Letter 38: On quiet conversation
You are right when you urge that we increase our mutual traffic in letters. But the greatest benefit is to be derived from conversation, because it creeps by degrees into the soul.
Lectures prepared beforehand and spouted in the presence of a throng have in them more noise but less intimacy. Philosophy is good advice; and no one can give advice at the top of his lungs.
Of course we must sometimes also make use of these harangues, if I may so call them, when a doubting member needs to be spurred on; but when the aim is to make a man learn, and not merely to make him wish to learn, we must have recourse to the low-toned words of conversation. They enter more easily, and stick in the memory; for we do not need many words, but, rather, effective words.
You are right when you urge that we increase our mutual traffic in letters. But the greatest benefit is to be derived from conversation, because it creeps by degrees into the soul.
Lectures prepared beforehand and spouted in the presence of a throng have in them more noise but less intimacy. Philosophy is good advice; and no one can give advice at the top of his lungs.
Of course we must sometimes also make use of these harangues, if I may so call them, when a doubting member needs to be spurred on; but when the aim is to make a man learn, and not merely to make him wish to learn, we must have recourse to the low-toned words of conversation. They enter more easily, and stick in the memory; for we do not need many words, but, rather, effective words.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 38
For all the wonders of the written word, there’s nothing quite like a good conversation. I’m not sure I remember the last time I actually sat down with someone and had a decent chat, not some formality for work or a staged performance to sell something, but a sincere engagement where I give of myself, and I learn something new in return. We seem to be swapping more and more information, while making less and less of an effort at building personal bonds.
I have now made myself an outcast among many of my colleagues, because I resist the lazy urge to run our classes online. I hardly object to the technology, which is simply another tool, though I do see a problem with reducing the act of learning to the lifeless transmission of data.
No, it is not enough for the teacher to spew out the “facts” and for the student to memorize them—education must be a dialogue, a back and forth of ideas where the process of debate is the very means toward an active understanding.
We are living creatures of reason and will, not machines. We are made to think for ourselves, not regurgitate what has been feed to us. We thrive in the company of our fellows, and we wither away when we are locked into separate boxes.
I’m also not too keen on those who “teach” by reading a lecture from their notes, or are constantly flipping through PowerPoint slides, but I’d best save that for another time.
As Seneca argues, learning must be intimate, a close relationship where the immediate presence of others inspires us to truly become ourselves. You say it is sentimental hogwash, and not efficient enough? I can only ask you to go back to your first principles about the human good, and to ask yourself if life is meant to be a formulaic routine or an invigorating experience. The definition of “cost effective” depends entirely on whether we are dealing in the currency of cash or of character.
A timeless book, or a rousing speech, or a poignant film can stimulate an interest, and yet nothing can replace the dialectic for getting the job done. We learn best by doing, and we do our best work face to face. Don’t just dictate, have a talk.
For all the wonders of the written word, there’s nothing quite like a good conversation. I’m not sure I remember the last time I actually sat down with someone and had a decent chat, not some formality for work or a staged performance to sell something, but a sincere engagement where I give of myself, and I learn something new in return. We seem to be swapping more and more information, while making less and less of an effort at building personal bonds.
I have now made myself an outcast among many of my colleagues, because I resist the lazy urge to run our classes online. I hardly object to the technology, which is simply another tool, though I do see a problem with reducing the act of learning to the lifeless transmission of data.
No, it is not enough for the teacher to spew out the “facts” and for the student to memorize them—education must be a dialogue, a back and forth of ideas where the process of debate is the very means toward an active understanding.
We are living creatures of reason and will, not machines. We are made to think for ourselves, not regurgitate what has been feed to us. We thrive in the company of our fellows, and we wither away when we are locked into separate boxes.
I’m also not too keen on those who “teach” by reading a lecture from their notes, or are constantly flipping through PowerPoint slides, but I’d best save that for another time.
As Seneca argues, learning must be intimate, a close relationship where the immediate presence of others inspires us to truly become ourselves. You say it is sentimental hogwash, and not efficient enough? I can only ask you to go back to your first principles about the human good, and to ask yourself if life is meant to be a formulaic routine or an invigorating experience. The definition of “cost effective” depends entirely on whether we are dealing in the currency of cash or of character.
A timeless book, or a rousing speech, or a poignant film can stimulate an interest, and yet nothing can replace the dialectic for getting the job done. We learn best by doing, and we do our best work face to face. Don’t just dictate, have a talk.
—Reflection written in 1/2013
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