The Human Desire To Know

Elisha Ballantine was a professor of mathematics, modern languages, and ancient Greek at Indiana University and was its acting president in 1884.

I have countless times passed the plaque that honors him in the building that bears his name, but was struck when I saw it again on a recent visit.  He was a professor of mathematics and Greek.  In today's age of specialization, this would be an oddity to say the least.  A professor of Greek and Latin, of course.  A professor of mathematics and computer science, quite possibly.  But mathematics and Greek?

This put me in mind of a former teacher at New Albany High School, my alma mater.  You have no doubt heard of Edwin Hubble and the telescope that bears his name, but did you know that he taught high school physics, mathematics, and Spanish...yes, Spanish...in 1913?  He also coached the boys' basketball team.

And speaking of sports, these men reminded me of famed golfer Bobby Jones.  In 1922 he earned his B.S. in Mechanical Engineering, in 1924 his A.B. in English literature, and after only three semesters of law school begun in 1926 passed the Georgia bar exam and practiced law in Atlanta.

Mathematics and Greek.  Spanish and physics.  Engineering and literature.  There was a time when people pursued a variety of studies.  This not to say that everyone of a bygone era was a polymath, but I do find a certain kinship with those academic souls of yesteryear.  The world is vast, history is long, creation is complex, and humans have both discovered and contributed much to the unfolding wonder of it all.

When we make education nothing more than training for gainful employment, we miss a great deal.  In fact, we miss almost everything.  Yes, a stick in a forest can help make the fire that keeps me warm through the night, but the forest itself, with its symphony of sounds and the towering columns of its arboreal cathedral that seem to support its stellar dome, is worth beholding in its own right.  And while it is true that the quiet contemplation of the evening nature scene now in your head could inspire you toward an act of creativity, the composition of a poem, perhaps, or a work of painting or photography, there is something more to be gained from the experience.  Simply put, it nourishes the soul.

So it is with true education.  It may equip students for a task or an occupation.  It may provide them with the skills necessary to produce any manner of art, both for service and for art's sake itself.  At its core, however, it need serve no other purpose than fulfilling the human desire to know. 

Celebrity Teachers

I am not the celebrity hound that my dear friend and colleague Marcene is.  She has pictures with everyone from Red West to Dee Snider of Twisted Sister fame.  Nevertheless, I was as geeked up as the next guy when my son and I got to meet Michael Sweet, lead singer and guitarist for the hair-band Stryper.

Yet I realized that I am still a huge, stars-in-the-eyes fan of a certain group of people.  It is not sports stars or actors, not politicians or authors.  It is teachers.

I recently attended the National Junior Classical League Convention, which was hosted this year by my own state, Indiana, at my alma mater, Indiana University.  While there with over fifteen hundred Latin students, teachers, and professors from around the country for a week of competitions, learning, and fun related to the languages and cultures of ancient Greece and Rome, my wife, also a Latin teacher, and I had the opportunity to visit with professors from our undergrad days.

On the first day of the convention, Matt Christ, department chair of Classical Studies at IU, spoke to us before one of the assemblies.  As we talked about Classics at the university, I could not help thinking, "I'm talking to the department chair!"  A few days later he dined with us at a banquet for all the teachers, and as our talk meandered through Classics at the university and secondary levels, I was again struck by the opportunity I was enjoying.

My wife, Melissa, and I with Matt

Mid-week of the convention, I met my good friend Tim Long for breakfast.  Tim is a professor emeritus of Classics at IU, and far more than just being my Greek professor, he gave me sage advice on many matters when I was an undergrad and has remained a good friend whom I often consult whenever Classical questions arise.  When I left the breakfast table after two hours of conversation, it was as if I had just sat down.

Tim and I with the first winner of the scholarship our high school Latin Club has in his name

That afternoon my wife, Melissa, and I had the chance to relive a memory.  We sat in Ballantine Hall, where we had so many classes as undergrads, and listened as Ellie Leach presented her work on the mythological paintings in Roman houses.  We had been her students in multiple classes, and to have the chance to sit under her instruction again, in the classroom building where it all began for us, was a tremendous thrill.

Then that evening I received an email from Derek Vint.  Derek has been the office manager and fiscal officer of the Classical Studies department for many years.  We made it a point to visit him the following day, and when I asked how long he had been there, he said that this September would mark 40 years.  Derek was always the one who assisted us with our class scheduling, and as he gestured to open chairs so we could sit and chat and turned on his window air conditioner for our comfort, we knew we had come home.  (We did not get a picture with Derek because I was partly in costume for a presentation as a Roman centurion and did not have my camera with me.)

Finally, on the last day of the convention, Betty Rose Nagle had us over for pie.  Betty Rose taught the first and last classes I took as an undergraduate, the first being on Cicero and the last on Ovid.  We remain Facebook friends, and she is often a person I reach out to with my many questions.  We spent the morning on her porch, eating wickedly good key lime pie that she had made, and discussing her work with 18th century German-authored Latin texts on human skulls and various other Classics related topics that made me never want to leave.  When we did, however, she imparted a box full of books that are already in my classroom.

