In Exodus 31, the artists Bezalel and Aholiab fashion decorations for the tabernacle under the influence of the Holy Spirit. In the very next chapter, Aaron fashions the golden calf.
Making is not in itself holy.
In Exodus 31, the artists Bezalel and Aholiab fashion decorations for the tabernacle under the influence of the Holy Spirit. In the very next chapter, Aaron fashions the golden calf.
Making is not in itself holy.
Every aspiring church architect should be able to describe in detail the design of the tabernacle and temple.
Alan Jacobs on the Fëanor Temptation:
And this is why “making” in and of itself is not the answer to our decadent moment. “Love of things, especially artificial things, could be seen as the besetting sin of modern civilisation, and in a way a new one, not quite Avarice and not quite Pride, but somehow attached to both” – and this is the Fëanor Temptation. It is in light of this temptation that I advocate repair, which is a mode of caring for what we have not made, but rather what we have inherited. We will not be saved by the making of artifacts — or from the repair of them, either; but the imperative of repair has these salutary effects: it reminds us of our debt to those who came before us and of the fragility of human constructs.
Lately I have become more and more troubled by the tendency of my fellow Christians to elevate Art to the level almost of Gospel. (Mako Fujimura has advocated almost exactly this.) In so doing, we are far, far more like our secular modern neighbors than we think. When a Christian says “Beauty (or Art) will save the world,” we ought to ask, “Whose beauty? Which art?” Making is not unequivocally good.
In case I haven’t said this before on this blog, let me say it here: if any writer is going to guide us through the deceptively shimmering waters of Art in the 20th and 21st centuries, it will be J. R. R. Tolkien. I can’t think of anyone else with the necessary experience, humility, and depth of knowledge to write clearly on this subject, even though that writing takes the form of fantasy literature. It may be because it’s fantasy that it will prove so valuable.
If one were asked to provide a single explanation for the growth of English studies in the later nineteenth century, one could do worse than reply: “the failure of religion.”
Terry Eagleton, Literary Theory: An Introduction
On the next page Eagleton quotes an English professor named George Gordon (not Byron) saying:
England is sick, and . . . English literature must save it. The Churches (as I understand) having failed, and social remedies being slow, English literature has now a triple function: still, I suppose, to delight and instruct us, but also, and above all, to save our souls and heal the State.
It is the wager of a classical education… that all the study and exams and memorization would be time well spent even if the student died on his way to the stage to collect his diploma.
Josh Gibbs in How to Be Unlucky
I can’t imagine a single student at my school agreeing with this statement. I can think of only a few parents who might.
A few weeks ago, a friend asked me whether Christian kids really need to study pagan literature. “Isn’t the Bible more important than immoral books written by Romans and Greeks?” he asked. My reply: “Absolutely.” The Bible is more important. An old woman living alone in the middle of Nebraska who reads her Bible every day is wiser than a classroom full of godless Ivy League Classics professors. But pious spinster and overeducated atheist aren’t the only two options. Many Christian kids today have the opportunity to study both the Bible and the works of Homer, Plato, Ovid, and Virgil. The question is, given that opportunity, should they take it?
Let me say at the outset that “classical education” and “Christian education” are not the same thing. You can have one without the other, and the latter is infinitely more important than the former. “Classical education” originally meant studying the classics: the language and literature of the Greeks and the Romans. Without those pre-Christian works, an education isn’t classical, but it can still be Christian.
I suspect that most Christian parents send their children to classical Christian schools not because they love the classics but because they see these schools as stalwartly conservative and less likely to cave in to cultural trends. It’s probably true that classical schools are less likely to cave, since anyone who commits to studying old things necessarily has less time to pay attention to passing fashions. That doesn’t mean other schools will cave, however. I’m sure there are faithful schools out there that are not classical. If a Christian family is uncomfortable reading pagan literature, they can choose another school and maintain a clear conscience.
