Imagine walking into an art classroom and placing a blank canvas in front of a young student. You hand him a brush and some paint and say, “Now make something beautiful.”
He might stare at the canvas.
He might paint a blue sky and a green tree.
He might enjoy himself tremendously.
But he probably would not become a great painter simply by being given a blank canvas and told to express himself.
Instead, an art teacher would introduce him to the masters. He would study Michelangelo and learn how he represented the human figure. He might study Rembrandt and notice the way light falls across a face. He might study Van Gogh and imitate his distinctive brushstrokes. He might even copy a painting.
We would not look at that student and accuse him of plagiarism.
We would say, “He is learning to paint.”
Classical writing begins with the same idea.
A student does not have to invent the art of writing for himself. He can learn from those who have already mastered it.
What Is Classical Writing?
Classical writing is not writing that sounds old-fashioned. It is a method of learning to write by reading excellent writers, studying how they write, imitating their techniques, and eventually using those techniques independently.
The student begins by looking at the work of a master.
What did the writer do?
How did he begin?
How did he introduce a character?
How did he create tension?
How did he describe a place?
How did he make the reader feel sympathy?
How did he move the story from one event to another?
Where did something unexpected happen?
How did the story end?
The student is learning to see writing in the same way an art student learns to see a painting.
At first, he simply sees a beautiful picture. After studying the master, he begins to notice the light, the composition, the colors, the shapes, and the brushstrokes.
In the same way, the young writer eventually begins to see the structure underneath a beautiful paragraph.
This is one of the great differences between classical writing and much of the writing instruction students encounter today. Modern writing instruction often emphasizes the writing process: choose a topic, brainstorm, outline, draft, revise, edit, and publish. These are useful skills, but classical writing asks an additional question:
What does excellent writing look like, and how can I learn to do what the excellent writer has done?
The classical student is not simply asked to produce writing. He is first taught to become a careful observer of writing.
Learning from the Masters
The process begins with a master writer.
A teacher might place a paragraph in front of the students and read it aloud. The students listen. They read it again. Then the teacher begins asking questions.
What happened?
Why did it happen?
What did the character want?
What changed?
Where did the story become more difficult?
Was there a moment when the character discovered something important?
Was there a moment when everything suddenly changed?
The students are beginning to discover that a story is more than a list of events.
Classical writers understood that stories often contain certain important movements. Three particularly useful ideas for young writers are recognition, suffering, and reversal.
Recognition occurs when a character discovers or understands something important. A character may suddenly realize who someone really is, understand the truth about a situation, or recognize something about himself.
Suffering is the difficulty the character must endure. It may be physical pain, but it may also be fear, grief, disappointment, loss, temptation, humiliation, or failure. The character must experience difficulty before the story can reach its resolution.
Then comes reversal: the moment when circumstances turn. The character who thought he was winning may suddenly discover that he is losing. Someone who seemed to be an enemy may turn out to be a friend. Something that appeared hopeless may suddenly become possible.
Once students learn to recognize these movements in the writing of great authors, they can begin using them in their own stories.
They are learning not merely what a master wrote, but how the master made the story work.
Classical Writing—Is It the Death of Creative Writing?
At first glance, classical writing might seem like the enemy of creativity.
After all, if students are constantly studying master writers, following established forms, and imitating what someone else has already written, where does creativity come in?
Does classical writing leave any room for a child’s imagination?
Absolutely. In fact, classical writing can give creativity somewhere to go.
The nine modes of classical writing—narrative, description, comparison, definition, division, cause and effect, exemplification, argument, and refutation—are not meant to put students into a box. They are tools that give students different ways to think about and express their own ideas.
Think about the art student again. Learning how to draw a human figure does not destroy creativity. Learning perspective does not prevent an artist from imagining. Learning how to mix colors does not make every painting look the same.
Instead, those skills give the artist more freedom.
The same is true of writing.
Narrative teaches a student how to tell what happened.
Description teaches him how to make the reader see, hear, smell, taste, or feel something.
Comparison teaches him how to notice what things have in common and how they differ.
