The Art of Teaching: The Method

             Within the preface for The Art of Teaching, Gilbert Highet includes that, “Teaching is not like inducing a chemical reaction: it is much more like painting a picture or making a piece of music, or… like planting a garden or writing a friendly letter.” And, although there are certain prescribed characteristics of “good teaching”, there is no such thing as a scientific method for teaching—instead there is a “teaching method.” Highet includes two essential components for a successful method of teaching—preparation and fixing the impression.

            The first stage of methodical teaching includes a preparation of the subject. Of course, no successful teacher cannot prepare for a class (note: double negative). Contrapositively, therefore, only a successful teacher prepares for a class. Now, preparation of a class includes three vital sections: a broad explanation of the class material’s importance, maintaining a firm grasp on contemporary issues pertaining to the class’s material, and an outline of anticipated material to be covered during the class. Highet warns, however, “A teacher who maps out his course badly, and neither sees where he is going nor tells his class what to expect, usually fails because he does not quite command his material” (147).

            Many times, a teacher will begin class by “diving right into the material.” Students, however, remain bewildered as to the subject’s importance or relevance to his life—much less the subject itself. During my senior year in high school, my Calculus teacher neglected to tell me what a “derivative” was. I spent the whole first semester calculating derivatives, not knowing what they were or why they were important to the subject of Calculus. Had he simply said, “A derivative is a slope of a function,” on the first day of class, I would have understood Calculus with greater clarity—and perhaps received a better grade. Even Highet mentions that, “[A teacher] must explain [the subject], allow its merits to display themselves, fill in a suitable background” (73).

            Next, Highet emphasizes that, “teaching the same old stuff year after year,” should be, “avoided at all costs by every good teacher” (81). Because most subjects are “living subjects”—meaning that information or perspectives change on the subjects over time—a teacher ought to grow and live along with the subject. In particular, teaching requires assimilation of contemporary issues relevant and pertinent to the subject—for fear that a student refers to the class as monotony. Even Highet exclaims, “Monotony in teaching is a fault” (81)!       

            Now, by constructing an outline of expected material to be covered during the semester, the students gain a better understanding of interconnectedness with respect to the subject. Also, an outline provides an adequate pacemaker—and just like a heart’s pacemaker, regulates the “beat” of the class—creating both expectations for the teacher and students. For, with a class outline, the class gains a purpose—and can visibly see its design for an end. Even Highet articulates that, “One of the aids to learning is the sense of purpose. One of [purpose’s] chief rewards is the sense of achievement” (69).

            Highet makes note of historically successful educators—the Jesuit Order. Although Highet comes from a secular university (i.e. Columbia), he recognizes the Jesuit perfection of “fixing the impression.” One word, coined by the Jesuits, can sufficiently create an impressionable mark upon a student—repeat, repeat, repeat! (cf. 148) As a student who has experienced Jesuit education, I can attest to the effectiveness of the “repeat” strategy. For, the Jesuits “watch carefully and vary his questions to ensure that there is nothing mechanical about this repetition, but then urge once more repeat and once more repeat” (148). Obviously, repetition imprints the information upon a student’s mind and, in turn, remains readily available due to retention.

            Hopefully, a teacher aspires to more than just giving information to his students. As Highet alludes, the methods of a teacher ought to bring a classroom into a “joint enterprise of a group of friendly human beings who like using their brains” (153)—for this is what Highet describes as the “best type of teaching.”

The Art of Teaching: Bridge Building

           According to Gilbert Highet, The Art of Teaching was named such because, “I believe that teaching is an art, not a science… You must throw your heart into [teaching], you must realize that it cannot all be done by formulas.” There, then, seems one aspect of Highet’s teaching method which differentiates from a scientific method—the human personality. It is one thing to build a bridge by constructing mathematical formulas and correlating those formulas to the material, however, there is such an admiration for beauty in visionary design meant for a greater aesthetic value than merely a formula. Highet advocates creative “bridge-building” by integrating the human person with the teaching method.

