Teaching Philosophy

Don Bosco

A recent job application asked me for my teaching philosophy. So I might as well subject you, gentle readers, to it as well.

Perhaps the most direct influence on my own thoughts as a teacher has been E.D. Hirsch Jr. and his argument for the need for core cultural competence. This is what first brought me to my commitment to a classical curriculum. Without this shared knowledge, Hirsch argues, the culture breaks down. But I think there is more to it than Hirsch explores, as well; his argument is still purely utilitarian, as though cultural knowledge were itself another skill. Education cannot be just the teaching of some abstract, value-free set of skills. That is sophistry. Education is the formation of souls. And there is nothing so important to the soul as value: What matters? Without settling this initial question, literally, nothing else matters.

Our culture is our repository of wisdom designed to school the soul. Neglect the task of passing it on, and we lose both our souls and our civilization.

In terms of classroom management, my guide is St. John Bosco and his idea of “preventitive discipline.” Which really amounts to one thing: love your students. Be their true friend. I try to remind myself of this little mantra each time just before stepping in to the classroom. It works for me. This does not mean pure permissiveness; this means always acting in the best interests of each student; and respectfully towards a brother or a sister soul.

Of course, I must mention the Socratic method. It has always been the essence of good teaching. You draw students into thinking about the subject, kindling the flame within, rather than feeding them cold data. This is superficially similar to the modern idea of “constructivism,” but opposite in its premise. It is not that students are inventing their own “truths,” as constructivism wants to believe possible, but that truth, as Plato understands, generally becomes evident of itself if you brush away the lies and errors obscuring it. The same idea is really behind the scientific method: science is not some set of facts, but a method of questioning, in order to reveal the mind of God as shown by his works.

Am I saying “question everything”? Yes and no. If you accept that premise, you must begin by questioning that premise. It would be absurd arrogance to suppose you can personally do better than the combined best minds of the ages; and, in the case of revelation, that a human mind can do it without any help from God. Our obvious initial assumption is that our ancestors were not idiots, but knew what they were doing, and had reasons. Chesterton has a good standard: never tear down a fence until you know why it is there.