My recollection of being taught (but not necessarily learning) history as a young scholar is one of seemingly endlessly memorising of lists of dates and revisiting events over and over again, ad nauseam. There seemed to be no obvious outcome in view here, apart from, perhaps, becoming good at answering general knowledge questions or playing Trivial Pursuits. It seemed that the prime (only?) goal was a combination of passing the final exam and scientia gratia scientiae—knowledge for the sake of knowledge.
Suddenly, when I was about fifteen, I encountered a teacher who made history come alive and become relevant. He taught it as if it were a long, exciting story that continued right up to, and had an impact on, today. He frequently quoted Seneca’s famous statement: “Non scholae sed vitae discimus--We study, not for school, but for life.” (We also studied Latin, so we were expected to understand this). This was when I fell in love with studying history.
I try to have this approach in teaching Church History to my undergraduate students at the seminary where I minister, focussing as much attention as possible on the impact that past events, trends, and personalities have had on the life of the Church of today. Whatever topic we have addressed, I have tried to connect it to some doctrine, praxis, or prohibition with which the students will be familiar. Furthermore, I have tried to weave together a story that is linked by a continuous cause/effect relationship. As far as dates are concerned, I have concentrated on building an understanding of the sequence of events rather than knowing precise dates. For example: it would probably make scant difference to us today if the Protestant Reformation had happened on 21 January 1518, instead of 31 October 1517. What is important is the sequence of events leading up to the Reformation, the process of the Reformation itself, the subsequent events caused by the Reformation, and what all this means to the Church of today, including both positive and negative outcomes.
Although my principal teaching style is the lecturing method, I encourage interaction from the students throughout the lesson, including some impromptu debates on contentious issues. As a result, my classes are frequently quite noisy, but I believe it is the noise of industry, not of anarchy. A rule that I strictly enforce in class is that of showing respect to one another (including me)—both for people and their opinions. Because I involve the class in this way, I have few disciplinary problems.
It is sad that Hegel’s pessimistic comment is substantially true—“What experience and history teach is this: that people and governments never have learned anything from history, or acted on principles deduced from it”. I am not so arrogant as to think that I can change the world by teaching Church History, but I am conscious that I do not know the destiny of those whom I teach. I might be teaching a future world leader! I owe it to my class to see each one as important and potentially a great Christian leader and world-changer.
I strongly desire to encourage “my” students to become life-long learners. I aspire to being a transformational teacher who will lead his students on an adventure in which they discover things for themselves, and who instils in them a love for the acquisition of knowledge.
“A great teacher is not simply one who imparts knowledge to his students, but one who awakens their interest in it and makes them eager to pursue it for themselves. He is a spark plug, not a fuel pipe” (M. J. Berrill, quoted in Wilkinson, 1988. The Seven Laws of the Learner).
My essential drive as a Christian educator comes from the words of the apostle Paul: “The things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable men who will also be qualified to teach others” (2 Timothy 2:2 NIV).