Maria daVenza Tillmanns

Here is an example using a picture book story: A New House, in Grasshopper on the Road: by Arnold Lobel Grasshopper sees an apple on top of a hill and decides, yum! lunch, as he takes a big bite out of the apple. This, however, causes the apple to start rolling down the hill. Grasshopper hears a voice inside the apple, telling him to keep his house from being destroyed as it is rolling down the hill. My bathtub is in the living room; my bed is in the kitchen. Grasshopper is trying to catch the apple, as it is rolling faster and faster down the hill. In the end it crashes into a tree at the bottom of the hill and is smashed into a hundred pieces. Luckily, it is an apple tree, and Worm has decided to find a new house to live in, one without a big bite in it, either. The question is, should Worm be angry at Grasshopper? The children often agree that he shouldn’t be angry. Grasshopper didn’t mean to hurt Worm and destroy his home. The aporia question is, isn’t Worm justified in being angry at Grasshopper for destroying his home, even though it was an accident? Should I be angry with someone who hurt me, even if it is not done on purpose? I am hurt; so can’t I be angry because I have been hurt? The children often feel that when it was not done on purpose, you can’t really be angry. Another aporia question is, can you punish someone when what they have done wasn’t done on purpose? Is it OK for your parents to punish you when you have done something wrong, even though you didn’t do it on purpose? Another aporia question is then whether we are justified in punishing someone who is innocent? Does it make sense to punish your baby brother for breaking your toy? Or are the police ever justified in shooting an unarmed Black man?

Thinking together not only binds us, but also allows us to explore unknown, perhaps unknowable, territory with joy, curiosity and confidence. Through asking children what they in some sense already know through their intuitive knowledge and putting thinking itself into question, we can help them become more aware of themselves as thinking beings. And as thinking beings children can learn the skills they’re taught in school, but not at the expense of their own thinking. With their thinking intact, they can skillfully apply what they learn in school to the world in which they live.

The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift. – Albert Einstein In my philosophical discussions with elementary school children, I use questions not just to uncover hidden assumptions the children may have, but to lead them to a place of aporia – puzzlement, a place of “not-knowing.” If some children assume that to be brave is to be fearless, I not only ask why they assume this, but go on to ask how it is that we can be called brave, if we’re not even afraid? What’s there to be brave about? With this question, I try to bring the children to a place of “aporia,” a place of puzzlement. Aporia empowers thinking. Philosophy is the pursuit of clear thinking; it is also the pursuit of wisdom, a deeper truth (see quote). Wonder captivates us and connects us to the world around us. In “doing” philosophy with children, this sense of wonder is expanded upon. In their book, Journey of the Universe Swimme and Tucker state, “For or a young mammal, behavior is open-ended in a way that is rarer in adults… In a word, what often occupies their consciousness is play…. they enter into many kinds of relationships out of sheer curiosity.” In doing philosophy with children, we play with ideas. Shobhan Lyons states in her article, “What makes a philosopher?”, in Philosophy Now, “Linking philosophy and truth is a common approach; but I believe that philosophy is less a search for truth and more an engagement with possibilities; …” For example, whereas fear may be a good thing in some instances, it may not be in others. Lying may be necessary in some instances and a good thing (although, it doesn’t imply that lying in itself is a good thing), and in other cases it may be harmful and hurtful. So how do you decide? This is where navigational skills come into play. What may work in some instances may in fact be the entirely wrong thing to do in other cases. So how can you tell? This is where you need to learn how to respond to complex situations. I conclude with examples of aporia questions for 8 picture book stories. “Dragons and Giants,” in Frog and Toad Together, by Arnold Lobel: The question is, are Frog and Toad brave? Children often conclude that to be brave you cannot be afraid. Since Frog and Toad are afraid, they cannot be brave. An aporia question is, whether you can be brave without being afraid? If you are not in the least afraid, what makes you brave? Another aporia question is, whether Frog and Toad would be foolish rather than brave if they were not to jump out of the way of the snake, the avalanche or the hawk. A third aporia question has to do with the question how we know we are foolish or brave when dealing with that which is dangerous.

Abstract: In this paper we discuss how through our bi-weekly Socratic dialogue groups with inmates at the Metropolitan Correctional Center downtown San Diego, we were able to bring the inmates to a sense of aporia or puzzlement. Not only did the dialogues help to uncover assumptions, uncovering the dots, so to speak, but also to help reconnect the dots and see their world from a different perspective. It allowed them to question their lives in a safe and non-judgmental environment. They felt empowered by these dialogues to become their own life’s judges, freeing themselves from feeling oppressed by the judgments of others.

