Welcome to Stoicism Today! This week we bring you a multi-authored article about an after-school philosophy club at a high school in Arkansas. Russell Holt shares his experience teaching Stoicism to his granddaughter and her classmates, offering suggestions for others who would like to start their own philosophy clubs. Read on for Russell’s perspective, as well as the perspective of 17-year-old students Midori Holt and Vivienne Le.

The Mentor’s Path: From Grandchildren to the Classroom

Many of us in the Stoic community believe that introducing students to Stoicism is important for cultivating the emotional fortitude necessary to navigate the world today. I’ve seen initiatives like Modern Stoicism Stoic Week for Schools provide excellent resources, which are great. And the College of Stoic Philosophers is currently building a program for young people. One thing all these programs will need is committed, knowledgeable mentors. My own path to meeting this need began not in a classroom, but at home with my grandchildren.

I have long shared Stoic principles with them, hoping to provide a compass for young adulthood. My granddaughter Midori took these lessons to heart at her charter school, The School for Advanced Studies. Her teacher, Mrs. Cochran, noticed Midori’s uncommonly rational approach to challenges and asked where she developed such poise. When Midori credited her “Grandpa,” I was invited to guest-lecture for her Speech and Debate class.

The assignment had a specific constraint: I had to bridge the gap between the book they were studying Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People and classical Stoicism. Though an unlikely pairing, the overlap in emotional intelligence and self-regulation proved to be a powerful “hook” for the students.

As Mrs. Cochran later reflected:

“Mr. Holt brought a thoughtful perspective, emphasizing resilience and focusing on what we can control. His visit was an overwhelming success that deepened our students’ understanding of mindful communication.”

That single hour in the classroom created a ripple effect. A year later, the Assistant Head of School reached out to ask if I would mentor a formal after-school Stoic program. Having witnessed the hunger these students have for practical wisdom, my answer was an immediate yes. It was a reminder that the best way to serve the cause of Stoicism is simply to show up when given the opportunity.

Beginning with a Plan and Rapidly Adapting

Teaching is not my professional background. My job is that of being a compliance officer. And all my Stoic practice was mainly cultivated through adult discussion groups and mentoring adult students at the College of Stoic Philosophers. I wasn’t sure how to begin when it came to working with teenagers. So, I did what I do at work: I created a manual.

The manual had the traditional framework: there was a section on Logic, Physics, and Ethics; the four cardinal virtues: Practical Wisdom, Courage, Justice, and Temperance; the three disciplines: Judgment, Assent, and Action; and sections on Daily Practice and Community. On the first day, I opened the class with an introduction covering a high-level theory of Stoicism. Almost immediately, I could see their attention slipping. The concepts were too abstract, too distant from their day-to-day lives and concerns. Moreover, I had to remind myself that my granddaughter and her friends were here for an after-school program, not a classroom or lecture hall. So, I pivoted.

The Turning Point: From Theory to Practice

Instead of focusing on theory, I jumped straight into teaching the three disciplines—judgment, assent, and action—while linking them directly to each student’s lived experiences. The shift was immediate.

They began sharing real situations: conflicts with friends, stress over exams, and social media pressures. Each student would share one of their own personal life situations, and each situation became an entry point into Stoic practice.

When a student volunteered to tell a story, we would ask:

• What is within your control here?

• What assumptions are you making?

• Should you assent to that impression yet?

• What would a wise, just, or courageous response look like?

From there, we were able to move Stoicism from abstraction to application. It was no longer out-of-touch and foreign to these students; instead, it was a resource to use in everyday life.

What It Looked Like Week to Week

The club itself was small and informal. The School for Advanced Studies gave us access to classrooms that were not being used. Each week, we had three or four students in attendance, occasionally joined by a younger sibling, often motivated by the fact that my wife would make cookies for each session.

I wanted this to be their club, fun and interesting. In whichever room we were in, the whiteboard became a tool for visualizing the intersection of the theory in their lives. As they shared their experiences, they would map out their situations on the whiteboard over Stoic principles in real time. Social media drama, school pressures, relationship tensions—each became a case study to work through.

I kept discussions intentionally grounded. The goal was not deep personal disclosure, but practical learning.

At the end of each session, the whiteboard became a clear visual that showed a connection between ancient philosophy and modern adolescent life.

Student Perspectives

Midori Holt

My name is Midori Holt, and I am 17 years old. This is my second year at the School for Advanced Studies (SAS), and I am one of the founding students, which comes with lots of responsibilities. However, Stoicism has helped me keep a level head throughout it all.

