There are different philosophies of education. There is the Classical education which follows the Medieval model of Greek, Latin and Logic all the way to the Progressive education whose motto would probably be, "Question Authority." Of course, these are on a continuum with different emphases on tradition versus child-led curricula. But, if we are going to make decisions on how to teach our children, how do we know which is best?
Our family is pretty traditional: lots of classic books (not Greek, though!), math, writing, and social and physical sciences once the kids reach junior high. The question for any parent is, how traditional do you want to be?
I'm going to argue unashamedly for my method.
We recently went to the Museum of Science and Industry of Chicago, a one-of-a-kind museum.
"Our mission is to inspire the inventive genius in everyone. Our
vision is to inspire and motivate our children to achieve their full
potential in the fields of science, technology, medicine and
engineering."
https://www.guidestar.org/profile/36-2167797
They have a wonderful exhibit called "Fast Forward: Inventing the Future." It is filled with the biographies of inventors. While many of them were inspired as children, they all learned the rules, the traditions, the foundations of their fields before they began to plan how to do what no man had ever done before.
As a musician, I studied the progression of music theory, the rules of melody and harmony, through history. In every case, music changed because of composers, such as Wagner, who learned the rules of harmony and decided to change them.
Lawyers who find loopholes have become proverbial. But, the best lawyers find the loopholes because they REALLY know the laws.
C. S. Lewis, the author of The Chronicles of Narnia, was ridiculously well-read. J.R.R. was a translator of Old English sagas and epic Germanic and Norse poetry before he published The Hobbit. They wrote out of huge foundations.
What happens if you educate your children that the best ideas start with them? That their first impulse should be to question authority? That they should break down or dismiss what has gone before simply because it has gone before? I would propose that such children will not grow up to be Wagner, but Vikings. The Vikings were illiterate. One hundred years after the Dark Ages had overtaken Europe, Irish monasteries had been maintaining literacy throughout their country. The Vikings, seeking plunder, attacked monasteries and found books covered with jewels. Not having books themselves, they tore the covers off and threw away the written word, causing Ireland to shortly thereafter follow the rest of Europe into the Dark Ages. They didn't understand the foundation of the treasures they looted and the result was anarchy.
My mother has told me since I was a small child, "There's no such thing as a stupid question." I agree. I learn a lot from the questions my children ask. They learn to think. But, the answers come from the foundation that we are giving them. They can break the rules later!
Saturday, May 18, 2019
Monday, January 28, 2019
3 Ways to Get It All Done
What must get done, will get done. We know that. Kids get fed, husbands get clean socks, the mortgage gets paid because these things must be done. But, when you've had a crazy day, have not sat down till after lunch, have been beset from all sides, put out fires, making sure those necessary things get done and your husband comes home and asks, "So, what did you do today?" and you feel the only answer is, "Nothing" -- something's got to change.
If the things that must be done do get done and you still don't feel productive, then you need to make a point of doing the things that don't need to get done -- the Important things.
Stephen Covey took one of his 7 Habits of Highly Successful People and expounded on it in the book, First Things First. He divides our tasks into categories based on Urgency and Importance. Most of our lives are caught up in things that are Urgent with varying degrees of Importance and taking forays into Non-urgent, Unimportant activities like surfing the Internet or polishing the silver in August when there are no weddings or holidays to prepare for. Your most productive time, though, will be spent in activities that are Non-Urgent, but are Important -- things that improve relationships, refresh and strengthen you or develop your roles.
The first things everyone needs to do Covey calls "Sharpening the Saw." These are your Physical, Spiritual, Mental, and Social areas of your life that need refreshment, to strengthen you and fill up your gas tank. An example of a weekly list of these for me would be:
Physical -- Exercise 5 4 3 2 1 times. [I cross out a number each time I do it]
Spiritual -- Finish week 1 of Armor of God study
Mental -- Read "Sherlock Holmes"
Social -- Call Jen Tuesday
The next step is to identify your roles. For me, this is Wife, Mother, Christian, and Writer. I used to divide my roles into more categories, but I realized that all my roles at church fit into Christian and I didn't have to work on all of those roles every week: I'd just get overwhelmed. So, here is an example of my Roles list:
Wife -- Talk to Steve about that thing. [You don't need to know what it was]
Mother -- Exercise with Anna 5 4 3 2 1 times [notice how I doubled this up with my personal exercise time?]
