EN Teaching

Many Christian parents today are justifiably concerned about their children’s ability to think well. Can they stand up to peer pressure? Will you lose them once they go to college? Do they know how to think for themselves?

If you don’t know the answers to those questions, you aren’t spending enough time with your kid. Chances are you are farming out the work of training your child to others instead of doing it yourself. If so, it is time to take a step backward and reclaim something very valuable – the family supper table. There may be one or two nights a week that your family cannot eat the evening meal together, but they need to be the exception rather than the rule.

While there are many books, games, classes, and summer programs out there to develop thinking skills, the best way (and the cheapest) is to engage your family over dinner. Put the distractions of the day behind you and just talk to your children.

I am the product of generations of dinner table philosophers. Some of my earliest memories are at the home of my great grandparents and I remember my aged grandfather, the son of a civil war surgeon, sitting at the head of the table and discussing a current topic of interest. His son, my grandfather carried on the tradition of discussing politics and family history. I loved his stories of my ancestors and their fight to survive on the rugged prairie.

My father married into this family of patriarchs, but his dinner table discussions were quite different. Where the grandpas loved to hear themselves talk, my father preferred to listen. We sat at a round, oak table which mama explained had no head and no foot. We were all equal participants in the dialog of life. And as we ate, whatever subject we would bring up, my father would play devil’s advocate with us, forcing us to hone our debate skills, sharpen our thoughts, and make sure we really believed what we professed to believe.

He showed us the other side, the differing opinion, and the debates were lively in our home. Things could get heated at times, but respect for the other person was always paramount.

I married a quiet man, but he soon learned to express himself. Now our family also sits at a round oak table. Nearby is the set of encyclopedias, dictionaries, atlases, and a globe that are often drug out in the middle of a meal to answer a hot question.

We discuss what we are learning in history, what Dad heard on the radio on the way home, the editorial in World magazine, books we are reading, and world events.

Debates are lively and all of us learn from the others. But we respect each other’s opinion and sometimes have to agree to disagree.

I am often the devil’s advocate with my children to get them to see the whole picture, clear up faulty logic, or sharpen their skills. I’m not talking about telling our kids what to think, but showing them how to think. I want to encourage them to always search for truth, fully knowing that truth has a price tag. Socratic dialog, the asking of meaningful questions to help your student arrive at solid conclusions, is so very important.

The monologues of my grandfathers were interesting, but I was a passive observer just picking up a few interesting tidbits. Frequent parental monologues just teach our kids to zone out. However, the excitement of Socratic dialog, of having to think on their feet and defend their statements, the bouncing back and forth of new ideas, will train your students without ever feeling like a classroom lecture. However, to parent like this you must be available to talk 24/7 because the conversation goes on long after dinner. I am always surprised at the timing of when my children choose to share their hearts.

This dialog, mentoring, parenting is more important that curriculum or fancy programs. Don’t do school. Do life!