Some Thoughts on Learning as Imitation

I recently listened to a talk given by Daniel McInerny at Thomas Aquinas College NE on "Art as Imitation." He mentioned that it is a part of human nature to imitate, and so much of our learning happens through imitation. An example he gives is of his toddler grandson Raph who once petitioned his parents that he go to work with his dad. Though rejected at first, upon insisting he got his way (as is the norm, according to McInerny). And so the toddler eventually found his way to his father's desk where a picture was promptly taken of him working away. 

McInerny's point was that Raph out of a kind of natural instinct wished to imitate his father, and this is because imitation is one of the primal ways we experience the world and discover it. As a five-year teacher and two-year coach of highschoolers I am inclined to agree. Even as teenagers, they continue to give adults or authority figures that certain "look"---wide-eyed, brows raised---which I have also observed in children as young as Raph. It is the look of observation, of watching with intent and keen effort. It's pretty endearing. For the young teacher, it can be a bit intimidating. Little bug eyes staring daggers at you. The pressure to show them the correct thing is felt immediately. But as one gets older, it becomes decreasingly noticeable.

It occurred to me, however, one may be able to extend this notion to all learning throughout all of human life. I thinking of what happens in the mind when one reads, though it happens differently on the sort of thing one reads. In fiction, the imagination is presented with countless images in a determinate order decided by the author. Of course, the images mentally produced will vary by reader, and they will likely not be the same as those of the author. Still, insofar as those images are dependent upon the author's words, the reader's imagination will take on a certain likeness to that of the writer at the time of writing. (I am aware that McInerny distinguished between imitation and likeness.)

When reading academic work, the words present the intellect with certain concepts in a determinate order. This order of the concepts then presents the intellect with the very reasoning of the author. With these presentations, the reader's reason takes on a kind of likeness to that of the author at the time of writing. Once complete, the reader is able to remove himself from the reasoning and reflect upon it---but only after he has experienced the reasoning itself.

In this way, upon reading, the reader's intellect becomes like that of the author. This is the reason why it is imperative that the young not be given books written by just anyone. This is also why the founders of Saint John's College and Thomas Aquinas College insist upon ensuring only the greatest books are read by their students, where a book's greatness is determined by its persistence in the history of Western thought. These colleges understand that books shape their students' minds, even in a determinate way. TAC, however, is distinct in that they do not see the reading, and even discussing, of great books as to be done for its own sake, such that ultimate trust is given to the books to do the shaping unguided. Rather, they understand that reading great books, as opposed to mediocre and bad books, help order the mind to wisdom, which is the mind's ultimate good. They have their students read a lot of Aristotle, for instance, not just because he seems like a good author to read, but because by reading Aristotle, and coming to understand him, their minds begin to resemble Aristotle's. In other words, TAC understands that the stakes are high in a way that other schools don't, even Saint John's.