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Fourteen Thousand Hours

By Bruce Rottman, Director, Free Market Institute
I was honored to know a great Brookfield Academy parent, volunteer, and friend who is no longer with us: Jim Trainor. In talking about why he and his wife Joan made sacrifices to send their three children to BA, he said more than once, “You only have one shot.” 

I’ve never forgotten that, and I’ve quoted him many times to parents considering independent school education. Like Jim, I reference breakfast pancakes; if your pancakes are like mine, pancake #1 isn’t nearly as uniformly round and evenly browned as pancakes #2, #3, and #4, and might end up in the trash can or dog’s dish. Practice makes perfect.
But, of course, children are not pancakes. And in our world, parents face a whole lot of competition for their child’s attention and allegiance, and you know what many of them are: video games. Instagram. TikTok. Netflix. And probably newer distractions I am not hip enough to know about or understand.

Not that these are all bad. Neither are sports, peers, youth, family, or faith.

Surveys show that teens spend nearly five hours per day on social media, and seven to nine hours per day “on screens.” Contrast that to the average of…get this…six minutes per day talking to their parents, at least on substantive matters.

But in 13 years of school, (not counting sports or other school activities), children spend at least 14,000 hours under the direct tutelage of adult teachers. I’d wager that for nearly all kids, that amount of time dwarfs parent-child conversations, especially in the teenage years.

Such a volume of class time is an amazing opportunity, and of course, like any usage of time, it can be wasted. Every minute spent on every activity has the potential to shape a person, for good or for ill.

Who and what is shaping your kids?

At Brookfield Academy, we have a stellar group of very intelligent, motivating, entertaining, and, above all, caring faculty who intentionally craft each of those 14,000 hours with your child’s welfare as priority number one. As a classroom teacher, I know that I was never as alluring as Fortnight, as cool as any Hollywood star, as influential as any Instagram influencer, or as good looking as any model (ever). But teachers like me are privileged to share an incredible amount of time with young people where we can model virtues like excellence, character, integrity, grit, and compassion, doing our small (and not so small) part to shape young people’s minds and hearts. 

Video games will also shape us, of course. The question is, which skills, knowledge, habits, and aspirations will emerge from the particular influencers in our kids’ lives?

We teachers are really not that special. If we stand tall, it’s only because we stand on the shoulders of intellectual giants who helped shape the best of the Western heritage. Brookfield Academy is known for exploring classical writings which acquaint students with people from different eras. We’re pretty good at making what is old seem new.

Why is that important or even relevant? According to Durham University professor Alec Ryrie, when we encounter individuals from different eras, we more readily notice their mistakes, partly because they “are prey to different mistakes.” I would add that their mistakes are not really all that different; they just seem different because they emerge from vastly different historical circumstances and cultures. 

When we look only at our contemporaries—individuals from our era—it turns out that they make the same mistakes we make, but since they are in our era, we don’t recognize their foibles as much, and we learn less from their examples. Ryrie’s argument for studying stories, ideas, and people from long ago is pretty compelling.

When I taught Homer’s Odyssey, we examined a society with gods and goddesses, cyclops, nymphs, and heroes who often acted in childish ways. It was enlightening to experience how the quite different problems of Mycenaean Greece parallelled our own problems. 

Odysseus demonstrates courage, inquisitiveness, and wiliness when he encounters the cyclops Polyphemus in his cave and that cannibalistic barbarian demands to know his name; Odysseus answers, “Outis,” (Nobody.) Later, as Odysseus is escaping, the blinded, one-eyed Polyphemus needs help from his buddies, and they ask him whether he is in danger. His reply: “Nobody” was trying to kill him.

As Odysseus sails away, Polymephus asks him what his name really is, and Odysseus’ hubris kicks in: he pretty much gives him his real name, address, email, Social Security number, and list of passwords. Naturally, he reaps a world of hurt when the cyclops tells his sea-god father, Poseidon, the real name of the culprit who blinded him.

Our society differs from the classical era. Turns out, though, that we haven’t changed that much: our wits can save us, while our hubris can torment us.

Including classical eras and classical methods (such as Socratic dialogues) also teach thoughtful civility. And in a world of mediocrity and shallow thinking, we need to pursue intellect. You won’t get much of that from TikTok or Instagram reels.

So—for that one shot—who do you want shaping your son or daughter?
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