To begin with, I am not religious. When I was younger, I went to a Methodist church, but I now consider myself agnostic. Thus, Stoicism is the only factor influencing my thoughts and my actions. I must say, it’s been the best teacher in my life.

My exposure to Stoicism started before the other members of the club because my grandpa would tell me about it every Sunday, when we went to his house. I remember my first impressions being that Stoicism sounded like something I would be interested in, but that it would be too hard and high maintenance. I couldn’t see myself having enough self-discipline to keep up with the rules of Stoicism. On my journey, I have debunked many of my original apprehensions. I now understand that Stoicism has no set guidelines for how to act in every situation; it’s based upon many factors. Stoicism only provides guides and a strong support system. Said support system has helped me in my everyday life. I have learned that Stoicism is hard and it does take an ungodly amount of personal accountability, but, in our club, we have taken Stoicism as a whole and broken it into bite sized pieces to learn throughout the year. I know now that I do, in fact, have the mental fortitude to live virtuously, no matter how tempting it may be to let my emotions rule over me. I’ve noticed over time that my mind has started thinking Stoically. It’s almost as if I’ve learned a new language and my mother tongue takes a backseat. In the past, every little thing would upset me and cause me to go basically mute. It was impossible for anyone to get through to me, and even though I hated the way I acted, I felt like there was nothing I could do about it. Now, my mind defaults to thoughts such as, “How would a Stoic sage react to this?” “What is the truth here, and what is illusion?” or “I won’t assent to this.” It feels like I have finally become one with myself and the world; I know how to react in many situations and let things that are not in my control flow like water off a duck’s back. People around me no longer need to walk on eggshells waiting for my next silent bout.

There are many aspects of Stoicism that still confuse me, and many things I feel I have a good grasp over. In fact, most of Stoicism clicked into place in my mind upon learning it. It all makes so much sense. The only aspect that I haven’t been able to fully understand yet is the physics of the traditional Stoic’s worldview. Although I’m sure that as we move along this year and continue to meet for Stoicism club, my grandpa will be able to help us understand.

Vivienne Le

My name is Vivienne Le. I am 17 years old, and this will be my second year at the School for Advanced Studies (SAS). When I started the year, I knew almost nothing about Stoicism. After joining the club, however, it has helped me immensely throughout the year.

I grew up in a Catholic family, but personally, I don’t identify with a specific religion. Even though I no longer consider myself Catholic, growing up in the Church still shapes how I see the world. I was taught to view every action through the lens of its potential impact on my afterlife, the idea that “you reap what you sow.” For most of my life, this left me constantly on guard and struggling with poor emotional regulation.

I was first introduced to Stoicism when my friends joined the club and later encouraged me to come along. I’m so glad I listened. Stoicism has dramatically improved my emotional regulation and completely changed my perspective on religion, the world, and how I navigate daily challenges. It has taught me to stop zooming in on every small setback and to avoid becoming overwhelmed by life’s struggles.

When I first heard about Stoicism, I assumed it was a religion. After attending my first club meeting, I was quickly taught that it is a philosophy, and an interesting one at that. At first, I thought it would be something I was too lazy to practice, but I soon discovered that while it does require real effort, the reward is powerful. It gives you the tools to take control of your emotions and stop clinging onto things that drain your energy for no good reason. This change has transformed my everyday life, especially now that senior year is approaching, and I’m realizing that I’ll be an adult very soon. Stoicism has helped quiet my overthinking, guided the choices I make about my future, and shown me what really matters. It has taught me to pause, step back, and ask myself simple questions like, “Does this really affect me?” or something we say all the time in meetings “Do I ascent to this” or “Stay as cool as a cucumber.” These moments of reflection have become one of the most valuable ways I understand and regulate my emotions.

What I’ve taken away most from Stoicism is the importance of not holding onto things and, above all, not ruminating on them. Of course, I only started learning and practicing Stoicism this year, so some concepts still confuse me a little, but I’m confident that with time, consistent practice, and the support of my friends in the club, everything will become clear.

Lessons for Mentors

For those interested in bringing Stoicism to young people, here are a few lessons that I (Russell) learned from this experience:

1. Start with experience, not doctrine.
Abstract principles matter, but relevance comes first. Meet students where they are.