            First of all, Highet describes the most vital attribute of a good teacher—knowing the subject. What good is there for a teacher who knows the same amount of information, if not less, than his students? Simply, there is none. Knowing the subject also means keeping tabs upon current growth in the subject and continually gaining knowledge pertaining to the subject. Now, Highet poses the question—“Why can a teacher not simply learn the rudiments of the subject, master them thoroughly, and then stop?” (13). The best answer to this is: one cannot understand the rudiments of an important subject without knowing its higher levels.

            Now, how does knowing the subject relate to bridge-building? Without knowing how to build a bridge, one cannot build a bridge. There is no direction for which the bridge to start or stop, there is no knowledge of needed materials for building, and one knows not the purpose of the bridge! In the same way, without knowing a subject, there is nothing a teacher can give to a student—no direction, information, or purpose. Highet articulates, “The neglect of [knowing the subject] is one of the chief reasons for the bad teaching that makes pupils hate schools and universities” (14).

            Now, Highet proceeds to discuss a second important characteristic, quite related to the first—liking the subject which one teaches. Now liking a subject does not mean liking all of a subject, but how trusting would one be of a doctor who disliked medicine? In the same parallel, liking the subject means a continued interest and total immersion in topics pertaining to the subject—even Highet proclaims, “If you do enjoy the subject, it will be easy to teach even when you are tired, and delightful when you are feeling fresh” (20).

            The way a teacher “builds a bridge” between the students and the information requires mastery of especially contemporary knowledge. He is the architect who knows the recent advances in engineering while also maintaining the aesthetic integrity and beauty of the bridge. Highet asserts that, “A wise teacher will choose particular areas of his subject which he believes will be both interesting and illuminating, and will find that his increasing knowledge of them will give him a sense of mastery” (24). By keeping interested, the teacher also peaks the interest of his students—and, in turn, increases their ability to retain information.

            Highet addresses the final mark of a good teacher—knowing and liking his students. He notes how, “The good teacher feels that same flow of energy [from the youth], constantly supplied by the young” (27). He admits, however, that there are some devil youths—whom he names as “eccentrics.” If anything, Highet encourages an impersonal relationship with these students—for fear that they would “explode” (42). But, by knowing the students, whether they are eccentric, viscerotonic (pleasure-drive), somatotonic (image-driven), or cerebrotonic (thought-driven),  the teacher can better design the bridge over the gap* between the students and information.

            Highet explicitly mentions two functions of the teacher—which distinguishes him from a business man or the likes. The first function includes, “Making a bridge between school or college and the world” (49). That means the teacher makes whatever subject to be taught—whether be Latin, Theology, or Mathematics— relatable and applicable to contemporary society, and having students recognize that respective subject in their daily lives. Secondly, the teacher must, “Make a bridge between youth and maturity” (52). This is the ability to structure the class to access the students’ youthful energy while not allowing frivolity to ensue.

            Finally, Highet makes the statement, “Difficult though this bridge-building between two worlds may be, it is possible; it is necessary; it is done by the best teachers” (52). Obviously there is more to teaching than lesson plans and subject matter—just as how bridge-building requires more than just a knowledge of mathematics, engineering, and architecture. The best bridge-builders are artists (e.g. the Golden Gate Bridge). In a similar way, the best teachers are also artists, infusing their souls and hearts into teaching.

The Intellectual Life (Chapter 3-5 Summary)

        The Jesuit Order is one of the most influential Catholic orders of religious vocations in the world. They are known for many charisms—one, however, best summarizes A.G. Sertillanges’s commentary on the intellectual life—“Finding God in All Things.” Although Sertillanges was not a Jesuit (he was a Dominican), his The Intellectual Life surely overflows with encouragement for alertness to God’s beautiful creation, goodness, and truth.

