by Kevin Stuart Hamilton-Brodie

Using Russell’s views on education as a springboard, this presentation will be a discussion of my experience teaching a yearlong Introduction to Philosophy class in a public high school. My thesis will be that not only is such a class essential at the high school level, but it is capable of exciting learning in students from a variety of skill levels and socio-economic backgrounds. I will frame the discussion in terms of many pedagocical ideas that Russell expounded, including discovery learning, Socratic questioning, and moral courage. Using Gardner’s Multiple Intelligences as my methodology, I will outline the course, including readings, teaching approaches, and samples of student work. In order to illustrate how the course is taught, I will use songs, video of the classroom, and class activities in the presentation. I will also include a general class profile and what I consider was successful and not as successful during my experience.
 

Kevin Hamilton-Brodie

"I don’t like this argument at all. But it’s a really, really good one!"

We were discussing Judith Jarvis Thomson’s "A Defense of Abortion," when a student of mine, Paul, offered this opinion on the article. I had known Paul for a few years, and had him as a student before. I was familiar with his Catholic upbringing, and aware of his opinion on the issue of abortion. During the class, however, Paul had learned the value of a truly good argument. It would have been easy for him to simply refuse to acknowledge the argument’s power, and simply dismiss it for not reinforcing his beliefs. Paul, however, refused to allow himself that comfort.

"What do you like about the argument?" I asked.

"Well," he responded, "I really can’t think of a way to respond to the argument. But I’m not ready to abandon my feelings about abortion. I need to think about it some more."

Those few, reflective words made me feel like a teacher for one of the few times in my professional life. I never truly feel like a teacher when I am giving a lecture, or a test, or disciplining a student’s behavior. Paul, however, had decided to question his beliefs, to allow a new idea in and contemplate it. No note, test, or detention would teach him as much as that simple act of courage would. I was honored and thrilled to be a part of it.

It is experiences such as these that convince me that teaching philosophy at the high school level is not simply an enrichment exercise for a handful of students. In this paper, I will argue that the teaching of philosophy to high school students is an essential activity. Furthermore, I will claim that students of all skill levels and learning styles can benefit from the teaching of philosophy.

First, I will briefly outline the student population of my class, the course objectives, and the class structure. I will then frame my discussion within the context of what Bertrand Russell viewed as "The Aims of Education," and show that the class, as I have designed it, meets many of Russell’s criteria. This will be followed by a discussion of Howard Gardner’s Theory of Multiple Intelligences. I will then argue that the application of Gardner’s theory is an important pedagogical tool of teaching in general and this class in particular. Throughout the paper, I will use examples of my approach and experiences in the class to support my conclusions.

Creating a Philosophy Class in Lebanon

Lyman Memorial High School is in Lebanon, a small agricultural town of about 5,000 in Northeast Connecticut. It is a town deeply rooted in its own history; Jonathan Trumbull grew up in the town, and his childhood home and war office are both museums. There is a marker near the town green indicating the spot where Lafayette’s men had camped one evening. The local Historical Society contains the letters of another favorite son, Thomas Dodd, written home at the time of his work during the Nuremberg trials. Many of the residents live on homesteads that have been in the family for generations; I had a student who had descended from a Mayflower passenger two years ago. Most of the street names in the town are in common with many of my students’ last names.

The town is quite hostile to development. There are few businesses outside the farms (of which there are many); thus, most town services are paid for by property taxes. However, many town residents are equally hostile towards their property taxes. As a result, the school has been forced to cut their budget each of the last several years, with the town rejecting the budget two and three times before passage. Often, we begin the school year unaware what our budget will be.

The town is mostly white. There are a few ethnic minorities in the school, mostly from the nearby town of Windham, an old mill town whose diversity was fed by the influxes of immigrants to work in the mills. Lyman also has several magnet programs. Most of the minorities are bussed in from Windham to participate in one of these programs.

The courses are grouped homogeneously. There are four different levels, with Honors/AP Courses being the highest, and Level Three, often team-taught by general and special educators, the lowest. The population of the school is approximately 600; roughly one-third are identified as learning disabled. I had been trying to start a Philosophy class since I was hired in the fall of 1997. I had been a graduate student in philosophy, and even though I had abandoned my doctoral studies in favor of secondary school teaching, I still loved the subject, and believed it could succeed at the secondary level. I had written several proposals, most of which had been rejected for reasons such as "there’s no interest" and "there’s no money." Every year, I revised my proposal and resubmitted it. In the meantime, I offered the course as an Independent Study to a handful of students.