That said, I believe that there are good reasons for Christians to study classical literature. First, there’s the concept of what might be called “free grace” or “natural revelation.” Even the most savage human beings retain a hazy memory of a time when man walked with God in the Garden. This means that pagans can figure out some true things about the world, even about God Himself, and we shouldn’t be afraid of digging around in their books for that buried treasure. After all, we do the same in books written by nominal Christians like Melville, Emerson, and Twain. Is a pious pagan any worse than these? And if we do start removing “objectionable books” from the curriculum, where do we stop? Should we examine an author’s Christian pedigree before reading what he wrote? Worldview should not be the determining factor when deciding the value of a book. Once we start examining an author’s ideology to determine the value of his poetry, we may as well give up studying literature altogether.
Second, we should study classical literature as a broad cultural application of the fifth commandment. Just as we honor the man and woman who brought us into the world, we honor the men and women who brought them into the world and the country that produced them and the history that produced that country. For centuries, those who read and wrote and taught in the Western world drew on the literature of the Greeks and Romans. In practical terms, knowing classical languages and literature is a passport to vast areas of our culture, to the point of effectively doubling a person’s access to knowledge. Hundreds of thousands of words across dozens of languages can be traced back to Rome, not to mention the overabundance of classical allusions at every level of our society (Amazon, anyone?). There is a sense in which the very thoughts in our heads are built out of materials shaped by the minds of Plato, Aristotle, and all the rest. We may wish this were not the case, just as we may wish we had been born in a different time, in a different place, or a to a different family. But here we are, stuck with this heritage.
Finally, we should study classical literature because it’s what Christians have always done. The apostle Paul, whose life was completely transformed by Jesus, was familiar enough with the Greek poets to quote them on at least two occasions (Acts 17, Titus 1). In the fourth century, Emperor Julian, who renounced the faith, passed a law to stop Christians from teaching Greek and Roman literature. This tells us two things: 1) Christians taught that stuff and 2) they taught it in such a way as to enrage a pagan emperor. (I’m grateful to Wes Callihan for this particular insight.) Clearly, pagan literature can be put to good use. Remember that it was the descendants of Cain who invented musical instruments.
One could argue that Paul and the rest drew on pagan literature because they had nothing else. Perhaps we should sweep that culture from the earth and replace with our own based on the Bible. This is an excellent suggestion, so excellent in fact that Christians began the process almost two thousand years ago. In his biography of Saint Francis, Chesterton describes the so-called Dark Ages as a purgation, the time when the spiritual diseases of paganism were expelled from the system. Christians in these times worked and prayed and cleaned and scrubbed until the Gospel was pushed into all corners of the globe, and still they decided that pagan literature must be taught. It was medieval monks, soaked in Scripture, who decided the Aeneid must be preserved.
I suspect that a culture that tossed out everything but the Gospel would soon discover that they had somehow managed to bring everything else along with them. It’s the nature of good news to spread. Christians have been told to carry the Gospel to the ends of the earth, which certainly includes the works of Homer, Plato, and all the rest.
Jocko Willink and Leif Babin’s book Extreme Ownership unpacks leadership principles they learned as Navy SEAL commanders, both in training and in battle. Both of these men now work as private advisors for business executives, so their book applies most directly to the business world. The principles are useful for leaders in any field, however. In this post, I’d like to explore how they apply to teachers and to school staff in general.
The main principle is stated in the title: Extreme Ownership. Essentially, this means that leaders must take responsibility for the success or failure of their team, regardless of whether or not they caused the mistake. “The only meaningful measure for a leader,” the authors say, “is whether the team succeeds or fails” (8). For a teacher, this means that if your class fails to achieve the goals you’ve set for them, you have not led them. Effective leadership is defined by success.
This brings up an obvious question: what is your goal as a teacher? Since teachers are themselves part of a team that operates under a leader, their overarching goal is defined for them by the school mission statement. All of the tasks a teacher does every day must work towards accomplishing the overall goal of the school. This goes for lesson plans as well as for class discipline. A good leader takes ownership of the overarching mission and leads his team to accomplish smaller tasks that help accomplish that mission.
Taking ownership does not simply mean admitting that it’s your fault when a student fails to accomplish a goal you’ve set, although it does include that. Taking ownership means finding out why that student has failed and giving them the resources (time, attention, incentive, additional materials) they need to succeed. Leaders can’t throw up their hands and blame the student for not applying himself. As long as that student is part of your team, you must make them succeed. If one member of the team fails, the whole team fails.
