have you established and maintained to ensure that what is not important or destructive is not allowed in?
• How are you building your students’ working memory of key information to help them complete assignments with greater success? 

The Motive by Patrick Lencioni 

The Motive (Wiley, 2020), written especially for CEOs, explores the underlying motivation of a good leader. Author Patrick Lencioni, well-known for his book Five Dysfunctions of a Team, illustrates through a leadership parable that one’s motivation for leading will dictate what one prioritizes and how he or she spends her time.

In the parable, two types of leadership motivation are at play (135). Reward-centered leadership rests on the fundamental assumption that the leader, having been selected for the role, has arrived and therefore possesses the freedom to design her job around what she most enjoys. It is the belief that the leader’s work should be pleasant and enjoyable because the leadership position is the reward. She therefore has the freedom to avoid mundane, unpleasant, or uncomfortable work if she so pleases, which she does.

In contrast, responsibility-centered leadership assumes that leadership is all about responsibility and service. It is the belief that being a leader is responsible; therefore, the experience of leading should be difficult and challenging (though certainly not without elements of gratification). 

To be clear, Lencioni writes that no leader perfectly embodies one form of motivation or the other. But one of these motives will be predominant and leaders need to be self-aware of what drives them. Reward-centered leaders often resist and avoid doing the difficult things that only they can do for the team they are leading. As a result, the whole organization suffers.

When it comes to leading a classroom, there are all sorts of things that a teacher would prefer not to do: address difficult student behavior, call a parent with bad news to share, have “family talks” with the whole class about negative classroom culture issues, or give a low grade on an assignment. But to be the best leaders they can, teachers need to lean into these responsibilities and thereby discharge their role teacher well.

Diagnostic Questions for Teachers

• What is your motivation for becoming a teacher?
• What are the 3-5 things you can do for your class that no one else can do? 
• How are you caring for your class culture, especially rooting out dysfunctional behavior and forming healthy interpersonal dynamics?
• What kind of feedback do you give your students on their behavior and work? 
• When was the last time you had a difficult conversation with a student in which you addressed unhealthy behavior?
• When was the last time you complained about a student’s or parent’s behavior? What steps do you need to take to address it?
• How often are you reminding your students of the big picture of their education, your particular curriculum, and the core values of your classroom?

Conclusion

Teachers are the leaders of their classrooms, responsible for casting vision for their students, supporting them in their work, and cultivating healthy classroom cultures. Rather than deploying classroom management techniques which can be overly behavioristic and task-oriented, teachers should embrace their role as leaders and focus on developing their people. By helping teachers become better leaders, we will see dynamic classrooms, better learning results, and, most importantly, thriving students.

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The sole true end of education is to teach men how to learn for themselves; and whatever instruction fails to do this is effort spent in vain.

As educators, we get excited when classrooms come alive: Hands shoot up. Eyes brighten. And body language across the room broadcasts that discovery is underway. 

The other day I stepped in to sub for our science teacher and experienced a fresh taste of these kinds of moments. The class had been studying insects all semester and the topic of the day was beetles. Now, my background is in the humanities, not science, and my teaching experience is not in science instruction. As I studied the lesson plan and scanned the text, the wheels in my mind began to turn. On the one hand, I felt inadequate. What did I know about beetles and the broader field of entomology? How could I step in with minimal prep and pull off an excellent lesson? But on the other hand, all was well. Despite my lack of expertise, I knew what I needed to do: lean on the teaching techniques I had accumulated over the years.

Teaching is a craft. It requires a set of complex skills that, when carefully honed over time, come together with mastery to create something new. These skills in turn can be broken down into techniques. 

For example, cultivating a strong classroom culture is a skill. It takes thought, sustained effort, and experience to lead a group of students to interact, collaborate, study, and speak a certain way. It takes practice to learn the secret to holding students to high expectations while letting them never doubt for a second that you support and care for their well-being. If you were to ask a master teacher how she does it, she may not be able to tell you at first. She may even attribute the culture to great students or just getting lucky. But if you press her on specifics, or better, take the time to observe, you will learn that the specific things she does and says to make the culture come alive. In other words, techniques.

Another example: supporting each student to reach his or her full potential as a learner. We probably all have memories growing up of certain teachers who were “easier” than others. Perhaps they would not grade very rigorously or they would let you just get away with napping in the back. In these classrooms, only a small percentage of students actually cared, and an even small percentage applied themselves fully. Most students were not called up to reach their full potential. Sadly, this sort of classroom is probably more often the norm than the exception. But it does not have to be that way. Again, when teachers are equipped with the right techniques, they can pretty quickly make small adjustments and transform students from passive spectators to engaged learners.

Going back to my science class on beetles, I committed right away to using two techniques. First, I committed to a technique from Teach Like a Champion 2.0 called Cold-Call. Instead of calling only on students who raised their hands, I called on students at random. No student could hide. No student could take a pass. All students were invited into the learning experience.

Second, I committed to asking questions more often than providing answers. To some extent, of course, I did not have much of a choice. Having studied entomology all semester, these students knew much more about insects than I did. If I entered the classroom with the intent to wax eloquent, I would not last long. However, even if I did happen to be an amateur beetle expert, I would not have shown it. My strategy to facilitate strong engagement would be to spark student conversation around the topic. To do this, I would resist sharing what I knew and instead ask good questions. For example: “How do you know?” “How does this relate to other insects you have studied?” “Help my understand why…” Through this question-asking exercise, the class quickly ignited into a firework show of ideas, thoughts, and new thought-provoking questions.

Expand Your Tool Belt

If you are a teacher in need of some fresh techniques for your tool belt, I invite you to register for my live webinar on the topic in a couple weeks. I plan to walk through five top techniques that you can implement in your classrooms or homeschools immediately. These techniques will enhance your teaching ability and will do so in a distinctively classical way: getting to great ideas, pondering time-tested values, and honing skills in the liberal arts.

While the end of the year is winding down, now is a great time to receive some fresh inspiration to make it this last stretch of the year. Our students are worth it!

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“Whether we like it or not, whether we know it or not, we are all more or less Platonists. Even if we reject Plato’s conclusions, our views are shaped by the way in which he stated his problems.”¹ 

In today’s article, I begin a new series on Plato’s Republic. I’ve been wanting to start this project for some time now for two reasons. 

First, I want to make Plato more accessible for everyone. The philosopher is a seminal figure in the history of ideas. Without his writings, it is difficult to know where western civilization would be today. In particular, Plato’s conception of reality as rational (and knowable) paved the way for rigorous intellectual inquiry to take root. Additionally, his notion of the Good as objective and distinct from the individual established the foundation for much of moral philosophy. In short, without Plato, we lose much of the philosophical foundation of western civilization.

Second, I believe the ideas found in the Republic have massive implications for classical educators today. If Plato is right that justice is not only a virtue to be exhibited by society, but the ideal state of one’s soul, then teachers would do well to understand more what he has in mind. When they do, they will see that their work in the classroom is no isolated mental exercise. Rather, teaching is a holistic endeavor dedicated to helping students order their souls for the virtuous, well-lived life.

Join me now as we enter the gates of Plato’s Republic and gain fresh insights into what it means to be human, the nature of justice, and the value of education today.

Down to the Piraeus

The opening scene of Book I in the Republic is memorable. Socrates and his companion Glaucon are visiting the Pireaus, the port of Athens, for a religious festival (327a).² Plato immediately embeds deeper meaning into the story by noting that the travelers are journeying downward. This movement indicates that Socrates, the wise philosopher, is descending from the world of knowledge into the cave of ignorance. His journey is missional in nature as he seeks to bring fellow humans out of intellectual darkness and into the light of objective truth.

For Plato, humans cannot be forced out of this cave; they must choose for themselves. Given this reality, education, as we will explore later in this blog series, is the process of pointing students toward the way up and out of the cave. But students must take the steps themselves. Practically speaking, filling the minds of students with facts or preparing them for college entrance exams might temporarily generate the facade of learning, but only time will tell if understanding has taken root. The ultimate test? Students will go on to not only learn what is good, true, and beautiful; they will desire it for themselves.

What drives Socrates’ missional descent? Why would anyone “go down” to the cave if they have already experienced the sunlight above? The answer is simple: community. Humans are creatures of relationship. According to Plato, humans are social and political in nature. They are not content enjoying the good and true alone. They are wired to bring others with them, up and out of the cave. In this way, the challenges of being a good man are inseparable from being a good citizen.²

An Unexpected Meeting

After Socrates and Glaucon attend the festival at the sea port, they begin their return journey to Athens. Soon they are stopped by a young nobleman Polemarchus and his father Cephalus. Before long, Socrates and Glaucon are humorously forced to stop for a visit at the home of the elderly Cephalus for an extended discussion with the father and son, and a few others. The topic of discussion: What is Justice?

