Socrates’ crime was simple. He had corrupted the youth of Athens. He filled their heads with dangerous ideas. He turned them against their parents, or so the authorities claimed.
But why had these young men been so drawn to Socrates in the first place?
In the beautiful historical novel The Last of the Wine, author Mary Renault has Alexis explain what he loved about Socrates, whom he met during his music lessons. “I was at an age when children are full of questions,” he says, “at home my father had seldom time to answer them, the Rhodian (his tutor) would not and the slaves could not. I brought them all to my neighbour at the music-class (Socrates), and he never failed to give me answers that made sense, so that some of the other boys, who had mocked our friendship, began craning to listen. Sometimes, when I asked what makes the sun warm, or why the stars do not fall down on the earth, he would say he did not know, and that no one knew except the gods. But if anything frightened one, he had always a good reason not to be afraid.”
Today, we think of Socrates as the man who knew what he did not know, as the asker of questions. This is true, but obviously his ignorance was not why students flocked to him. No, they loved him because he encouraged their curiosity and helped provide them the tools to answer their own questions. He didn’t treat them like children, nor did he lord over them—as parents often do—with appeals to authority or “Because I said so.” If he didn’t know something, he didn’t pretend that he did.
Like Socrates, we must strive to be that safe harbor for our children’s endless questions and curiosity. Just as he welcomed young minds and gave them space to wonder, we too should create an environment where our kids feel comfortable bringing their deepest questions and uncertainties. When we don’t know something, we can show them that not knowing is okay—it’s an opportunity to learn together. By working alongside them to find answers, by showing them how to research and think things through, we teach them something far more valuable than any single fact: we teach them that they have the power to figure anything out—as long as they’re willing to ask questions and put in the effort.
