Early Education of a Prince

As I prepared myself - quill in hand and books spread out before me - I activated my "inner Wikipedia" to search through my mental archives. I was hunting for devices—simple innovations, really—that could help streamline my studies or impress my tutor. Ideas of compasses, abacuses, or even crude magnifying lenses swirled in my mind.

Moments later, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the marble halls. My tutor, a man in his fifties with a scholarly air and a perpetual hint of ink stains on his fingertips, entered the study.

"Sa'id Hoja, you're late again!" I exclaimed, feigning irritation but smiling all the same.

"Oh, young prince," Sa'id replied with a slight bow, brushing off his kaftan. "It seems you're early once again. I was delayed by a particularly stubborn janissary who insisted I resolve a matter of ledgers before coming here."

I chuckled at his excuse but quickly regained my composure. "Hoja, what will we be learning today? I hope something less tedious than yesterday's legal text on endowments."

Sa'id grinned knowingly, setting down his bag of scrolls. "Patience, Your Highness. Today we shall delve into geometry. If you wish to craft a legacy like the great builders of Sinan's time, you must first understand how to measure the world."

As the session began, I found myself sketching circles and lines under his guidance, the quill scratching softly against parchment. My mind wandered, though—not because I was uninterested, but because I couldn't help thinking of how such knowledge could be used for innovations beyond palaces and mosques. Steam-powered machines, more efficient irrigation systems, or even tools to improve military logistics...

"Prince Selim?" Sa'id's voice broke through my thoughts.

"Yes, Hoja?" I quickly replied, realizing I had paused mid-sketch.

"You seem distracted. A good mind wanders, but a great one knows when to return. Focus."

I smiled sheepishly and bent over my parchment. But even as I obeyed, I made a mental note: One day, this knowledge will shape more than paper and ink. It will shape an empire.

Moments later, Sa'id Hoja leaned back in his chair, observing my completed work with a pleased expression.

"Well done, my prince. Your grasp of geometry never fails to amaze me," he said, his tone equal parts admiration and curiosity.

"Alhamdulillah, Hoja. It is thanks to your guidance and patience," I replied, bowing my head slightly in respect.

Sa'id's eyes narrowed playfully as he gestured to my parchment. "But there's something peculiar about your approach. The way you solve these problems is... different—more efficient, and surprisingly intuitive. Tell me, how do you come up with such methods?"

I smiled, choosing my words carefully. "I suppose it's because I have an excellent teacher, one who inspires me to think beyond the ordinary."

He chuckled, stroking his beard. "Flattery will get you far, my prince, but don't think I'm so easily fooled."

Sa'id Hoja had been my tutor since my father assigned him to oversee my education. At first, his lessons focused on the basics—reading, writing, arithmetic—but it quickly became clear to him that I was no ordinary student. Within weeks, he shifted our focus to more advanced topics like geometry, history, and even the basics of English, a language he himself was still mastering.

Little did he know, my "remarkable talent" came from the future knowledge I carried in my soul. With these memories, understanding his teachings was not just easy—it felt like revisiting a familiar melody. But to maintain appearances, I let him believe it was his brilliance as a teacher that accelerated my progress.

To this day, I suspect he half-believes I was sent by Allah as a prodigy to restore the empire's glory. I wouldn't dream of correcting him.

Over the next two years, Sa'id Hoja expanded the breadth of his lessons to include the complexities of Ottoman politics and its intricate relations with neighboring powers. Alongside these political studies, he introduced the young prince to the fundamentals of economics, nurturing a broader understanding of governance, trade, and the empire's potential for growth.

One afternoon, during a lesson on the empire's economic foundations, Selim tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Hoja, don't you think our empire is falling behind in economic power?"

Sa'id Hoja raised an eyebrow, impressed by the question.

"An astute observation, young prince. Indeed, for centuries, the Ottoman Empire has thrived on its unparalleled strategic position. Our lands form the crossroads between East and West, controlling vital trade routes that have funneled wealth from the Silk Road, the spice trade, and countless pilgrimages. Our territories remain vast and abundant with resources: fertile lands, industrious people, and crucial trade hubs like Istanbul, Aleppo, and Alexandria."

Selim nodded but frowned slightly. "Even so, it feels like we're not using our potential wisely, Hoja. The corruption and internal conflicts we face—aren't they holding us back?"

Sa'id Hoja leaned forward, his expression turning serious.

"You are correct, my prince. While we are blessed with resources and opportunities, our administration has faltered. Corruption in the tax system and inefficiencies in governance siphon wealth away from where it is most needed. Furthermore, internal strife—whether between rival factions or local governors—has weakened the unity required to build a prosperous economy. These issues, left unchecked, threaten to undermine the foundations of our empire."

The young prince's gaze grew resolute. "Then we must find a way to fix it, mustn't we?"

Sa'id Hoja smiled faintly, seeing the determination in Selim's eyes.

"Yes, my prince. But that will require bold vision and great wisdom. With time, I believe you will come to see how such challenges can be overcome—through reform, innovation, and perhaps a touch of courage."

As the lesson continued, Selim paused for a moment and looked up at his tutor.

"Hoja, I have a question. How does the education system in our empire work?"

Sa'id Hoja tilted his head thoughtfully, considering how best to explain. "Ah, an excellent question, my prince. Let's see. You are likely familiar with the Tıbbiye schools, which focus on the medicinal field, training physicians and healers. Then there is the Enderun, our prestigious palace school, where select individuals—often from noble or promising families—are trained in administration, governance, and the arts of war. And, of course, we have the madrasas, which are the cornerstone of education in our empire. They primarily teach Islamic theology, law, philosophy, and some sciences. However, their curriculum is largely traditional, rooted in centuries-old teachings."

Selim frowned slightly as he absorbed this information. It became clear to him that the system was deeply stratified. Education was a privilege reserved for the elite, while the common people had little access to learning. Without widespread education, how could the empire hope to advance in science, technology, or governance?

"Hoja," Selim began earnestly, "don't you think our people deserve proper education as well? If we don't prioritize learning for everyone, the empire's literacy will remain low, and we'll struggle to innovate or compete with other nations."

Sa'id Hoja studied the young prince with a warm smile, impressed by his foresight. "You speak with wisdom far beyond your years, my prince. Education is indeed the foundation of a strong empire. I believe you'll do great things in this regard when you ascend to the throne." He winked and added playfully, "Perhaps I'll be the first to enroll in the schools you'll create."

Selim smiled back, but his mind was already racing, imagining a future where schools were open to all and the empire flourished with knowledge. He knew that he need to mobilize his people with knowledge if they want to move forward.