The discussion in Book I occurs in two broad movements. In the first movement, Socrates has to deal with the traditional Greek view that justice is real but rather trivial. This viewpoint is embodied in the characters Cephalus and Polemarchus. In the second movement, Socrates has to address a far more nefarious view: justice is not real at all. There are no moral qualities inherent to the fabric of reality. All that matters is who has the power and what is most expedient. This view is represented by the moral skeptic Thrasymachus. 

Interestingly, in the conclusion of Book One, it is clear that socratic dialogue will not convince the morally complacent or the moral skeptic. The matter is too philosophically complex and the draw to live for what is most expedient is too alluring. The result for the interlocutors is a state of aporia, a state of confusion about what actually is true. Thus, the remaining nine books of the Republic pivot from Plato’s usual style of socratic dialogue to a form of lecture, with some Q&A, in which Socrates constructs his view of justice. Before we get there, however, let us take our time and first examine Socrates’ interlocutors in Book I and their respective views.

Cephalus, the Wealthy Moralist

Socrates’s first interlocutor is Cephalus, an elderly man who has earned himself a comfortable life through trade and manufacture. He is the epitome of a person in which morality and wealthy are intertwined. For Cephalus, one of the key benefits of being wealthy is that it enables a person to act more justly. He insists,

“Wealth can do a lot to save us from having to cheat or deceive someone against our will and from having to depart for that other place in fear because we owe sacrifice to a god or money to a person” (331b).

Thus, a just person in old age is able to look back on his life with peace knowing that he has lived a good life. According to Cephalus, wealth grants people the freedom from care, necessity, and fear of death.

From these opening remarks, Socrates distills Cephalus’ view of justice: being truthful and returning what one owes (331c). Cephalus appreciates and accepts this articulation of his view of justice. It can be boiled down to a few basic rules such as “Don’t lie” “Don’t cheat” and “Don’t steal.” Justice consists in the performance of certain actions, not in regards to whether the person is actually just.

As one can imagine, it doesn’t take much for Socrates to spot holes in this simplistic view of justice. For example, one would never return to an insane person a weapon that might lead to a tragic result. Yet, under Cephalus’ view, this is the just thing to do: returning what is owed. Humorously, rather than responding to this objection, Cephalus takes it as his cue to exit the discussion to go make another sacrifice, reinforcing his view that justice is grounded in doing, not being. He leaves his son Polemarchus to continue the conversation.

Can Justice Lead to Harm?

For Cephalus’ son Polemarchus, justice is more than following a few specific rules, but not much more. Following the poet Simonides (c. 548-468 B.C.), he generalizes justice to mean “giving to each what is owed to him” (331e). More specifically, he posits, justice is grounded in friendship. Friends owe it to their friends to do good for them, never harm. Conversely, enemies owe it to one another to inflict harm upon one another (334b).

Again, it does not take long for Socrates to disband Polemarchus’ view as he did his father’s. Using the method which dons his very name, Socrates leads Polemarchus to admit that justice, as he defined it, is both useless (333d) and at times harms good people (334e). Eventually, this leads Polemarchus to nuance his definition: treating well friends who are actually good and harming enemies who are actually bad (335a).

But this cannot be right, Socrates points out. After all, does not harming things actually make them worse with regards to what they are intended to be? Does not harming a racehorse make it a worse horse? In the same way, would not harming someone, even a wicked enemy, make the enemy an even worse human? How could a just person do that?

Moreover, if justice is a virtue, and virtue is the excellence⁴ of a thing, then how could good people make people bad through justice? They certainly cannot. It is the function of an unjust person to harm others, while just people are called to be good.

In conclusion, viewing justice as simply giving what is owed is insufficient. On the surface, it has a reasonable draw, but when you dig deeper, it is flawed. “It is never just to harm anyone,” is Polemarchus’ conclusion. Insofar as virtues are manifestations of the good, justice as a virtue cannot do the opposite and engage in harm.

No Justice, Only Power

Up to this point, there is one individual at the gathering who has not yet spoken: Thrasymachus, the Sophist. In Plato’s day, the Sophists were not a school of thought, but a group of professional teachers who lectured across cities and who claimed expertise in lessons needed for people to lead successful lives.⁵ Insofar as they viewed knowledge as a resource to be utilized for pragmatic ends, their motivation for learning was in stark contrast to Plato’s. They went around charging fees for their lessons, marketing themselves as consultants for the good life, while simultaneously throwing into question whether moral claims have any objective basis at all.⁶

Plato introduces Thrasymachus coming on the scene with style:

“While we were speaking, Thrasymachus had tried many times to take over the discussion but was restrained by those sitting near him, who wanted to hear our argument to the end. When we paused after what I’d just said, however, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. He coiled himself up like a wild beast about to spring, and he hurled himself at us as if to tear us to pieces” (336b).

The description of Thrasymachus as a beast is intentional. He represents here the perpetual threat of the bodily appetites, eagerly waiting to conquer reason and morality. We will learn in later books that the well-ordered soul keeps the appetite in check. Here we will see an example of what happens when it fails.

Thrasymachus provocatively defines justice as “the advantage of the stronger” (338c). Rulers, he insists, make laws to perpetuate their own rule. Thus, justice is whatever the established rule says it is (339e). Socrates immediately begins his interrogation, first challenging what Thrasymachus means by advantage and then demonstrating how it is often in the best interest of rulers to seek the advantage of who they are leading, such as a captain commanding sailors on a ship (342e). Not to be outdone easily, Thrasymachus retorts that not all rulers seek what is advantageous for their subjects. Case and point: Shepherds and cowherds caring for their sheep and cows. They are not fattening the cows for the good of the cow, that’s for sure!

Then Thrasymachus pivots to make a different, potentially stronger argument: justice works for the advantage of the ruling class while injustice works for the advantage of those being ruled (343d). Making his point persuasively with examples, he concludes,

“So, Socrates, injustice if it is on a large enough scale, is stronger, freer, and more masterly than justice. And, as I said from the first, justice is what is advantageous to the stronger, while injustice is to one’s own profit and advantage” (344c).

Socrates responds, of course, with his own arguments. First, he argues that although injustice appears to have its merits, ultimately it is contrary to wisdom and virtue (351b). Second, he demonstrates that injustice is self-defeating and only leads to civil war, both corporately and individually (352a). While neither of these arguments are fully convincing, they do slow down Thrasymachus and force readers to seriously evaluate the strength of the opposing views.

Justice: Excellence of the Soul

Socrates’ final argument to demonstrate that justice is more than the advantage of the stronger and actually a moral good worth pursuing is with regards to function, specifically the function of a human soul. Everything has a function, thinks Socrates, ranging from race horses to cutting knives. For example, the function of a knife is to cut. Similarly, the function of the soul is life and self-rule.

Like other functions, there is a gradation to the extent to which the soul’s function is achieved with arete (excellence), or virtue (354a). To use the knife example again, a knife demonstrates arete insofar as it cuts with excellence.

For the function of the human soul, justice, Socrates insists, is this excellence. The key to the well-ruled soul is justice, the virtue of the soul.

Admittedly, this argument, while logically valid, is, again, not fully persuasive. It is not quite clear whether Socrates has it right about the function of the soul, much less that justice is the virtue of this function. Interestingly, it is at this point that the traditional socratic dialogue ends in the Republic. As I mentioned earlier, Book I ends with the discussion participants in a state of aporia, confusion over what is actually true. The question of whether justice is actually worth it essentially ends in a stalemate. Attentive readers themselves are left puzzled and confused themselves, setting the stage for Socrates to begin constructing his theory of justice.

Application for Educators

Throughout this series on Plato’s Republic, I am going to offer some practical takeaways for classical educators today. Each of these takeaways deserve an article themselves, but for now, these will serve to prime the pump for future writing.

Here are some practical takeaways from Book I:

Trust the dialectic. Real learning occurs through genuine inquiry, passionate discussion, and relentless searching for the truth. While Book I is intended to demonstrate the limitations of socratic dialogue, it also shows its merits. Socrates and his friends obviously cover some ground. They are able to identify some very bad ideas about justice and establish a general framework for a viable view.

Argue for the objectivity of moral truth claims. Thrasymachus put forth some dangerous ideas about morality, namely that it is subjective at best, and worthless at worst. He argues, at times persuasively, that maybe the moral life is a sham constructed by those in power to keep control. Undaunted, Socrates keeps his wits about him and defends the substance of moral truth claims. Likewise, teachers should be prepared to stand up for the truth, even while they allow their students to wrestle with complex ideas.