The relationship between teachers and students never ends, and like the biggest rock and roll fan, I was giddy with excitement in each of these encounters with these friends in education who have had such an effect on my life and what I do.  And why shouldn't we be excited to interact with our teachers?  They worked with us in our formative years in loco parentis, and the places where we learned with them bear the name alma mater, nourishing mother.  Our teachers and professors are more significant parts of our lives than most celebrities ever will be.  The next time you have a chance, pay one of them a visit.  It will mean the world to both you.

Dear Mr. President

What happens when students from one of the country's newest and most innovative education programs want to take their dreams, hopes, and concerns to the President of the United States?  They make a compelling 12-minute video featuring their peers and established educators.  2014 National Teacher of the Year, Sean McComb, and I had the honor of being part of Raeanne O'Day's and Hannah Iskow's work.  Please share this widely, not because Sean and I are looking for press, but because these creative future teachers are telling and showing our country what education can truly be.

Outlawing Tire Irons

Abigail Walthausen has written a brilliant piece sure to anger some, as most brilliant pieces usually do.  She has dared to defend the classroom lecture.  Take a moment and catch your breath.  Yes, that's right.  She defends the classroom lecture.

As she points out, the lecture has drawn fire for years now, eventually giving rise to the ludicrous dichotomy between the "sage on the stage" versus the "guide on the side."  Yet she cites several articles and studies that suggest the lecture can have a meaningful place in education, but more on those in a moment.

Walthausen's key statement is, "If the community of educators has agreed to value student learning styles, why not allow adults the freedom to play to their own strengths as well?"  Let's consider that.  I have never understood why, especially in a time that embraces diversity in all things, we would rule off the table certain techniques or approaches.  The quick answer, of course, is that lectures can be boring, soporific to the point where students fail to learn anything.  The problem with this response is its lack of logic.  I find a tire iron quite helpful when changing a flat tire.  Now, it can be used to bash in someone's head or smash a window in a burglary.  In other words, it can be put to a bad use.  That, however, is no reason to outlaw tire irons.  As Walthausen points out, the lecture can be quite good, the perfect instrument even, when put in the hands of a master lecturer.

To push another analogy, I collect and use fountain pens.  I find them elegant and a delightful connection to a bygone era.  I would under no circumstances force everyone to use them.  I realize that others may prefer a ballpoint, a roller ball, or even a good old #2 pencil.  Teachers are adults, often well-educated ones.  Surely we are capable of determining for ourselves which method of instruction is best in a particular circumstance and should not have one particular tool, in this case the lecture, denigrated or removed from our choices simply because some do not know how to use it well.

In an article Walthausen cites by former Indiana University professor and general secretary of the American Association of University Professors, Mary Burgan observes that "students benefit from seeing education embodied in a master learner who teaches what she has learned."  She continues,

It is in this context, it seems to me, that teachers are irreplaceable as models of knowledgeable adults grappling with first principles in order to open their students' understanding. Indeed, surveys have shown that such modeling is critical in students' responses to their teachers: The two features of an individual instructor's pedagogy that most engage undergraduates are control of the material and concern with students' understanding of it. No matter how recondite or obscure the ideas may be, the phenomenon of a grown-up person capable of talking enthusiastically and sequentially can show students how they themselves might someday be able to think things through.

The modeling of how a human being thinks and explores the world is one of the vital roles that a teacher plays, a role eloquently examined in George Steiner's Lessons of the Masters.  Steiner's book should be required reading for anyone entering the profession of teaching or presuming to talk about it.

Another article Walthausen cites is by Dr. Richard Gunderman, also of Indiana University. In it, he sets for the purpose and the look of the ideal lecture.  "The core purpose of a great lecturer is not primarily to transmit information. The real purpose of a lecture is to show the mind and heart of the lecturer at work, and to engage the minds and hearts of learners.  A great lecturer's benefit to learners extends far beyond preparing for an exam, earning a good grade, or attaining some form of professional certification. The great lecture opens learners' eyes to new questions, connections, and perspectives that they have not considered before, illuminating new possibilities for how to work and live. Without question, it also helps learners who pay attention earn a better grade, but it manages to make the topic take on a life of its own and seem worth knowing for its own sake, beyond such narrow, utilitarian advantage.  Great lecturers often share responsibility for solving ... problems with learners, working with them in real time to find a solution."

I have been fortunate to know great teachers who utilized the lecture format as a master violinist wields a Stradivarius.  This method makes its way regularly into my own classes, not as the dry and dusty talk that some have suffered through, but, as Gunderman sees it, as an opportunity to work with students in the shared journey of discovery that is true education.  I know the effectiveness of this method, for it has produced deep and passionate conversations and writings, both between my own teachers and me and between my students and their magister.  When these happen after class, after school, through email, on Facebook, and often at a remove of several years, you can be certain in a way no multiple choice test could confirm that true education has taken place.