On Curriculum (with two excerpts)

From The Consequences of Ideas by Dr. R.C. Sproul (200-1):

My personal baptism into the public education crisis occurred in the 1960s when we sent our firstborn, our daughter, off to first grade. We enrolled her in a highly acclaimed "progressive" school in a Boston suburb. When she came home from school each day, I asked her what she had done. She murmured the nonresponsive answer children typically give. After a few weeks the school hosted a parents' night in which the principal would explain the school's philosophy of education. I attended eagerly.

The principal reviewed a typical daily schedule. He was both winsome and articulate. "If your children come home and tell you that they do jigsaw puzzles in class, don't be alarmed," he said. "They are not just 'playing.' From 9:00 A.M. to 9:17, they assemble these puzzles, which have been designed by pediatric neurosurgeons to develop the motor muscles of the fingers on the left hand." Then he went through each segment of the school day, demonstrating that every moment was spent in purposeful activity. This tour de force overwhelmed the audience with its detailed and erudite explanation of every element of the curriculum.

Whe finished he asked, "Are there any questions?" Spontaneous laughter erupted. Only a fool would raise a question after the principal had so masterfully covered all the bases.

I risked everyone's disdain by raising my hand. When the principal called on me, I said: "Sir, I am profoundly impressed by your careful analysis. You have made it clear that you do everything for a purpose. But there are only so many minutes in a day, and therefore you must be selective in choosing what specific purposes you want to achieve. My question is, Why did you select the particular purposes you have chosen? What is the ultimate purpose you use to decide which particular purposes you select? In other words, what kind of child are you trying to produce and why?"

The principal's face turned ashen, then beet-red. Without rancor and with humility, he replied: "I don't know. Nobody has ever asked me that question."

"Sir," I responded, " I deeply appreciate your candor and your spirit, but frankly, your answer terrifies me."

From The Hunger for Significance by Dr. R.C. Sproul (145-7):

I entered the lecture hall and saw no sign of a professor. The students took their seats in orderly fashion with conversation muted. After a few minutes, the door opened and the professor entered. Instantly, the students rose to their feet and stood at attention until the professor reached the podium.

With a nod from him, the students took their seats and gave rapt attention to the lecture. The lecture was not to be interrupted by student questions, as it was considered presumptuous for a student to interrupt the professor's learned discourse which we were there to hear. But, to my everlasting horror, this lecture was interrupted not by a student, but by the professor himself.

It was a hot, stifling afternoon, without a zephyr in the air. To seek relief from the heat, I casually removed my sport coat. Suddenly the professor ceased his lecture in midsentence and glared in my direction.

He said icily, "Will the American student please put his coat back on?"

I was mortified as every critical eye was on me and, in my embarrassment, I wondered how the professor knew I was American. I quickly learned that the status of the student in the classroom was plebian.

When the time came for my first oral exam I went through the necessary procedures to secure an appointment with the professor for the ordeal. I was surprised to discover that the exam would take place at the professor's home, a setting which made the occasion all the more intimidating.

From the moment I arrived, quaking in terror, I began to experience the metamorphosis of being changed from a plebe to a prince. Graciously ushered into the professor's study by his lovely wife, I was offered cookies and a choice among tea, coffee and Jenever - the shellaclike substance which the Dutch pretend is gin. An assortment of cigarettes and cigars was placed before me to use as pacifiers during the interrogation.

The demeanor of the professor was equally startling. He began the "exam" by inquiring earnestly into the satisfaction of my housing accomodations and the well-being of my wife and daughter. I hardly realized the moment when the conversation turned to academic matters.

Conversation is the accurate word as he proceeded to "test" me by holding a running conversation about the material I was studying, as if he were discussing the content with a peer. He made me feel like the most important person in the world and that my contribution to the discussion was valuable. At that moment, I understood that the classroom protocol was not an empty custom of traditional decorum.

On Curriculum

by Norman Maynard

The Christian Purpose of Education.

It is clear in the teaching of Paul that the father, being head of his family or household, bears the responsibility to raise, in all gentleness, his children in discipline and knowledge of Christ (Eph. 6:4), and that the responsibility to teach godliness in thought and deed has always been the command of God to his people (Deut. 6:4-9, 11:18-21, Prov. 22:6). This establishes the teleology or central purpose of education; as Milton (1644) wrote, "The end then of Learning is to repair the ruines of our first Parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the neerest by possessing our souls of true vertue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection."