Cast vision for the Good life. While Socrates’ closing argument is not fully convincing, he does introduce the powerful idea that the Good life exists. In other words, there is a right way to live and it is not hopelessly arbitrary. If the human soul actually has an objective function, or purpose, then it is worth all the gold in the world to find out what this purpose is. Then one must seek to fulfill it with excellence. We must keep this vision for the virtuous life before our students, regularly encouraging them to seek what is good, true, and beautiful.

Endnotes

1. W.T. Jones, A History of Western Philosophy, Volume 1: The Classical Mind, 2nd edition, Wadsworth Thomson Learning, 1980, p. 108.
2. Plato, Republic, trans. G.M.A. Grube, Plato’s Complete Works, ed. John M. Cooper, Hackett Publishing, 1997.
3. Jones, 138.
4. It is worth noting that this argument assumes a particular definition of virtue as “arete,” translated from the Greek as “excellence” or “goodness.” A knife, for example, has “arete” with respect to its ability to cut properly. What is human “arete”? Keep reading the Republic with me and you will find out!
5. Julia Annas, An Introduction to Plato’s Republic, Oxford University Press, 1981, p. 6.
6. Ibid., 6.

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As we saw, narration has its roots in the classical era with rhetorical teachers like Aelius Theon and Quintilian, where its goals included the development of memory, fluency and style for future orators. It was particularly powerful as a practice because it fused the natural oral story-telling of pre-literate cultures with the refinements of classical Greek and Roman rhetoric. Before moving to the rebirth of narration in the Renaissance and early modern era, I have to admit to an unfortunate gap in my own knowledge. 

I cannot claim to know that narration was absent from medieval pedagogy. In fact, I suspect that it was not. But I have not (as yet) found any direct evidence of it. There are undoubtedly more places to look than I have had the opportunity of doing so to date. So I would encourage any interested readers to keep an eye out and let me know if you find mention of any narration-like practices occurring in the Middle Ages. However, for the purposes of this series I will have to temporarily conclude that, like much of the tradition of classical rhetoric, narration went into dormancy during the Middle Ages. 

After all, the political situation changed drastically after the fall of Rome, and as a result rhetoric training itself underwent a shift. Without democratic political bodies to convince of a particular course of action, ceremonial and legal rhetoric predominated and crystalized into a more literate and scholastic form. As George A. Kennedy, a leading rhetorical scholar, put it: 

“With the end of orderly civic and economic life not only did public support of education disappear, but the reasons for rhetorical education in its traditional form declined. Fewer councils remained in which an orator could speak, and legal procedures were disrupted; on the other hand, barbarian kings easily acquired a taste for being extolled in Latin prose or verse, even if they did not understand what was being said.” (Classical Rhetoric and Its Christian and Secular Tradition, 2nd ed.; Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1999; 196)

The golden age of oratory had passed. It was no wonder that grammatical training predominated, followed by the refined logic of scholasticism. And likewise, it is no wonder that, when the tides turned toward the Renaissance and a return ad fontes (“to the sources”), back to the rhetoric of the classical era, that we would see narration reborn as well.

Narration’s Rebirth, Stage 1: Desiderius Erasmus (1466-1536)

I owe to Karen Glass my awareness of the first two stages in narration’s rebirth: Erasmus and Comenius (see Know and Tell: The Art of Narration, p. 16). However, the context of Desiderius Erasmus’ work is enlightening, because it illustrates just how indebted he was to the grammatical and rhetorical tradition. The chapter leading up to his mention of narration reads like a passage out of Quintilian. In fact, Erasmus himself references his dependence on Quintilian, saying,

“As regards the methods of the rudiments—that is, of learning to talk and knowing the alphabet—I can add nothing to what Quintilian has laid down.”

Desiderius Erasmus, Concerning the Aim and Method of Education, translated by William Harrison Woodward (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1904), p. 168

Erasmus affirms the value of teaching students to speak both Latin and Greek as the main sources of all the important knowledge then available. Then he gives instructions for exercises in composition, followed by how the teacher should guide students through reading classic texts. His composition exercises are based on the classical principle of imitation: “The Master in the course of his reading will be careful to note instances which present themselves as models suitable for imitation” (170). He then recommends the more challenging exercises of Quintilian, like “paraphrasing poetry into prose and the reverse process” (171). 

While we judged this exercise of Quintilian’s to be an extension of narration, in which the student would write a paraphrase from memory rather than with constant reference to a text, it is almost certain that this is not the case for Erasmus’ recommendations. One clue comes in his recommendations for translating from Greek into Latin and vice versa in the same section—what Walter Ong might call an art of high literacy and one which almost certainly relies on being able to reference the text itself (see Erasmus, Aim and Method of Education, 171-172).

Given the invention of the printing press before Erasmus’ lifetime, highly increasing availability of texts, we are probably right to assume that the educational situation of Erasmus’ day was quite different from the Roman era. Narration of texts from the teacher’s single reading would have become more counterintuitive because texts were cheaper and more accessible. Why would one narrate merely the text itself when it is there at hand?

We might bemoan this fact as the fulfillment of Plato’s dire predictions in the Phaedrus (see the final section of the previous article). However, the challenging composition exercises that Erasmus proposes would have probably compensated for the loss. And this isn’t even to mention how Erasmus himself transformed narration into a practice for assimilating the teacher’s lecture in a passage that out-flanks Plato’s objection:

“The master must not omit to set as an exercise the reproduction of what he has given to the class. It involves time and trouble to the teacher, I know well, but it is essential. A literal reproduction of the matter taught is, of course, not required, but the substance of it presented in the pupil’s own way. Personally I disapprove of the practice of taking down a lecture just as it is delivered. For this prevents reliance upon memory which should, as time goes on, need less and less of that external aid which note-taking supplies.”

Erasmus, Aim and Method of Education,177-178.

Here we can see narration endorsed as “essential” in the case of the teacher’s lecture, rather than with texts. Of course, we have to remember that Erasmus has already discussed imitative composition exercises on topics taken from the classic texts that the students would read. So it is not as though there would be no opportunity for students to assimilate the subject matter of texts through their own writing.

What may be more surprising is Erasmus’ stance against note-taking during the teacher’s lectures and in favor of narration. His reasoning involves the training of the memory and the reduction of an “external aid” over the course of a student’s education. For Erasmus “note-taking” is a crutch, or better yet, corresponds to the use of training wheels for the memory. They should be taken off as soon as possible. 

Narration, then, in the first stage of its rebirth, has shifted its focus from the text read aloud to the spoken lecture on the text. In a similar fashion, the training of a student’s rhetorical style has been almost entirely subsumed in the training of the memory for content (note “the substance of it presented in the pupil’s own way”), and the narration is most likely a written enterprise, since it causes “time and trouble to the teacher,” most likely because of the extra work involved in reading and assessing the students’ narrations. 

Narration’s Rebirth, Stage 2: John Amos Comenius (1592-1670)

The great Czech educational reformer, philosopher, pastor and theologian, John Amos Comenius, sometimes called the father of modern education, represents the next stage in the history of narration. The opening statement of his stunning work on the philosophy of education Didactica Magna or The Great Didactic promises much in terms that are familiar to advocates of narration:

“Let the main object of this, our Didactic, be as follows : To seek and to find a method of instruction, by which teachers may teach less, but learners may learn more; by which schools may be the scene of less noise, aversion, and useless labour, but of more leisure, enjoyment, and solid progress ; and through which the Christian community may have less darkness, perplexity, and dissension, but on the other hand more light, orderliness, peace, and rest.”

John Amos Comenius, preface to The Great Didactic

Charlotte Mason found in narration an ideal “method” for attaining Comenius’ golden key of education: teachers teaching less and learners learning more. Of course, the extent to which Comenius anticipated Charlotte Mason, or Mason followed Comenius, is an area ripe for more study, at least for me. 

My Head of School Dave Seibel and I are planning to read Comenius’ Great Didactic together starting this January to see what we will make of it. Classical Academic Press also has a short introduction to Comenius in their Giants in the History of Education series, which I plan to purchase and read as well. But I already know from Karen Glass that Comenius recommended that “every pupil should acquire the habit of acting as a teacher. This will happen if, after the teacher has fully demonstrated and expounded something, the pupil himself is immediately required to give a satisfactory demonstration and exposition of the same thing in the same manner” (as qtd in Glass, Know and Tell, 16). Glass quotes from another of Comenius’ works The Analytical Didactic (trans. Vladimir Jelinek; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1953; 193), in which Comenius “reinterpreted the principle of nature that he had described in The Great Didactic as a principle of logic” (John E. Sadler, “John Amos Comenius” in Encyclopedia Britannica; accessed January, 2021). 