After some research, I discovered that what I had proposed--a yearlong high school philosophy class--was rarer that I had initially supposed. As far as I could tell, there was no such class elsewhere in the pubic schools in the state of Connecticut. When I mentioned this to my p.r.-concious principal, he suddenly became my most enthusiastic champion. He was thus able to push it through the Board of Education’s approval process. Once the funding was approved for the text, I immediately began planning.

The textbook I chose was John Burr and Milton Goldinger’s Philosophy and Contemporary Issues. I had the book as a freshman in college, and was impressed by the combination of current and classic writings, as well as the articles of applied philosophy that rounded out each chapter. While I am aware that many professional philosophers look askance at applied philosophy, I felt applications were essential to the nature of this course. Teaching any social studies subject has taught me the value of relevance; if students cannot make the connections to their own lives, they are simply not interested. I also liked how the chapters were grouped by topic, as opposed to a chronological history of philosophy. I felt that the topics were going to be what interested the students the most. I could fill in the history as needed, and if a student’s appetite was sufficiently whetted for philosophy, they could follow up with a course in college.

I asked that the class be grouped at Level One (one level below Honors). I also allowed students the option of taking the course for Honors credit; they would be required to complete an extensive paper in the spring, in addition to the other work required for the class. I also encouraged lower level students who were willing to put in the work to take the course. This way I would end up with a diversity of skill levels and abilities, which is exactly the course I wanted. I was thrilled and surprised to discover that 38 students signed up for my one section. My limit was 25, and scheduling conflicts whittled the class down to 23. All my students were juniors and seniors. We generally offer our electives to upperclassmen, due to the maturity level and self-discipline required to engage the course work. My class would be no exception.

I made it clear from the beginning that this would be a course with an intense workload: the entire 536-page book would be read, in addition to supplemental readings that I prepared in packets. There would be a journal kept, and one entry was required for each reading. There would be writing, discussion, and intense class participation. I had no desire to scare anyone away, but I wanted to let everyone know what he or she was in for. I promised if they were willing to do the work, the class would be worth their while. With that as our backdrop, we began our near-ten month journey through philosophy.

Russell and "The Aims of Education"

While Bertrand Russell is not generally regarded as a great thinker on education, I have always found Russell’s work to have value for progressive, constructivist educators like myself. Of course, Russell’s philosophy would be part of the content of my course. However, my approach to the class was heavily influenced by what Russell viewed as "The Aims of Education."

To begin with, Russell believed that it was essential that teachers love their students. "The teacher," offered Russell, "Should love his children better than the State or his Church." (1927, pg. 168). Otherwise, the teacher is simply passing on dogma; s/he is not doing any teaching in any true sense of the word. Indeed, one cannot be an effective teacher without a love for their students. Why, then would one become a teacher if they despised whom they were teaching? This is not to say there are no teachers like this; sadly, there are too many. I venture to say that for all teachers who do not like or care for the students they teach will not inspire any respect or affection from their students. Thus, they will have management difficulties in their classrooms, which will only breed resentment on both sides, and reduce the time for effective instruction. This is not to say that a teacher should love all of his/her students equally; that is simply not possible for human beings. However, a teacher can care about and treat all their students with respect--even those that may not inspire love.

Russell also believed it was important that pupils be regarded as "ends, not as means." Treating a student as a means implies treating students as what Paulo Freire referred to as "banks": repositories of information deemed important by the dominant culture. Even though many teachers are unable to see when they do this, virtually all students are able to. Russell argues that "children and young people feel instinctively the difference between those who generally regard them well" and those who regard them as "raw material for some scheme." (Ibid. pg. 169). If we regard the students as complete individuals, and wish the students to truly grow and succeed in life (however we choose to define that), and be active participants in their societies, they need to be treated as ends. If, however, we want nothing more than for them to sit still during a lecture they have no interest in at all, to pass a multiple choice exam with a sixty, and for us to be home by 3pm, we are not doing our students (or ourselves) any favors. Furthermore, if a teacher truly loves and respects their students, they would not be willing to subject their students to such pedestrian, irrelevant teaching.