2. Use real-life situations as teaching tools.
Their daily challenges are the curriculum.

3. Keep it conversational and visual.
Discussion and simple tools, like a whiteboard, can make philosophy tangible.

4. Emphasize practice over perfection.
Stoicism is something to do, not just something to understand.

5. Small groups are enough.
Impact does not require scale.

A Final Reflection

I often think back to my younger self and wonder how I could have benefited by learning Stoicism at their age. Watching these students begin that journey and seeing their growth in emotional fortitude, even in small ways—has been inspiring.

Stoicism does not remove difficulty from life. But it does offer a way to meet it—with clarity, steadiness, and purpose.

Perhaps there is no better time to begin that practice than in youth. If fate permits and an opportunity presents itself, seize the moment.

About the Authors

Russell Holt is a chief compliance officer in the commercial laundry industry. He also serves as a faculty member and mentor in the College of Stoic Philosophers, guiding students in the study and practical application of Stoic philosophy. In addition, Russell writes and publishes articles through his The Stoic Elder Newsletter on Substack, focusing on traditional Stoicism, civic responsibility, and the principles of engaged citizenship.

Midori Holt is a 17-year-old student at the School for Advanced Studies Northwest Arkansas, which opened in 2024. She currently serves as student leader of the school’s Stoicism Club, an organization she helped establish to support students navigating stress and pressure through practical philosophy and resilience. In addition to this role, Midori is co-editor-in-chief of the Hellbender Herald, the school’s newspaper, captain of the cheer team, co-captain of the soccer team, vice president of the National Honor Society, and secretary of Student Council. Passionate about leadership and student well-being, she is committed to creating positive spaces where others can grow, lead, and thrive.

Vivienne Le is a 17-year-old student at the School for Advanced Studies, Northwest Arkansas. She serves as the Vice President of the Student Council and is dedicated to supporting her friends and peers. Driven by a genuine desire to help others, Vivienne joined the Stoicism Club to cultivate personal resilience. By developing the tools to manage her own stress through Stoic practice, she aims to become even better equipped to guide and support her friends and classmates.

Welcome to Stoicism Today! This week we bring you a biographical piece by philosophy professor and children’s book author Claudia Mills. Mills describes her lifelong love of Epictetus and how she’s bringing his principles to life in through a fictional 12-year-old girl.

I was first drawn to the wisdom of Epictetus in adolescence. In mid-life I spent decades teaching Epictetus to college-aged youth as a professor of philosophy. Now, in later life, I have been working to find a way to share Epictetus with even younger seekers after wisdom, as a children’s book author. This is the story of that journey.

My Youthful Encounter with Epictetus

I may be unusual in remembering the very moment of the very day I fell in love with Epictetus.

It was at a Walden’s bookstore in a shopping mall in suburban New Jersey, eagerly browsing the discount table, that I pounced on a giant Modern Library edition of The Stoic and Epicurean Philosophers. At fifteen, I already knew I loved big ideas and big, fancy words to describe them. Flipping through its pages, I came upon this passage in the stirring Matheson translation of the first chapter of the Discourses of Epictetus. The tyrant commands Epictetus, “Tell the secret!” Epictetus replies, “I refuse to tell, for this is in my power.” “But I will chain you.” “What say you, fellow? Chain me? My leg you will chain – yes, but my will – no, not even Zeus can conquer that” (1:22-23).
That was it. In that instant I gave myself entirely to Epictetus, slain by those calmly delivered but fiercely defiant words spoken against tyranny. If a tyrant ever threatened me, I was ready!

At home, as I read on, I was deeply affected by Epictetus’s commitment to setting himself apart from others by the higher standards to which he holds himself, “for different men sell at different prices” (2.11). And some are not for sale at all. “This is why Agrippinus, when Florus was considering whether he should go down to Nero’s shows, to perform some part in them, said to him, ‘Go down.’ And when he asked, ‘Why do you not go down yourself?’ said, ‘Because I do not even consider the question’” (2.12-13). Ooh!

Epictetus goes on to say that those willing to perform for Nero (because otherwise they will be beheaded, no trivial threat!) count themselves merely as ordinary threads in the tunic, “but I want to be the purple, that touch of brilliance which gives distinction and beauty to the rest. Why then do you say to me, ‘Make yourself like unto the many?’ If I do that, I shall no longer be the purple” (2.17-18). Convinced of my own uniqueness, and yes, with more than a touch of youthful self-aggrandizement, I saw myself as akin to Epictetus. I, too, would be “the purple thread,” destined to a life of lonely but lofty greatness. I had no idea what it would really mean to be that “purple thread,” what demands might be placed upon me that I would resist with noble indifference to consequences, but I yearned for it, anyway. All this just from the first two chapters of the Discourses!