As stated, Comenius’ variant on narration embodies the golden key of his Great Didactic by turning the student into the teacher after a teacher’s “demonstration” or “exposition”. It thus follows Erasmus in focusing on a spoken lecture or explanation by the teacher rather than a text. The new development present in Comenius is to emphasize the ironic transformation of student into teacher. Chris Perrin of Classical Academic Press has referred to this pedagogical idea as the classical principle Docendo Discimus (“By teaching we learn”) in his course Introduction to Classical Education. (I wonder where Perrin himself derived this Latin phrase from…. Was it from Comenius or an earlier thinker in the tradition? Or is it a phrase he himself quipped to represent a traditional conception?) Similarly, I have often referred to the classical principle of self-education, citing Charlotte Mason’s quip that there is no education but self-education and Dorothy Sayers’s remarks about students learning how to learn in “The Lost Tools of Learning”.

I am confident that more remains to be said on Comenius and narration, but I have not as yet been able to procure the rarer work that Karen Glass quoted from (though a used copy is now in my Amazon shopping cart). However, for now we can conclude that in Comenius’ hands narration of the teacher’s lecture became the mechanism for learners learning more and teachers teaching less. The narration most likely occurred orally, given the internal logic of the student becoming the teacher, but we cannot be sure without looking closer at the context.

Narration’s Rebirth, Stage 3: John Locke (1632-1704)

John Locke represents a final and perhaps unconnected stage in narration’s rebirth. To suppose that he did not engage with either his partial contemporary Comenius, or with the famous Erasmus, would probably be going too far. But his early modern Enlightenment philosophy no doubt registered itself in his treatise, Some Thoughts Concerning Education (Hackett, 1996; orig. published 1693). I have already expressed my view elsewhere that he, like Erasmus, was directly dependent on Quintilian (see the author’s A Classical Guide to Narration; CiRCE, 2020; p. 96, n. 122). So his recommendations on the topic are best categorized as a part of narration’s renaissance or rebirth. 

For Locke narration is the solution to a problem with the “classical” education of his day. He begins his section on rhetoric and logic with a defense for speaking so little of them up to this point in his treatise:

“The reason is because of the little advantage young people receive by them. For I have seldom or never observed anyone to get the skill of reasoning well or speaking handsomely by studying those rules which pretend to teach it; and therefore I would have a young gentleman take a view of them in the shortest systems [that] could be found without dwelling long on the contemplation and study of those formalities. Right reasoning is founded on something else than the predicaments and predicables, and does not consist in talking in mode and figure itself.” (140)

In objecting to “rules” rather than practice, Locke continues a theme that he has already established in the book about training young children by habit rather than memorized rules. In A Classical Guide to Narration I pointed out that this error of the “classical” training of Locke’s day amounts to a misunderstanding of the classical distinction between an art and a science: 

“The rhetoric teachers of Locke’s day had been treating the art of rhetoric as if it were a science that could be mastered through acquiring knowledge about the art: various names of figures of speech and rules for types of speeches. But without the facility with with language based in practice and cultivated habits, all of it was useless! (A Classical Guide to Narration, 96)

Of course, this antagonism toward logic and rhetoric might make John Locke seem anti-classical in his philosophy of education. But this would be a misunderstanding. Locke is simply endorsing the renaissance humanist stream of classical education over the encrusted scholasticism of the late medieval era. He was refocusing attention on the great authors of the past (ad fontes) and on imitation of worthy models. As he goes on to say, 

“If you would have your son reason well, let him read Chillingworth [an Oxford scholar and churchman, who was a skillful debater, mathematician and theologian]; and if you would have him speak well, let him be conversant in Tully [Marcus Tullius Cicero, the great Roman orator and statesman] to give him the true idea of eloquence, and let him read those things that are well written in English to perfect his style in the purity of our language.” (140)

Developing the arts of reasoning and eloquence, for Locke, come by reading the right authors to provide ideas and models of proper thought and speech. But it also comes by practice, as he says later:

“They have been taught rhetoric but yet never taught how to express themselves handsomely with their tongues or pens in the language they are always to use: as if the names of the figures that embellished the discourses of those who understood the art of speaking were the very art and skill of speaking well. This, as all other things of practice, is to be learned not by a few, or a great many rules given, but by exercise and application according to good rules, or rather patterns, till habits are got and a facility of doing it well.” (141)

Locke’s point accords well with the modern research on elite performance that Anders Erikson and others have brought to light in delineating the value of deliberate practice (as well as near proxies like purposeful practice) for acquiring high level skill. The arts are complex skills and are best trained through coached practice, not mere comprehension of concepts, however true and inspiring. 

Locke’s narration recommendations remarkably embody the principles of effective practice, including the importance of critical feedback, specific focused efforts on improving one aspect of performance at a time, and systematic development of mental models. The entire passage is worth sharing here:

“Agreeable hereunto, perhaps it might not be amiss to make children, as soon as they are capable of it, often to tell a story of anything they know, and to correct at first the most remarkable fault they are guilty of in their way of putting it together. When that fault is cured, then to show them the next, and so on, till one after another all, at least the gross ones, are mended. When they can tell tales pretty well, then it may be time to make them write them. The Fables of Aesop, the only book almost that I know fit for children, may afford them matter for this exercise of writing English, as well as for reading and translating to enter them in the Latin tongue. When they are got past the faults of grammar and can join in a continued coherent discourse the several parts of a story without bald and unhandsome forms of transition (as is usual) often repeated, he that desires to perfect them yet farther in this, which is the first step to speaking well and needs no invention, may have recourse to Tully and, by putting in practice those rules which that master of eloquence gives in his First Book De Inventione §20, make them know wherein the skill and graces of a handsome narrative, according to the several subjects and designs of it, lie.” (141-142)

Like Quintilian, Locke begins with young children telling stories, though he is content for them to tell “anything they know” at first, as the tutor or parent simply plays the role of coach: correcting one fault at a time, as the child practices telling again and again. Instead of focusing narration on the content to be learned, like Erasmus and Comenius, Locke has brought into sharp relief the skill of story-telling and the fluency of speaking gained thereby. While he does recommend Aesop’s fables, like Quintilian, the shift to written narrations form the main focus, and fixing the student’s “faults of grammar” and “bald and unhandsome forms of transition” is his main concern. 

In essence, Locke has restored narration as the foundation stone of rhetorical training, rather than as a method for learning content in any subject. Narration is, for him, the backbone of an English gentleman’s practical skill in speaking and writing that will equip him for the duties of his life. Daily practice in imitating classic authors and especially in learning to write letters (“The writing of letters has so much to do in all the occurrences of human life that no gentleman can avoid showing himself in this kind of writing.”) form the bedrock requirements for his education (142).

Readers who are familiar with Charlotte Mason’s practice of narration alone may be surprised by some of these different applications of narration. Whether it’s narrating from a teacher’s lecture, or correcting the faults in a student’s narration with a focus on skill rather than content, narration’s rebirth through Erasmus, Comenius and Locke defies the standard assumptions of Charlotte Mason’s practice of it. After all, Charlotte Mason seems to almost exclusively envision students narrating from texts without stylistic corrections but a primary focus on content.

In the next and final article in this series, we’ll compare Charlotte Mason’s pedagogy of narration with its classical roots and its renaissance rebirth. Our aim will be to distill some further conclusions for educators today, both practically in terms of how we should use narration in our 21st century context, but also philosophically in what this all means for the classical Christian education and Charlotte Mason movements today.

Other articles in this series:

Part 1: Charlotte Mason’s Discovery?

Part 2: Classical Roots

Part 4: Charlotte Mason’s Practice of Narration in Historical Perspective

The post Why the History of Narration Matters, Part 3: Narration’s Rebirth appeared first on .

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.

The post Back to School: 3 Principles for Returning to School Amidst the Pandemic appeared first on .

A few hours later, you’re in your prep period and you can’t wait to see what your students learned through the exit slip exercise. You’re especially excited to read the answer of the boy who kept nodding and smiling throughout the lesson. You read the first slip and it doesn’t quite hit the target. An outlier probably. You read the second slip, written in clear, elegant cursive. Wrong again. Not even close. You decide to read one more…enthusiastic boy’s. Surely his exuberance was indicative of some understanding. But alas, one sentence in, and your heart sinks. The great lesson you engineered turned out to be dud. 