Russell prescribes that the true aims of education must be to have a "right conception of human excellence." (Ibid. pg. 170) Russell unpacks this concept, breaking it into four different characteristics: vitality, courage, sensitiveness, and intelligence. Vitality is important, because it promotes, among other things, interest in the outside world. Vitality makes it "easy to take an interest in whatever occurs," thus promoting objectivity. (Ibid. pg. 172). While all humans could likely benefit from vitality, students from a small, provincial town like Lebanon would be well served by an interest in the outside world. This interest is so apparent in many of my students. They are quite ready for any teaching that would encourage such thinking.

Courage is important, because Russell believes that it is possible to "educate men and women that should be able to live without fear." (Ibid. pg. 176) Russell does not mean rational fear. People would be wise to fear tornadoes, driving at high speeds, and excitable individuals with guns. Russell is referring instead to both irrational fear and the fear of new experiences. He explains this by what he calls a combination of self-respect with an "impersonal outlook on life." (Ibid. pg. 177) Self-respect and individuality clearly can galvanize courage in an individual. The impersonal outlook on life, however, does not necessarily imply detachment; on the contrary, it is quite the opposite. Russell means that individuals should be involved in a number of different activities and interests, to discover the value of other individuals and views, rather than be overly focused on his/herself. "The perfection of courage," Russell writes, "is found in the man of many interests, who feels his ego to be but a small part of the world not through despising himself, but valuing much that is not himself." (Ibid. 179; emphasis in original.) In short, the student should have self-respect, but not be self-centered.

One can see where vitality can lead to courage; thus courage, as defined by Russell, leads to sensitiveness. Russell feels that for sensitiveness to be a positive attribute, it must have two qualities: it must be appropriate, and be motivated by sympathy. Indeed, an inappropriate level of sensitiveness could lead to fear and paralysis. Thus, an appropriate level should be combined with sympathy. With the exception of the sociopath, we all have the capacity for sympathy. However, Russell feels that it is most useful to us if "the sufferer is not an object of special affection" and when the "suffering is merely known to be occurring, not sensibly present." (Ibid. pg. 181) Without sympathy and understanding of those elsewhere in the world, even those not immediately present, humans have little opportunity to develop a global perspective. This perspective is essential, and in a small town like the one I teach in, it can be effectively developed in the school.

Of course, a well-exercised intelligence is what will truly make vitality, courage, and sensitiveness into positive characteristics. This is not to say that only people with IQs of 150 are capable of benefiting from such an education. It is not reserved for 'A' students, or those who get 1200’s on their SAT scores. Curiosity and open-mindedness, as Russell describes, and Gardner elaborates, drive intelligence. Any person is capable of these attributes. Indeed, all children are curious when they are young; they become less so as their beliefs begin to comfort them. Embracing their beliefs too rigidly can lead to closed-mindedness, thus making the task of the progressive educator that much more difficult.

I would argue that even though I believe Russell’s approach has value in all subjects, a philosophy class may be the best conduit to teach in the manner he prescribed. If students are to be aroused about the world around them, metaphysics and epistemology are excellent tools to use to that end. If students are to develop the courage for self-respect and tolerance, the study of ethics and justice can be very helpful. If students are to develop their intelligence in a way to arouse their curiosity and develop open-mindedness, what better than the dialectic, questioning approach of philosophy? Paul, my student, discovered this, and his intelligence did not grow because he learned a new piece of information or data that could be banked in his mind; he learned because he opened himself up to a new idea and reflected upon it.

I told my students on the first day of class that they are all philosophers to an extent; virtually all have asked questions about the difference between right and wrong, what exists outside their experience (including God) and who they really are. It would be easy to comfort them and give them an answer that would help them sleep better at night. Philosophy, but its nature, challenges the students not for the answers, but how to ask other and better questions. Most teenagers know the world is not as tidy as they once believed. Many are looking for something that affirms that, and helps them cope with it.

Gardner’s Multiple Intelligences

Cognitive scientist Howard Gardner postulated his view of intelligence in his 1983 book Frames of Mind: The Theory of Multiple Intelligences. In the book, Gardner makes the argument that the traditional approaches to measuring and evaluating intelligence, while useful in many ways, fail to take into consideration the variety of ways in which different students learn. "It is the utmost importance," he says, "that we recognize and nurture all of the varied human intelligences, and all the combinations of intelligences." (Armstrong, 1994, pg. 1) Gardner points out that we are all different, largely due to the "different combinations of intelligences" (Ibid.) Recognizing this, not only can we become better teachers, but we have a better chance of dealing "appropriately with the many problems" that we face in the world. (Ibid.)