Teaching Epictetus to First-Year College Students

I went off to college to major in philosophy and then on to graduate school in philosophy to earn my Ph.D. Although my specialty was ethics, nowhere in any of my coursework at any level was there any mention of Epictetus. As I immersed myself in ethical theory, I encountered no thinker who stirred me as deeply as Epictetus had that day in a New Jersey shopping mall.

When I became a professor in the philosophy department at the University of Colorado, Boulder, at first I taught the same kinds of theory-focused courses I had taken as a student, as well as courses featuring discussion of the standard contemporary moral problems found in ethics textbooks: abortion, euthanasia, capital punishment. But as I gained confidence, I designed my own Intro to Ethics course centered on the more personal question of how to live one’s life. I began the course by having the students read Tolstoy’s novella The Death of Ivan Ilyich, the story of a dying man reviewing his conventional and “correct” life and realizing its emptiness and falsity: “Everything you lived by and still live by is a lie, a deception that blinds you to the reality of life and death” (Ch. 11). Then I presented some of the greatest works in the history of ethical thought as “advice manuals” for how to live a better, richer, more deeply satisfying life than his: Aristotle, Epictetus, Kant, Mill, Nietzsche, and Sartre.

Needless to say, my favorite part of the semester was the weeks I spent on Epictetus, now using the Everyman edition. Reading him again with much greater care, as a teacher, I was surprised how little attention my youthful self had given to some of the central principles underlying his Stoicism: some things are in our power, others are not, and wisdom is to concern oneself only with the former. I had been too busy elevating myself in my own importance as “the purple thread” and potential tyrant-defier to face this humbling (but also liberating) diminishing of my significance in the universe: the realization of how very little any of us (including me) can control. Our only power is “the power to deal rightly with our impressions” (Discourses, 1.7), and to choose and act accordingly. This was the central insight I needed to impart to my students now.

They did not fall in love with Epictetus as I had. I saw no swooning over his defiance of the tyrant. Rather, they rebelled against his calm contentment in the face of life’s inevitable storms. They didn’t want to be calm! They didn’t want to be contented! They told me they wanted to feel all the emotions, even the most painful and destructive ones (anger, envy, grief, despair) to the fullest. I remembered feeling that way myself at their age, though I hadn’t engaged with that aspect of Epictetus sufficiently for this to bother me in my reading. I tried to tell them, from the vantage point of my more advanced years, that those emotions lose their allure once enough of your life has been spent beating your head bloody in futile resistance against what you cannot change. But I sensed they would need more life experience before they were able to “get” this.

So instead, I focused on what I thought would be most valuable to them as they began their adult lives: Epictetus’s insistence on choice, owning your ability to make your own choices, even when these are made in circumstances you would never have chosen yourself. Defy the tyrant, or don’t defy the tyrant: the choice is yours. But don’t blame him for “making” you do whatever it is you decide to do. The choice is yours to make, and the consequences of that choice are yours to accept.

On the last day of the course, I would ask the students: “Which book that we read together this semester would you give to the youthful Ivan Ilyich so that his life would have gone better?” I have to admit that Epictetus did not emerge as the winner. Generally, they preferred the more capacious account of eudaimonia given by Aristotle, where virtue has a central role, but honor, pleasure, friendship, family, even a certain amount of worldly goods, are also recognized as genuinely valuable elements of a flourishing human life. But I was gratified that the mother of one of my students later told me that her son, who joined the military after graduation, wrote to her during basic training to ask her to send his copy of Epictetus. No one did that for Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics!

Writing a Book Starring Epictetus for Child Readers

While teaching philosophy at the university level, I also pursued a career as a children’s book author, publishing over sixty books for young readers. I would frequently give my characters some ethical dilemma to wrestle with, but I never introduced them specifically to philosophy. I yearned to find a way to craft a story in which one of my characters would fall as hard for Epictetus as I had, but I wasn’t sure how to do this in a book that would be complex and multi-layered rather than overly didactic or lesson driven. The story had to be key. There had to be a reason why my main character would want to learn about philosophy, why she would need to do this. The story would have to come first.

This was what led to Calliope Callisto Clark and the Search for Wisdom.