Can philosophy help ordinary people confront their personal or interpersonal problems of living? Can it help a couple whose marriage is on the rocks, or someone going through a midlife crisis, or someone depressed over the death of a significant other, or who suffers from anxiety about making a life change? These and many other behavioral and emotional problems are ordinarily referred to psychologists, psychiatrists, clinical social workers, or other mental health specialists. Less mainstream is the possibility of consulting a philosophical counselor or practitioner. Yet, there is presently a steadily increasing, world-wide movement among individuals with postgraduate credentials in philosophy to harness their philosophical training and skills in helping others to address their life problems. But is this channeling of philosophy outside the classroom into the arena of life a good idea? Are philosophers, as such, competent to handle all or any of the myriad emotional and behavioral problems that arise in the context of life; or should these matters best be left to those trained in psychological counseling or psychotherapy? Through a diverse and contrasting set of readings authored by prominent philosophers, philosophical counselors, and psychologists, this volume carefully explores the nature of philosophical counseling or practice and its relationship to psychological counseling and psychotherapy. Digging deeply into this relational question, this volume aims to spark more rational reflection, and greater sensitivity and openness to the potential contributions of philosophical practice. It is, accordingly, intended for students, teachers, scholars, and practitioners of philosophy, counseling, or psychotherapy; as well as those interested in knowing more about philosophical counseling or practice.

When we look at our political landscape today, I wonder where has our integrity gone? Teachers want to know how to explain (if that’s the right word) the language and behavior of the current American president to children in their class. He lies, he is rude and inconsiderate; he bad-mouths people and makes fun of people with disabilities. And classroom teachers not only teach certain disciplines; they also teach the need for civil discipline. The latter seems to be lacking with the current president. How do we teach for integrity in a time, which seems to be totally lacking in any true sense of integrity.

The compass we use to navigate life needs to be cultivated from an early age. My sense is that the arts, including Plato’s dialogues cultivate our navigational sense. It does not tell us rationally what is good or what is bad. It is not that simple. Remember, the stars we sail by, are not fixed, either. So we need to develop a sense for what may be right or not in any particular situation. We may have a general sense, but need to learn how to apply this general sense to specific situations, which are unique. In every new situation we have to figure out what is the right thing to do. And this may be different for different people as well. Too often we look for a one-fits-all solution, including our moral sense of right and wrong. And this is where we so often end up resorting to a violent “solution,” just to end it all. While we may have acquired so many technological advancements in our modern world, on the level of understanding how to navigate the world we may have regressed even, now that we can increasingly rely of highly technically advanced weapons. Again, violence seems to bear the only “solution.” Yet, with our compass intact, we might be better able to recognize the red flags when we see them in real life and not find ways to rationalize, justify or ignore the reality right before our eyes. When we recognize them early, they can be handled so much easier and better. Molehills are less difficult than mountains. And to get rid of a mountain, you may just have to blow it up, using violence...

After Brexit became a reality in the UK and Trump became a reality in the United States, many thought that this was perhaps the last stand of those who thought of themselves as white and entitled to their land, calling it their country. Others living in their country may be citizens of that country, but it did not mean it was theirs as well. It belonged to those of white origin. And this “fact” would embolden those who wanted to “take back” their country and protect its sovereignty. Initially, I too, thought this was a sign that this nationalist thinking was becoming a part of history and, while it may create havoc on its way out, it was nonetheless on its way out. I thought this, at least, until I read an article in the New York Times by Jesse Singal titled “Undercover with the Alt-Right.”

The thinking employed by Homo faber, Latin for ‘Tool Wo/Man,’ and a concept articulated by Hannah Arendt and Max Scheler referring to humans as controlling the environment through tools, is instrumental in nature. Know-how is applied to the environment as one would apply a tool, in order to control it. In contrast, thinking that looks at how to engage the whole for the sake of solving a problem, is the thinking employed by Homo Cognoscens (a term I invented), referring to the Examining/Inquiring Wo/Man, from the Latin cognosco, which means ‘I inquire/examine.’ In my essay, I show why it is important to move beyond the limited thinking of Homo faber. Homo faber in some sense still views itself at the center of the universe and capable of controlling it. S/he lives in a geocentric worldview. Homo cognoscens has a heliocentric worldview. Homo cognoscens understands that the world is interconnected and that we do not control the universe literally or figuratively no matter how advanced our knowledge. Instrumental thinking also does not lend itself to developing self-knowledge, for it doesn’t involve awareness of the thinking that goes into solving problems “out there.” It simply applies reason for the purpose of solving problems. We tend to reason things through, but rarely to think through our reasoning. Yet, we live in an interconnected world and we are interconnected with the world we live in. Our thinking reflects our interconnectedness and we have to be able to view it critically and self-critically. Homo cognoscens restores our relationship with the world and other people. Homo faber has gone too far in its instrumental thinking and destroyed relationship in the process. Everything has become instrumental. To move beyond Homo faber is to evolve to Homo cognoscens and understand how we are intrinsically connected to the world we depend on and need to engage it, rather than assume we can control it at all cost.

