Education as Friendship
Several months ago, I got together with a group of my best friends for a regular reunion. We attended Wheaton College together in the late 90’s, and we have made it a point to gather as often as we can. There are eleven of us, and it’s quite common for nearly everyone to make it. Typically, we visit different parts of the country, prioritize active outings, and always set aside time to pray with and for each other. I’ll normally see one or two of the guys individually over the course of a year, but the whole group gathering is always the high point. We’ve all changed significantly over the last twenty-four years (primarily in life circumstances: wives, children, jobs, churches) but when we all gather, it’s amazing how little seems to have changed.
I loved my time at Wheaton. I enjoyed my classes, chapel, and my interactions with professors and other college staff. I continue to support and believe in the college and its mission, and am proud to claim it as my alma-mater. However, I can’t remember many of the academic lessons I learned or chapel presentations I heard, even though I tend to have a pretty good memory. In terms of what I “use” in my day-to-day job, I can’t say that my time at Wheaton was overly practical. However, I wouldn’t change a thing, even my unspoken major: intra-mural sports. I loved college, and these years were truly formative in ways I’m still understanding.
One of my first papers received a “NO” for its grade. Five pages on a topic in classical literature with a large “X” over the entirety of each page. At the end of the last page, there was only one word written in red: “NO.” No other comments anywhere else on the essay. When I met with my professor, he said that he could tell that I’d worked hard on the paper, but there were no genuine ideas. He wasn’t accusing me of plagiarism; he meant that there was very little “Noah Brink” in the paper. I was merely regurgitating things I’d read and what was discussed in class. I had written what I was supposed to say – what I thought was correct. No original thoughts. I had gone to college with a high capacity for making good grades, for figuring out what I was supposed to say, and doing just that. My professor told me that one of his hopes for me during my time at Wheaton was that I would learn how to think for myself. Despite what my secular friends would say about “freethinking,” Wheaton was very instrumental in shaping me to think for myself and with complexity.
Learning to think and doing so from a well-developed, Christian context was far more formative for me than the “content” of the lessons I sat through – whether in class or in chapel. But, my growth as a thinker was more “caught” than “taught.” In many ways, being in an environment like Wheaton is what most shaped me - not the formal curricula and lessons of that environment. My friends, my mentors, and the culture of faith was far more critical in my faith formation than the scholarship of my professors, who I continue to be honored to have sat under.
Another one of my Wheaton friends has also worked in Christian education since college. I’d heard through the grapevine that he was doing some innovative things with his twelfth-grade Bible students, so I visited his school to observe him first-hand. In our follow-up conversations about his hopes for his classes, he said that he wants his students to become the kind of people he would enjoy having as friends one day. He was more interested in the sorts of people they were becoming than whether or not they learned the information and ideas of his class. That doesn’t mean that he didn’t have significant investment in the content of his class; he worked hard at crafting thoughtful, engaging, and cohesive lessons. But, he clearly saw his content as means toward an end, rather than the end itself.
I walked away from my visit thinking that Christian education is a bit like a Trojan Horse. Students enter through our doors for something they (or their parents) think they want or need … education. Not just any sort of education, but the pragmatic, modern, American version of it. Students come to our schools to get the skills and knowledge they need so they can get into college, which will provide them with the skills and knowledge they need to get a job, which provides them with the money they need to get the sorts of things they think they’ll need. Plus, laws require that children receive an education. So, they come through our doors for what they think they’re getting. Modern education is the hook that gets them into the building, but truly Christian schools aim at shaping students’ hearts, desires, habits, and longings … a clandestine mission to see our students become friends.
During my time at Wheaton, one of the most beloved professors on campus did not receive tenure nor a contract renewal, because he had failed to meet some of the faculty council’s expectations – namely, that he hadn’t kept up with publishing requirements. At least, this was what students heard. I’m quite confident the students didn’t know (nor deserve) the full story, but it was enough of a frustration to produce several student newspaper articles about the situation, multiple requests for the administration to let him stay, and other respectful expressions of support for the professor.
I never had the privilege of having this professor, but I never met a student who didn’t think the world of him. Not only did everyone love his classes; they felt like he was invested in who they were as persons. I did have a handful of professors who were beloved; only one or two seemed to want to get to know me on a personal level. I also had several professors who seemed to have zero interest in getting to know me, even though they were good lecturers. Unfortunately, I also had a few professors who weren’t particularly good as teachers and didn’t take interest in us as students. But, they were well-known to be scholars in their fields.