            Beginning chapter three, Sertillanges reaffirms that “the intellectual life” is a vocation—a calling from God to direct one’s life. And yet, he directly applies this vocation in context of another vocation—Christian Marriage. Among his many assertions concerning the married life, Sertillanges includes, “[a wife] can produce much by helping her husband produce…consoling him for his disappointments… soothing his sorrows… being his sweet reward after his labors” (Sertillanges 45). The wife ought to support the husband in his vocation, for that is her vocation in the marital relationship. Living in a Christo-centric relationship reveals God’s true presence.

            Another way that Sertillanges offers the intellectual worker a glimpse into God’s presence includes Solitude. “Solitude enables you to make contact with yourself, a necessity if you want to realize yourself—not to repeat like a parrot a few acquired formulas, but to be the prophet of the God within you who speaks a unique language to each man” (Sertillanges 50). Certainly, Sertillanges suggests that within this prayer-state God grants the intellectual true inspiration. Sertillanges warns, however, “By carrying the cult of silence too far, one would reach the silence of death” (Sertillanges 63). For, a body motionless too long gets atrophy—in the same sense, silence and solitude must be balanced with intellectual work. Ultimately, articulates Sertillanges, the Truth (found in Jesus Christ) must be the intellectual’s final goal or end.

            Because truth must be the goal of the intellectual, he must keep every eye out in observance for truth. Interestingly enough, the truth is everywhere—as long as one keeps looking.

Truth is commoner than articles of furniture. It cries out in the streets and does not turn its back on us when we turn our backs on it. Ideas emerge from facts; they also emerge from conversations, chance occurrences, theatres, visits, strolls, the most ordinary books. Everything holds treasures, because everything is in everything, and a few laws of life and of nature govern the rest. (Sertillanges 73).

What a better exemplification of “Finding God in All Things!” The alertness of truth must be the greatest attribute of the intellectual—for without alertness, the intellectual falls into a mind of a “commonplace man” (cf. Sertillanges 74).

            Rich Mullins, a notable Christian musician, once said that he first invited Christ into his life at the age of four by singing, “Into my heart, into my heart, come Lord Jesus, into my heart.” In a similar way, Sertillanges alludes to the importance of inviting Christ into the intellectual’s life. “Children are taught ‘to give their hearts to God’; the intellectual, a child in that respect, must in addition give his heart to the truth” (Sertillanges 88). Throughout chapters three, four, and five, Sertillanges gives examples of how to allow God into the intellectual’s life: The Mass (cf. 90), Prayer (cf. 89), and studying Theology (cf. 110).

            Sertillanges finishes by asserting that studying Theology supersedes all other fields of study, because it is from Theology that all other subjects flow. “The sciences and philosophy without theology discrown themselves more lamentably, since the crown they repudiate is a heavenly one” (Sertillanges 107). Historically, great thinkers like Aristotle, Francis Bacon, Leonardo da Vinci, and Leibnitz were “renaissance men” because they broadened their field of study, or as Sertillanges would describe, a “Comparative study” (Sertillanges 102)— linking their studies to general philosophy and theology. For, “Theology has inserted a divine graft into the tree of knowledge, thanks to which this tree can bear fruits that are not its own” (Sertillanges 110). Overall, all other subjects, fields, and areas of study serve the purpose of supporting Theology—the study of God and His presence in man’s life.

In recognizing the truth of one’s life, the intellectual will surely “Find God in All Things.” The intellectual must remember this important maxim provided by Sertillanges—“The half-informed man is not the man who knows only half of things, but the man who only half knows things” (Sertillanges 122).