John Wooden, legendary basketball coach of the UCLA Bruins, put it best: the most crucial task of teaching is differentiating between “I taught it” and “they learned it.” A teacher can plan a tailored lesson and wax eloquent with the rhetoric of Cicero, and yet, if his students can’t demonstrate the knowledge for themselves, real understanding hasn’t been achieved.

In order to avoid the futile lesson, the one in which students can’t actually demonstrate evidence of learning, teachers need to check for understanding, not simply at the end, but throughout the lesson. The notion of “understanding” is what I’ll be exploring in today’s article as I contribute to my ongoing series on Teach Like a Champion for the classical classroom. Teach Like a Champion, or TLaC, is a handbook on optimized teaching techniques procured through countless hours of observation of master teachers. Let’s dive in and first consider humanity’s innate drive for understanding in the first place.

The Desire for Understanding

The desire for understanding isn’t anything new. King Solomon asked specifically for this gift when the Lord visited him in his early days as king. God appeared to Solomon in a dream and offered to grant him a desire, presumably, anything he wanted. Reflecting upon his status as the king of Israel and the son of David, Solomon made an intriguing, and perhaps even shocking, request: “Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, that I may discern between good and evil, for who is able to govern this your great people?” (1 Kings 3:9). 

An understanding mind. Of all the things he could have asked for of his sovereign creator, Solomon asked for understanding. Although he was new to the throne, Solomon seemed to grasp the significance of his role and the complexity that lay before him. He grew up watching his father David navigate the troubles of kingship in the ancient Near East (although to him, the geo-temporal region in which he lived wouldn’t have struck him as ancient, near, or eastern). He understood that the road before him would be very difficult.

As we know from the story, God not only granted Solomon his desire for understanding; He blessed the young ruler with riches and fame as well. And yet it was Solomon’s wisdom and understanding that truly set him apart among all the kings and queens in the region. As the author of 1 Kings recounts:

“And God gave Solomon wisdom and understanding beyond measure, and breadth of mind like the sand of the seashore, so that Solomon’s wisdom surpassed the wisdom of all the people of the east and all the wisdom of Egypt. For he was wiser than all other men…and his fame was in all the surrounding nations. He also spoke 3,000 proverbs, and his songs were 1,005. He spoke of trees, from the cedar that is in Lebanon to the hyssop that grows out of the wall. He spoke also of beasts, and of birds, and of reptiles, and of fish. And people of all nations came to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and from all the kings of the earth, who had heard of his wisdom.” 

I Kings 4:29-34

While we don’t fully know how Solomon gained his understanding, in terms of pedagogy, what the author does emphasize in this passage is the sheer breadth of it. Solomon wasn’t simply wise on matters of daily living or ruling; he was learned in both the human and natural sciences. This is a rare combination indeed. In our modern world, it would be difficult to find someone proficient in both poetry and ornithology. King Solomon was a renaissance man living in an Iron Age. 

The Association of Ideas

Understanding begins with desire and comes from God, but now we will see that it flourishes through relation. John Locke, the great British philosopher, political theorist, and medical researcher, helps us understand why. He famously wrote An Essay Concerning Human Understanding which laid the groundwork for empiricism, the theory that all knowledge ultimately comes from experience. Locke’s goal in the essay was to explore the limits of human understanding and provide criteria for distinguishing between truth and falsehood. While empiricism itself is a contested theory, his insight that ideas are associated, or interconnected, is profound.

For Locke, ideas are the things that furnish the mind and they initially enter through experience. Until a human begins to sense the world, her mind is a tabula rasa (a blank slate). According to Locke’s theory, all ideas are the result of either sensation (experience) or reflection. For example, until a child experiences the color blue, she has no idea of it. But then the mind begins to reflect on these simple ideas, gained through sensation, in order to generate more ideas. So a child may reflect on the idea of blue and the idea of a spherical object in order to grasp the idea of a blue ball. In this way, ideas are associated, and understanding is the network of these associations.

Knowledge as a Unified Whole

Interestingly, Charlotte Mason hones in on a similar idea to association in her definition of education as “the science of relations.” Here she has in mind the notion that as children experience the world and gain knowledge of it, each facet of knowledge is interconnected. Mason writes, “Our nature craves after unity. The travail of thought, which is going on to-day and has gone on as long as we have any record of men’s thoughts, has been with a view to establishing some principle for the unification of life. Here we have the scheme of a magnificent unity” (School Education, 154). For Mason, education is the result of seeing knowledge as this “magnificent unity.”

In an excellent blog article, author Karen Glass expounds upon Mason’s philosophy, writing:

“Charlotte Mason saw that this vital, unified understanding, which she did not hesitate to call “wisdom,” has the potential to produce great ideas, great works, and great understanding. One critical point, from an educational perspective, is that there is no need to divide our ideas of knowledge into “sacred” and “secular.” When we recognize that the Holy Spirit is the source of all knowledge, and interests himself even in the truths of arithmetic, geometry, and grammar, our focus shifts. Knowledge is not an unpalatable medicine to be forced down by any educational gimmick we can contrive. Knowledge is a gift of God, and the question becomes therefore, what methods can we use which will invite His cooperation in the education of our pupils?”

Here Glass makes clear that all domains of knowledge are unified because they share a common source: the Holy Spirit. As teachers teach for understanding, they need to retain this theological truth. Knowledge is not some commodity that should be bought and sold on the market for the most expedient price; it is a gift from God graciously given for the good of humankind. Just as God gave Solomon knowledge of humanity and nature, so will He give generously to students as we invite His presence into our classrooms and teach in a way that is befitting to His children.

Check for Understanding

With these philosophical and theological considerations of understanding in view, we can now begin to reflect as teachers on how to cultivate and check it. Admittedly, in TLaC, author Doug Lemov isn’t concerned in developing his epistemology, or philosophy of knowledge. For his purposes, a pragmatic approach will do: understanding is simply the desired commodity for college acceptance. But now that we, as classical educators, have explored a deeper understanding of understanding (no pun intended), we can glean from Lemov’s field research in a way that better aligns with our core values.

In the first edition of TLaC, “Check for Understanding” was presented as a single technique, but over time Lemov came to see how comprehensive this task really is for effective teaching. So in the second edition, Lemov provides ten different techniques for teachers to implement in order to check for understanding. These techniques coalesce for Lemov around three broad tasks: data gathering, culture of error, and acting on the data (25). 

Gather and Act on Data

Data-gathering, the first task, needs to occur frequently and efficiently. All too often, teachers proceed through their lesson without regularly checking in to see if students are actually tracking with what is being taught. When teachers finally do check in, say, through an exit slip, it’s often too little, too late. At this point, they aren’t able to course correct.

This leads to the second general task teachers can employ to check for understanding: acting on the data. Writing thorough lesson plans is important, don’t get me wrong, but one of the best parts about teaching is that the lessons themselves have a degree of unpredictability. We are working with humans after all. Teachers therefore need to regularly be checking in with their students to gauge their present understanding and determine if a course correction is necessary. This could manifest itself as re-teaching a particular concept or providing an additional opportunity for a student to practice a skill.

One of the best ways we have found for gathering and acting on data is through the practice of narration. When students are regularly called upon to “tell back” what has been taught or read, the teacher learns in real time what the student knows and doesn’t know. The teacher can then determine how to tailor the follow-up discussion for optimal learning to occur.

Build a Culture of Error

The third task to implement in order to check for understanding is building a culture of error. This sounds unintuitive perhaps, but the reality is that students are going to make mistakes. The question is, how will teachers respond when they do? There are really only two options.

The first is to respond negatively to the incorrect answer as a means to discourage future incorrect answers. But this approach is wrongheaded. If a culture of “right answers only” emerges, then the teacher will never be able to gather reliable data. She will have created a culture in which faux answers are given, not what students are actually thinking, errors and all.

The solution is to cultivate a culture of error, which, as Lemov puts it, is to “…make it safe to be wrong” (25). In fact, he recommends as part of the “Plan for Error” technique to expect errors. This way teachers aren’t caught off guard by an incorrect answer and instead can remain consistently flexible throughout the lesson.

Another practice Lemov recommends is to praise risk-taking (71). This strategy leverages the idea of a growth mindset, one that views intelligence as a developing, rather than fixed, trait. This step is crucial for encouraging students to ask their questions and risk being wrong. Rather than leading students to believe that their intelligence is fixed to their classroom performance, teachers should cultivate a growth mindset in which students believe their intelligence can grow through hard work and perseverance.

Conclusion

Doug Lemov may not be operating from a classical framework, but his techniques related to checking for understanding are right on. His focus is on cultivating the understanding of the student, which I’ve shown is crucial for not only academic success, but flourishing as a human being.

