artistic forms that are utterly unlike,nand perhaps at first repellent to thenbeholder, shatters the provincial assumptionsnwhich nearly all of us inherit—namely,nthat our ways ofnspeaking, singing, and feeling are the .nonly really human ways, all othersnbeing outlandish and probably meaningless.nIn light of such vital connections,nevery teacher of literacy needs to benviewed as a teacher of the humanities,nand all teachers of English and the artsnneed regularly to recite the words ofnL. C. Knights, the British Shakespeareanscholar:n”We must remind ourselvesnthat we are not specialists, but simplynpeople who have more time and morenopportunity to study what belongs toneveryone.”nWhen it comes to writing. ProfessornBarzun acknowledges its centrality bothnto learning and to the mark of an educatedncitizen.nWriting comes before reading, in logicnand also in the public mind. No onencares whether you read fast or slow,nwell or ill. but as soon as you put pennto paper, somebody may be puzzled,nangry, bored, or ecstatic; and if thenoccasion permits, your reader is almostnsure to exclaim about the schools notndoing their duty.nThe schools have failed miserably innthe area of writing for two simple reasons:nfrequency and proximity. First,nrecent studies have shown that thenschools are requiring almost no writingnof our children, and what writing doesngoon, sadly enough, is all too frequentlynof a copying sort. Second, writing hasnnever been integrated with a view ofnthe student as an active and controllingnlearner—a view which is needed ifnschooling is ever to be turned backninto education.nA child should select a topic that trulynengages his interest. To eliminate pretensenhe must be helped to do this bynmeans of questions and suggestions.nAt any age, it is very reassuring to bentold that you don’t really want to writenabout the Tariff. After two or threencasts a real subject emerges, satisfactorynto both parties.nAnd further, as Barzun notes, writingnin the school must involve a collaborativeneffort:n. . . the important fact is that writingncannot be taught exclusively in ancourse called English Composition.nWriting can only be taught by thenunited efforts of the entire teachingnstaff. This holds good of any school,ncollege, or university. Joint effort isnneeded, not merely to “enforce thenrules”; it is needed to ensure accuracynin every subject.nAs must now be clear, since I havenbeen allowing Professor Barzun’s wordsnto speak for themselves as much as possible,nthe principle of proximity shouldnpermeate the entire curriculum, andnaccordingly he addresses every area—nfrom mathematics and music to sciencenand social studies. Such a stance returnsnus to his original distinction betweenncommunication and conversaion.nwhich is founded finally on anphilosophy of social organization: democracynas opposed to the range ofntotalitarian tyrannies, from the right tonthe left, that unfortunately have beennthe continual scourge of mankind. Democracy,nhowever, is a fragile enterprisenrequiring an active and reactivencitizenry which, in turn, only developsnnnwhen men and women learn to interactnwith the sources of information,nwhether it be teacher or governmentnspokesman. The perfect model for democracynis true dialectical conversation,nnot unidirectional communication.n.. . conversation is a school for thinkersnand should be a school for democrats.nWhen one finds supposedlyneducated people arguing heatedly overnmatters of fact and shying away fromnmatters of opinion; when one seesnone’s hosts getting nervous at a differencenof views i-egarding politics ornthe latest play; when one is formallynentertained with information, gamesnor queries cut out of the paper aboutnthe number ofgeese in a gaggle; whennthe dictionary and the encyclopedianare regarded as final arbiters of judgmentnand not as fallible repositories ofnfact; when intelligent youth is advisednnot to go against the accepted belief innany circle because it will startle, shock,nand offend—it is time to recognize,nfirst, that the temper of democraticnculture is tested at every dinner tablenand in every living room—just as muchnas at school, in the pulpit, or on thenplatform; and second, that by this testnand despite our boasted freedom ofnopinion, we lack men and womennwhose minds have learned to moveneasily and fearlessly in the perilousnjungle of ideas.nConversation properly conceived hasnno end because it never presumes tonjudge its results in advance. It thus isncompatible and consistent with Barzun’snother key distinction. In ThreenTalks he opposes difficulties with problemsnin a pointed passage on the downwardnspiral of our national traits.n… we have become incurable futurists.nThe present is not good enoughnfor those who expect so much ofninnovation. Tomorrow is bound tonsee our problems solved, all our desiresnfulfilled. This euphoria in thenmidst of despair is not a genuinensurge of power. It is a deficiency ofnthe practical imagination, couplednwith the giving up of responsibilitynand the vacuum of private judgmentn121nJanuary/February 1982n