Taking ownership also means that a teacher cannot blame external factors for causing the team to fail. You can’t control your circumstances, but you can control your response. It’s not your fault that a student is absent for days on end, but it is your responsibility to bring them up to speed when they return. If they don’t catch up, you have failed as a leader.
The most crucial part of taking ownership is making absolutely sure your team (your class) understands why they are being asked to do something. You must explain every goal to them until they become true believers in the mission. The most effective teams, the teams that accomplish what they set out to do, are those that understand the importance of their mission. A team that believes will try harder and work more intelligently than a team that is simply following directions. A true believer will take ownership of the mission himself.
Of course, a leader can’t take ownership of a mission unless he also believes in the mission. This is why the best teachers are the ones who love their subject. The students pick up on that love and begin to love the subject, too. Good leadership is contagious. If you as a teacher constantly take ownership of your students and help them succeed, they will begin to take ownership of their own work and will be motivated to succeed.
The other aspect of belief is that a leader must “align his thoughts and vision to that of the mission” (77). If the leader doesn’t understand why a particular goal needs to be accomplished, he needs to ask questions until he not only understands but believes in the absolute necessity of that goal. Senior leaders must explain the mission to those below them, and junior leaders must ask questions until they understand the why and can make others believe. Willink and Babin put it this way:
If you don’t understand or believe in the decisions coming down from your leadership, it is up to you to ask questions until you understand how and why those decisions are being made. Not knowing the why prohibits you from believing in the mission. When you are in a leadership position, that is a recipe for failure, and it is unacceptable. As a leader, you must believe. (84)
Taking ownership in this situation means communicating to your superiors that they haven’t communicated to you. If you don’t understand the instructions, if you don’t truly believe in the goal to the extent that you can convince others of its importance, you can’t throw up your hands and say, “I’m sure it doesn’t matter anyway.” Take ownership. Get your leaders to clarify until you understand the instructions and believe in them. Only then can you communicate it to your team. To summarize: Ask up, explain down. Ask your superiors for clarification, then explain the mission to your team.
For example, take a school dress code. At my school, the dress code is clearly explained in the student handbook. Why don’t our students follow it? The responsibility rests on the teachers. We have not led effectively. We have not adequately communicated the why to the students. If we had, they would follow it. Most likely, the reason that we haven’t succeeded in our mission is that we don’t understand the why either. A leader who doesn’t believe cannot make others believe. It is our responsibility as teachers to take ownership of the school policy, to ask questions until we understand its importance, and to communicate it to the students. As the authors say, “One of the most important jobs of any leader is to support your own boss” (237). If you, as a teacher, complain about the rules and procedures you have been given, your students will, too. You must take the time to understand them so that you can enforce them as though they are your own.
The authors develop several other principles of good leadership, but the principle most closely tied to extreme ownership is clarifying the mission. There can be no leadership where there is no team, and there can be no team where there is no mission. The mission must be simple, flexible, and measurable. If it’s complicated, rigid, or vague, it can’t be communicated down the chain of command, which will prevent anyone from owning it. A leader can’t lead his team unless he is leading them somewhere.
Teachers are classroom leaders and, as such, are responsible for the success of their students. In order for teachers to thrive as classroom leaders, they must take ownership of their classrooms, which means they must ask up and explain down. They must take responsibility for understanding the mission of the school and for communicating that mission to the students. Whether the daily lesson involves analyzing a poem, diagramming a sentence, or solving a complex equation, the class can only succeed if their teacher takes ownership of his or her class and teaches the students to take ownership themselves.
The U.S. population grew at an estimated rate of 0.1% between July 2020 and July 2021, according to the Census Bureau. But in Idaho, which topped the list of states whose population grew the fastest, residents increased by 2.9%.
The influx of new residents in the state, fueled largely by domestic migration, added pressure to home prices. Idaho’s median November listing price was 19% higher year over year, according to Realtor.com, more than double the national median.
In Idaho’s two largest metropolitan areas, Boise and Coeur D’Alene, listing prices grew 16% and 44%, respectively.
Source
Books I read a significant part of, but did not finish:
