A philosophy for public schools
Five tenets for schools to encourage self-sufficiency and human flourishing
A core function of engaging in a back-and-forth exchange with my friend Patrick J. Casey was to help me flesh out my philosophy of education. I have argued (here and here) that the purpose—the highest purpose; the telos—of an education is to form flourishing, self-sufficient adults equipped to live in a liberal society (liberal in the philosophical sense). My philosophy of education stems from this telos. My central focus in the exchange with Patrick was on public education, and prior to publishing our exchange, I wrote a series of posts for paid subscribers that put forth my philosophy of education as it relates to schooling. I have combined, and condensed, all of those posts together here. In the near future, I will publish my broader philosophy of education. A philosophy that goes beyond schooling to what becoming educated ought to entail for all children (from birth to adulthood) in a liberal society.
For now, let us begin with the five tenets schools ought to adhere to if they are to hold up self-sufficiency and human flourishing as their highest purpose. First, I offer a brief description of each with longer descriptions to follow.
Pass on knowledge using the best books:
Schools should focus heavily on passing on knowledge, and the primary means they should do so is through reading “living books.” Charlotte Mason described living books as those that are written by an author who is knowledgeable and passionate about the subject matter and who writes in a conversational style. Living books make the subject matter come to life; they are not dry like textbooks. They don’t just list facts; they involve the reader’s emotions, making the content easier to remember.
Read deep to think well:
Schools ought to help young people develop the skills required to think well (i.e., process information and communicate effectively), which can be done by reading a lot and using oral narration and the Socratic method to process what they have read and effectively communicate their thoughts.
Nurture interests and a skillset:
Schools ought to give students opportunities to develop life skills and pursue their interests, such as sewing, engineering, gardening, computer science, etc. These pursuits can certainly be undertaken outside of school, and other institutions, as well as within the home, are likely better at providing these opportunities, but if we are going to hold students hostage for 7-8 hours a day, we should at least give them opportunities to figure out what they are good at and like doing.
Establish a school-wide moral framework:
Schools ought to instill in students intellectual virtues, such as curiosity and attentiveness and intellectual humility, autonomy, and honesty. If for no other reason, these virtues are important for a school to promote because schools cannot (or should not) tolerate cheating and other forms of intellectual dishonesty. But I also think these virtues are worth instilling in the young because they contribute to the goal of helping students think well about the knowledge they are accumulating.
Reinforce community norms:
Schools ought to reinforce societal or community norms. However, importantly, this only works when schools are the center of a tight-knit community. One where everyone abides by a shared tradition and participates in the civil institutions of the community.
Pass on knowledge using the best books
The primary means of acquiring knowledge in schools ought to be through books. But not just any books, the best books.
Before knowledge acquisition can occur, children must know how to read, and not just how to read words on a page, but how to read well, to fully grasp what they have read and to be able to question it. Knowledge acquisition, at its deepest level, is not possible without this skill, and neither is flourishing. Much of what we know about the world, and how we work within it, is inaccessible without the ability to read well. The elementary level of education should be dedicated almost entirely to ensuring that children have a strong grasp of the written word.
Educators should incorporate good literature and living books, as Charlotte Mason describes them, to teach the skill of reading. Not textbooks or basal readers with boring, poorly written and abridged stories. While children learn the skill of reading, they should also be enjoying what they read and developing a love of reading. Boring, poorly written stories don’t help reach these goals.
Once the indispensable skill of reading is mastered, children can gain knowledge from what they read. What shall children read to acquire this knowledge, you might ask?
As I mentioned above, a while back, I wrote an article for City Journal outlining my argument for civic education (an education focused on self-sufficiency and human flourishing) as the highest purpose of a public school education. In that article, I gave a brief overview of what students might learn when the end goal of an education is self-sufficiency and human flourishing. The list is lacking in depth but gives you an idea of what knowledge students should acquire to become self-sufficient and flourish in a liberal society, specifically in the U.S. Notably, in my article, I described the three sectors of society (government, market, and civil) to show where/how civic education fits in, which is where these areas of knowledge stem from.
Students must know:
About our system of government and the institutions that govern society, such as how they function, how they came to be, and the importance of participating in them.