Definition teaches him how to explain what something really means.
Division teaches him how to break a subject into its parts and understand how those parts fit together.
Cause and effect teaches him to ask why something happened and what happened because of it.
Exemplification teaches him how to take an idea and make it concrete through an example.
Argument teaches him how to persuade a reader that something is true or worth believing.
Refutation teaches him how to consider an opposing idea and answer it.
These are not nine assignments designed to make every student’s writing sound the same. They are nine different tools in the writer’s toolbox.
A student who has learned only to “express himself” has an idea but may not yet know how to communicate it effectively. A student who has learned the tools of classical writing has choices.
He can tell a story.
He can paint a picture with words.
He can compare two ideas.
He can explain something precisely.
He can break a complicated subject into understandable parts.
He can show why something happened.
He can illustrate an idea with an example.
He can persuade.
He can answer an objection.
Classical writing does not kill creativity. Classical writing helps students with the outline of writing and there their creativity can flourish.
The blank page can be intimidating. But when a student has been given models, forms, techniques, and tools, the blank page is no longer quite so empty.
He has somewhere to begin.
So, How Do You Teach Classical Writing?
If classical writing is not simply giving a child a topic and telling him to “write an essay,” then what does it actually look like?
It looks a little different from what many of us experienced in school.
A classical writing lesson often begins not with a blank page, but with a great piece of writing.
The teacher brings the students to a master.
Maybe they read a paragraph from Homer, Aesop, Plutarch, Shakespeare, Dickens, or another excellent writer. The passage doesn’t have to be long. In fact, for a young student, a single paragraph may be enough.
First, the teacher reads it aloud.
Then the students read it.
Then they look at it closely.
What did the author do?
How did he begin?
What happened?
What did the character want?
What changed?
Where is the conflict?
Is there a moment of recognition?
Where does the character suffer?
Is there a reversal?
How did the author describe the setting?
What words made the description vivid?
How did the author persuade us to think or feel something?
The students are learning to see writing.
This is much like the art student sitting in front of a painting. At first, he may simply say, “I like it.” But as his teacher teaches him to look, he begins to notice composition, light, perspective, color, and brushwork.
The writing student does the same thing.
He learns to notice the structure and techniques hidden inside beautiful prose.
First, Read the Master
The first step is simply to read.
Students need a rich diet of excellent writing. They hear good sentences. They encounter beautiful descriptions. They become familiar with stories that have memorable characters, meaningful conflicts, and satisfying endings.
The teacher doesn’t immediately ask, “What is the theme?”
Instead, she might ask:
What happened?
What surprised you?
What did the character discover?
What made the situation difficult?
What changed?
These simple questions teach students to pay attention.
Then, Study the Master
Once the students understand what happened, the teacher begins to examine how the author told it.
Perhaps the author begins with a description.
Perhaps he introduces a character through action rather than simply telling us what the character is like.
Perhaps he creates suspense by withholding information.
Perhaps he moves from a peaceful scene into danger.
Perhaps the character experiences suffering and then a reversal.
Perhaps the author uses a striking comparison or metaphor.
Now the students have something to imitate.
Then, Imitate the Master
This is where classical writing can feel very different.
The teacher might take a sentence from the master and give the students its basic structure.
For example:
The old man entered the village, his coat covered with snow and his hands trembling from the cold.
The students could imitate the pattern:
The young girl entered the castle, her dress covered with dust and her hands trembling from fear.
The student is not copying the author’s words and pretending they are his own. He is practicing the structure.
Just as the art student might copy a master’s painting to learn how the master handled light, the writing student copies a sentence pattern to learn how the master constructed a sentence.
Eventually, the teacher removes more and more of the scaffolding.
At first:
Copy this sentence pattern.
Then:
Write your own sentence using this pattern.
Then:
Write a paragraph using this technique.
Eventually:
Write your own composition.
The student moves from imitation to independence.
Then, Apply the Technique
Suppose students have studied a passage in which the author creates a reversal.
At first, they identify it:
Before: The character thinks he will win.
Reversal: Something unexpected happens.
After: The character discovers that he has lost.
