How could youths better learn to live than by at once trying the experiment of living? Methinks this would exercise their minds as much as mathematics.
—Henry David Thoreau
The author Susan Cheever tells a story of Henry David Thoreau, who before he became a great writer was a teacher. The school he taught at was close to a river, and it was a source of endless fascination to the kids, mainly what made so many of the interesting sounds that came from the water.
“It has been disputed whether the noise was caused by frogs,” one student reflected later on. “Mr. Thoreau, however, caught three very small frogs, two of them in the act of chirping. While bringing them home one of them chirped in his hat.”
Isn’t that lovely? He didn’t just dismiss their question with an obvious answer. He showed them how you go to the source of things—he showed them the importance of following your curiosity. Thoreau was full of demonstrations like that. For instance, he gave each student a small plot of land and taught them how to survey together, how to grow plants, and how to observe what was happening on their plots.
Yes, we’re busy. Yes, we know stuff. But we can’t just tell them what we know. We have to show them. We have to roll up our sleeves, take off our hats, and get to the bottom of stuff together.