About our economic system and how they can participate in it by responding to market needs, for instance. The U.S. has a history of entrepreneurship and young people ought to be familiar with the term and what it looks like in practice.
About civil society, including the history of volunteerism in the U.S., role of associations and nonprofit organizations, and how religion and family structure have shaped society.
There are, of course, other areas of knowledge to explore. Mathematics is a discipline of study necessary for young people to flourish and become self-sufficient. Along with reading, basic math skills are the bedrock to everything else. Although math skills aren’t usually acquired through reading (though, students could read Euclid), I don’t want you to think that I have neglected this area of knowledge, and there are others I have left out.
A philosophy does not prescribe a reading list, but I will offer some recommendations for what children and teens might read, and at what age, to fulfill the objective of acquiring knowledge once my broader philosophy of education is fleshed out.
Read deep to think well
I have established that reading is the primary means through which students should acquire knowledge. The next step is to assess what students have gained from reading, and to push students to think more deeply about what they have read. This gets at the second tenet I introduced above.
Sometimes, reading should be done for the sake of enjoyment, with any knowledge acquired being a by-product of such reading endeavors. As I have written before, imaginative literature is meant to be enjoyed, first and foremost; however, there are ways to assess how deeply a child has read without interfering with enjoyment, similar to the ways to assess deep reading and knowledge acquisition gleaned from non-fiction works. After reading fiction or nonfiction, students can articulate their thoughts about the story or the wisdom being imparted through two methods: oral response to questions, which Charlotte Mason refers to as narration, and the Socratic method.
The first method, narration, involves asking overarching questions about the work of fiction or nonfiction to assess what the student has latched onto and comprehended about the work—what grabbed their attention and what they learned. Follow-up questions are then asked, if necessary, to assess the student’s reading comprehension and to probe for deeper insights and understanding. Narration is done on a student-by-student basis, the purpose being to assess what an individual student has gained from their reading.
When using narration, questions should be asked at the conclusion of the work, especially in the case of fiction. As stated above, fictional works are meant to be enjoyed and if a teacher peppers students with questions in the midst of reading they run the risk of killing that joy and, if they are not careful, directing students to interpret the work differently than they would have if they read uninterrupted. Nonfiction is different, though. If a nonfiction work is written like an engaging fictional story then the teacher may wait until the end to pose questions for the same reason. But if a text is a little more dense, like a philosophical work, students may benefit from discussing the text at stopping points throughout their reading, with the student guiding the questions.
The Socratic method, on the other hand, is a group or class-wide activity. The purpose of using the Socratic method is to allow students to push each other into deeper thinking, rather than simply assess what each individual student has gained from reading a work. The Socratic method uses unbiased high-level questioning, like with narration, introduced by a seminar leader, who can be a teacher or a student. During the course of the back-and-forth dialogue about the high-level questions, more specific questions blossom, which guide the conversation into greater specificity and new opinions about the given work.
The purpose of the Socratic method is to expose students to different interpretations of a work and to unleash ideas not conceived when reading on their own. By having live, back-and-forth exchanges about a work of fiction or nonfiction—but especially the latter—students think about the concepts introduced in ways they hadn’t before. Their thinking goes deeper.
In both cases, the questions, per se, don’t necessarily guide the student’s thinking, but instead, the questions encourage them to think about what they read in the first place. Knowing that they will have to answer questions out loud to either their teacher or other students prompts the student, while in the midst of reading, to pay attention. And both methods encourage effective communication, which illuminates whether a student understood what they read and whether they thought deeply about the story or subject matter.
With the Socratic method, because students must have a back-and-forth exchange with other students about what they have read, they are prompted to think on their toes and process what they read aloud with others, rather than ruminating in their heads. They are given the opportunity to test their ideas in real-time, as they are formed, while strengthening their communication skills, pushing them to be more concise.
All in all, both methods encourage deep reading and deep thought, which are the key pillars, one being knowledge and the other thinking well, that hold the structure—an education dedicated to self-sufficiency and human flourishing—up and unmoved.
