Trinitas Blog

(This essay was written by Trinitas senior Claire McNeill and published recently in Classis: The Journal of Classical Christian Education.) 

What do we picture when we think of a wise man? The image we typically conjure up is a man who is reputable, well-respected in his community, and sought by all for his sagacity. He is a man of considerable rank and influence. In most of our imaginings, he is surrounded by wealth, like Solomon or the Magi. In contrast, what do we picture when we think of a fool? One who is laughed at, scorned; when he is not ignored, he is either despised or held as ridiculous. These associations are firmly fixed in the minds of men; folly and wisdom are the difference between a child and a man, a jester and a king.

The book of Deuteronomy is basically a reminder, or a refresher course, given to the nation of Israel by Moses before they enter into the land God promised them. In chapter five, Moses recapitulates the Ten Commandments. In chapter six, he reminds Israel to “love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might” (Deut. 6:5). He goes on to say that all the words he is teaching them, they should also teach their children; in fact, he tells them they must teach their children “diligently” all the things that he teaches the adults (Deut. 6:7). He gives fair warning of the consequence if they should fail to teach their children God’s ways: when times get good, they will forget God (Deut. 6:10-12).

We are living during an age in the West, perhaps in the whole world, wherein the prevailing view of all things could best be described as utilitarian. Modern Americans, in particular, have a way of reducing most everything down to its usefulness, its efficiency, and of course, its cost. Jobs go to the lowest bidder. We buy where we get the best deal. Our books are paperback no matter the genre, dime store romance or classic. Our buildings are metal, whether serving as an auto body shop or a church. After a few years of this kind of thinking, everything begins to look the same.

This weekend, Trinitas students continued the long tradition of dramatic stage productions with two performances of C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. In the midst of amazing costumes and captivating sets, it is helpful for us to consider why Trinitas invests time and resources into drama.

By definition, drama is a picture or representation of human life in that succession and change of events that we call story told by means of dialogue and presenting in action the successive emotions involved. As Shakespeare wrote, all the world’s a stage and each of us plays a part. Drama enables students to enter past, present, and future worlds and to explore and discover the lives of others, whether in historical, biblical, or literary settings. 

Drama is another tool for educators to use to teach the essentials of the core disciplines of Christian education.

The Bible is full of agrarian metaphors. One of the greatest of these metaphors is based on the principle of sowing and reaping. Sowing and reaping in the world of agriculture works like this: if a person plants a field with wheat seeds, that is, if a person sows wheat, then wheat is what will be harvested, or reaped. No corn or beans or squash or tomatoes will be harvested if wheat seed is what has been planted. Harvesting anything other than wheat from sown wheat seed is absolutely impossible.

“Is not the great defect of our education today … that although we often succeed in teaching our pupils ‘subjects,’ we fail lamentably on the whole in teaching them how to think: they learn everything except the art of learning.” –Dorothy Sayers

Upon going to school, children are expected to take up certain “subjects,” to apply themselves to these subjects, and to eventually become masters of them. We as parents and teachers are not wrong to push our children and students to master those subjects; however, one of the drawbacks of focusing on mastering subjects is that we can develop tunnel vision in the process; we run the risk of focusing on the subjects and mastering what to think at the expense of learning how to think. We—and I mean everyone involved in the education of a child: parents, teachers, administrators, and the child—run the risk of just wanting to know what is going to be on the test.

Classical educators are sometimes questioned about why we teach Latin and Greek to 21st-century students, and so I have used this space from time to time to offer an apologia for teaching those classical languages. And more of that is exactly what I intend to do now. Someone will protest and say, “Why do we need this explained to us again?” It is always good to be reminded why we do good things.

Those with a utilitarian view of language often apply pressure on classical schools to teach something “useful”: Spanish, for instance; French, if you must; Chinese, if you can. Those are all lovely and useful languages. If we were a large, wealthy school with a “Foreign Language Department,” we would happily teach all of those languages as electives, but do you know what we would continue to require for all our classical students? Latin and Greek and lots of it.

Happy New Year! The older we get, the faster the years seem to come and go. It is as if we began 2022 just yesterday, but 2023 is now upon us. Many of us like to begin each new year by making resolutions—new year, new start. This year I am encouraging Christian parents to make three resolutions for raising Christian children: correct our children according to God’s word, eat at least one meal together as a family every day, and engage in family worship or devotions daily.

If we pursue these resolutions diligently and pray continually for guidance and help from the Holy Spirit, 2023 can be a year of great spiritual growth for our families.