This seems obvious when we consider the different "natural talents" we often observe in human beings. Many are naturally athletic, inclined towards skill in mathematics, read and write easily, or discover a natural affinity for playing a musical instrument. Gardner argues that those of us with stronger talents in one area have a stronger "intelligence" in this area. Gardner thinks this is important to acknowledge, because traditional intelligence assessments often misjudge an individual with poor writing skills, but a natural affinity for mechanics. Multiple Intelligence Theory (MI hereafter) also gives us a method of better understanding students who are learning disabled or who have behavior disorders.

For teachers, it is essential to remember the varieties of intelligences when designing lessons. Since any classroom is likely to have a combination of audio learners, visual learners, bodily-kinesthetic learners, etc., it is important that teachers diversify their lessons to include the engagement of as many different intelligences as possible. Dr. Roger Taylor, a classroom teacher and internationally renowned consultant on improving teaching, has integrated all seven intelligences into every one of his lessons.

While designing my course, I took special care to include the seven primary intelligences into my lessons. While I was unable to accomplish what Taylor has, I still had success in creating a MI philosophy course. This task was made more difficult by that fact that most models of philosophy courses are geared towards lecture and discussion, with writing as the primary assessment. While I won’t deny that this approach comprised a large part of my course, MI Theory inspired me to teach the class in a more creative way.

Linguistic

There is certainly a great deal of writing in my course. Students are required to write several papers, keep a journal for each reading assignment, and the Honors Level students are required to write a 7-10 page paper for their final examination.

Teaching the correct method to write a philosophy paper was probably the most difficult task I encountered. Because I encouraged the students to write reflections in their journals, many of the papers seemed to be little more than journal entries with sources. I framed the paper in the following way: exposition of the philosophical problem, statement and development of the argument, consideration and response to criticisms, conclusion and summary. At first, I received a combination of expositional papers with little argumentation and papers with brief arguments and little support. Getting to students to think of (or even borrow) possible objections to their argument was extremely difficult.

I believe part of the reason for this is our state test for tenth grade students. Due to the requirements of the test, all students are taught throughout the curriculum the value of composing a thesis and defending it. While this is an excellent skill to master, the usual format taught (the classic five-paragraph essay) leaves little room for consideration of opposing viewpoints. Since this essay is preferred in the state test (as well as most Advanced Placement tests), the emphasis on possible criticisms of a thesis has been reduced. Thus, it was no easy chore to persuade my students that it was perfectly valid to compose a paper in such a manner.

However, there were many students who grasped the essay format I had introduced, and adapted to it splendidly. Others, after some effort, began to make the adjustment. As a result, I got some very splendid work.

One student, Aaron, wrote his ethics paper on The Matrix, a very popular film among my students, which we viewed during the metaphysics unit. In it, he argued that, from a utilitarian perspective, the two main characters (Neo and Morpheus) were both immoral. As Aaron wrote, "Morpheus and Neo are actually behaving quite immorally by trying to defeat the machines and liberate the humans." An interesting thesis, to be sure, for both Neo and Morpheus are scripted as the film’s protagonists. But if their behavior is examined from a utilitarian point of view, a very different answer emerges.

Aaron argued that, despite human beings’ apparent enslavement to the machines, they are quite happier in the artificial world that has been created for them. While it is the mission of Morpheus and his followers to free the humans from their "dream-hypothesis" prison, the reality they face after being freed is much worse: a desolate, "nuclear winter" world, where a handful of humans live in constant fear and conflict with the machines that control the rest of the planet. Aaron raises the important point that it is difficult to consider this "freedom." It is even more difficult to argue that this is "happiness." Thus, Aaron concludes, if we assume utilitarian morality, it would be better to leave the human brains in the vats.

I was pleased that Aaron was able to apply an important philosophical theory to a popular culture film. Moreover, he was able to do it in an intriguing way that showed command of the material. Although the page requirement was only three pages, Aaron, of his own volition, expanded the paper to five pages. It made many of my struggles to improve the classes’ writing worthwhile.