I created the character of Callie Clark, who renames herself Calliope Callisto Clark, a name to reflect the extraordinariness she sees in herself. At this point, she is very like my younger self, complete with both a conviction of her unique specialness and the emotional intensity that both my college students and I had prized for ourselves. Having lost her parents at a young age, Callie is being raised by her elderly grandparents who hardly know what to do with her; they get her a dog, hoping this will help even out her tumultuous emotions, but Archie proves to be as “difficult” as Callie herself. And at school, her strict, old-fashioned teacher has no patience for Callie’s constant questions and passionate opinions.

When a call home after a classroom “incident” leads Granny to trip over Archie in hastening to pick up the phone, resulting in a fractured wrist, her grandparents decide he will have to be rehomed if Callie can’t achieve better self-control. She needs to wise up – and fast. In the class study of ancient Greece, she learns that Athens was the birthplace of philosophy, a storehouse of wisdom about how to live one’s best life. So, she enlists the sympathetic school librarian to form a middle-school philosophy club, where she is exposed to a bit of Socrates and Plato, and – drum roll! – Epictetus.

Like younger me, Callie thrills to Epictetus’s defiance of the tyrant. Like younger me, Callie wants to be the purple thread. Indeed, the story builds to a climactic moment where Callie defies the tyrant: her teacher, who has made an unfair accusation of her best friend – doing this even though it will mean another phone call home – and the loss of Archie (for her, practically the equivalent of being beheaded!).

But now, I was able to let Callie internalize the key distinction between what is up to us and what is not up to us, what we can control and what we can’t. Callie can’t control her grandparents, she can’t control her teacher, she can’t control the friends who think she’s “weird.” And as I wrote her story, after so many years of walking with Epictetus, I had a clearer sense for the first time of the enormous relief that comes from letting go of what you can’t control.

Toward the end of the book, Callie is tormented by guilt over her grandfather’s stroke: was she, with her “difficult” nature, the one who caused it? Is this her fault? The club leader shares the passage in the Discourses where someone comes to Epictetus asking what he can do to prevent his brother from being angry with him. Epictetus answers, “Bring him to me, and I will tell him, but to you I have nothing to say about his anger” (15.5). Callie realizes that she didn’t make her grandfather angry and agitated about her childish misdeeds; he made himself this way. And although he is recovering from this stroke, she begins to face the possibility of a future stroke with a different outcome. Death – our own inevitable deaths and the deaths of those we love most – is perhaps the supreme example of what we cannot control, and so must somehow find a way to accept.

Conclusion

My personal journey with Epictetus, starting in my youth and continuing as I shared his wisdom with college-aged youth and now with young readers, has helped me bring together my youthful sense of my purple-thread importance with my later-life realization of – and appreciation for – my own small place in the universe: “For everything that happens in the universe one can readily find reason to praise providence, if one has within oneself these two qualities: the ability to see each particular event in the context of the whole, and a sense of gratitude” (Discourses, 6.1).

I’m not sure how young readers will respond to the book; it is too soon for me to know. How they do is yet another thing that is out of my control, and so not worth bothering about, as Epictetus reminds me in his brief, scathing commentary, “To Those Who Wish to Be Admired” (Discourses, 21). But I’m grateful that I had a chance to share my youthful love of Epictetus with youthful students and readers decades after I first encountered him. I’ll give the last words here to Callie herself (Chapter 43, “Epictetus and Me”): “Did Epictetus know how much better his words could make an eleven-year-old girl feel about her life two thousand years later?”

About the Author

Claudia Mills has written over sixty books for children, including The Lost Language, an NCTE Notable Verse Novel, a Charlotte Huck Recommended Book, A Mighty Girl Best Book of the Year, and A Bulletin for the Center of Children’s Books Blue Ribbon Book. The Last Apple Tree received a starred review in Kirkus Reviews. She is a recipient of the Kerlan Award for her contribution to children’s literature. She was a professor of philosophy for more than two decades at the University of Colorado. She lives in Boulder, Colorado.

This week we are pleased to announce a new subsection of Stoicism Today: Stoicism for Schools. We will be publishing occasional pieces related to Stoicism in education, which will be of interest to teachers, administrators, parents, mentors, and anyone involved in the education of teens and young adults. If you wish to opt out of receiving these occasional articles, you can adjust your preferences in your Substack settings under Stoicism Today.

Our first piece in this series is by Leonidas Konstantakos, an educator at both the high school and university level. We hope you enjoy his insightful piece on sharing Stoicism in the classroom, as he considers both the advantages and challenges of teaching philosophy.