The Intellectual Life

            “I would put The Intellectual Life on the desk of every serious, and most of the unserious ones,” claims Fr. James Schall, SJ in his Foreword (Sertillanges xiii). Although Fr. Schall includes a humorous tone to his overall perception of The Intellectual Life, nevertheless he stresses and strains throughout the Foreword about the book’s importance and vitality to the life of an intellectual, much less a Catholic intellectual. Now, Fr. Schall, SJ is a professor of Political Philosophy at Georgetown University. He realizes the wisdom of thought and how it affects the way people execute political agendas and persuade others. Notably, Fr. Schall’s significance of endorsement alludes to the fact that the reader ought to realize how much of a positive effect this book encloses between its paper covers. Even more so, Fr. Schall claims, “[The Intellectual Life] will have an abiding, concrete effect on our lives” (Sertillanges xiv).

            According to Schall, The Intellectual Life’s most astounding characteristic comprises in truth. Whether it is the truth about applicable study habits, effective note-taking, organization skills, or moral truths, Schall notes that, “[Sertillanges] does not hesitate to warn us of the intimate relation between our knowing the truth and our not ordering our souls to the good” (Sertillanges xii). Significantly, Schall makes continual references to how The Intellectual Life supersedes and transcends the times —“This book allows us… to know why we need not be dependent on the media…” (Sertillanges xiii). Just as how truth remains truth regardless of times and customs, so too, articulates Schall, does The Intellectual Life— this book “allows [the reader] to be free [from the times]” (Sertillanges xiii).

            Vocation comes from Latin word “voco” meaning “to call.” Therefore, it follows that a vocation translates to a calling—usually defining one’s purpose in life. According to Sertillanges, a vocation more specifically, “comes from heaven and from our first nature” (Sertillanges 4). God plays an immense role in defining our purpose—from making us in his image, imago Dei, to revealing Himself in everyday life, and during mankind’s experience for coming to know ultimate truth. “If we are here, it is because God has placed us here” (Sertillanges 14). Our purpose totally and wholly depends upon God’s will and desire for us in our life. Although, it is our free will that, at times, gets in the way for answering our vocation, or call, to be effective intellectuals. And yet, this free will, articulates Sertillanges, is the most vital attribute and characteristic of being a human person—“[the will] is the most important thing!” (Sertillanges 10).

Not surprisingly, Sertillanges’s featured common virtues for intellectual workers can be summarized by the three Theological Virtues: Love, Faith, and Hope. “Tell me what you love, I will tell you what you are” (Sertillanges 19). Ultimately, as Catholic intellectual workers, love must be appropriately placed toward the desire of the Truth—namely Jesus Christ. The Jesuits have a phrase— “Finding God in all things.” Namely, God reveals himself through ultimate truth, and by using the intellect out of love for the Truth, the intellectual worker finds God—more than what he was expecting!

 Faith flows from a deep trust that the intellect will not fail, even if it seemingly cannot reveal fully the truth at any one given time. Sertillanges asserts, “One has no faith in jewel merchants who sell pearls and wear none” (Sertillanges 18). Yet, Jesus Christ claims the truth and, according to Dr. Peter Kreeft—a philosopher at Boston College—Jesus revealed new himself as more Truth—leaving his followers thaumazō “to wonder.” Jesus fulfilled this truth gained through the faith in intellect inspired by the Holy Spirit. He is the trustworthy, faithful provider of The Truth.

And from this faith, Hope clings on to the promise of Christ that the Truth will be fully revealed. Once again, “By practicing the truth that we know, we merit the truth that we do not yet know. We merit it in the sight of God…when we pay homage by living the truth of life” (Sertillanges 19). In essence, the fullness of God’s truth in our lives will be gained when Christ comes again, during the parousia. This will only be gained, however, if we practice the truth, and live in the Truth— “the Truth is God” (Sertillanges 30)!

Ultimately, Sertillanges connects all studious virtues to flow from the Truth revealed with the help of the three Theological virtues. Whether it be through concrete note-taking, sufficient sleep patterns, or prudent interest in knowledge, the intellectual must remember this important maxim provided by Sertillanges—“To accept ourselves as we are is to obey God and to make sure of good results” (Sertillanges 28).