Christian: Meeting with Becki about Cowboy Camp in 6 months
Writer: Write blog on First Things First
When I use this weekly guide as my to-do list, the Urgent things get done -- because they have to, right? -- but, sometimes in a more timely fashion than they would otherwise, and I get the Important things done, that wouldn't get done if I hadn't written them down. And, I feel satisfied that I have been productive.
So, 1) Identify your roles, 2) write a to-do list every week of Important, Non-Urgent things that improve your relationships or what Covey calls your "Production Capacity" and 3) do them! But, don't sweat it if something doesn't get done. You already got more done than you did last week!
If the things that must be done do get done and you still don't feel productive, then you need to make a point of doing the things that don't need to get done -- the Important things.
Stephen Covey took one of his 7 Habits of Highly Successful People and expounded on it in the book, First Things First. He divides our tasks into categories based on Urgency and Importance. Most of our lives are caught up in things that are Urgent with varying degrees of Importance and taking forays into Non-urgent, Unimportant activities like surfing the Internet or polishing the silver in August when there are no weddings or holidays to prepare for. Your most productive time, though, will be spent in activities that are Non-Urgent, but are Important -- things that improve relationships, refresh and strengthen you or develop your roles.
The first things everyone needs to do Covey calls "Sharpening the Saw." These are your Physical, Spiritual, Mental, and Social areas of your life that need refreshment, to strengthen you and fill up your gas tank. An example of a weekly list of these for me would be:
Physical -- Exercise 5 4 3 2 1 times. [I cross out a number each time I do it]
Spiritual -- Finish week 1 of Armor of God study
Mental -- Read "Sherlock Holmes"
Social -- Call Jen Tuesday
The next step is to identify your roles. For me, this is Wife, Mother, Christian, and Writer. I used to divide my roles into more categories, but I realized that all my roles at church fit into Christian and I didn't have to work on all of those roles every week: I'd just get overwhelmed. So, here is an example of my Roles list:
Wife -- Talk to Steve about that thing. [You don't need to know what it was]
Mother -- Exercise with Anna 5 4 3 2 1 times [notice how I doubled this up with my personal exercise time?]
Christian: Meeting with Becki about Cowboy Camp in 6 months
Writer: Write blog on First Things First
When I use this weekly guide as my to-do list, the Urgent things get done -- because they have to, right? -- but, sometimes in a more timely fashion than they would otherwise, and I get the Important things done, that wouldn't get done if I hadn't written them down. And, I feel satisfied that I have been productive.
So, 1) Identify your roles, 2) write a to-do list every week of Important, Non-Urgent things that improve your relationships or what Covey calls your "Production Capacity" and 3) do them! But, don't sweat it if something doesn't get done. You already got more done than you did last week!
Wednesday, January 16, 2019
Climb YOUR Mount Everest
"Do Hard Things." The title of a book by the Harris Twins. The principle behind it: if you do something just a little harder than you think you can, you will become a greater person. So said Tony Dungy, the winning Super Bowl coach, in his book, "Uncommon."
So I did.
I had hiked every trail at the second largest state park in our state, which happens to be pretty close to us. But, it had one trail I hadn't hiked before and, at the age of 53, I figured I wasn't getting any younger; I'd better get to it. It was the 15.3 mile horse trail that circled the park. I would be able to say I had hiked every trail at Governor Dodge State Park.
Now, I'm an experienced hiker. I knew that the important thing was to pick the right time. So, I did: mid-October. I put on my broken-in hiking shoes and my tried-and-true hand-knit alpaca socks, wore layers, packed my day pack with four bottles of water, two big chocolate bars, a summer sausage (carbs, fats, and protein), a knife, a map, a phone for emergencies and timing my hikes and rests, a roll of toilet paper for trailside stops, picked up my trekking poles and my dear husband dropped me off at the ranger station at 7:45 on Saturday morning. I took off.
I was afraid.
I thought I knew what I was in for. And, I was afraid. But, not as much as I should have been.
The first eight and a half miles were beautiful, cold and tough. I only saw three people the whole time. I practiced a talk through twice. I walked across an earthen dam I didn't know existed. By the time my half hour lunch break at the group campground came around, though, I was already broken. My legs and my arms were shaking as I descended the steep hill into the valley, panting in relief to see bright blue tents, my first sight of humanity. My toes were burning and I limped to the outhouse, wishing it were closer to the path. The sign saying, "No admittance except on party business" in Tolkein-esque calligraphy at a campsite was a piece of welcome comic relief.
