Some children struggle with written maths yet never get the change wrong at the bazaar. Some teenagers bring home average marks but can mend a bicycle, calm a quarrel or read a football match like a coach. Psychologists call this practical intelligence — and, as it turns out, the ancient Greeks had a special word for it.
Sternberg: intelligence for real life
In his book “Beyond IQ” (1985), the American psychologist Robert Sternberg proposed a triarchic, or three-part, theory of intelligence. Analytical ability is what tests and schools mostly measure: analysing, comparing, judging. Creative ability helps us cope with new situations and invent. Practical ability lets us apply what we know in everyday life. For Sternberg, intelligence shows in adapting to our environment, shaping it and, when necessary, choosing a different one.
Much of practical intelligence rests on tacit knowledge, which is rarely taught openly and is learned mostly from experience: how to calm an upset customer or when to ask for help.
Carraher, Carraher and Schliemann (1985) observed Brazilian children who sold goods in the street. In the market they worked out prices and change quickly and correctly, yet similar sums given as written school exercises went much worse. Knowledge is tied to its setting: both the street and the school teach mathematics, and the best learning connects the two.
Mētis: the intelligence of the right moment
In 1974 the French scholars Marcel Detienne and Jean-Pierre Vernant devoted a book to mētis, the Greek word for a practical, resourceful intelligence that shows itself in action rather than in books. Their starting point is a scene from Homer's “Iliad”: a chariot race. Young Antilochus had slower horses than his rivals. His father Nestor reminded him that the woodcutter, the helmsman and the charioteer succeed through skill rather than strength. During the race Antilochus noticed a narrow stretch where rainwater had damaged the track, foresaw his chance and, at exactly the right moment, overtook Menelaus. His rival protested that the move was unfair, and the young man apologised. So the Greeks themselves argued about where cleverness ends.
The authors identify the qualities of mētis:
- vigilance — staying alert;
- foresight — seeing a few steps ahead;
- flexibility — changing the plan when the situation changes;
- quickness — acting fast, but not rashly;
- a sense of timing — the Greeks called the right moment kairos;
- experience — experienced elders see past and future together.
The fox, the octopus and the fields of mētis
The Greeks pictured mētis through animals. The fox slips out of the snare and, with a sudden turn, makes the hunter the hunted. The octopus blends into its rock, takes on its colour and holds fast. Greek authors contrasted it with the chameleon: the octopus, they said, changes from self-control, the chameleon from fear. This is symbolism, not biology, but the lesson is useful: flexibility that comes from a calm mind is different from changing out of fear. The human model of mētis is Odysseus, the hero who finds a way out of every difficulty.
Mētis was needed wherever situations changed quickly: in navigation, where the helmsman reads wind and stars; in crafts; in medicine, where the doctor compares the present case with past ones and chooses the right moment to act; in statecraft, where Themistocles was admired for his foresight; and in sport.
The Arabic translator of the book chose the word ḥiyal for its title — the same word that names the Banu Musa brothers' Book of Ingenious Devices (Baghdad, 9th century). In everyday speech “ḥila” often sounds negative, but here it means inventiveness and resourcefulness.
Cleverness and wisdom
Why did this intelligence lose its prestige? Plato ranked exact knowledge — counting, measuring, weighing — above guesswork and placed medicine, navigation and generalship lower. Greek philosophy set fixed being apart from the changing world, and mētis belongs entirely to that changing world. Aristotle partly rescued it: his practical wisdom (phronēsis) deals with changing situations and with what is probable. But he drew a clear line between practical wisdom and mere cleverness, which can slide into trickery.
That line matters for children too. Mētis is about planning, foresight and timing, not about cheating. Cleverness asks, “Will it work?” Wisdom also asks, “Is it fair?” Antilochus's apology shows that the Greeks knew the difference well.
In practice: how practical intelligence grows
- Experience: give real responsibilities — shopping with a set amount of money, cooking a dish, planning a trip, a small repair.
- Mentors: tacit knowledge passes from person to person, so let your child work beside a skilled relative, a craftsman or a coach.
- Making and then using: Odysseus built his boat and then steered it. Build a birdhouse and watch the birds; sew a bag and use it.
- Reviewing what happened: after a game or a task, ask: “What did you notice? What did you foresee? What would you do differently next time?”
- Chess, backgammon and sport: they teach waiting for the right moment instead of rushing.
- Linking school to life: teachers can bring real situations into lessons.
If your child's grades are modest, look closely: practical intelligence is real and deserves respect. Use it as a road towards school learning, not as an excuse to give up on it.