The Well Educated Mind: A Guide to the Classical Education You Never Had by Susan Wise Bauer

Source of book: I own this

Date originally posted on Facebook: May 16, 2011

This book served as a partial inspiration for my blog, and indeed my project to continue to expand my knowledge and experience throughout the rest of my life.

In addition, Ms. Bauer’s educational philosophy fit well with what my wife and I were already planning to do for our own children. Neither of us has been thrilled with the trend within the Christian homeschooling movement - and strong in our local area - away from a focus on academics and toward indoctrination into a certain “worldview” that includes a lot of poisonous ideas about gender, race, politics, and so on. This divide has gotten rather contentious, and those of us who vary from the Gender Essentialist, Young Earth Creationism, Women should stay home with the kids, Television is evil, and on and on tend to not fit in so well.

In fact, even posting this review in 2011 earned me a rather violently disapproving comment from a person I won’t name, because he/she had been alerted that the book didn’t have an “orthodox” reading of the meaning of Animal Farm. Because Bauer tends to reject the hyper-conservative, libertarian, anglo-centric view of the world that many believe to be a central tenet of the Christian faith, she is very much outside of the circle of “acceptable” authors within this worldview.

I’ll also note as a follow up that we have continued to use Ms. Bauer’s history curriculum and have found it to be quite good. (It avoids both the “Manifest Destiny” crap and the made up “facts” of so much of Christian history curriculum these days (hello, David Barton) and also the  ever changing and “trendy” focus that exists in much mainstream curriculum to justify selling a new edition every couple of years.)

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Thomas Jefferson, in a letter to his nephew, Thomas Mann Randolph Jr., advised him regarding his plans to take courses at the university. In this letter, Jefferson stated that while lectures were useful in the sciences, most knowledge was best acquired by a course of reading.

It is with this in mind that literature professor and home school mother Susan Wise Bauer wrote The Well Educated Mind.

I became acquainted with Ms. Bauer after my wife ordered her history curriculum, The Story of the World. Some fellow homeschooling friends of ours have started using them, and found them useful. My wife then borrowed The Well Educated Mind from the library. We liked it so much that we bought several copies for gifts.

The intention of this book is to assist those who wish to become familiar with the classics of Western thought without having to spend years and tens of thousands of dollars pursuing a specialty degree in literature. Bauer is correct that the classics used to be considered a necessary body of knowledge for any well bred (or well read) person. Unfortunately, they seem to be rarely taught at the undergraduate level, let alone in high school. The result is that the vast majority of ostensibly educated Americans (and others) lack the basic knowledge and skills to read and understand the great works of our cultural heritage. (Obviously, there are exceptions, but it is often disappointing to discover how few classic books otherwise well educated people have read.)

Bauer divides her book into two sections. The first is a primer on preparing for a classical education: skills such as reading at basic to advanced levels, the trivium (grammar, logic, rhetoric), and note taking. The second is her list and summary of the most important works in each of five basic genres: the novel, autobiography, history, drama, and poetry.

I agree strongly with Bauer as to her basic approach. To some degree, I have been using similar techniques to educate myself since my teens. In following my mother’s lead, I have read voraciously since a child; I have taken notes here and there, particularly since passing age 30.

I also agree that much of this part of education is best done outside the classroom. Too little of modern education focuses on the great works anymore. Either they are considered too difficult and therefore uninteresting for the average student, or they are dismissed as relics of a distant and bigoted past. 

Unfortunately, this means that so many of the best thoughts man has had since the dawn of time are now being forgotten by all except a few specialists.

The second part of the book is interesting both in what it includes and what it omits. Bauer attempts to distill the list to the essentials. For the most part, I found I agreed with what she includes, but tended to wish she included additional selections. Of course, for the literarily minded, this is at least half the fun. Amanda and I spent hours discussing what we wanted to read from the lists, and all of the books we would recommend adding to it. This discussion could go on all day, but I would say the bottom line is that a person could do much worse than reading the books on the list.