I laid down on the grass next to a water pump after loosening my shoes and eating my lunch and looking at my map (again!). I so hoped to be able to nap. I never did. I could hear people practically tiptoeing past me. But, the tension of having to go on kept me from sleeping. And -- there was my alarm.
I gathered my belongings and tightened my belt (to my daypack), picked up my trekking poles and started in on the last six to seven miles. But, I was broken, and I knew it. I could not imagine how I was going to finish 15.3 miles. (That .3 is very important!) But, an odd thing happened.
I wasn't afraid.
I knew I couldn't do it. But, I wasn't afraid.
I thought I would be able to boast about hiking every trail at Governor Dodge State Park? Hah! What was that hymn? "And can it be that I should boast, save in the blood of Christ my king?" I wandered through my memory and found all the words. To the first verse. After a half an hour, it was driving me crazy. Time for a palate cleanser. I sang through the Hallelujah! Chorus.
This was my Mount Everest. This hike. What did Bear Grylls say? The top of Mount Everest is in the Death Zone: just existing up there kills you, sucks the life out of you. "I'm dead." Step. "I'm dead." Step. "I'm dead." Step. "I'm dead."
If I'm dead, nothing worse can happen to me.
I can't do this without you, God. "Help me, Obi-wan Kenobi: you're my only hope."
I started thanking God for the tiniest things.
"Thank you for the port-a-potty."
"Thank you for the bench at the top of the hill that I had to stop twice on the way up."
"Thank you for the mounting block to sit on so I didn't have to heave myself back up off the ground."
"Thank you for the beautiful sun filtering through the golden leaves. The -- Golden Wood. What is its name? What is its name? All I can remember is, 'The Lady of the Golden Wood.' Lothlorien! That's it. It looks like Lothlorien."
"Thank you for the smart horses who made this path. They are smarter than I am right now. I will follow in their footsteps."
Every time I stopped for a break, I called Steve. "Are you sure you can make it?" he asked at one point.
"I have to."
I didn't have to. Unlike Bear Grylls on Mt. Everest, which is too high for a helicopter to function, my trail ran right along the park road; Steve could have come and picked me up. But, I wouldn't have climbed my Mt. Everest.
I thought I was broken at mile 9. I didn't know from broken. I prayed constantly for 7 miles. By mile 14.5, I couldn't even see as I hiked into the sunset. My arms were so exhausted from swinging my poles and pulling me up and supporting me down hills that, when I got to the flat, I couldn't even carry them; they hung from my wrists and dragged on the ground.
"Thank you for the ranger station." "Thank you for the water on my hands in the bathroom." "Thank you for the bench outside." "Thank you that Steve picked me up only five minutes after I sat down."
Then, all is blank. Until I went to bed. I was physically exhausted, mentally exhausted, spiritually exhausted and in pain.
I wept.
I got my 45 year old stuffed rabbit, Joana, off her shelf where she watches over me and hugged her for the first time in more than fifteen years. She comforted me the way she did when I was 10 and when I was 15 and when I was 20. I cried and cried out to the Lord and admitted to Him that there was nothing left of me. I died on that trail.
After you have died, there is nothing to be afraid of.
I am not afraid to ask people to help out at church. I am not afraid to send out a manuscript to publishers. I am not afraid to talk to my husband about uncomfortable subjects. I am not afraid to ask questions of small children.
You can do a hard thing. You can be like my friend who is raising her three kids while her husband is in Afghanistan for a year. You can be like my daughter who is starting a business with a lot of knowledge, but few resources. You can be like my son who worked two part-time jobs and studied for the CPA exam, having to re-take two parts of it. You can be like another friend who does not like to go into unfamiliar territory but who is going on a mission trip to Haiti. These are all Mt. Everests.
Mt. Everest doesn't just affect you in the moment and until you get your strength back; the effects are lasting.
My bruised toenails are just now falling off to reveal smooth, clean nails underneath.
Years of slouching to the right shortened my right back muscle and ligaments; walking perfectly balanced for 15.3 miles stretched them out. When the pain went away weeks later, I found I could sleep on my right side for the first time in more than a decade.
At one point, I stopped for a break and didn't even take off my pack. I laid back on it with my arms lifeless by my sides and looked up at the sky and cried. And, I felt a tremendous peace. I was not alone. Coming to the end of myself, actually seeing the end and knowing I was incapable of doing any more -- and then doing it because I wasn't doing it alone -- has made me braver. I will never wonder again if I can do it. I have. And, if I could climb my Mt. Everest with God's help, there is nothing He can't help me do.