Nurture interests and a skillset
If self-sufficiency and human flourishing is the end goal of a proper education, to be self-sufficient and flourish in adulthood, a child, during their school-age years, must discover their unique interests and skills and spend time developing them.
One’s interest and unique set of skills become apparent in childhood, and the child either continues to hone in on them, helping the interests and skills mature into a hobby or career, or they hold a special place in an adult’s memory as a childhood love, left in the past without pursuit in adulthood. The latter is a mistake.
Everyone has an inborn disposition that determines their personality and what gifts they possess. Certainly, some things can be learnt. Everyone can learn how to write well, insofar as they can learn how to convey their thoughts using the written word to the extent that others will understand what they are saying. But for some, writing is a calling. When something is a calling you find yourself wanting to do it when no one is telling you that you have to. It’s what you spend nights in your bedroom as a teenager practicing, while dreaming about having a career in the field—as a famous fiction writer, perhaps. The same with drawing, or creating structures, or tending to plants. In order for a child to discover their unique skills they need time to tinker and play around with different mediums within various subject areas.
Drawing from my own experience: I read often growing up, and still do in adulthood, and I liked to write down my thoughts. My favorite classes in high school and college were my English classes. One of my fondest memories of high school was when an English teacher complemented my writing and recommended that I consider becoming a journalist. I didn’t heed her advice, but I have kept some sort of blog since I entered adulthood. I find myself in many situations where the thought arises: I should write about this. And now that I do write for this Substack and other publications, I think about her comment often. Ms. Redman recognized a talent of mine that could have been nurtured into a life-long endeavor. I was by no means gifted, as in needing to enroll in special, advanced courses to be with others on my level, but I received high praise for a paper that I probably, knowing my high-school self, didn’t expend much effort producing.
I imagine that everyone has had a similar experience. Maybe they don’t find themselves drawn to a tangible interest or skillset, like writing, but instead they may have unique soft skills, like relating well with others or executing projects efficiently and effectively. These are talents, all the same, that ought to be practiced, allowing them to mature.
During the school-age years, when the stakes are lower, is precisely the time when young people should discover the talents they possess. Children aren’t working all day to pay the bills. Instead, they are required to attend school or participate in a school-like environment, and, even if they wanted to work, the age they are allowed to do so is restricted and the amount of hours they can work is limited. Thus, as I bluntly, and a little (only a little) tongue in cheek, stated above: if we are going to hold kids hostage within the walls of a school for 7-8 hours a day, we might as well give them time to figure out what they’re good at and enjoy doing. I think it’s imperative to do so.
Needing to make an income is just a fact of life in the modern world. But, I’m not advocating that schools ought to be a site for job training, as in: the tech industry is in need of programmers, therefore schools ought to dedicate time to teaching children how to code so that they can go to college to pursue a degree in computer science and then go on to work for Google or some other tech giant. No, this is not what I mean. What I am talking about is providing students with time to explore an interest and nurture a set of skills that could perhaps mature into a career path or, if nothing else, a fruitful hobby, which is certainly not a loss. Spending one’s leisure doing something meaningful is just as important as holding a meaningful job.
There are also experiences that children should have and skills that they should just learn, even if they are not called to do the tasks. It is my belief that everyone should be able to cook and grow food, or at least have a good sense about how it’s done and where food comes from. Everyone should know how to build a house and make one’s own clothes. Again, children don’t need to be an expert at such things, but they should have a grasp of how houses are structured and how clothing is made. Understanding how to provide the basics of life for one’s self is an insurance policy of sorts.
A child will be more self-sufficient and able to adapt easily to any foreseeable and unforeseeable circumstances if they understand how things work. And they will be more likely to flourish in adulthood if they spend their days engaging in work that they find meaningful.
Establish a school-wide moral framework
Teaching morality in schools is a point of contention. Some think that teaching about or within a moral framework is an indispensable element of an education. Some would even go as far as to argue that if an instructor isn’t working within a moral framework—known to the students—then they aren’t providing a proper education. I tend to agree with this sentiment, but I’m also wary of a public—thus sanctioned by the government—school choosing a moral framework for its pupils. Concerns about propaganda will arise, sometimes rightly, in such scenarios.
