The theme for the next set of posts is “Critical Thinking.” As a classroom teacher, I discovered that most teenagers (at least in Australia) are not talked critical thinking, in other words, they have no mental tools to test the truth of ideas.

I looked online to see if anyone else had succinctly explained “How to Test Ideas,” but I had no success. I found a list of Logical Fallacies, but these don’t explain how to think, merely how to not think.

Consequently, I put together a series of half a dozen skills to teach critical thinking. Here is the introduction to set the scene…

The Bell and the Hammer

“I want something nice for Mothers Day,” my wife said, removing all doubt. “I want a lovely ship’s bell fixed to the kitchen wall. I’ll ring it for meal times and it will become a family tradition.”

So I went to the homemaker center and found one. “How much for this little beauty?”.

The shop assistant pulled the rope and the bell chimed sweetly. “This one is $280 dollars.” My eyeballs nearly popped out.

I stepped further down the aisle. There was another bell, about the same size but a different design and color. I gave it a tap and it rang out with a similar sound. “How about this one?”

“That’s $65 dollars.”

“Why so cheap?” I asked, reaching for my wallet.

He muted the sound with his fingers. “This bell is not brass. It’s ceramic. It still makes a good sound, but you have to be gentle with it. You don’t want it to shatter.”

My hand hovered above my hip pocket like a gunslinger’s at high noon. Then I realised that regardless of which bell I chose, my wife would never know about the other one. So I made my decision and paid up.

My wife loved the bell, and I had it mounted by supper time.

Our son’s third birthday was coming up, and I felt I was getting good at this present-buying thing, so I volunteered for the job.

On his birthday morning, my son had two presents to unwrap. He tore the paper from the first. “A block of wood,” I announced with pride. He opened the second. A hammer. A genuine, full-sized adult hammer.  “I want my kids to have tools, not toys,” I intoned sagely. “He can practice hitting the timber block.”

When I returned home from work that afternoon, there were dent marks in the block of wood, but there were also dents all over the furniture. “He’s been wanting to hit everything,” my exhausted wife said. “The floor, the walls, the doors…”  I didn’t know whether to be upset or proud.

“Why didn’t you just buy him toys?” My wife asked.

“Because I want him to have skills and not be an idiot,” I said.

The matter came to a head a few days later when I was writing in my study. I heard a scraping across the kitchen floor and then a long, suspicious silence. I went out to the kitchen.

Our three year old son stood atop a stool, hammer poised above his head. The ship’s bell glinted in the afternoon sun.

“Stop!” I yelled, my hands outstretched, but it was too late.

The hammer curved through the air.

I was about to be found out. Was the bell brass or glass? Would it ring true, or shatter? Was I a worthy husband or cheap?

Testing Ideas

I’m writing about hitting a bell with a hammer, because I want to make a point about testing beliefs, testing ideas.

Beliefs can generally be expressed as statements, such as “The world is a globe,” or “All belief systems have equal value,” or “Humans and grass evolved from a common ancestor,” or “Jesus came back to life.”  Beliefs are just ideas. But not all ideas are true. Many are false. How do you know the difference?

Like the bells in the homemaker centre, a true belief (which says something accurate about the world) and a false belief (which is inaccurate or erroneous) can sit side-by-side with no apparent difference. Both look good. Both sound good. But base your life on false beliefs at your peril! (“Belladonna is a wonderful pizza topper”)

Next Post

Critical Thinking Is Not An Advanced Skill

Some Other Interesting Links

Holding On, the first few chapters of my teen novel that will be published through Elephant Page in the second half of 2025.

The Hosea series – an eight part exploration of the most powerful love story I have ever heard, with some great relationship advice.