Dear Readers,

I have an announcement.

This fall, I will begin my pursuit of a Master’s Degree.

But what will I be mastering, you ask?

In my aim to fix education, I myself must be educated. While I, of course, hold a Bachelor’s degree from a credible university (wreck ‘em), that did not give me the required knowledge and skills I need to take on this almost insurmountable task.

My goal is not to reform education but to change it entirely, not to some brand-new method that nobody has ever heard of, but to a tried-and-true method that has lasted centuries.

Classical Education built most of Western civilization.

We are who we are because of Greece and Rome, because of Aristotle, Socrates, and Plato, because of Caesar and Marcus Aurelius.

But what is Classical Education?

It is, simply put, the seeking of what is true, good, and beautiful through the guise of the liberal arts. There are seven liberal arts: Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, Arithmetic, Geometry, Music, and Astronomy.

These are broken into two categories: the verbal arts of Grammar, Logic, and Rhetoric, also known as the Trivium, and the mathematical arts of Arithmetic, Geometry, Music, and Astronomy, known as the Quadrivium.

But first, we must understand what the “liberal arts” are. In this instance, art refers to a given skill or ability, not painting, acting, or music. When we refer to the “liberal” in “liberal arts,” we’re drawing on the Latin liberalis, meaning “free.” The “arts” portion comes from the Latin ars, meaning “skill” or “knowledge”—the same root you see in “artifact,” something crafted by human expertise. Thus, “liberal arts” isn’t a political label but a tradition of education designed to equip individuals with the knowledge and skills to live and think freely as citizens.

The Trivium.

The verbal arts.

That which we use every single day: Grammar, Logic, and Rhetoric.

Grammar, the use of language and the acquisition of knowledge, is the underpinning of a classical education. Learners build a foundation of facts, vocabulary, and the structural rules of language (often including Latin and Greek) through memorization and recitation. By mastering these core elements across subjects, such as multiplication tables, vocabulary, and parts of speech, students develop the fluency and recall needed to move on to analytical and expressive work.

Logic, the mechanics of thought, builds upon the framework that Grammar creates. Logic, often called the Dialectic phase, is where students shift from memorizing facts to learning how to think. It emphasizes constructing valid arguments, spotting fallacies, and using the Socratic method to question and analyze concepts. By applying the vocabulary and knowledge gained in the Grammar stage, students see connections across subjects and develop formal and informal reasoning skills. Ultimately, the Logic stage cultivates lifelong critical thinkers capable of discerning truth and crafting sound arguments.

Finally, Rhetoric, the third and final stage of the Trivium, refers to the art of persuasive communication. Drawing on Aristotle’s definition as “the faculty of observing in any given case the available means of persuasion,” Rhetoric equips students to craft and convey arguments with clarity and impact. Learners master the five canons: invention, arrangement, style, memory, and delivery, to generate substance, organize it effectively, and present it eloquently. They also employ the three modes of proof: ethos, pathos, and logos, to establish credibility, move audiences emotionally, and support claims with logical reasoning.

In classical education, Rhetoric is understood as a practical skill and a moral discipline, insisting that persuasion serve truth and virtue rather than manipulation. Through debate, formal oratory, and essay writing, students apply their knowledge to real-world contexts. As the capstone of the Trivium, Rhetoric unites factual knowledge and critical thinking into articulate expression for the common good.

The Quadrivium.

The second stage of a liberal arts education focuses on the four mathematical skills.

Arithmetic—meaning pure number; Geometry—numbers in space; Music and Harmonics—numbers in time; and Astronomy—the study of numbers in time and space.

However, today, the Quadrivium looks different from what it was centuries ago. Initially, students would master the Trivium, then move on to the Quadrivium, as a form of college or “upper school” before their final pursuit of Philosophy and Theology.

In more modern times, classical schools have dispersed some of these arts throughout their Rhetoric school curriculum, requiring courses such as Geometry and other advanced mathematics courses in high school, and using Astronomy as a primary focus in the pursuit of understanding physical sciences.

Since modern schooling ideals and practices have bled over slightly into the classical way of doing things, it is that, to the dismay of ultra-conservative educators, the Quadrivium has become somewhat of an afterthought, at least in the way it was originally intended.

Students were expected to master the language via the Trivium, then proceed to the mastery of the mathematical realm. All the same, modern societies have deemed it unnecessary, even in the pursuit of truth, goodness, and beauty. Not to say that a classical education doesn’t strongly emphasize analytical and numeric understanding, it just means that modern students educated under a classical pedagogy will not necessarily be masters in Geometry, Astronomy, or Music, as they would have been in previous centuries.