Aaron, however, began the year writing and thinking in a very sophisticated manner. I have another student, Sophia, who enjoys philosophy, politics, and engaging difficult issues. However, her writing skills have always betrayed her interpersonal intelligence, and her passion for social ideas. Her first few attempts at paper writing were not entirely successful; she was writing papers that contained some interesting reflections, but little else. After three very ordinary papers, Sophia turned a corner with her fourth offering.

This paper was written on Murray Rothbard’s article "The State," a passionate defense of libertarianism. Despite having great sympathy for the anarchist/libertarian view, she was very critical of Rothbard’s argument. She rightly points out that Rothbard makes no distinction between good and bad states, lumping them altogether as displaying "fascist tendencies." Using Rothbard’s own text against him, she argued that much of his hyperbole is emotional, and challenged him to find a valid replacement for one of government’s most positive attributes: the defense of civil liberties. "How else," she wrote, "could society ensure freedom of expression, access to education, and the equal pay between genders? What in the marketplace will ensure that?" This type of critique was simply not visible in her earlier papers.

In addition to the regular papers, each student was responsible for writing both a primary and secondary commentary. They were required to write a paper on any philosophical issue being covered, which would be copied and distributed to all of the students in the class. Then, the students would critique the paper, as they would any other reading. A few days later, another student would be required to respond to the primary directly, and present their paper to the class. This process was moderately successful; I will comment on it in more detail below.

Logical-Mathematical

The analytic nature of philosophy lends itself well to logical thinking; indeed, one can hardly do philosophy without it. I began the year exploring simple logic: basic argument structure and fallacies. I had no desire to delve deeply into symbolic logic; again, if students wished, they would have such an option in college. However, I had no desire to make my students feel like they were in math class.

However, it was important to know the difference between valid and invalid arguments, and the presence of fallacies in our everyday lives. Since Burr and Goldinger offer no section on logic, I photocopied relevant chapters from William Gray’s Thinking Critically About New Age Ideas. I found this book to be an excellent choice, both for its accessibility and its consideration of paranormal phenomenon, something of generally high interest to young people. I also challenged students with this assignment: find me five examples of fallacies encountered in their everyday lives. After some initial reluctance, students were amazed at what fallacy-charged lives we all lead.

A further attempt to make logic fun was to examine the paradoxes of time travel. In order to do this, we read articles from David Lewis and Jonathan Harrison, as well as Richard Hanley’s very accessible chapter in Is Data Human: The Metaphysics of Star Trek. To round out the unit, we watched and carefully analyzed the film Twelve Monkeys. This discussion became so intense, it was expanded to peers and family members who were not even students in my class.

We also, on occasion, would play a game that I created based on Tom Wujec’s book Pumping Ions. Students were split up into teams, wherein they had to work cooperatively to solve the logical puzzles that I had culled from Wujec’s book. Teams that solved the most problems in the time allotted won the game (grand prize being some type of candy, usually). As expected, the students with strong logical-mathematical intelligence excelled at this game, while those weaker in this area found the game a bit frustrating. Someone pointed out to me that the game "makes my brain hurt." I thus considered it a success.

Spatial-Visual

Many adolescents, particularly males, are visual learners. Thus, it has become the norm to infuse a visual component into the classroom. Perhaps the most common method in teaching is film. While we did watch a few films that dealt with relevant issues, this was by no means the only visual component of the course.

As I mentioned, both Twelve Monkeys and The Matrix were studied in class. However, I found well-made, engaging films for several of my other units. For the unit on Freedom and Determinism, we watched The Truman Show, and compared the desired freedom of Truman with those on the outside, obsessed with a television show. We discussed to what extent self-awareness implies freedom, and whether a kind prison was any better than a cruel one (which connects nicely to the excerpt from Walden Two we read.)

For the unit on God and Religion, we used The Green Mile as a conduit to discuss and engage the Problem of Evil. For Ethics and Society, we watched The Tenth Man, and asked whether it is the right thing to trade your life to someone in exchange for their wealth, whether its moral to accept such an offer, and whether Anthony Hopkins’ character did the right thing by not revealing himself until the end. In addition to The Matrix, we viewed Mindwalk, for a more accessible than usual discussion of Descartes and Quantum Physics. The films worked well as tools for analysis and application.

