Your Kids Are Already Learning Exactly What You’re Teaching
A lot of folks have reached out to OYM over the last couple of years asking for us to come up with a curriculum that could be widely accessible and used in a variety of contexts, ranging from Sunday school classes to youth group gatherings.
This is understandable, given our digital age and the sheer volume of options that exist online. People want something they can trust, and I don’t fault them for this.
While we do have big plans to create and curate a set of resources for parishes, parents, clergy, and youth workers, educational materials have not been our biggest hurdle in ministry with youth and young adults.
I’d be remiss at this point if I didn’t suggest a simple truth that might be a little off-putting:
Our parishes and families already have a curriculum, and our young people are learning the exact lessons we’re teaching.
Hidden Curriculum
What I’m talking about here is what some educators refer to as a “hidden curriculum.”
A hidden curriculum is almost exactly what it sounds like; it is the set of implicit teachings we give by what we prioritize, value, and do.
A hidden curriculum emerges in the lives of people through the way they conduct themselves, through the overt and covert rules that govern a system, be it a parish system or a family system.
So what does this look like in real-time?
Over the last 15 years of my career in ministry, I have had the joyful opportunity to travel across our country and see many different parishes live out the Orthodox faith in a variety of contexts.
While some experiences have been deeply encouraging, others have certainly been less so.
I offer this reflection, not as a way of judging or condemning anyone for anything, but rather as an opportunity to encourage examination of the way hidden curricula may be operating under the surface of what our parishes and families may otherwise say.
One parish I visited, for example, had the practice of dismissing young people from the Divine Liturgy immediately following the reading of the Gospel so they could attend Sunday School, bringing them back into the congregation only right before communion.
Of course, there are plenty of logistical reasons to do something like this. Homilies might be a bit boring for kids, so maybe it’s best to dismiss them for age-appropriate learning. Adults who are juggling children might have a hard time being present in the service so we want to make it easier for them. Adults who are watching adults juggling children might get frustrated and have a difficult time praying.
I don’t want to dismiss these as valid concerns and feelings – as a parent who juggles young children, it is tough.
However, I would be remiss if I didn’t consider the hidden curriculum at play here.
What is the message we send to young people when they are not present for more than half of the Divine Liturgy? What is it that we are teaching?
First of all, we suggest that their presence in the Body doesn’t actually matter that much. They could be here, or not. In some sense, we treat them as if they are second-class members of the Body of Christ, people whose presence is not essential to the function of the Church.
As young people grow up, they begin to form mental models of relationships and their place within it. If we are habitually dislocating them from the gathered assembly, we have to ask ourselves: what is the mental model we are giving young people about Church?
Secondly, it reinforces the notion that the Church is not primarily a praying Body. Orthodoxy is something that is to be learned, not to be participated in.
While there is plenty to learn about Orthodoxy, we cannot emphasize the intellectual over the spiritually formative power of participating in the Divine Liturgy. Orthodoxy is a faith that is lived, not one that is simply studied.
Implicit Lessons
I’ve been to a parish that removes young people from the service altogether, sending them to a side chapel for a “kid’s” Divine Liturgy, served by the associate priest.
Again, what are the implicit lessons here? That there are, effectively, two churches. One for grown-ups, and one for kids.
But one has to wonder - at what point does a kid stop thinking that they’ll go to “grown-up Church” one day, and begin thinking, “That’s not the place for me.”
Of course, these are somewhat extreme examples of a (not so) hidden curriculum at play, and it shows up in far more subtle ways all through the way we conduct matters of church life.
The way we balance budgets; the way we practice stewardship; what sort of events we host.
Even the way we talk about ministry events can teach an unwitting lesson, so our language really matters.
Whenever I’ve led retreats around the country, I am usually approached by someone during Divine Liturgy the following morning. They are well-meaning, but usually engage me in a strikingly similar way.
They’ll be extremely apologetic that they weren’t able to make it the day before, but that some family member had an activity they couldn’t otherwise cancel.
Then they’ll ask whether it was a successful event, adding, “How many people were there?”
Of course, I understand the impulse to see numbers as a metric of success, but such language indicates that our preoccupation is on the amount of people present, not the quality of interactions that occurred or even the life-changing repentance of one soul.
I’ve heard dedicated youth workers at a youth group say, “Okay, everyone, let’s say a quick prayer and then we’ll get to the fun stuff.” Such a statement indicates that prayer is something one merely gets through to ensure that festivities (which we’re really here for) have divine sanction.
We Are the Curriculum
In ways both big and small, we are teaching young people all too clearly what we prioritize and value in a way that no curriculum can redress because the fact is that we already have a curriculum in place.
We are the curriculum.
But this isn’t just in parish life, mind you. Our hidden curricula show up all through the way we engage our daily lives.
Friends, all of us are complicit in teaching our young people through a series of hidden curricula. We all prioritize things other than what Jesus and His apostles and saints have called us to through the ages.
We can never write a curriculum that will be more effective than the attitudes and behaviors that we model because our lives are the most clear curriculum that exists.
So we must examine our priorities and values honestly, paying attention to what we actually pay attention to.
Do we speak of mercy and forgiveness, yet speak poorly of those who hurt us?
Do we speak of generosity and hospitality, yet give stingily or live materialistically?
Do we speak of caring for others, but begrudge them when we feel put out?
Do we insist on love and gentleness, yet speak harshly with those in our homes?
Our lives show what we really believe, and the time to repent is now, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.
What You Can Do:
Examine your daily schedule and see where your time goes. What does your morning routine look like? Do you check the news first thing? Work email? Texts? Do you grab a cup of coffee right away as if life is found at the bottom of the mug, or do you turn to Christ with gratitude for the gift of today and request strength?
What do your children hear you worrying about? Money? Work? Personal grievances?
Do you show up to church on time? Or do you take the leisurely route on Sundays?
The first step we can take is to truly assess how we organize our lives and ministries, because this is how we can begin to unearth what we are truly teaching our young people.
If we wish to teach them properly, we will need to repent and ensure that our priorities and values are consonant with Christ’s.
May the Lord have mercy on us all as we stumble to align our lives – and our hidden curriculums – with His Coming Kingdom.