All in Essays
Ken Myers reflects on the legacy of one of C.S. Lewis most important—but perhaps under-appreciated—books.
In Poirot's mind, crime is less an evil to rage against than an obstacle which disorders human happiness and therefore must be punished.
Russell Kirk, renowned throughout the world for his wisdom and common sense, believed in ghosts, as did many of his most learned friends. As a writer of ghostly tales, he crafted two variations of the genre that occasionally blend together.
After almost thirty years of marriage to Russell Kirk, there is simply so much to say that it is hard to know where to begin. In this brief essay, I will offer my reflections on what life with Russell was like, and insight into how his conservative heart shaped his conservative mind.
This Thursday marks the centenary of the birth of Russell Kirk, one of the founders of modern American conservatism. His work remains a crucial touchstone for anyone wishing to understand conservatism, or America’s intellectual history more generally.
"Forma” is a Latin word with a range of meanings. Because it is Latin, it sounds good. Because it has a range of meanings, it makes for a good journal name. In our previous issue, David briefly explained some of the reasons we chose this name. I’d like to to use this opportunity to explain it a little more.
Ideas are spiritual, the food that the soul feeds on, without which it starves, on which its health depends. We are fascinated by the complex relationship between the words “idea” and “form.” At CiRCE, we are concerned that the modern man undervalues ideas and forms because he does not see how they link the temporal and the eternal.
Within the Christian classical education renewal, Socratic conversations, seminars, and colloquies are an essential element. At the very least, schools and homeschools all speak of the Socratic approach as a distinctive of the classical approach. Everyone is doing it, everyone is advertising that they do it, and everyone wants to be doing it well. Many of us, then, are in search of tips to make that sort of classroom conversation a bit more, say, conversational. It can be supposed, with reasonable certainty, then, that this is why you are reading this article. Alternatively, you might be reading it in order to find out what foolish things I might say, so that you can kindly correct me. In either case, welcome.
I’m now old enough to look back on over half a century in the world of education as either a student or a teacher. It’s hard to make this backward glance without cynicism or to look ahead without despair. All this time the trend lines by almost any standard measure bent ever lower and lower, while the language of reform never failed to beat upon the ear. This world of education, and all the reformers in it, seem to divide themselves roughly into two groups: those who believe that in technology, brain research, mega-data, or some research-based breakthrough we will discover new tools and approaches that will revolutionize the way we learn and teach, and those who believe that recovering “the lost tools of learning” will spark another Renaissance and turn those trend lines around.
If you are reading these words, you already have a great devotion to the past. After all, this is a publication devoted to supporting the concept of classical education, which focuses heavily on the way young people should absorb the cultural, spiritual, and intellectual heritage of human civilization. The classical education movement emerged in part because of the perception that many mainstream institutions had jettisoned too much of that heritage (and some of its best pedagogical principles). That act of detaching from the past was largely guided by the progressivist notion that the current generation is more advanced and enlightened than those who have come before us.