Visual intelligence also worked its way into my midterm examination, which was a team competition. Students competed in several categories, using their knowledge of philosophy to answer questions in a variety of ways. One part of the midterm involved a student having to express a philosophical idea or concept visually, while the other students had to guess what it was (sort of a philosophical Pictionary). Thus, students might be faced with having to express the Ad Hominem Fallacy, the Grandfather Paradox, or Dualism visually—and clear enough to be understood by another classmate. There were other components to the midterm as well, which will be discussed below.

Bodily-Kinesthetic

This is the intelligence I found the most difficult to infuse into my lessons, unless we count the actual process of writing and drawing as requiring a bodily-kinesthetic intelligence. However, I made several other attempts, most of them involving tactile engagement. After reading Gandhi and Martin Luther King on nonviolence, I had students reenact a non-violent demonstration. Five large, strong students were charged with trying to separate the other students who were sitting and standing with their arms locked (they had to be careful not to pull too hard.) I then asked the students portraying the demonstrators to reflect on what they felt. Many, despite this so obviously being a simulation and the students having a level of trust with those playing the police, found themselves getting very frustrated and angry. I then posed the question: how angry do you think you’d get if this was for real? Is it easy to respond passively in these situations? This not only led to new respect for what the followers of Gandhi and King did, but to a discussion on the nature of violence in humans.

I used other tools: during the metaphysics unit, I had students hold mirrors and hypothesize as to where the reflection in the mirror was, and had them look at a lamplight, close their eyes and hypothesize where the afterimage was. To demonstrate personal identity, I had them tear pieces of a sheet of paper, and to ask when it ceases to become the same piece of paper. Again, many of these activities have a visual quality to them, but also involve kinesthetic action.

However, I feel greatly challenged to create more bodily-kinesthetic activities for my lessons. I feel the absence of these lessons may have been the courses’ greatest weakness. When I teach the course again, I plan to increase the bodily-kinesthetic presence in my lesson design.

Musical

This was perhaps the easiest and most fun intelligence to integrate into my lesson design. I did this in two primary ways: the introduction of songs that explored relevant issues, and a song lyric writing component of my midterm.

There were several songs that I used for initiation or discussion-generators. These songs included Richard Shindell’s "Transit," a haunting song that compared the illusory freedom of those in a traffic jam with the spiritual freedom of prisoners singing in a choir near the turnpike. I also used Peter Mayer’s "World of Dreams," which contrasts the world views of Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein. In addition, I used Hugh Blumenfeld’s "The Dreaded Phenomenology Sing-Along," which is exactly what it sounds like. The lyrics to all of these songs are in Appendix A.

During the midterm, students had to create short song or rap lyrics on a philosophical topic, and then, like the visual challenge, other students had to guess what idea was being conveyed. Students had five minutes to create the songs, of which a two are sampled below.

To illustrate both the Argument from Design and the Ontological Argument, one group of students created the following:

Our universe was created

As complicated as we are

Our lives are fated

God must be looking at us from afar

7 reasons why a scientist believes

is bigger than we can perceive

that man can conceive the idea of God

is in itself proof

If you can’t get this, you’re a doof!

Another group created this description of The Grandfather Paradox:

If I went to a time before

Sitting by a cool night’s shore

If I drew a gun and took him out

Would I still be here to runabout?

Similar to the experience of the Pumping Ions game, those with strong musical intelligence excelled at this, while those with weak musical intelligence dreaded this exercise.

Interpersonal Intelligence

As I have mentioned several times above, there were many class discussions. I had hoped that the students would start most of the discussions themselves, without too much direction from me, but I found this to be overly-optimistic. However, many of the students with strong interpersonal intelligence participated every day, and added greatly to the course.

This became such the norm, that I actually lectured very rarely. The students (with my guidance) drove the classes, and discussions became very spirited. This became such an issue, that I frequently had to create a speaker’s list to ensure that I didn’t forget to call on people who wanted to participate. Fortunately, the students were almost always respectful, and I rarely had to remind students to speak one at a time.

In order to ensure broad class participation, I used a number of methods. Occasionally, I would simply call on a student who seemed very quiet to get their input, but this worked with limited success. The answer that was most common: "I don’t know!" The primary and secondary commentaries helped, since every student was required not only to defend their papers, but share them with the whole class. Students also learned to be more respectful and tactful regarding another person’s writing; it is much more difficult to be unfairly critical when you must look someone in the eye to do it. While I have no doubt the shared commentaries may have terrified some of the students, the more we did them, the less intimidating they seemed to become. However, the secondary commentaries tended to be weak, because many students were fearful of criticizing their peers. They also had difficulty coming up with new ideas based on the primary commentary. While I like the participation aspect of the commentaries, I am not sold on them as tools for improved writing. For my next go round with the course, I need to rethink my use of this procedure.