The ancient Stoics were, in many respects, educators. Not teachers in the modern K-12 sense, nor even in the formal institutional sense of later philosophical schools, but public instructors concerned with shaping character and judgment. Consider the Stoic founder, Zeno, who turned to philosophy from a failed career as a shipping merchant. Imagine his “classes” as he paced up and down the Painted Stoa, shooing away gawkers who interrupted his lectures by asking them for money, filtering out the casual listener from his more serious students. Then as now, nothing gets passersby in a covered portico marketplace moving away faster than being asked for cash. While he was undoubtedly an excellent salesman of his new philosophy (a true merchant in his Phoenician soul), what would we think today of a philosophy teacher who held his classes at a shopping mall? Educators might make a note of how Zeno dealt with distractions during his lectures when thinking of how to get students to put away their cellphones and listen.

Think of Cleanthes, the next head of the Stoic school. His approach to education might resemble what we would now call rote learning, in which very little innovation was contributed to the Stoic philosophy, but that the doctrines were preserved and entrenched in the learners’ minds. Epictetus, on the other hand, is well-known for the way he exhorts his students. In the Discourses, we see a kind but tough old man who lives by his own teacher Musonius Rufus’s methodology: that moral education is like a hospital or a gymnasium. We should leave in pain, as after a hard workout. Imagine a rough session of physical therapy, and we have an idea of what Epictetus’s lessons to his all-male Roman twenty-somethings must have been like. My own favorite, and the subject of many of my articles and books, is the Stoic Sphaerus. He was the philosophy teacher of Spartan nobles, and would later assist a young Spartan king in his social and educational reforms. Like Dewey much later, Sphaerus understood education not merely as the transmission of ideas but as the formation of citizens capable of participating in civic life.

In my own experience teaching about Stoicism in the classroom, I have found myself uniquely blessed (or fated, for you Stoic purists), but also uniquely challenged. I have taught Stoic philosophy for many years at the college level, but had to adapt my methods and content for younger students within the context of the particular educational program and culture of the school.

At Archimedean Schools, where I teach 8^th grade History, as well as Debate for various grade levels in middle and high school, the education system is rigorous. Archimedean is a public charter school network rated among the best in the nation, and whose high school is currently ranked the best in Miami-Dade County, in the top three in Florida, and forty-ninth in the nation. Inspired by the ancient Greek polymath Archimedes, the focus on math and technology is evident, where Greek language is a required class in nearly every grade level, and with extra math classes given in the Greek language in addition to the students’ regular math classes. Philosophy is just as important, as students from the fifth grade onward are required to take philosophy classes, learning everything from the Pre-Socratics to feminism throughout their school years. Suffice it to say that students leave Archimedean well-prepared for college and for beginning their lives and careers. The preparation itself, however, is up to educators like us.

Modern Stoicism’s course, “Stoic Week for Schools,” allows us educators to incorporate aspects of Stoicism for students. Teachers can follow the instructional guide and disseminate the materials for students in a way that gives them the Stoics’ tools for seeking a successful and happy life by practicing resilience, managing their emotions, strengthening their characters, and developing their social roles as friends and members of the cosmic community, as the Stoics might say. I want to add to Modern Stoicism’s pedagogical method by examining many of the positive things that I have experienced in incorporating Stoicism into the curriculum, and perhaps mention some challenges that other educators might notice and solve.

In my History class, the focus is on ancient civilizations. Since my own studies have focused on Stoicism and ancient Sparta, and since Archimedean is a Greek school, my students spend much of their focused energy on ancient Greece and Rome. In this respect, the materials provided by Modern Stoicism are incorporated not as their own class, but within the curriculum necessitated by state standards. Stoicism is discussed generally during lessons on the Hellenistic Era, when considering the philosophical movements that were proliferating as Greek culture was overlayed on local cultures of Alexander’s empire, and revisited when discussing the actions of statesmen during the Roman Era, such as Cato’s attempt to save the Republic from autocracy and the rule of Marcus Aurelius as he attempted to preserve the boundaries of the Empire. Stoic Week for Students, then, becomes part of learning about the ancient Stoics themselves, and students learn even more about Stoicism when they are required to do their many projects, including biographical presentations of eminent Greeks and Romans.