Here are some example statements teachers might make to regularly check for understanding in the classroom:

• “Take out your whiteboards and write in a complete sentence the reason you think the events of last chapter affected the present situation.”
• “I’m really glad that you made that mistake. It’s going to help me to help you.”
• “I love the fact that this is a hard question and that I see so many brave hands in the air. Thank you for taking a risk.”
• “This is a tough question. If you’re struggling with it, that’s a good sign. Now, who will be bold and start us off?”

You can read about all ten of the techniques for checking for understanding in the second edition of Teach Like a Champion. My personal favorites are “Reject Self-Report,” “Show Me,” and “Excavate Error,” but I recommend giving all of them a try.

I’d love to hear what techniques others have found helpful or what questions you might have. Reply in the comment section below!

Other articles in this series:

“Teach Like a Champion” for the Classical Classroom, Part 1: An Introduction

“Teach Like a Champion” for the Classical Classroom, Part 2: Teacher-Driven Professional Development

The post “Teach Like a Champion” for the Classical Classroom, Part 3: Check for Understanding appeared first on .

Some, no doubt, will respond to this critique with raised eyebrows. After all, the movement has unlocked a rich treasure chest full of wisdom and insight from master teachers throughout the centuries. These riches include Hebrew wisdom literature, Plato’s dialogues, catechesis practices of the church fathers, the rhetoric schools of Rome, and all sorts of reflections on education throughout the Middle Ages and Enlightenment era. So what’s the problem? 

One core challenge is that many teachers aren’t equipped to go out into the fields of old to glean. It is difficult to pick up a book from several centuries ago and comprehend it, much less know how to apply it in the 21st century. Even if a teacher develops a sense for how things were done once upon a time, it can be difficult to implement those practices in a modern day classroom.

Recovering these lost tools of learning, of course, is one of the challenges and joys of being a classical educator. Those of us who have wandered into this small but growing corner of the educational universe often feel both inspired and humbled by this old-but-new reality for how we ought to think about and practice education. Reading Aristotle on virtue formation, for example, can be both rewarding and perplexing. Sometimes the philosopher uses language that is unfamiliar or draws upon antiquated analogies. Nevertheless, reading Aristotle within a community of curious educators can lead to fresh insights and inspiring dialogue on the craft of teaching. The challenge is worth it. 

An Educational Renaissance

The aim of Educational Renaissance is to help promote a rebirth of ancient wisdom for the modern era. We seek to achieve this through engaging in rigorous exegesis of both ancient texts and modern research. If modern education made the error of jettisoning the insights of education before, say, 1900, an equal but opposite error exists: dismissing all the insights about education that come after 1900. In order to avoid both extremes, we need to view the history of educational philosophy as it truly exists, as one extended conversation across time and space in search of what is true, good and beautiful. This is what scholars call the Great Conversation. 

One primary way we have sought to join and contribute to the conversation here at EdRen is through retrieving the educational writings of Charlotte Mason. Mason lived one hundred years ago, at the turn of the 20th century. Her years of teaching experience in Britain equipped her with striking insight regarding what education is and what it could be. 

[If you haven’t already, I encourage you to download Jason’s and Patrick’s free eBooks on Charlotte Mason, one on the practice of narration and the other on habit training.]

The foundational premise of Mason’s philosophy is that children are persons made in God’s image, created with a unique capacity to think, relate, and ultimately, live. For her, the notion that children are persons serves as the ultimate litmus test for what educational methods are and are not permitted. Methods which take seriously the eternal value of the minds, hearts, bodies, and souls of students should be embraced. Methods that view students as clay to be formed or cattle to be herded should be shunned. 

Educating Persons, not Economic Producers

Fortunately, we inhabitants of the 21st century are situated comfortably away from those dehumanizing methods of a bygone era. Through modern educational theory and public policy reform, children, at least in the United States, have been rescued from working brutal hours in unsafe conditions and given a proper education.

Or have they?

Certainly children today have it significantly better than children ever did in the history of the world. This claim can be verified both quantitatively (the overall percentage of students enrolled in schools today) and qualitatively (the knowledge and skills students learn). And yet, it remains to be seen whether “a proper education” is, in fact, provided. Proper for whom?

In today’s technocratic, scientistic, and pragmatic society, the vision for modern education is clear: a cohort of college-educated, high-earning, tech-savvy, numbers-driven careerists. To achieve this vision, one must simply follow the steps of the celebrated recipe: Train students in college-prep skills. Make STEM the central component of the curriculum. Focus on what is most expedient. Take college entrance exams over and over. What you bake is what you make: students stepping into high-earning careers. 

Now don’t get me wrong: this vision does have its merits. College is important. STEM skills are as valuable now as they ever have been. Earning a living wage to support one’s family is admirable. We ought to glean the good contained in this vision for all that it is worth. But at the same time, we must recognize its shortfalls. This vision fails to take seriously the full-orbed humanity and personhood of its students. People are worth more than the sum of their W2’s and careers are not the only things that count as callings. 

In other words, today’s educators aren’t simply teaching tomorrow’s economic producers. They are educating future fathers and mothers, neighborhood volunteers, city council members, and church congregants. Potential for these roles can’t be summarized in a GPA, but preparation for them can occur during the school day all the same. This is a humanizing education with a humanizing goal: to make good humans. Not “good” in the moralistic, pharisaical, compliant sense. Actually good: honorable, virtuous, noble.

Good Bankers or Good Humans: The Goal of Classical Education

In his own way, C.S. Lewis makes precisely this point. He writes that a proper education transforms a student from “an unregenerate little bundle of appetites” into “the good man and the good citizen” (Image and Education: Essays and Reviews, ed. Walter Hooper, 24). Lewis goes on to differentiate between this sort of humanizing education and mere training. Such training, he writes, “aims at making not a good man but a good banker, a good electrician, . . . or a good surgeon” (22).

Now certainly we cannot do without good bankers, electricians, and surgeons. Nor could we get very far without scientists, engineers, and computer programmers. But we must not mistake the preparation for these disciplines with education. True education frees (Latin: liber) a person from appetitive instincts and equips her for self-rule. This is another way to talk about the goal of a humanizing education: liberating humans for a life of seeking the good. Along this road to virtue, humans can pick up all sorts of different skills and training, in consonance with their God-given abilities, careers, and vocations, including banking. But this sort of training should always come second to a greater purpose.

Interestingly, psychologist Jordan Peterson touches on a similar point in his bestseller 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos. After refuting Rousseau’s doctrine that children are born innocent and only become evil through the corrupting influence of society, Peterson goes on to argue that children must be morally shaped and informed in order to thrive (122). It is the parent’s responsibility to discipline a child, indeed, parent rather than befriend, and provide the structure for a self-regulated life. Job preparation is not enough, nor are temporary states of happiness. Children need to be called to pursue a certain standard, a standard of goodness, and they need support from a loving adult to help them along the way. This is equally true both in the home and at school. 

Insights from “Teach Like a Champion”

Recall what I wrote earlier: there are two pitfalls when examining the history of educational philosophy. One is to ignore all the insights that came before 1900 and the other is to ignore all that came after. In this spirit, I want to conclude this article by introducing a handbook on teaching practices that was published in 2015: Teach Like a Champion 2.0 by Doug Lemov. In articles to follow, I intend to distill helpful practices and principles from this book for the classical classroom.

Admittedly, the subtitle of this book is reminiscent of the pragmatic vision of modern education I decried above; it reads: 62 Techniques that Put Students on the Path to College. One may judge based on this messaging that the content of this book would have little that is beneficial for the moral purpose of education for which I am advocating. However, beyond a cursory reading, it becomes clear rather quickly that there is, in fact, much gold to be mined.

But first, a word about the book’s background. Teach Like a Champion 2.0 is a product of the broader charter school movement. Charter schools are private schools that receive public funding for the purpose of introducing school choice to families in typically low-income areas. Since they operate semi-autonomously from the state, charter schools don’t have to follow the same curricular policies as public schools. Doug Lemov, the author of the book and former director of Uncommon Schools, is a seasoned teacher and administrator in this movement.

Lemov begins the introduction to Teach Like a Champion 2.0 with the fundamental insight that great teaching is an art and that great art relies on “the mastery and application of foundational skills, learned through diligent study” (1). In other words, a four-year degree in education isn’t enough to produce great teachers. It can be a great foundation, to be sure, but great teaching requires what all great art demands: practice, experience, and careful study of the discipline. 

But how do you coach great teaching? This is Lemov’s fundamental question and it connects back to the introduction of this article. In the classical education renewal movement, the true purpose of education has been highlighted, but not the practice. It is one thing to laud the merits of classical education; it is quite another to implement it in the classroom.