With the central purpose of education established, it should be noted that, just as the Confession asserts of worship and church governance, that some circumstances of education should be "ordered by the light of nature, and Christian prudence." This essay is then a quite proper attempt to consider what form should be preferred for an education with such a goal, remembering that as there is no command from Christ on this form, such consideration is for the benefit of believers and not for the binding of consciences.

In looking at specifics of curriculum, then, some considerations must be kept in mind. First, as God is triune, so his creation in his image exhibits unity and diversity. Thus a Christian anthropology dictates not only that there be unity of purpose in education, but that there must be a unity of material as well. There are many aspects to human being (body and soul; mind, emotions, and will), multiple books in the canon of Scripture, and diverse facets to the world, all of which must be presented as an interconnected whole. The "either Platonic or Aristotelian" approach is a false dichotomy which Christian education must avoid. Second, God is the only necessary being, while the world and all in it is contingent; thus while God does not change, we do. In fact, part of the Christian goal is to be constantly becoming more like Christ, so we are not only human beings, but also human becomings. Any view of what and how humans are to learn must recognize the progressive nature of the world and of sanctification.

The Classical Education Approach.

As Dr. Sproul noted, the current public educational program has entered the realm of the ridiculous in its devotion to pragmatism, to the point of having no teleology at all. Marxists indict the system as factories producing drones suitable for labor but not for independent thought, and this is not a wholly inappropriate accusation. The assumptions of consumerist behavior drive the guidance, structure, and subject of American public education, and a more thorough case against our failing education system need not be built here.

In response to this, many have begun to look to a different form of curriculum dubbed ‘classical education.’ This system is based on the medieval educational structure called the trivium, composed of grammar, logic, and rhetoric. Classical academies assume that human development may be divided into stages based on age: the first (grammar) stage is the stage of greatest ability to memorize and develop basic mechanics of language; the second (logic) stage introduces the capacity to reason and explore the consequences of statements and thought processes; the third (rhetoric) stage opens up the possibility of expressing one’s reason in beautiful and persuasive ways. There is usually an emphasis on learning Latin early, as a method of learning English romance-based vocabulary and a support for later study of historic occidental thinkers. Classical education is perennial in the sense that it seeks to teach things of lasting value in order to produce an “educated person.”

Although I appreciate the advantages of the classical academies over the public system, I cannot call myself a supporter of the approach. It has several weaknesses which I have as yet not seen well addressed, either on page or in practice.

First, and perhaps most forceful, is the fact that classical education attempts to recreate the medieval system without addressing the shortcomings that led to the current state of affairs. Medieval education was supplanted by pragmatic philosophy, not because of some ancient liberal conspiracy, but because the skills taught failed to address the newfound needs of the developing merchants and sciences. Although it was medieval thought that spawned these innovations, medieval education did not rise to meet it, and the same danger exists for classical schools. The emphasis on language capacity can (and has) led to a neglect of mathematical and scientific rigor, which are precisely the areas American public schools are most behind other parts of the world.

This may be primarily due to a misinterpretation of the medieval structure. Education in the middle ages were formed into primary school, consisting of the trivium; secondary school, consisting of the quadrivium (astronomy, arithmetic, music, and geometry, all taught in historical context); and tertiary school, consisting of philosophy and theology (or, importantly, an apprenticeship). Rather than extracting a correspondence between how baccalaureate degrees were taught and child developmental stages, I think it would be a more helpful interpretation to see these methods as teaching understanding in the realm of words, numbers, and principles/actions, respectively. By incorporating these three equally into our understanding of education, we will not only insure adequate preparation in neglected mathematical disciples, but we will require that thought and deed be unified in the students worldview.

Second, the nostalgic (or to use Dorothy Sayer's term against her, pedantic) cleaving to Latin as a key language is misplaced at best. Certainly, Latin will help in adult learning of romance languages and the recognition of Latin roots in English. But German would be better at helping learn English structure, Spanish would probably be just as good a gateway to other languages, and Russian is (grudgingly) endorsed by Dorothy Sayer (1947) as an alternative for exposing children to complex and primitive linguistic structures. Each of these has something Latin does not: they are spoken languages. Latin is not the lingua franca anymore; English is. Knowing Latin does not prove you are part of the intellectual elite; being able to speak to some of the most important cultural groups of the next century (especially Spanish, Chinese, and Arabic) does.

