The Slate, the Chalk, and the Eraser

Prerequisite reading: “WARNING: Your Kid is Smarter Than You!”

A mark of good critical thinking, let’s say, as it applies to science, is that it is always attempting to prove itself wrong. It challenges its most fundamental assumptions when unexpected results arise. We can do this in our everyday lives when we make decisions and formulate our own views. We are only truly challenging ourselves by trying to find flaws in our own reasoning rather than trying to confirm our views. It is easy to confirm our beliefs.

Let’s take astrology as a personal-scientific example. Sparing you the details, based on what little research has been done to refute it, astrology is seen as invalid, and therefore, a pseudoscience, by the standards of modern mechanistic science. However, that does not preclude one from believing in it – in confirming it or any of its insights to themselves. Now, one is not thinking critically by simply believing that astrology is a pseudoscience (or that it is legitimate science). That would be to put too much trust in other people’s thinking. What reasons can you give to support your own belief, and what does it mean?

One can wake up every morning, read their daily horoscope, and upon very little reflection, come up with a reason or two for how that horoscope applies to his or her life. On one hand, those reasons might be good ones, founded on an abundance of personal experience. The horoscope’s insights might serve as something to keep in mind as one goes about his or her day, and that can be a very helpful thing. On the other hand, however, the reasons might be mere, self-confirming opinions. They might be the result of the person’s ideological belief in astrology in general. That can be harmful if the person attempts to apply astrological insights to contexts which it is inapplicable. This is an example of how the confirmation of a specific belief, not the belief in itself, can be good or bad, helpful or harmful, depending on how one thinks about it and the reasons he or she gives for it. The question of whether it is right or wrong, correct or incorrect, is neither important nor provable.

In order to formulate views that are not mere opinions, we must expose ourselves to views that oppose the ones we already hold dear to our hearts. This is difficult for adults. Most of us have been clinging to the same beliefs since we were children or young adults. This is where children have a huge advantage. They don’t yet have views of their own. The sky is the limit to how they can think and what they might believe. Their handicap, though, is that they do not control what they are exposed to. They cannot (or perhaps, should not) search the internet alone, drive themselves to the library, proficiently read, or precisely express themselves through writing or speech. They are clean slates, and that ignorance not only gives them huge potential, but it also leaves them extremely vulnerable.

The Analogy

You may have heard this analogy before, but I will attempt to add a bit of depth to it.

A child’s mind is a slate, as are those of adults (though, arguably, much less so). It is a surface on which we can take notes, write and solve equations, draw pictures, and even play games. We can create a private world with our imaginations. For all intents and purposes, there are no innate limits to how we can use our slates. Maximizing our potential, and that of children, is up to the tools we use.

First, we need something to write with, but we shouldn’t use just any writing tool. Chalk is meant to be used on slate because it is temporary. It can be erased and replaced. If one were to write on a slate with a sharpie marker, that would be permanent. One could not simply erase those markings to make room for others. A slate has a limited amount of space.

Though our minds may not have a limited amount of space in general (there is not sufficient evidence that they do), there is a limit to how much information we can express at any given moment. That, not our mind in general, is our slate – that plane of instant access. The writing tool is our voice – our tool of expression. If we write with a sharpie, it cannot be erased. We leave no room to change our minds in the face of better evidence to the contrary. If we write with chalk, we can just as clearly express our ideas, but we also leave our ideas open to be challenged, and if necessary, erased and changed. It is also easier, for in the process of formulating our ideas with chalk, we need not be so algorithmic. We can adjust our system accordingly as we learn and experience new things.

The smaller the writing on the slate is, the more one can fit, but the more difficult it is to read. Think of a philosopher who has a complexly structured system of views. One detail leads into the next, and they all add up to a bigger-picture philosophy. It might take one’s reading all of it to understand any of it. That can be difficult and time-consuming, and not everyone has the patience for it. The larger the words on the slate, however, the easier it is to read, but the less there will be, so it risks lacking depth. Think of a manager-type personality who is a stickler for rules. He is easy to understand because he is concise, but he may lack the ability to explain the rules. People are irritated by him when he repetitively makes commands and gives no reasons for them. Likewise, children are annoyed when their parents and teachers make commands with no reasons to support them, or at least, no good ones (e.g. “because I said so”).

So, the slate represents the plane of instant access and expression of information, and the writing tool, whether it be chalk or a sharpie, represents our voice – our tool for expressing information and ideas. What does the eraser represent? The eraser represents our willingness to eliminate an idea or bit of information. It represents our willingness to refute our own beliefs and move forward. It represents the ability to make more space on our slate for better, or at least more situation-relevant, information. It represents reason. If one writes with chalk, the eraser – reason – holds the power. If we write with a sharpie, the eraser becomes becomes useless.

The Analogy for Children

I explained in my last post “WARNING: Your Kid is Smarter Than You” that it is important for parents and teachers to teach their kids how to think – not what to think – but I did not offer much advice on how to actually do that. I will not tell anyone, in detail, how to raise or educate their children. Each has a different personality and needs to be catered to through different means. I will, however, offer a bit of general advice based on the analogy above.

The way to teach children how to think (after already having done it for yourself, of course, which is arguably much more difficult) is NOT to hand the kids sharpies, for they will never learn to use an eraser. Their statements and beliefs will be rigid and lack depth of understanding. Granted, this might make them a lot of money in the short-term, but it will also significantly reduce their flexibility when they encounter real-life situations (outside of the institutions of school and work) that require them to think for themselves. This will inevitably limit their happiness from young adulthood to beyond.

Instead, simply hand them a piece of chalk. It is not even important to hand them an eraser, initially. Kids will figure out, after much trial and error, their own way to erase their slates. Eventually, they will find on their own that the eraser is a very efficient method to do so. Literally-speaking, they will express themselves and reason through their problems until they find the most efficient methods – by thinking for themselves, but only as long as they have the right tool.