A further benefit of the lists is that Bauer has identified inexpensive and quality editions of the works listed. In books requiring translation, she has recommended accessible and worthwhile translations. I did find myself leaning toward the more traditional (and therefore “outdated” translations. For example, I am fond of the Robert Fitzgerald translation of Homer. On the other hand, her quotations from the Seamus Heaney translation of Beowulf and the Robert Pinsky translation of Inferno are sufficient for me to consider adding these to my collection.

Certainly, I intend to use these resources in continuing my autodidact lifestyle. I would consider this book a good starting point for anyone who wishes to continue to learn after formal education has ended.

Reading With my Kids: The Phantom Tollbooth

Source of book: I own it. 

What if “jumping to conclusions” was more than an idiom? What if you actually jumped, and found yourself on an island named “conclusions”? These and other phrases are interpreted delightfully literally in this children’s classic by Norton Juster.

Written in 1961, and inspired by Lewis Carroll and the Marx Brothers, it is a modern fairy tale filled with puns and unexpected developments. I remember my mother reading this to me the first time, when I was fairly young. I’m sure some of the figures of speech had to be explained to me then, but I still found it hilarious. I re-read it several times, as a child, as a teen, and even as an adult. It really is one of those books that can appeal to any age – assuming of course that the reader has not been robbed of his sense of humor or sense of wonder by the Senses Taker. See, I cannot resist making a reference to the story even now.

Since the plot is part of the fun, I will avoid spoilers. Milo is a chronically bored boy, who thinks nothing is worth doing, nothing is worth thinking, and nothing is really important. He comes home from his boring day at school to find a tollbooth in his room. He jumps in his toy car and sets out – he has nothing better to do anyway. He meets a host of odd characters, finds a quest, and sees it to its end.

My kids are (currently) 8, 7, 6, 3, and 1. Obviously, the younger two have a limited understanding. They are at the “listen to Daddy read” stage, however, so they get to sit in whenever they wish. The older ones are clearly able to grasp much of the humor. They were particularly fond of King Azaz’s advisers, who say everything in five different, largely redundant ways.

            “Do all of those words mean the same thing?” gasped Milo.

            “Of course.”

            “Certainly.”

            “Precisely.”

            “Exactly”

            “Yes,” they replied in order.

They also liked the Everpresent Wordsnatcher, a dirty bird who comes from Context, but is never there.

“Let me try once more," Milo said in an effort to explain. "In other words --"
"You mean you have other words?" cried the bird happily. "Well, by all means, use them. You're certainly not doing very well with the ones you have now.”

There is much more, of course, which makes this book one rewarding for both parents and children. I therefore recommend that you not let your children read this one on their own. Far better to share it than let the kids have all the fun.

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Update April 2020: I read this one to the two younger kids now that they are old enough, and it was a hit. My 11 year old particularly got the wordplay and puns and humor, and laughed all through it. My 9 year old had to have a few things explained, but she had fun as well. This is still one of my all time favorite kids' books, and it has aged well. The ideas of rhyme and reason ruling our world, knowledge and wisdom prevailing over ignorance and prejudice, and the necessity of seeing things from others' points of view are timeless - and particularly timely in our current era of aggressive and intentional ignorance, disdain of knowledge and expertise, and celebration of bigotry. 

Literary and Musical Highlights from this Christmas

When I was a kid, there was one present that was sure to please me, regardless of size or cost: Legos. If you wanted to be sure the gift would be loved, that was the easiest way. The other sure-fire gift was that of books. While not all books would be equally loved, it was not hard to find me a book I would like. Aunt Patty, I still remember Watership Down – I even wore out the original copy.

Now that I am mostly grown up, my kids get the legos (don’t ask who plays with them), but I still get the books. Music can also be a good gift, now that Amazon wish lists are available to determine which titles are not already part of my collection. (That’s the hazard of buying music for a musician.)

This Christmas demonstrated that my family knows me pretty well. A few new additions that I am particularly excited about this year:

[Note: this post has been updated with links to my reviews of these books.]