Further, linguists generally accept that children have a capacity to absorb spoken languages and develop fluency which they will never have again as adults, so why not skip the middle man of Latin, the gateway language, and enable children to acquire language in a multi-lingual environment? Proficiency (which is the most adults can achieve) is good, but fluency is better. Yet if a dead language must be used, why not prefer the language whose idioms are carried throughout biblical thought; why not ancient Hebrew (amid the languages in which the Old Testament is written)?

Third, I think the classical schools draw too much upon occidental tradition without seeking wisdom from other sources. If we are to teach our children a biblical and redemptive understanding of the world, we cannot let them be distracted by the Hellenistic traditions of the west. There is much good to be found in Plato, Aquinas, Mill, Calvin, Burke, and the like, but it is folly to restrict our guiding forces only to Europeans. Many of the most basic technologies of our world were developed in the intellectual springs of China and India, and let us not forget that the Scriptures were written through Ancient Near-eastern minds, not Latin scholars.

One of the key elements of education from other traditions is the fact that education is for the whole person, not just the mind. A simple and clear insight into what is needed for education comes from India. There, students learning under their master took care of the daily matters of the teacher’s household rather than paying him money. There is something educational about milking cows, washing clothes, and other daily services which an overly mind-focused view of education neglect. For the ancient Chinese Imperial Examinations, students were taught the “six arts” of music, arithmetic, writing, rituals, archery, and horsemanship. That physical activity makes up two thirds of this basic curriculum (in addition to the world of words, numbers, art, and spiritual activity) should give us pause. A later expanded curriculum included practical matters for governmental office: military strategy, civil law, revenue and taxation, agriculture and geography, and the Confucian classics.

Beyond the Classical Academy.

Despite the limitations to classical education noted above, it is still far superior to the pragmatic, purposeless education offered in the public sector. This step in the right direction is a good sign that parents are taking responsibility for the curriculum their children are taught. But taking one step in the right direction does not mean we should stop walking. Our goal, after all, is not to redeem the modern man and restore the medieval man, but to redeem the fallen man and restore the image of God in man. This is not something we hope to do in our own power or to achieve without the return of the Savior, but it is our goal nonetheless.

Some alterations to the classical approach, then, are in order. First, the emphasis on expanding the mind through means of language must be broadened to include all means and the whole person. Language, number, and practice should be combined to insure that the similarities and differences between the logic of verbal argument and the logic of mathematical proof are clear, and that the usefulness of these tools in all manner of activity are constantly demonstrated. Mental training should not be reduced, but learning how to feel (which is much tied to belief) and how to govern these feelings with the mind and be moved to action by them should be explicitly included. The arts (including music, poetry, painting, pottery, cullinary arts, etc) should be tied to this expression of feeling and belief, and children under the age of ten should be exposed to many different forms of artistic expression.

Second, physical activity in order to live out this mental and emotional education should be required of students beginning before puberty, yet in such a way that students are taught to respect those who are skilled and weak in all areas equally. Sports, dance, or martial arts should be required by each sex (separating boys and girls from each other), and some activity such as ballroom dance should be required to teach the sexes how to interact with honor before puberty renders such lessons impossible.

Third, participation in the labors of the school could simultaneously help students to respect "blue collar" workers, and to understand the behind-the-scenes work of the school. Older students (just before high school) should be required to study a trade for a year, particularly one needed for the maintenance of the school or grounds. The students will learn by aiding the instructor in working to improve the school itself, thus giving back to the school (and lowering the costs to run the academy). Students who demonstrate aptitude or express interest should be encouraged to study further, perhaps as apprentices.

Fourth, the purpose of education should not be to send students to college. Many students only attend college because it (or the future jobs it represents) have been built up as an idol by their parents and teachers. This disrespect for less financially rewarding work needs to be turned around. This can be achieved by enabling students in high school to serve in apprenticeships, study physical activities, or arts as alternatives to literature or mathematics emphases. Students who do intend to attend college, however, should be able to meet most (if not all) "general education" requirements by the end of high school.

This is not a definitive expression of how ideal education should work. It is, perhaps, only a second step in the reform of education. Semper reformanda is not just a slogan for the Church.