Since I’ve been writing a lot about what education is for (such as here and here), here’s another perspective, published in May in Educational Leadership.

Author Charles Haynes argues that education’s highest aim should be to “create moral and civic habits of the heart,” and his essay is compelling. Here are some excerpts:

“At a time when the United States faces unprecedented challenges at home and abroad, public schools must do far more to prepare young people to be engaged, ethical advocates of ‘liberty and justice for all.’ Yes, reading and math are important. But what matters most is what kinds of human beings are reading the books and doing the math.

“After all, the character of a nation is determined by the character of its people. ‘Is there no virtue among us?’ asked James Madison. ‘If there be not, we are in a wretched situation. … To suppose that any form of government will secure liberty or happiness without any virtue in the people, is a chimerical idea’ (Padover, 1953, p. 48).

“That’s why, as a lifelong advocate of social justice and First Amendment rights, I vigorously support character education and civic learning as high priorities in public education.”

Haynes goes on to recount a powerful story that illustrates his point that we need to educate the heart:

“A story I heard during a trip to Israel in August 2008 gave me a deeper appreciation for how much is at stake. I was standing in the Garden of the Righteous at Yad Vashem, the Holocaust memorial in Jerusalem. Our guide was relating stories of the Righteous—non-Jews who risked their lives to save Jews—as we looked at the trees planted in their honor. During a pause in the narrative, one of our group, Richard Foltin of the American Jewish Committee, said almost inaudibly, ‘Not all of them are named.’ I turned and asked what he meant. He replied, ‘I am standing here now because of a man whose name I do not know.’ When pressed to explain, he told this story:

‘My parents are Holocaust survivors. When my father arrived at Auschwitz, they were separating those who would be killed immediately from those who would be put to work. A guard called out, “Is anyone here a welder?” and my father shouted, “I am,” although he actually knew nothing about welding.

‘They sent my father and a few others to the welding shop and told them to make a sample of their work for inspection. My father stood there looking at the equipment, despairing over what to do. Then, almost imperceptibly , the German foreman in charge of the shop slipped a finished piece of work in front of my father. My father picked it up and took it to the guards, and he passed inspection.

‘Throughout the rest of his time in the camp, the foreman continued to secretly help my father—to cover for him when necessary. And my father survived. They didn’t speak. We don’t even know his name.’

When Richard ended his story, I could not help but wonder, why did that nameless German risk his life for a Jew he did not know? More broadly, why did any of the thousands now called the Righteous respond with compassion and courage when so many others were either complicit or indifferent?

Haynes’ answer lies in education for character.

~ Zoe