1. Gitanjali (Offerings of Song) by Rabindranath Tagore

 Technically, this is a birthday present, not a Christmas present. It just took my brother until Christmas to remember to bring it. This is Tagore’s most famous collection of poems, the one best known to the Western world. He became the first non-European author to receive the Nobel Prize in literature as a result. The book itself is a gorgeous small hardback, illustrated with paintings by Mark W. McGinnis. I’m really eager to read this, but it is one of those books that are fun even to hold.

2. Inferno by Dante, translated by Robert Pinsky

 My beloved wife knew I had been lusting after this book. I already have two versions of the complete Divine Comedy, each of which is completely different and interesting in its own way. I am already a huge fan of Pinsky both for his own poetry and his ongoing efforts to bring the discussion and love of poetry to a wider audience. When I read a small sample of this translation, I was hooked. If the small taste is an indication of the whole, this will be an exciting adventure.

3. How to Write a Sentence by Stanley Fish

I already have Strunk & White (if I have to explain, you probably wouldn’t care anyway), and a host of other books on writing and style. Grammar snobs across the literary world have lauded this book. Thus, it belongs on my shelf.

4. England Under the Stuarts by G. M. Trevelyan

 This book is one in the History of England series by Trevelyan. My wife, who knows library sales like none other, found this used (but probably unread) Folio Society hardback for next to nothing. Another beautiful book just begging to be savored late at night with a glass of claret or port. Although, since the Stuarts were from Scotland, perhaps a fine scotch would fit better.

5. Lux Æterna by Morten Lauridsen

 This one is music, not reading. Lauridsen is a modern, but not modernist, composer. Lux Æterna is a choral work, almost, but not exactly, a requiem. I hope some day to write a longer blog post on requiems. They fascinate and speak to me in a powerful way, which I would love to explore in words. This CD also contains Les Chansons des Roses, Ave Maria, and Mid-Winter Songs. I am not familiar with these works. Something new to go with something beloved. Thanks to my sister-in-law and her husband for this one.

Cultural Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know, by E. D. Hirsch, Jr.

Source of book: Lent to me by Peter Wonderly

For those of my friends and/or followers who know Peter, he is one of the best educated persons I know, either in spite of or because of his colorful history. Peter has devoted a significant portion of his life attempting to impart education to continuation students, a seemingly hopeless job.

I would venture to say he lent me this book because he figured I would be one of the few in his acquaintance to truly care about cultural literacy and its decline. If that was the case, he was correct.

This book discusses, obviously, cultural literacy. The author defines this as the body of knowledge which educated (that is, literate) adults know and take for granted in everyday speech and writing that others know as well. For example, in a typical newspaper article, the author assumes that the reader is familiar with the three branches of government here in the United States. Unfortunately, these assumptions are increasingly incorrect as applied to the population at large.

Hirsch identifies this decline in literacy, this decline in shared knowledge enabling communication, as stemming from an educational philosophy first articulated by Rousseau. (Note at this point that I have assumed that my readers are familiar with Rousseau. And with the concept of educational philosophy.) This idea was that education should not be the memorization of a set list of facts, but rather the learning of the process of learning. This was popularized in the United States by John Dewey in the form of an educational emphasis on learning the mechanics of reading, critical thinking, etc., with the idea that learning these abstract skills will then translate to the ability to learn the facts in any area of knowledge.

Hirsch argues persuasively that the facts themselves are necessary to even learn, much less use, the raw skills. Particularly in the area of reading, the mechanics of understanding the words is less useful than understanding what the words mean in the context of the culture. A reference to Shakespeare will only confuse a reader who can recognize the word, but not the man or the concepts evoked by him.

So far, this idea, although perhaps radical in our time, is well defended by Hirsch. I certainly find myself in his camp on this issue. Critical thinking and reading with comprehension are so tied up with the background facts that both need to be developed simultaneously. I find myself in my conversations with my children having to focus on the basic building blocks of knowledge. We have laid some basic foundations in biology, physics, and chemistry in order to discuss the world around us. This applies to my 5 year old as much as to my 8 year old. Electricity is mysterious unless the structure of the atom is understood.

