Character, the Classics and My Father

by Donna Whitney

June 16, 1994

A boy attending school in 14^th century Scotland began his day with prayers, a good flogging for errors of the previous day, and breakfast followed by 10 to 12 hours of reading, recitation, and memorization in Latin and Greek. The scholars of the day believed that the qualities of character, of nobility, of mental discipline that these young men were to learn had been best described in those languages.

Judging from the fact that only one solitary, heroic young man graduated in Classical Studies in the University of Idaho this year, either the program has not changed significantly . . . flogging and all . . . or there are only a handful of people left who can still see the value of an education aimed at refining the character of the man rather than just marketing him. In 14^th centeruy Scotland, that kind of education was for the sons of rich men, men who would be military leaders, or oversee large estates, hopefully with some sense of justice, with self-discipline, with moral as well as physical strength. Our children’s stewardship in life will probably be less grand, but their stature as men and women need not be.

When my father was a little boy, he personally supervised the building of a fine new library just a block from his house, and subsequently read every book in it. Blessed to live at a time when educators were less encumbered by state law, and learning more important than body count in the classroom, he would hike up into the Wasatch Mountains with his books and spend the week up there. On Fridays he came down to take tests and visit his bewildered parents. He graduated at the age of 15, with near perfect grades, and a special awarded for having never been seen actually studying anything. The truth is, he never stopped studying. He just never did it in a formal setting.

Greek and Roman history, philosophy, and literature were his passion and he mastered them to the extent he was offered a teaching fellowship at UCLA with no further formal education. I can only imagine how badly he wanted to accept that offer, but he was a responsible family man, and responsible family men did not throw themselves into things they lived with the reckless abandon they do now. Self-actualization or self-fulfillment were not the religion they are today, just euphemisms for self-indulgence.

When Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, his reflex was to head directly downtown to enlist. But after a moment’s thought he went instead to look for a good trigonometry book. He reasoned that, at 35, the Army would consider him too old to go overseas, so he would make himself as useful as he could by preparing himself to teach the younger men. After a few weeks, he then felt he had sufficiently brushed up on his trig, and Greek and Roman military tactics, he signed up and did just that, as an anti-aircraft artillery officer.

As I recall, these were also the subjects he chose to teach me when I was out of school for a year due to illness. I guess I was the only 8-year-old in town who could use a slide rule. And I could have told you about flanking movements that would curl your hair. I was no prodigy and forgot a lot of it once I was back in school the following year, although I never forgot the story about the Spartan boy with the little fox concealed in his tunic, standing stoically in formation while the little carnivore munched away on his tummy. I remember deciding that the refining of my character would have to stop just short of that kind of behavior. Which goes a long way to explaining my lousy attitude toward natural childbirth

My dad never did consider himself particularly marketable, but he always knew he was remarkably rich. He was studying Greek until shortly before he died. Happy Father’s Day, you old centurion.

Doug here. I am forever grateful that my beloved never forgot those lessons taught by her Dad. He was never sure that I was worthy to be her eternal companion until I graduated from Airborne School at Fort Benning, and he may have been right.

Until nest time, keep your powder dry!