The Evolution of Classical Education.

Instruction at medieval schools and institutions such as Oxford and Cambridge was delivered through lectures and commentaries in Latin, focusing on authoritative texts by authors like Aristotle and Cicero. With the period known as the Renaissance, there was a rebranding, if you will, of the liberal arts as the studia humanitatis, which focused on classical Latin and Greek literature, history, poetry, moral philosophy, and Rhetoric to develop virtuous leaders.

The Enlightenment and the rise of scientific inquiry disenfranchised classical curricula. As schools adopted modern languages, natural philosophy or physical science, and more utilitarian aims, classical education became a device used by the elites of society, more than for the good of ordinary folk.

Progressive reforms of the early 20th century opposed the learning of classical languages and demonized “high culture curricula” as elitist. Instead, they advocated for a more “child-centered” education, based around experiences and not knowledge.

Throughout the 20th century, there were many attempts to unify the classical movement in education. Notably, in 1940, Robert M. Hutchins and Mortimer Adler at the University of Chicago launched the Great Books program, eventually spawning the 54-volume Great Books of the Western World series. This Great Books movement inspired classical charter schools and private institutions, focusing on these great works, which has led us to where classical education stands today.

But why classical?

One of the defining features and remarkable qualities of a classical education is that it has changed so little. Modern education, from pedagogy to technology, is constantly changing, for better or worse, with varied successful outcomes.

Yet, classical education has predominantly stayed the same, with roughly the same outcome across centuries—better human beings.

The pursuit of truth, goodness, and beauty may, on the surface, sound superficial, but it is crucial in the formation of human beings.

Understanding the human condition is done through the previously elaborated-on Grammar, Logic, and Rhetoric. There is no focus on “career readiness” or “digital literacy,” because in the grand scheme of things, they mean very little.

Being a good human should be at the forefront of education. Yet today we see the ability to conform, not independence of thought. Modern education claims to teach students how to think, but in reality, it teaches them what to think.

To not question the status quo, to do what one is told despite possibly poor outcomes.

To serve the greater good instead of the greatest good.

What modern education makes up for in innovation, it lacks in human development.

Now, I’m not saying that every student should attend a classical school or receive an extremely rigorous classical education, even though I believe that would far surpass what is currently the norm. But I do believe in a resurgence of tradition. Focus on literature and less on literacy. Finding a way to combine that which benefits the whole and that which benefits the soul.

The argument against classical education is that it does not appropriately prepare students for the workforce and that it promotes some sense of elitism.

First, students who can accurately transcribe ancient Greek and Latin, have a profound bank of knowledge, and can articulate views with the best of them, are indeed prepared for the modern workforce. Aren’t we always clamoring for critical thinking skills and problem-solving abilities? Where better to find them than in the translation of ancient languages?

The common belief that adults don’t possess the necessary knowledge to contribute to society, where better to learn that than in the rigors of a classical classroom?

Lastly, to the point of elitism—do we not want future generations to be intellectually elite? The best of the best? The cream of the crop? If that is the case, a move toward the classics would surely achieve that goal. By structuring education to create the most “elite” students we can, certainly the dividends would be astounding.

In choosing to pursue a Master’s in Classical Education, I’m not just returning to school; I’m taking a stand. A stand for timeless wisdom over passing trends, for the cultivation of virtue over vocational training, and for an education that forms the soul as well as the mind.

This is just the beginning of a greater mission, and I invite you to walk with me as I reclaim what education was always meant to be.

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Thanks for reading!

I appreciate you taking the time to engage with these ideas. I hope this newsletter gave you something to think about.

If you want to go deeper, check out my reading list, where I share the books that have radicalized me.

Also, I have a podcast called The Modern Republic. On this podcast, I see how many times I can say "um" or "whatever you want to call it" in a thirty-minute window. It's a great time.

This week's episode:

AI, Illiteracy, and the Lost Art of Conversation​
I take a hard look at the growing push for AI and computer science in high schools and ask: what’s being lost in the process? As reading habits decline, so do our communication skills. I argue that public schools need to teach conversation and speech explicitly, just like any other subject, and that teachers must lead by example.

Subscribe on Apple Podcasts or Spotify.

Watch on YouTube.

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See you next time!

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