Where I tend to part ways with Hirsch is in two vital areas. First, what is the cause of the decline in cultural literacy? Second, what is the cure for the decline?

Hirsch argues that the decline in cultural literacy, although its philosophical roots date back to Rousseau, truly accelerated in the 1970s. Since I lack the knowledge or resources (or memory, for that matter) to determine the issue for myself, I will accept this as fact. Certainly, by the time I was in high school in the 1990s, I felt like an alien among my peers because I was literate in this sense.

Hirsch attempts to blame the decline on the change in educational philosophy. (Rousseau and Dewey, again.) The problem with this argument is that these ideas really were implemented in large part one or two generations prior to the decline. Perhaps the knowledge took a few generations to disappear. Or perhaps the schools were not as important to the transfer of cultural knowledge as he thought.

This ties in, of course, with his proposed cure. He suggests, like plenty of educational theorists, that a change in curriculum is necessary. (So far, I can see his point) However, he also argues for a longer school day, longer school year, taking children away from their presumably ignorant parents for longer periods of time.

This is an easy, knee jerk reaction. (Again, notice that I assume you understand the reference.) To his credit, Hirsch is working with what he has: the ability to influence the educational establishment. However, he misses what I consider to be the fundamental point. Back in the “golden days” of shared literacy, school days and years were shorter. Thus, perhaps the time spent in school was not the determining factor.

Cultural literacy, like many other important facets of education, is not primarily learned in school. This is similar, of course, to the debate about the ever increasing obesity among Americans, which also gained significant momentum in the 1970s. Good nutrition, like shared knowledge, is primarily gained at home, through interaction with multiple generations of adults. What has disappeared is the one-on-one transfer of values and knowledge.

In my previous review of Sweetness and Power, I noted that the increase in sugar consumption was tied, not to its cheapness, but to its ease of preparation. It was a quick source of calories that did not require preparation time, thus being more convenient for a working parent to serve. I would argue that knowledge transfer has undergone the same transformation with the increasing employment of both parents, the loss of multiple generation households, and the decline of time spent communicating across the generations. Just as sugar was and is a quick source of calories, television and other less literate forms of entertainment require less work and time than the transfer of cultural knowledge.

I do not want to sound like I am discounting the contributions of teachers. Indeed, they play an important role in the transfer of knowledge. However, the system of education will never be sufficient for all that is needed. Each of us learns through all of our interactions. If we hear something at school that is not reinforced and expanded as we communicate to others, we forget what we heard. If we do not practice our literacy, it fades into distant memory at best. It is that constant honing of our background knowledge that transforms it from facts for the next test to a commonality of shared literacy. It is this that enables us to communicate with other literate individuals, though we may be separated by race, culture, location, or even time in history.

As a final note, the last 65 pages or so of this book list what the author has deemed a basic list of concepts necessary for cultural literacy. He developed the list with a few others specializing in other areas of knowledge, and then circulated the list for refinement to a large group of literate acquaintances. The author clearly indicates that this list is meant to be a start, not the final product, and solicits additions and subtractions.

I found this list to be interesting as a list of concepts to be mastered. I do, however, have a few cautions. First and most important, I would urge fellow home school parents to avoid panic. This list is best suited to college graduates, not elementary school children. This is the eventual goal, not that goal for your precocious 3^rd grader.

Second, this list is well suited to an adult. I found it a good gauge of the concepts I still needed to look at myself. I am, of course, in middle age. I learned plenty of these ideas after graduation. Learning is more of a lifelong process, not a final destination completed with a diploma or a degree.

I have no doubt that a person who learns the concepts in this book will be able to better communicate with other literate persons. In that light, I would recommend this book as a doorway to better knowledge, and an alternative to the Rousseau/Dewey educational philosophy.