WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A STUDENT
Bryan Smith
(for The Classical Teacher)

In so many of the public conversations in America lately on ways to improve our educational system, people seem to focus on things like buildings, computers, audio-visual equipment, teacher training, and so on. All of these things have varying degrees of importance in the overall project of getting people educated, but I am always reminded of the words of an old professor I once heard say, “All you really need are teachers, books, and students.” This will certainly sound simplistic, if not downright unrealistic. But I do think the statement embodies a truth that may be so simple we often miss it; for education to happen, someone must be teaching and someone must be learning. It is the second part of this proposition I would like to focus on because it seems to be one that is often either neglected or grossly misstated.

Regardless of anything else that may take part in getting you educated, one thing is absolutely necessary and that is that you, yourself, must assume the part of a student. You must play your part in order for the other elements to have any genuine effect. Furthermore, I do not mean by “a student” merely a person sitting at a desk, doing his assignments, and calculating his average. Everyone goes to school in some manner or other, but not everyone is, in truth, a student.

Think of the gospel story of Christ teaching the multitude on a hillside. What lesson could have been more important than his? Yet his listeners wandered ignorantly away by the thousands with little more understanding than they had before he spoke. Most of his audience was apparently content to remain in this unenlightened condition. Maybe they blamed the instructor for his lack of clarity. Nevertheless, away they went. All, that is, but a handful. A small band of fellows lingered after the crowd had dispersed to ask what in the world he meant by his cryptic lesson. Those were the disciples—those were the genuine students. It was not enough for them to say they had heard the master speak. They wanted understanding, and they made it their own project to go after it. Now at some time or other, if you are going to be a real student, you must take your education on as your own project—a thing you pursue on your own, rather than a thing to which you are driven by parents and teachers.

Another aspect of the genuine student is the willingness to admit one’s own ignorance. Socrates, a fellow we now remember as a great philosopher, never actually claimed to be wise, but always insisted that it was his knowledge of his own ignorance that opened to him the possibilities of learning. Sometimes in school we are afraid to admit that we don’t understand something. We don’t want to look ignorant or foolish in front of others. But to protect yourself at such a moment with a smile and a nod, quietly pretending that you understand what you do not, is a deadly habit. Your confusion will only be compounded as more and more incomprehensible words pass over you. Remember Socrates. Humble yourself and say, “I don’t understand. What do you mean when you say that?” Don’t be afraid to appear ignorant; in fact, declare ignorance as your condition and you will suddenly be freed to learn in ways you could never have imagined while you were still busy protecting your pride.

Two stark examples stand out to me as illustrations of another characteristic of a genuine student. The first is that of Rabbi Hillel, who came to Jerusalem as a young man to study at the great rabbinical academy there. His family lived meagerly so that he could attend lectures in the evening. Once, due to his poverty, he was unable to pay his tuition and could not be admitted to class. Nevertheless, after an especially severe night, he was found shivering and numb in the windowsill to which he had crept in order to hear the evening lecture. The second example is a famous one—Helen Keller who, though blind and deaf, learned to read, went to college, and wrote several amazing books. She collected an extensive library in Braille and, so great was her thirst for knowledge, she sometimes read until her fingers bled. These two examples, stark as I said, illustrate a kind of determination that will acknowledge no obstacles and make no excuses.

Finally, I will present a more recent example of another characteristic I believe essential to the true student. The famous cellist Pablo Casals described his approach to learning pieces of music as a continuous effort to break the piece down into smaller and smaller parts until he could master every detail. This is far from the slip-shod, overview mentality to which we can so easily succumb. A genuine student focuses on the details, seeking to master the minute parts which can then be reunited in a truly admirable whole. So look for the beauty and the brilliance in the smallest parts of the things you study. Why are the numbers “square”? Why does Tennyson use a singular verb at the end of his “Flower in the Crannied Wall”? Which end of the phospholipid is hydrophilic, and why? Never assume you are finished, and always pursue your studies in increasing degrees of detail.

This is enough for now. I realize you could turn to other pages where the job of education would be depicted as a much more entertaining enterprise, easily acquired and always fun. But you will only get the riches of understanding and wisdom by wielding an intellectual pick and shovel. You can do it, but it’s your job to do. Make your education your own project, admit your own ignorance, allow no excuses, and focus on details. If you could start cultivating these four characteristics, you would be well on the way to becoming a genuine student. It may seem daunting, but remember the old Greek saying: “The first step is half the journey.”