Katherine Kersten: Classical charter schools make learning come alive for students

In September, a group of Twin Cities fourth-graders opened their textbooks to read these words: "Carissima Lepidina, iii idus Septembres, veni ad diem natalem meum. Vale, soror, anima mea, Claudia."

Not your typical reading assignment for 9-year-olds. In fact, it's a birthday party invitation in Latin from Claudia -- a fictional young girl living in Roman Britain around 100 A.D. -- to her friend Lepidina. Over the next year, the fourth-graders will follow these children's adventures at a military camp, a state banquet and a funeral. They'll also learn about the Trojan Horse, King Midas and his golden touch, and Roman gods such as Jupiter and Minerva.

Welcome to Seven Hills Classical Academy in Bloomington, a K-5 charter school in its second year. The school is named after the seven hills on which Rome was built, as well as the seven liberal arts. It's one of five classical charter schools to open in the Twin Cities in the last four years. They include K-8 Paideia Academy in Apple Valley, K-8 Nova Classical Academy in St. Paul, K-10 St. Croix Preparatory Academy in Stillwater and 6-12 Eagle Ridge Academy in Eden Prairie.

Latin is just one aspect of a classical curriculum, says Jerry Reedy, Seven Hills' founder and a retired professor of Greek and Latin at Macalester College in St. Paul. Classical education is the opposite of the "progressive" approach that has dominated American education for 60 years, he explains. "Progressive education focuses on 'process' -- vague, touchy-feely 'problem-solving and life skills,'" says Reedy. "Classical education focuses on 'content' -- the fact-based knowledge necessary to transmit a culture."

When my own kids were in the early grades, they tended to study familiar, "relevant" topics -- neighborhood helpers (police officers or firefighters) or cities and suburbs. Too often, the result was yawns. Seven Hills whets kids' appetite for knowledge by introducing exciting and unfamiliar subjects. First-graders explore Egyptian pyramids, Mesopotamian cuneiform writing, American colonial history, Aesop's Fables, Mozart, opera, jazz and the art of Leonardo da Vinci.

Classical education is a "fine balance," says Seven Hills Principal Margaret O'Brien. It pairs basic skills -- "having your multiplication tables down like you know your name" -- with "Socratic discussions." Those are dynamic student-generated debates about everything from life on the Oregon Trail to the roots of terrorism.

Latin is an integral part of this vision, says O'Brien. It teaches youngsters about grammar and expands their vocabulary, while laying the foundation for later language-learning. Seven Hills kids learn Spanish in grades 1 through 4, and then study Latin in grades 4 and 5.

But isn't Latin just a dead language -- one we oldsters struggled to avoid in high school? "The kids gobble it up," says O'Brien. "Last year on my birthday, they surprised me in the lunchroom by singing 'Happy Birthday' in Latin. And they put together a skit on the Roman phrase 'carpe diem' - 'seize the day.'"

Parents are standing in line for this sort of education. "Before Seven Hills opened last year, we were hoping for 125 kids," says O'Brien. "We ended up with 257 signed registrations and a 100-student waiting list." Today, students hail from 35 zip codes.

"Parents want the education for their kids that they never got themselves," explains Reedy. "They've discovered that they were shortchanged."

Sue Pearce of Richfield, the parent of two Seven Hills students, says she sees constant evidence of her kids' love of learning. Last year, for example, her first-grade daughter eagerly rushed home to teach her preschool sister the astronomy facts she had learned that day. "She'd teach her sister about the planets, the constellations and how stars are born," says Pearce. "She even knew that Pluto is no longer considered a planet."

O'Brien has many similar stories. She tells of one rambunctious 6-year-old boy who was often sent to her office "to talk about paying attention, following the rules." One day, however, he appeared outside her door for a different reason. "The excitement was just exploding out of him as he held up his hands, red with clay," she recalls. "Look, 'Ms. O'Brien,' he shouted, 'we made Mayan pots!' He couldn't wait to tell me all the fascinating things he was learning about the Mayans. It gave me goose-bumps."

Katherine Kersten • kkersten@startribune.com Join the conversation at my blog, Think Again, which can be found at www.startribune.com/thinkagain.