In addition to the daily discussions, we did three team debates on the following topics: "Are Human Beings Truly Free?", "Are We Justified In Believing In God?", and "Should Humans Be Moral?" In these debates, all students were required to speak, and the audience was encouraged to participate. These debates worked well, particularly when students had the opportunity to examine each other directly.

Also during the midterm, I borrowed a page from the game Scruples. In it, individual students were asked what they would when confronted with a moral dilemma. Other students were allowed to challenge the individual if they felt the student wasn’t being truthful. The student then had to defend their beliefs, followed by a student vote. Luckily, if the student lost, he was not forced to drink hemlock; their team would simply lose the point. One student lost a point for his team when he claimed he would use a handicapped space if he were in a hurry, but most of his classmates doubted he would be so immoral!

Another one of my favorite moments this year is when I was going to be absent for two days, and several students volunteered to teach the class and lead the discussions. According to the students and my substitute, both days went very well. I can think of now better moment for a teacher: the point at which you realize your students have learned enough to do without you!

Intrapersonal

By it’s nature, philosophy is a reflective subject. It thus lends itself well to Intrapersonal intelligence. I felt that the best way to ensure proper reflection (and completed readings) was through a journal.

Students were required to keep a journal throughout the school year, recording what they liked about a reading or film, what they didn’t like, what it made them think about, how to relate it to their own lives, etc. Every quarter I read the journals, and gave feedback when I thought it was necessary. Journal completion was a huge part of the grade; incomplete or missing journals could do serious harm to a student’s average. The flip side was that students who kept up with all of the readings and their journals generally got strong grades.

While I had a few journals that were clearly rushed or poorly maintained, most of them were very well written. I enjoyed reading the journals, because the students who had a more intrapersonal inclination would share their thoughts and feelings with more confidence and articulation then they would in class—particularly if they were insecure about speaking up during class discussions. Two students who seemed to fall into that category provided me with some of my favorite journal entries.

One student, Angela, wrote one of the more sophisticated journals in the class. I had Angela in a previous class, and while I generally respected her intelligence, she had much greater depth than I supposed. Commenting on Plato’s "Origin of War", she wrote:

Another student, Neil, also wrote some strong journal entries. Neil was open-minded enough to listen to other ideas, and learned how clever good philosophers can be when reading W.T. Stace’s "Ethical Relativism:"

Conclusion: Why Wait?

I have had students tell me that this the best class they have ever taken—including some who despise coming to school. On Parents Night, I had the highest number of parents visit me ever. They all came to tell me how much their children were enjoying my course. I have developed e-mail correspondence with a student’s grandmother ( a member of the Virgilian society ) to discuss philosophical issues. I had the anatomy teacher angry with me, because several of my students refused to end an argument they began in my class, and wouldn’t focus on their cardboard human skeletons. I had a student so excited after reading Russell’s "Why I Am Not a Christian," she insisted that her mother read it right away. I have had students tell me that they are planning on "losing" the textbook and paying the replacement fee, so they could keep the book for themselves. I have had students enjoy my courses in the past; never before have I encountered such enthusiasm.

This convinces me that there is a real hunger by high school students for courses that truly resonate with their everyday lives. I am equally convinced that such a philosophy course needs to be in-depth and thorough so students can get the most out of the topic. It is equally important that the course be offered to a variety of skill and intellectual levels. Thus, the class should be taught using a number of pedagogical approaches, reflecting the seven intelligences.

As I have shown, all of this is not only possible, but it can be successful. If Russell is correct, that vitality, courage, and sensitiveness should be essential to the aims of education, philosophy, then, is an excellent conduit. The examples I have cited above show evidence that all three of these qualities are reflected in my students. Furthermore, structuring my class in a manner that respects and engages all of the seven intelligences not only reaches students on a variety of levels, but allows all different types of students to connect with the material. I have tried to teach my students that there should be a connection between theory and practice. The results I have attained in my class provide an excellent example of this principle.