In teaching Stoicism as part of a history class, students seem to find especially interesting various anecdotes from the lives of the notable Stoics. Discussions emerge about how Musonius Rufus was able to maintain his cheerful demeanor even while performing hard labor in harsh conditions during his exile, or how Seneca had to patiently and cautiously help govern Rome and redirect the dangerous or embarrassing whims of the unhinged boy-emperor in his charge, Nero. All this is important when modeling Stoics as role models, no doubt. However, the students learn just as much, perhaps more, when we discuss the Stoics’ own regrets and shortcomings; how Seneca’s desire for power and wealth interfered with his goal to live according to his Stoic principles (and perhaps was partly responsible for the wars in Britain against Boudicca), for example. One of the most important parts for teaching Stoicism to students, in my classroom, is explicitly noting that progression into a virtuous character is a long, slow process that often involves many missteps – and many attempts to recover our moral footing.

In addition to the Stoic exercises and journaling that Stoic Week for Students encourages, the point can be emphasized that ancient people, including Stoics, suffered frustration, disappointment, and realization that they are not as close to virtue and happiness as they had suspected they were. Diogenes the Cynic had once mentioned how a certain athlete had thrown all his opponents in his victories at the Olympics but then gets himself “thrown” by a young lady who he is passionate about. As Diogenes here notes, we may feel proud of ourselves for progressing in one area of moral development but frustrated with ourselves when that mastery over ourselves fails in other areas.

The third head of the Stoic school, Chrysippus, had said that his only regret was that he was never able to reconcile with his own predecessor and elder colleague, Cleanthes. There are some things, whether we are teenagers or adults, that stick with us and that we wish could have turned out differently. Yet, when Arcesilaus, a brilliant and sharp-witted skeptic is too much for Cleanthes to argue against (the old, former boxer’s strength were in memorization and preservation of the doctrines of Zeno, not their logical defense) Chrysippus steps in to defend his colleague, saying, “Don’t bother our elders with those logical quibbles. Save that for lads like us.” Although we understand from the primary sources that Cleanthes and Chrysippus almost never agreed on anything, they were still a Stoic family. This is the philosophical equivalent of, “I can make fun of my dad, but you can’t.” In these few examples, students see problems and situations of things they face themselves – questions of frustration, resolve, and loyalty. These are challenges that students face whether they are athletes or intellectuals, popular or loners. At least, in adapting Stoic Week for a history class, these historical examples have been able to reinforce the lessons of the Stoics and may contribute positively to the exercises that build resilience and self-mastery.

There is another aspect of early Stoic history that has been especially relevant to the diverse culture of my students. Archimedean is an excellent school, but it is still a Miami charter school open to the public, with very diverse students in terms of ethnicity and socioeconomic status. Moreover, it can be said with certainty that, more so than previous generations, students can communicate or influence each other across nations and across cultures due to a common lingua franca and social media. They are already cosmopolitan in some non-philosophical sense. In discussing the early Stoic school in a history class, the students find interesting that Stoicism began as an outsider philosophy of immigrants occupying a corner of the public porch, and many of them would be considered working-class today. Zeno wasn’t even Greek. Cleanthes was a boxer who had to carry barrels of water at night to make ends meet and wrote his notes on bones and pottery shards because he was too poor to afford better material. Both would go on to be honored by kings for their excellence in their field. Stoic philosophy itself, despite its humble origins, would become the de facto ideology of elite Romans after about a hundred and fifty years. Students appreciate these underdog stories.

Of course, these anecdotes work best in a history class, or when the curriculum involves Reading and Language Arts classes. An educator trying to involve aspects of Stoic Week in Mathematics or Science classes may have less success, presumably. So, how does an educator involve Stoic Week for Students into the school day, given the constraints and requirements? Moreover, how does he compete for the students’ attention given all the other requirements and distractions in their lives? It is important to remember that, in America at least, there are only two types of people that are not allowed to leave the place they are at: prisoners and K-12 students. Even psychiatric patients can leave unless they are committed by the state. For students’ attention, material should be made relevant and interesting, or it is just one more thing that they are required to do. In terms of Stoic Week, the material isn’t even required. For them, it is just something that the teacher wants them to participate in.

When we bring up to the administration that we want to teach Stoicism in the classroom, the question becomes: “Which classroom?” If Stoic Week takes place during school hours, it must reinforce the standards set by the curriculum developed at the state level, which competes with Stoic Week objectives. Moreover, the typical teacher is already overworked, held up to sometimes-impossible standards and, frankly, has little interest in incorporating something into their material that does not reflect his or her own material, and that doesn’t obviously translate into success in the end-of-the-year exams. With already so much put on their proverbial plate, what comes off the plate when we add a serving of Stoicism?