But there are ways to establish a moral framework that is narrowly concerned with teaching and learning. The work of Jason Baehr, a professor of philosophy at Loyal Marymount University, is my go-to source for how to implement such a framework. He advocates creating a school environment centered around intellectual virtues, and he describes these nine virtues as follows in his book Deep in Thought.
Curiosity - A disposition to wonder, ponder, and ask why. A thirst for understanding and a desire to explore.
Autonomy - A capacity for active, self-directed thinking. An ability to think and reason for oneself.
Humility - A willingness to own one’s intellectual limitations and mistakes. Unconcerned with intellectual status or prestige.
Attentiveness - A readiness to be “personally present” in the learning process. Keeps distractions at bay. Notices important details.
Carefulness - A disposition to notice and avoid intellectual pitfalls and mistakes. Strives for accuracy.
Thoroughness - A disposition to seek and provide explanations. Unsatisfied with mere appearances or easy answers. Probes for deeper meaning and understanding.
Open-mindedness - An ability to think outside the box. Gives a fair and honest hearing to competing perspectives.
Courage - A readiness to persist in thinking or communicating in the face of fear, including fear of embarrassment or failure.
Tenacity - A willingness to embrace intellectual challenges and struggle. Keeps its eye on the prize and doesn’t give up.
These virtues are habits of mind. They are instilled through ongoing practice. Schools that are committed to embodying these virtues make them a part of everything that they do—teacher training, curriculum adoption, lesson planning, etc. Combined, they are the beating-heart of the school.
Reinforce community norms
Young people need to be rooted in a belief system. They need a solid foundation to guide them on what is right and wrong, good and bad. A young person’s belief system may be rooted in a religious tradition or a moral framework that their family, and perhaps community, abides by. When they enter school, this belief system travels with them, informing their conduct and how they arrive at opinions about the world, process information, and make sense of the knowledge that they acquire.
Ideally, schools would reinforce a foundational framework of beliefs, or at least the norms that stem from it. Due to concerns about propaganda, as I mentioned in the above tenet, tenet four, this can only happen if everyone abides by a shared system of beliefs.
I actually don’t know that it’s possible to incorporate this tenet, partly because I’m not confident that there are enough public schools situated within tight-knit communities that share one tradition to make this a viable aspect of a philosophy of education.
My guess is that small towns scattered throughout states across the country are the only places where this aspect is achievable. But, given that public schools fall within the purview of the state, they would be limited in the extent to which they can reinforce a shared tradition, especially if the tradition is rooted in religion. Private schools might be the only educational institution that can reinforce community norms, with said community being a subset of a larger community.
Schools do infuse loose moral codes within their walls—i.e., determinations about what is right and wrong—but these codes aren’t beliefs and can be difficult to enforce, and students have difficulty abiding by them, if the community or individual families don’t also practice the moral codes spelled out by the school. For instance, if a child is taught at home to retaliate against someone who has physically harmed them by, in turn, physically harming their aggressor then it is difficult for teachers and school officials to maintain a school environment that has deemed physical violence wrong and punishable. Cheating is another moral code that schools try to address. Cheating is considered wrong and punishable in educational environments. Students may know this, intellectually, but they will still try to do it and get away with it because they likely haven’t inherited a belief system that explicitly condemns cheating, in school or elsewhere, nor have they been raised to understand, at a deep level, the consequences in one’s life for doing so.
Rules against cheating and physical violence are imposed in schools because both acts threaten the extent to which learning can occur. Education leaders have a difficult time developing a moral framework beyond these two because they risk accusations of propaganda and imposing religious views on their students. Therefore, if a school is not rooted in a community with a unified tradition that has infused every aspect of the community, to the point where it’s a given that the norms that guide the tradition are also found in public schools, then the school must operate absent a belief system. All they can do is make rules that accord with the law and those that directly relate to education, like cheating.
Public education for self-sufficiency and human flourishing
The five tenets are a roadmap for public schools. I don’t offer details regarding how to achieve each, but they can serve as a foundation and starting point for how schools can be structured to set their students on the path for self-sufficiency in adulthood and human flourishing.