Ideology-Driven Advice

Lemov suggests three general drivers for the typical advice offered for coaching teachers: ideology, research, and data (6). For now, I will focus solely on the first driver: ideology.

Ideology-driven advice tends to focus on some predetermined vision of what a classroom should look like and is usually followed up by a checklist for teachers to follow. In classical classrooms, much of the advice is ideology-driven. Schools espouse their convictions about a morally formative education and a liberal arts curriculum and teachers are instructed to follow suit.

Somewhat predictably, Lemov critiques this approach. He writes, “Ideology-based guidance contributes to the development of schools where teachers are always trying to do lots of things that people are telling them to do, instead of using their insight, problem-solving abilities, and a wide array of tools to achieve specific goals. The result, often, is an administrator with a checklist” (7). In short, this method prioritizes the adherence to principles over tangible outcomes. 

We need to tread carefully here. On the one hand, Lemov’s critique is a reflection of modern education’s obsession with technicism and its notion of success. Jason and Patrick have both written articles on this obsession and provide wisdom for avoiding its pitfalls. It is all too easy for educators today to be lulled into a false sense of confidence regarding their educational efforts through examining “the data.” 

But on the other hand, Lemov has a point. Even if we agree with the ideological driver in question (e.g. classical education), we can fail to take outcomes seriously. Noble intentions are to be praised, but we must not be afraid to look behind the curtain and determine to what extent actual learning is occurring. How we measure this determination, of course, requires wisdom and prudence. But it is important nonetheless.

Sorry to end on a cliff-hanger, but my time is up. In my next article, I plan to continue this discussion on optimal coaching advice for teachers and then move into teaching techniques presented by Doug Lemov that are amenable for the classical classroom.

The post “Teach Like a Champion” for the Classical Classroom, Part 1: An Introduction appeared first on .

If that weren’t enough, I have criticized and countenanced criticism of online classes and courses, including those prominent classical education ones. Years ago, when my former head of school told me his grand plan for launching an online education platform to expand the reach of our classical Christian school, I argued against it and effectively buried it in the dust.

But times have changed…. And I found myself several weeks ago developing an online learning plan with my colleagues that would aim to preserve our educational philosophy and methods during mandated social distancing. In a way, I had been prepared for this moment through using online communications tools, like Zoom meetings, more than ever before in the last couple years. I had enough experience and understanding that, when the need hit in early March, I knew exactly what I thought we should do.

And so, whether my luddite past or my tech-savvy present appeals to you, perhaps you will be intrigued to hear my thoughts on the benefits and the drawbacks of online learning. Parents, teachers and school leaders need to think through the transformations that are involved in an online education.

As Marshall McLuhan famously quipped,

“The medium is the message.”

How is the educational experience being transformed by the online platforms we are using during social distancing?

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Only if we are aware of the shifts and spend focused attention on understanding the differences, can we make the most of the benefits and mitigate the downsides. And again, while I can’t claim expertise in online learning after a few weeks, perhaps I can make some suggestions that will spark a broader conversation. To that end I offer 3 Benefits to online learning, 3 Drawbacks, and 6 Hacks to Mitigate the Drawbacks.

3 Benefits of Online Learning

#1 Flexibility of Time and Place

I start with the most obvious. Online platforms provide incredible flexibility in both the time and place that learning can occur. Gathering together is a deeply engrained and normative aspect of the human experience. But a global pandemic illustrates one of the more extreme reasons why it might not be ideal.

While viruses do infect our computers, they are of a very different kind (so they tell me…) than the virus that is causing Covid-19. Schools are turning to online learning because it enables us to continue our education in ways that would not have been possible in earlier generations.

A test case for this is Isaac Newton, who was sent home from Cambridge when the school was temporarily closed because of a plague. As Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi recounts in his book Flow,

“Newton had to spend two years in the safety and boredom of a country retreat, and he filled the time playing with his ideas about a universal theory of gravitation.” (137)

While Isaac Newton was able to carry on his studies individually and these studies ended up being immensely profitable, still he couldn’t attend lectures from teachers, discuss with fellow students, or receive and turn in assignments from his professors.

Since Newton was already a lover of wisdom and had the resources he needed to continue learning, this wasn’t debilitating for him. But there were, no doubt, other Cambridge students, who would have profited more from online lessons.

#2 Organization and Grading

The second benefit to many online learning platforms is how the organization and grading features are built right in. Whether it’s Google Classrooms, Microsoft Teams or something else, these tools make it even easier for teachers to organize, turn in, receive and grade assignments than in-person methods.

How much time is wasted by teachers searching through papers and hounding students to turn in assignments? When students are able to turn in the document they were working on the moment they are finished by simply uploading it into the online platform, our memories are unburdened and the logistics of managing assignments are streamlined.

I have to admit that my old school stacks of papers from students are less convenient to organize and grade than the list of assignments turned in from students through Microsoft Teams. They are already happily in alphabetical order, allowing me to easily record the grades in my excel file with a minimum of effort. When I have typed in feedback and a score, I simply click return and the student has received it back again. The wheels of this modern educational process have been thoroughly greased.

#3 Screen Sharing a Text

The final feature that I find incredibly beneficial is the ability to screen share a text with students. When using a Zoom meeting for online learning, screen share enables me to direct student’s attention clearly at text that I have scanned without making copies, wasting paper, or needing every student to have the book in front of them.

While in many cases students do have their own copies of our books, getting everyone to the right page sometimes takes time, and even with brilliant and attentive students, occasionally they find themselves lost, not knowing where we are now in the book. That’s because I like moving quickly, as many other teachers do. When there is a lot to share in a limited time, screen sharing a text and having a number of resources up and ready to jump to on my computer means that I can guide students through a textual journey with almost no friction, as long as they are looking at the screen in front of them.

No moments get wasted when a student calls out, “Wait, where are we again? What page are we on?” Because of screen sharing technology, I can, with proper planning, execute much more intricate and detailed lessons than would otherwise be convenient.

3 Drawbacks of Online Learning

#1 Loss of Personal Connection

You knew it was coming. And this is the main thrust of the argument against online learning that I have used in the past. Online learning necessarily involves a loss of personal connection. We are embodied creatures and while video is incredibly more powerful than a simple phone call, physical presence and proximity do make a difference. Even if it’s hard to articulate the psychological experiences involved, I can feel the loss as a teacher.

Interactions with students are less personal. Rhetorical appeals are less effective. Jokes get fewer laughs and timing is slightly obstructed. Students interact together in more mechanical and artificial ways. Some things may be more efficient, but, when the personal connection is diminished, classical learning aims like mentoring and modelling are perhaps similarly hampered.

I don’t mean to paint the drawback too bleak. They can still see my face and hear my voice and vice versa, and that is not something to take for granted. We can still interact personally in real time. But flesh and blood connections are real. We are rational animals, not incorporeal intelligences and virtual reality will never be reality.

#2 Less Amenable to Improvisation

One drawback that I think extends from the last is how live video conferences seem less amenable to improvisation than in-person classes. I know that some teachers plan out their lessons to a tee. But others of us work with what we’re getting from students. When I lead discussions, I may plan out some discussion questions to ask in advance, but I also improvise based on student response. I watch for where the play of words is taking us and follow the question where it leads. I don’t often have a set of answers we need to get to. In the humanities especially, the lesson evolves as we go, and it does so in response to students’ interaction with me, the text and each other.

This improvisatory teaching method feels harder online. Transitions are more clunky, students are more reticent, and the mood and atmosphere are harder to sense. I can put the students on Gallery Mode and scan their faces in the video screen, but it’s just not the same. It may be that we will all adapt with more hours of practice in this medium, but maybe not. It’s possible that some of the awkwardness, at least, is part and parcel of staring at a screen rather than sitting in the same room with flesh and blood people.

It’s not like video conferencing is the only avenue with this problem. I find that phone calls are always more awkward than face-to-face conversations. That doesn’t mean they’re not worthwhile. I’ve talked on the phone with my wife for hours and hours on end, especially during the years we were dating. But just because something is better than nothing, doesn’t make it equal to everything. Just as talking on the phone in real time is more personal and improvisatory than writing a letter, so video conferencing is a real blessing. I hope that you will not think me ungrateful for these reflections. But the medium does seem to privilege over-planning because of the loss of in-person feedback.

#3 Distractibility

The final drawback to online learning is a greater distractibility in the participants. This is something I noticed in myself long before experiencing it with students. When I’m on a Zoom meeting on the internet, all the distractions of the internet, my email inbox, and other work I could do at this very moment on this computer call to me in a way that is simply not true when I’m sitting in a room with a person or persons for a meeting.