This paper explores the notion that children have a knowledge of the world of their own – an intuitive knowledge. Being fully immersed in the world as adults are, they too have a knowledge of the world. In contrast to adults, who have developed a cognitive knowledge of the world, children still depend on their intuitive knowledge. Children certainly have a strong grasp of the world they live in; it’s just not dependent on cognitive knowledge. In my paper I compare and contrast Kohlberg and Lipman’s views on children’s ability to be natural philosophers. To be immersed in the world, brings to mind Martin Buber’s idea that we are born in relation, the a priori of relation, which only later develops into the essential relation as we develop the consciousness of our individual separateness. This a priori relation, then, forms the basis for children’s intuitive knowledge, and which is expressed through the language of imagination. And certainly, imagination is not devoid of any kind of reason. In focusing strictly on children’s cognitive development and ignoring their inborn relation with the world, we essentially rob them of their foothold in the world, their inner authority needed for self-regulated thinking. We create a world where children grow up dependent on authority, status, trends and fads. This can lead to what we’ve observed in the famous Milgram study. Philosophy with children encourages children to speak from their own place, in a form of parrhesia, if you will, and to discuss together with others the complexities of ideas. It honors their inborn relation with the world, their statements and aids in the process of developing their cognitive knowledge out of their intuitive grasp of the world. In respecting their inborn relation, philosophy with children allows children to grow up as full human beings, not just as smart and educated “disembodied creatures.” Children speak from the logic of experience (Foucault). Through the process of putting thinking itself into question, children become aware of themselves as thinking beings. It is what Bohm refers to as the “proprioception of thought,” the ability to “observe thought.” Philosophers, I argue, are experts in not knowing. In practicing the art of philosophy, the art of not knowing, we need each other to think together to explore deeper concepts. This binds us and allows us to explore the unknown with joy, curiosity and confidence. In an example from my own experience, I show that children not only intuitively touch on complex philosophical ideas; students are wrestling with ideas about how to understand the world, which is where philosophy began as well. How can we be surprised when children decide computer games are more interesting than life itself, if we have essentially robbed them of the desire to “get dirty,” and engage this world filled with wonder. We have created a world too boring and act surprised when children are bored. The world isn’t boring and in “doing” philosophy with children we keep the fascination with this place we call earth alive.

In this dissertation, I develop a theory of philosophical counseling and teaching. It is the outcome of my holding the tension of my practical and theoretical viewing points. Holding the tension is a term which Maurice Friedman coined to counter the idea of dichotomous either/or thinking and any attempt to synthesize thought into unity or fusion. ;This dissertation focuses on Buber's notion of the dialogical, which implies acknowledging the other's otherness. Buber's notion of other is diametrically opposed to the post-modern notion of other. The difference lies in the fact that Buber's notion of the not-I is rooted in trust, whereas the post-modern notion of denial and exclusion is rooted in distrust. ;This difference is of great importance, especially as it affects fields like counseling and teaching. In both counseling and teaching, it is important to be able to acknowledge the other as other, and to be able to meet the other while holding one's own ground. Yet, one can only do so when one can trust the other's otherness through an act of implicitly understanding his otherness. In any field which affects learning and teaching, we deal with different styles of discourse. It is my contention that a topic-centered discourse style distrusts what is implicitly understood and requires that it be made explicit. It cannot be relied upon for any kind of accuracy or coherence. Topic-associating trusts and relies on what is implicitly understood. In my work as both philosophical counselor and teacher I try to restore the notion of working on the basis of understood trust, and on the basis of responding to people's otherness. ;In this dissertation I present illustrations of my work as philosophical counselor and as an instructor in the Upward Bound College Prep Academy at the University of Illinois. These are examples of actively bringing trust back into the interaction between teacher/student or counselor/counselee