Many students, I have no doubt, enjoy the standard lecture-discussion model that most college level philosophy courses are offered. However, students who are not necessarily strong in linguistic intelligence may struggle with this model, and lose interest in the course. However, if students who learn differently are exposed to philosophy at an earlier age, we end up with greater numbers of young people exposed to the value of philosophy and philosophical thinking. Having a greater number of adolescents with stronger intellects and thinking skills can only be a positive outcome. Indeed, this is the goal—the aim--of education.
 

The Dreaded Phenomenology Sing-Along
 

by Hugh Blumenfeld

There goes
Henri Bergson
he's a great opponent
of Cartesian dualism
He rejects the
reduction of psychological phenomena to a physical state
and insists that
there is no point of contact between the extended and the unextended

And there goes
Edmund Husserl
sitting all alone
with his transcendental ego
Oh why did he
reject the non-egological pre-personal model of consciousness of the Philosophical Investigations?
To us
that was an abomination

Chorus:
Oh right on
Phenomenology!
Right on!
Right on!
Oh write on
Phenomenology!

And there goes
Jean Paul Sartre
sitting in a cafe
an intellectual Frog
Oh why did he
describe phenomenology and existentialism as merely parasitical ideologies of Marxism in
his Critique of Dialectical Reason?
Was he serious?
Or just teasin'?

Oh right on
Phenomenology!
Right on!
Right on!
Oh write on
Phenomenology!

World of Dreams

By Peter Mayer

Mr. Issac Newton tested everything

Poked and prodded, then said

"Solid things are as real as they seem"

Mr. Albert Einstein pondered light and speed

And with his mind’s eye declared, "oh, my,

This is a world of dreams"

When we investigate the highest heavens

They seem to race away faster than we can follow

And when we penetrate the heart of atoms

We find they’re something strangely resembling

Nothing at all

In the smallest measure of anything at hand

Entities of energy are alive in a whirling dance

Even our own bodies are not as we perceive

But made of the same stuff our thoughts are made

In this world of dreams

So do we live and move amidst illusions

Has what we’re seeing fooled us?

And only exists in our minds?

And what are we to do with such conclusions?

For what cannot come true in a world of a mystical kind?

Mr. Albert Einstein woke one day from sleep

To arise, to his surprise, in a world of dreams

So as we move closer, the farther we must reach

We may fight for what we like, but this is a world dreams

We may feel that this is real, but this is a world of dreams

Oh proclaim no, it can’t be so

But this is a world of dreams
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Transit

by Richard Shindell

The merge from the turnpike was murder,

but it’s never a cinch.

It was Friday at five and no one was giving an inch

They squeezed and they edged and they glared

Half of them clearly impaired

By rage or exhaustion—the rest were just touchy as hell

Somewhere near Paterson everything slowed to a crawl

The all news station was thanking someone for the call

It’s a van from St. Agnes’ Choir

There’s a nun out there changing a tire

By the time they got by her tempers were out of control

They all hit the gas in a dash for position

Bobbing and weaving, flashing their high beams

Flipping the bird, screaming obscenities

A murderous horde hell-bent on Saturday

And so they continued, westbound and into the sun

Law and decorum constraining nary a one

By then it was devil-may-care

Not one of them vaguely aware

That they had come all the way to the Delaware Water Gap

How had it happened? They had all missed their exits

How had it happened? Was it some kind of vortex?

And in they all went, bumper to bumper

Faster and faster, no sign of a trooper

And in they all went like sheep to the slaughter

Bankers and carpenters, doctors and lawyers

In they all went—families in minivans,

Reagan republicans, weekend militiamen

They followed the river, and rounded the bend

Between Minsi and Tammany and into their destiny

Lying in ambush right their before them

The angry old sun right on the horizon

Sister Maria tightened the bolts of the spare

She said a quick prayer and put the old van into gear

Thank God the traffic was light

If she hurried she might not be late

For that evening’s performance

at the State Penitentiary

She entered the common room—there was her choir

Altos and baritones, basses and tenors

Car-thieves and crack-dealers, mobsters and murders

Husbands and sons, fathers and brothers

And so it began, in glorious harmony

Softly and tenderly—calling for you and me

With the interstate whining way off in the distance

And the sun going down through the bars of the prison

And they poured out their souls,

they poured out their memories

They poured out their hopes for what’s left of eternity

To Sister Maria, her soul like a prism

For the light of forgiveness on all of their faces
 
 

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