In Nicholas Carr’s masterful book The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains he explains the research behind how our brains are being hardwired to be more distractible. The click-bait and links, the endless scrolling and scanning, the bright lights and colors are all carefully designed to draw our attention and habituate us to the endless wading through the shallows.

It doesn’t seem to be too far of a leap to imagine how this default mode is turned on in ours and our students’ brains more when we’re in a video conference, than if we were present in a room together with all our phones and other devices safely stowed away. The fact of the matter is, I’m tempted to check my email when a notification pops up during an online learning session, when I never would have been while standing in front of a class of students. And if that’s true for me, then it’s definitely true for our students—a fact that might explain the loss of personal connection that I feel, as well as the clunkiness of complex interactions like discussions.

We’re not going to be served well by pretending that the higher distractibility isn’t the case. Yes, it may be harder for some construction going on outside our window to distract the whole class in the same way that we may have experienced at the school building. But we have to reckon with the fact that we are dealing with a higher threshold level of constant distraction, and temptations to distraction, with all our students every moment of a video conference.

And the real problem is that many of the teacher’s best defensive weapons against distraction involve personal face-to-face and one-on-one interventions that are functionally invalidated by the online medium. Moving in closer proximity to a student who is distracted or distracting others and offering a slight tap on the desk to remind him of your expectations is just no longer possible.

So how can we mitigate the drawbacks of decreased personal connection, less effective improvisation and increased distractibility?

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6 Hacks to Mitigate the Drawbacks

#1 Schedule Personal Meetings with Students to Check In

The loss of personal connection can be addressed, at least in part, by scheduling some one-on-one or smaller group video conferences. This may seem like an extra burden to bear for teachers already stressed out by the new and strange situation. But think of it like this: the efficiencies in travel, assignments, and communication have probably freed up some of your time, not to mention all the little pit stops and chatting in the hall interactions that have disappeared from your day. You can probably afford to add to your schedule some systematic check in meetings with students. If you work at a public school, obviously follow whatever regulations and procedures are necessary, and consider small groups of 2-4 students to avoid overload or the appearance of anything out-of-bounds. Consider calling them advising meetings or small group check-ins.

Think of these smaller group meetings as a way to overcome the obstacles of students’ motivation and engagement. For the type of challenging work and deliberate practice learning we’re expecting of our students, personal coaching is necessary.

Also, use the time as an opportunity to field questions and actively seek feedback from the students about the online learning process. You’re new at teaching online, just like they are new at learning online. Actively seeking out what they find most helpful and what they feel is ineffective provides you with a powerful source of insight that allows you to improve your skill in this medium much more quickly. It is also motivating for them to know that you care and value their perspective enough to ask.

This might also be a good time, if you are a homeroom teacher, charged with guiding students spiritually, to ask for prayer requests or provide some wise counsel and advice. We want to find ways to encourage and model the life of faith for our students and this crisis provides just such an opportunity.

#2 Make the Most of the Opening and Closing Minutes

Another way to address the loss of personal connection is to magnify those minutes at the beginning of a video conference when students start showing up, but not enough are there to really begin. Like in a physical classroom, these transitional minutes are a prime opportunity to establish a relational atmosphere. Greet students as they “arrive,” ask them about their day, and find topics to chat about informally.

Especially after the first few online meetings have gone by, it may be tempting to get into a routine and be checking your notes or engaging in some last-minute lesson planning. Instead, savor the personal connections and set goals for making them. It’s important to remember that our relationships and authority as teachers, our ethos, has a powerful effect on how students receive our instruction.

If you’re looking to “optimize” the effectiveness of your teaching, focusing on forming relational connections with students is ironically one of the best investments. Students are eager to learn from a teacher they trust and admire; even the best students struggle to learn well from a cold and distant instructor.

#3 Set Up Discussions Well Ahead of Time

If you’re at all an improvisational teacher like me, or you’re in the habit of using discussions in class to attain learning objectives and promote comprehension and higher order thinking, then you’ll want to adjust your strategy slightly. While our experience and training might incline us to “wing” our discussions, or attempt to execute our standard method of calling out pre-planned questions from the “front” of the class, the clunkiness of the medium will make such discussions hit or miss.

One of the tactics I’ve found most effective in the humanities is to have students read and answer some of my discussion questions ahead of time in writing. Then I send them into breakout rooms (a feature in Zoom that allows you to subdivide your meeting into smaller groups) to discuss and share their answers to those questions. Since they are all required to share and everyone has prepared their thoughts, AND they are in smaller groups, the discussion goes much more smoothly and profitably.

#4 Plan the Tangents

The other way to mimic the experience of the improvisational experience is, paradoxically, to plan more. Tangents and sidetracks can be an exercise in irrelevant trivia or teacher gab in the classroom. But they can also be incredible learning moments, in which students work out the implications for life and relevance of Great Books or make unlikely and creative connections that issue in long-term learning.

It may sound strange to plan these tangents, but an experienced teacher may be able to anticipate where we would have gone (profitably) off the beaten track in our discussion of this or that text. If you do, you can have on the top of your mind a discussion question or high engagement technique (like taking a poll, chat box response, etc.; see #6 below) for turning that tangent into a meaningful moment, in which distractible students are revived with new interest.

#5 Call on Students Frequently

For many teachers, discussions happen like this: teacher asks question, pause, a couple students slowly begin to raise their hand, pause, teacher calls on one of them to respond, and repeat. There are downsides to this approach even in a physical classroom, but in a video conference it is almost unbearably slow, especially since the heightened distractibility will likely slow down the rate and frequency of “hand raises.” It’s much better to adopt the practice of cold calling students.

Cold calling is when the teacher calls on a student by name to respond to a question. It creates a higher standard of accountability for the whole class, because everyone is expected to be able to respond. It also greases the wheels of the discussion process, because it eliminates the pauses, the uncertainty and the engagement decision going on in every student’s mind. If you think about it, there’s a lot of wasted mental space when students are continually questioning within their mind whether or not they should raise their hand to respond. They’re not thinking only about the question, they’re thinking about the social implications of the decision to raise their hand as well.

The best way to cold call in an online meeting is to state the question clearly, perhaps even repeating it once or rephrasing it, then call on a student to respond. Once that student has finished, call on another student by name to respond, perhaps even saying whether they agree or disagree and why. It’s best to keep track of who you’ve called on in some way, whether by name cards or tallies on a list. If you can embed calling on students in as many places as possible in your online teaching, then you can go some way to disincentivize the distractibility of the medium.

#6 Embed Engagement Techniques (like Chat, Polls, Whiteboard, etc.)

Another way to disarm the distractibility of video conference lessons is to embed a variety of engagement techniques. Aside from having a clear lesson plan, equipped with reviving tangents, and screen sharing of texts, some of the great tools for doing this are features I’ve toyed with in Zoom like the Chat boxes, Polls and the Whiteboard. I’m sure there are equivalents on whatever platform you may be using.

The chat box can be helpful for increasing engagement with low stakes or simple to answer questions. When you ask a question that you know is relatively simple, but are feeling low engagement or some reticence from students, it might be the time to require a chat box answer from everyone. It can be as simple as asking every student to type out a single sentence response to your question. Sometimes I then read them out as they are coming in and I cajole late students into giving a response verbally if they are slow in the uptake. The chat box is also a helpful way for you to give information to students, like the discussion questions they should use in their breakout groups.

The poll feature can serve a similar purpose, except that you can limit them to a range of possible answers that you have predetermined. The point to be aware of here is that a poll requires prior planning, so a chat box response can be something you resort to on the fly, whereas a poll is idea for multiple choice questions that function either as a planned tangent or as a spring board for the next activity. Also, if you are aware of the importance of retrieval practice, you could use the poll feature to give students a little bit of low stakes quizzing or formative assessment on their ongoing learning.

Lastly, the whiteboard feature is incredibly helpful for brainstorming content as a class. It can thus function as a basis for video conference narration, where you, say, brainstorm the main plot points, events or topics from a reading all together, listing them on the whiteboard, then call on students individually to elaborate on each in turn. Since the task is clear and the process is straightforward, this makes it easy to avoid distraction and focus intently on the content. The emerging record on the whiteboard draws students’ attention, just like the screen share feature, and directs it, with all the power of the flashing lights and colors of the screen, right where you want it to go.

Helping students focus on this way is thus more likely to push them into the flow state and out of the bored distractibility that is so common online.

Those are my 3 benefits, 3 drawbacks, and 6 hacks to mitigate the drawbacks of online learning. What struck a cord with you? Are there other benefits, drawbacks or hacks you’ve come up with through these weeks of online learning? Share your ideas in the comments!

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