If the Stoic teacher wants to involve other teachers into Stoic Week for Schools, it is useful to work alongside and complement the other teachers’ curricula rather than adding to their workload. Anything more than one email on the topic per week tends to become a mere annoyance and quickly forgotten, in my experience. To combat the apathy, the Stoic teacher might do a bit of research as to what standards of that curricula would be reinforced by Stoic materials, so that it becomes a reinforcement rather than a burden. It is important to remember that other teachers are not Stoics (yet). They are just not going to care about this as much as the Stoic teacher. They won’t know how to teach it and may not even care to help. That is outside of our control.

There is another way that Archimedean Schools have solved this problem: teaching the material as a club after school hours. Moreover, since these philosophy-inclined students also compete in Ethics Bowl competitions nationally, they are motivated and eager to learn moral philosophy. However, having Stoicism taught as part of an after-school club comes with pros and cons. It will ensure that students will be interested and eager to participate, since it is voluntary and they will be at exactly the place where they want to be. Also, the Stoic teacher will not have to face scheduling conflicts with other teachers and events, since it does not occur at a time that competes for student attendance. Perhaps best of all, there will be no compromise or dilution of the materials and exercises in Stoic Week, since it will not have to compete with or be forced to supplement materials for any other given curriculum standard. The teacher will be able to teach Stoic Week as it is intended to be taught.

There will be, of course, some drawbacks. It will more than likely be a smaller group of students than a regular classroom. This is because it must compete for the students’ free time, in a world full of their friends and social groups, other after-school activities, and their obligations to their families and their homework. Also, the students’ dedication and eagerness to Stoicism means that the Stoic teacher ends up, in certain respects, “preaching to the choir.” The students who might most benefit from the material about resilience, self-control, and eudaimonia may not be those that have the self-control and self-motivation to attend the Stoic Week club. Lastly, attendance will vary over time. Stoic students in middle and high school are still students in middle school and high school. If Stoic class is voluntary, then it necessarily depends on them volunteering to come. If the club lasts only the length of the week, then it may not be an issue, if the educator can reinforce the importance of showing up every day. Longer than that, and attendance may dip, as so often college classes do by mid-semester.

In the end, teaching Stoicism to students involves the same challenge faced by the Stoics themselves: applying philosophical principles within the imperfect conditions of real life. Due to the opportunities and constraints provided by the classroom environment, the teacher may need to adapt the way Stoic Week is incorporated into the classroom, and there is no way that completely satisfies the Stoic teacher, the other teachers, the administration, and perhaps even the students. We can remember that there are things in our control and things outside of it, and sharing the benefits of Stoic philosophy with our students requires, to the extent that we are able, wisdom, justice, courage, and temperance.

Call to Participate

If you are interested in speaking with other Stoic educators, please leave us a comment below! We are aiming to create a working group for educators to discuss best practices and share ideas for teaching Stoicism in schools.

About the Author

Leonidas Konstantakos, PhD, teaches history and debate at Archimedean Schools in Miami and teaches philosophy and ethics at Florida International University and Miami Dade College. His scholarly work focuses on Stoicism, ancient Sparta, and the application of classical philosophy to modern ethical and civic life. He is the author of Stoicism and Just War Theory and co-author, with Kai Whiting, of Being Better: Stoicism for a World Worth Living In. He has previously contributed several essays on Stoicism and education to the Modern Stoicism website.

Did you know that, alongside our classic version of Stoic Week, Modern Stoicism has a dedicated Stoic Week course just for teens? We developed this week-long course specifically for students, including age-appropriate lessons and examples. No registration is required. You can download the student handbook and instructor’s manual at any time.

Topics covered in Stoic Week for Schools include:

• Emotions

• Resilience

• Friendship

• Nature and community

• Identity and character

The course is designed to be taught in a classroom format. For each day of the week (Monday-Friday), there is an introductory lesson, discussion questions, and supplemental materials with additional resources and reading. This is a great opportunity for teachers, parents, or youth mentors to discuss vital life lessons with their students—lessons that often are not covered in school curriculum.

The Stoic Week for Schools materials also lend themselves to being adapted for your particular needs. Depending on the specific context and the age(s) of the children you are teaching, you can either simplify the lessons or make them more in-depth by incorporating philosophical readings from ancient Stoic texts. Either way, the provided student handbook and instructor’s manual offer an excellent starting point for exploring Stoic principles with teens.

English:

Student Handbook

Instructor's Guide

Spanish:

Student Handbook (Spanish)

Instructor's Guide (Spanish)