Maybe I should return back to one of my former statements lest the last paragraph overshadow that I really do love Wheaton, and am thankful for my time there. I could not be prouder of my degree. But, I don’t think my perspective is unique to Wheaton alone; it seems to be the norm in higher-education. Most often, professors are selected for their scholarship, and the university or college hopes they will simply figure out how to teach. I have several friends who work in education departments at institutions of higher learning who long to get access to helping their peers in other departments – to help them learn a bit about the art of teaching. They lament that the universities don’t prioritize professors becoming better at teaching; in fact, many of the universities and colleges don’t seem to care. Unfortunately, this reflects a significant flaw in the system and structure of higher education in America. Learning really isn’t the goal. If it were, universities and colleges would train their professors to teach in a way that makes learning the priority. Of course, I have a bias toward what I think education should be about, but I’m continually baffled that educational institutions have such a low view of education that they think educators don’t need to be trained how to educate! Anyone can do it; it’s easy.
It also goes without saying that colleges and universities have become more interested in a modern, pragmatic view of education, where the end is knowledge and skill acquisition, rather than character or faith formation. Of course, institutions of higher learning could do a far better job of helping their professors become better teachers, connecting instruction and assessment in a way that seeks to see students learn. If colleges and universities are going to lean toward a pragmatic, post-industrial revolution view of education, then at least do it well.
What’s most telling, though, is that professors are far more likely to be overlooked for tenure for failing to actively work to publish or receive grants rather than failing to actively work toward becoming a better teacher. And, in a Christian context, how important is it that the professor is actively investing in the lives of his or her students? Is that calculated into the equation of determining professor promotions?
Having worked with high school students for as long as I have and loving Wheaton as I do, I’ve often gotten into conversations with students about Wheaton and other schools like it. Whenever I tell students that they ought to consider a school like Wheaton, the first thing that comes to mind is my friend group. Isn’t that interesting? At the top of the list for why I value Wheaton is the sorts of people I was around. I was shaped by some of the adults - administrators who were invested in me as a student leader, the couple of professors who had me over to their homes, the professor who gave me a “NO,” and a whole lot of friends who I lived in close proximity to for four years. I tell my students that they can get a good education nearly anywhere (because it’s often dependent upon what you’re willing to put into it). But, what I don’t think you can replicate is the sorts of people you will get exposed to at Wheaton or other colleges like it. Of course, for those who only look at college through pragmatic lenses, what I say has no bearing. If all you’re after is skill and knowledge acquisition, then find the most expedient (or highly regarded) means to get you where you want to go. Sure, Wheaton is highly regarded, but that’s not the reason to go there.
Once again, I don’t want to diminish the “academics” that Wheaton does so well, but when my friends got together in the Fall, we all remarked about how we’re less concerned about the published and celebrated academic progress and accolades. We’re far more interested in hearing about how students are being shaped, about how students are being poured into, about whether the culture is authentically proclaiming Jesus and His gospel. Yes, it is an academic institution, but we’re also looking back and contemplating what parts of Wheaton were most critical in shaping us into the men we are today. As much as we all admit that we received good “academics,” we were all unanimous in saying that what was most formative to us was relationship.
That’s no less true in any educational environment. As Charlotte Mason says, “Education is the science of relations.” It has always been about relationship and connection. If education is only about content - knowledge and skill acquisition – then why not merely watch a bunch of YouTube videos? I imagine that I could take my college transcript and find content on YouTube to replicate all of the classes I took. Of course, that takes a lot of searching, but it’s very possible to do. Now, many colleges will say that in-person learning is more effective and meaningful than online options. But, that assumes that there is connection and relationship in those in-person options.
I will continue to be proud of my time at Wheaton and recommend it without hesitation, in part because Wheaton gave me my friends - and my wife! Those friends aren’t just former classmates; they’re also mentors who I still have relationships with, years later. Wheaton gave me a community where I was brought into a culture of Christian thoughtfulness and engagement. But, in this reflection, it has also caused me to think deeply about what is most important in all other forms of education: it’s the culture, it’s the relationships and connections that make learning come alive.
I recently had the privilege of speaking at a workshop on Spiritual Formation, and in one of the more practical Q&A sessions, we focussed on hiring the right people and (potentially) having to fire the wrong people. What I told the woman who asked the question is that we always have to prioritize the sort of person you are hiring as a teacher. Does that person love Jesus and kids? That’s the start. Whether or not the person is a scholar in his or her field is less important, because it doesn’t really make a bit of difference about the person’s level of scholarship if he or she isn’t able to connect with kids, because connection between students and adults is the lifeblood of the school. You can coach up scholarship; you can’t coach up having the right sort of loves.
And that’s what must be the greatest of all priorities in the Christian school - being unapologetic about our loves. It needs to be central to who we hire. It needs to be central to what we’re calling our students toward. Students are always being shaped; something’s always forming them. And, what’s most formative is typically what’s caught rather than what’s taught. So, it’s of critical importance that we create cultures where we’re shaping students toward loving what they ought to love, and where they are softened to receiving the love of God. That most often happens in relationship with another - more often than through a top shelf lesson.
Yes, the lessons we teach have great value. But the relationship between the one teaching and those being taught will always be of greater value. That is what will most likely make the lesson stick. That is what most likely will enable a student to be the sort of person any of us would like to become friends with one day.
