The growth of classical schools in the United States is a trend that I find encouraging and hopeful. Young people can best learn the skills of critical thinking if they have worthwhile things to think about, and they can best learn the kind of intellectual hospitality that is needed for life in a functioning democracy if they have practice in discussing challenging ideas with charity and clarity. The classical education movement takes shape in different ways in different contexts: There is no “one size fits all” for academic programs. So it’s always interesting to talk with people who are involved in classical education, and to see what they are doing in their corner of the world.
Recently, I had the pleasure of interviewing Dr. Josh Herring, Professor of Classical Education and Humanities at Thales College.
Holly Ordway: Josh, it’s great to have this chance to chat about literature, the arts, and education. But first, here’s a pressing question: How do you pronounce “Thales” in “Thales College”? And what is the significance of the name?
Dr. Josh Herring: Thanks, Holly. We pronounce it “THAY-leez”; as a college, we believe that the best of education should be available for the aspirational middle class. We look back to Thales of Miletus as a guide. Thales of Miletus developed one of the first material explanations for reality: water. Everything, Thales thought, was composed of water. Though his answer was wrong, we admire Thales because he asked the right question.
Why does classical education matter?
“Classical education” refers to the contemporary classical renewal movement, which is a group of 600–1000+ schools seeking to recover a traditional education. The need for well-formed teachers is great, and we believe that after their time studying here, students can enter stable careers teaching in classical schools. Such teachers are part of helping our sick culture recover civilizational health.
What would you say to parents (or young adults) who are worried that studying the liberal arts, though perhaps worthwhile in the abstract, will not equip them to get jobs and make a decent living?
At times, theorists have tried to list various assortments of liberal arts. The most famous list is made up of seven arts: grammar, logic, rhetoric, mathematics, geometry, music, astronomy. Depending on who you read, these arts are discrete academic subjects, a metaphor for linguistic (trivium) and mathematical (quadrivium) approaches to knowledge, or a ladder scaling the student’s understanding of order (ordered words, ordered thoughts, ordered speech, ordered number, ordered shape, ordered sound, an ordered cosmos). We do not study the liberal arts to get rich; we study them because they are good. And it belongs to us as human beings to study that which is good. The liberal arts make life better than it has to be; they are what Russell Kirk called an “unbought grace of life.”
Most colleges today focus exclusively on preparing students for a narrow career path, but doing so engages students in pursuit of marketplace skills rather than a quest for wisdom. Career success has far more to do with being a virtuous human being, and discovering the truth and practice of virtue is the domain of liberal education. Students have a limited amount of time to study that which is worth knowing in the particular manner enabled by a collegiate community.
So, to the parents who want to know how Johnny will pay his bills, I would say: First, look at how well liberal arts majors do professionally. The myth of the hamburger flipper is a lie. Good liberal arts majors make great managers, marketers, founders, and CEOs. Secondly, it’s not about the degree. It’s about how people are formed. Lifelong success is chosen in a series of tiny moments. The students who seize the chance to study with a beloved professor, who do the assigned reading, who take advantage of every opportunity—those students will be fine. Liberal arts education is really about a lifetime pursuit of wisdom. Students should find knowledge and wisdom worth pursuing, and chase them wholeheartedly.
There are lots of different ways that classical schools are approaching a liberal arts education. What’s the distinctive approach of Thales College?
In the context of higher education today, we too want to ask a question: How could college be done? We begin with a fixed-price model. The only charge parents and students receive is $4,000 per semester, making an undergraduate education $32,000 across three years.
We only offer one degree, and we do that intentionally. All students complete a BA in Entrepreneurial Business and Liberal Arts, because we believe all students need the knowledge afforded by both majors. In the liberal arts major, students study the timeless disciplines of the Western tradition: history, literature, philosophy, ethics, economics, calculus, logic, and physics. All students are heirs of this intellectual tradition, and we aspire to help them comprehend the wisdom of the ages. In entrepreneurial business courses, students gain a variety of transferable skills: marketing, accounting, finance, investment, the business cycle, management, and business law. All students need to understand how business works so that they can create self-sufficient lives. We want students to thrive financially and have the wisdom to know what to do with their freedom.
Students spend two semesters in selected internships that prepare them for their chosen field. In their first two terms, students work with our internship director to define their gifts, talents, and callings, and then map out a plan for their first internship. They spend a semester working in that internship. When they return, students evaluate their experience and begin searching for their second internship.
It’s interesting to see this intentional balance of engaging students with the liberal arts with preparing them for their working life. As a professor, you are also balancing teaching with scholarship (the eternal balancing act for academics!). In fact, we met at the Undiscovered C.S. Lewis Conference (a program of the C.S. Lewis Initiative). You have an interest in Lewis and also in Edmund Spenser. Is there a connection between these interests?
When I read The Abolition of Man, I get this odd sense that Lewis is writing about today. The man died in 1963, but he predicted Elon Musk’s transhumanist dreams, the decline in birth rates, and the long-term effects of relativism. Lewis saw it all coming with logical clarity: premises leading to conclusion. Lewis presents our problem as a flight from reality. We believe the progressive lie that we can remake the world to fit our desires. Spenser reminds us that the world is deep, complex, and remains “good and very good.” Seeing that goodness requires strong intellectual engagement. Spenser’s connections seep into the soul, and reading him changes the way we interact with other humans, with God, and with ourselves. Bunyan wrote a simplistic allegory, and Pilgrim’s Progress has been a beloved favorite of pastors and Christian readers ever since because of the truths he makes unavoidable. Spenser wrote a poetic allegory, and his poetry points to the interconnected nature of reality. The difficulty in reading Spenser parallels the rewards: If you want to better understand the real, read Spenser.
You write a lot of book reviews, as well as running a podcast, The Optimistic Curmudgeon. What’s the value in that sort of cultural engagement?
Book reviews help me stay in touch with current academic and cultural conversations; they keep me fresh. It also helps that there is a market for writing book reviews. There have definitely been months where publishing a book review helps close budgetary gaps caused by inflation.
As for podcasting, that started with a student. Ethan wanted to do something more on the debate team, and we started a high school debate resolution show called What’s the Res? We ran that show for three years; I learned so much about how to interview people, and how to hold public conversations. After Ethan graduated, we let the show die. But I missed interviewing guests. I pitched business and educational entrepreneur Bob Luddy the idea for The Optimistic Curmudgeon: an interview show that was focused on platforming intellectual conservatives. Bob loved the idea, and agreed to support the show. We just launched season 7. The Optimistic Curmudgeon has been a fun way to keep in touch with old friends, celebrate new projects, and meet people. Both book reviews and podcasting become a way to build connections between people and ideas, and showcase the enduring value of timeless wisdom.
Thank you for this interview!
For those interested in a deeper dive into these literary and philosophical waters, there’s plenty to read. Spenser’s poetic allegory is The Faerie Queene; the Penguin Classics edition is a good choice. Spenser is a difficult author to engage with, I find, so readers who are interested in taking the plunge may find it helpful also to read C.S. Lewis’s Spenser’s Images of Life, a book posthumously compiled from his teaching notes on Spenser. I do highly recommend reading Lewis’s The Abolition of Man, especially accompanied by Michael Ward’s After Humanity: A Guide to C.S. Lewis’s The Abolition of Man, which will unpack and illuminate the educational and cultural themes that Lewis explores in that great book.