Now the teacher might ask the students to create their own reversal.
They could write a story in which:
A boy believes he has found a treasure, only to discover that what he found belongs to someone else.
Or:
A girl believes she has lost her dog forever, only to discover that a neighbor has found him.
The students are no longer copying the master’s story.
They are using the master’s technique.
Finally, Compose
Only after the student has read, studied, and practiced does he move into independent composition.
And this is where the nine modes become useful.
The teacher might say:
Today we are going to practice comparison.
The students study how a master compares two things.
Then they practice comparison.
Another week might focus on description.
Another might focus on cause and effect.
Another on argument.
Another on refutation.
The student is slowly building a toolbox.
Eventually, when the teacher says, “Write an essay,” the student isn’t staring at an empty page wondering what writing is supposed to look like.
He has learned how to begin.
He knows how to organize an idea.
He knows how to develop it.
He knows how to use examples.
He knows how to describe.
He knows how to make an argument.
He knows how to answer an objection.
He has seen these things done again and again by writers who have mastered them.
Classical Writing Is Apprenticeship
Perhaps the best way to understand classical writing is to think of it as an apprenticeship. A young carpenter does not become a craftsman by being handed a pile of wood and told simply to “build something creative.” Instead, he watches an experienced craftsman at work, learns how to use the tools, practices the techniques, makes mistakes, and tries again. Through repeated observation and practice, the apprentice gradually develops the knowledge and skill to work independently. Classical writing follows this same pattern. Students first study the work of master writers, learning to recognize the techniques and structures that make their writing effective. They then imitate those techniques in their own compositions, gradually moving from guided practice toward independence. The goal is not for students to imitate the master forever, but to learn the craft well enough that, eventually, they can write with confidence and skill of their own.
Classical writing works the same way.
Read the master.
Study the master.
Imitate the master.
Practice the technique.
Use it in a new way.
Eventually, write independently.
The goal is not to create children who can only imitate someone else’s writing.
The goal is to give children enough experience with excellent writing that they eventually have the tools to become excellent writers themselves.
The master is not the destination.
The master is the teacher.
Imitation Is Not Plagiarism
This brings us back to the art student.
Suppose a student sits in front of a Van Gogh painting and carefully studies it. Perhaps he even paints his own version.
He is not claiming that he painted Van Gogh’s original.
He is learning.
The same principle applies to classical writing.
A student might study a paragraph by Charles Dickens and imitate the way Dickens introduces a character. He might study Homer and practice creating a dramatic scene. He might study Victor Hugo and imitate the way he builds a description.
The student is not trying to deceive anyone, or to plagiarism any author.
He is practicing.
At first, his imitation may look very much like the original structure. That is intentional. He is learning the technique.
Eventually, the teacher changes the assignment.
“Now use that structure, but write about something completely different.”
The student begins with the master’s technique but supplies his own subject, characters, ideas, and language.
Then something important happens.
The student no longer needs to consciously imitate.
The technique has become part of him.
This is precisely what happens in art. A painter studies the masters until composition, proportion, light, and color become familiar. Eventually, he can create something original because he has spent years learning from those who came before him.
The same is true of writing.
From Imitation to Independence
Classical education therefore gives students a gradual path toward independence.
At first, the student says:
“Show me how.”
Then:
“Let me try.”
Then:
“Let me try it with something different.”
And eventually:
“Let me create.”
The young student begins by copying sentences, retelling stories, and imitating paragraphs. As he grows, he begins analyzing the structure of what he reads. He notices recognition, suffering, and reversal. He identifies descriptions, comparisons, causes, examples, arguments, and refutations. He begins to understand why a particular passage is effective.
Eventually, he takes those techniques and makes them his own.
This is why classical writing is not about producing students who all write alike.
It is almost the opposite.
The purpose of imitation is to give students enough experience with excellent writing that they eventually develop the ability to write well for themselves.
The student who has never been shown excellent writing has very little to imitate. The student who has spent years reading the masters has a treasury of language, structures, ideas, and techniques from which to draw.
He has been given something to build upon.
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