So I did.
I had hiked every trail at the second largest state park in our state, which happens to be pretty close to us. But, it had one trail I hadn't hiked before and, at the age of 53, I figured I wasn't getting any younger; I'd better get to it. It was the 15.3 mile horse trail that circled the park. I would be able to say I had hiked every trail at Governor Dodge State Park.
Now, I'm an experienced hiker. I knew that the important thing was to pick the right time. So, I did: mid-October. I put on my broken-in hiking shoes and my tried-and-true hand-knit alpaca socks, wore layers, packed my day pack with four bottles of water, two big chocolate bars, a summer sausage (carbs, fats, and protein), a knife, a map, a phone for emergencies and timing my hikes and rests, a roll of toilet paper for trailside stops, picked up my trekking poles and my dear husband dropped me off at the ranger station at 7:45 on Saturday morning. I took off.
I was afraid.
I thought I knew what I was in for. And, I was afraid. But, not as much as I should have been.
The first eight and a half miles were beautiful, cold and tough. I only saw three people the whole time. I practiced a talk through twice. I walked across an earthen dam I didn't know existed. By the time my half hour lunch break at the group campground came around, though, I was already broken. My legs and my arms were shaking as I descended the steep hill into the valley, panting in relief to see bright blue tents, my first sight of humanity. My toes were burning and I limped to the outhouse, wishing it were closer to the path. The sign saying, "No admittance except on party business" in Tolkein-esque calligraphy at a campsite was a piece of welcome comic relief.
I laid down on the grass next to a water pump after loosening my shoes and eating my lunch and looking at my map (again!). I so hoped to be able to nap. I never did. I could hear people practically tiptoeing past me. But, the tension of having to go on kept me from sleeping. And -- there was my alarm.
I gathered my belongings and tightened my belt (to my daypack), picked up my trekking poles and started in on the last six to seven miles. But, I was broken, and I knew it. I could not imagine how I was going to finish 15.3 miles. (That .3 is very important!) But, an odd thing happened.
I wasn't afraid.
I knew I couldn't do it. But, I wasn't afraid.
I thought I would be able to boast about hiking every trail at Governor Dodge State Park? Hah! What was that hymn? "And can it be that I should boast, save in the blood of Christ my king?" I wandered through my memory and found all the words. To the first verse. After a half an hour, it was driving me crazy. Time for a palate cleanser. I sang through the Hallelujah! Chorus.
This was my Mount Everest. This hike. What did Bear Grylls say? The top of Mount Everest is in the Death Zone: just existing up there kills you, sucks the life out of you. "I'm dead." Step. "I'm dead." Step. "I'm dead." Step. "I'm dead."
If I'm dead, nothing worse can happen to me.
I can't do this without you, God. "Help me, Obi-wan Kenobi: you're my only hope."
I started thanking God for the tiniest things.
"Thank you for the port-a-potty."
"Thank you for the bench at the top of the hill that I had to stop twice on the way up."
"Thank you for the mounting block to sit on so I didn't have to heave myself back up off the ground."
"Thank you for the beautiful sun filtering through the golden leaves. The -- Golden Wood. What is its name? What is its name? All I can remember is, 'The Lady of the Golden Wood.' Lothlorien! That's it. It looks like Lothlorien."
"Thank you for the smart horses who made this path. They are smarter than I am right now. I will follow in their footsteps."
Every time I stopped for a break, I called Steve. "Are you sure you can make it?" he asked at one point.
"I have to."
I didn't have to. Unlike Bear Grylls on Mt. Everest, which is too high for a helicopter to function, my trail ran right along the park road; Steve could have come and picked me up. But, I wouldn't have climbed my Mt. Everest.
I thought I was broken at mile 9. I didn't know from broken. I prayed constantly for 7 miles. By mile 14.5, I couldn't even see as I hiked into the sunset. My arms were so exhausted from swinging my poles and pulling me up and supporting me down hills that, when I got to the flat, I couldn't even carry them; they hung from my wrists and dragged on the ground.
"Thank you for the ranger station." "Thank you for the water on my hands in the bathroom." "Thank you for the bench outside." "Thank you that Steve picked me up only five minutes after I sat down."
Then, all is blank. Until I went to bed. I was physically exhausted, mentally exhausted, spiritually exhausted and in pain.
I wept.
I got my 45 year old stuffed rabbit, Joana, off her shelf where she watches over me and hugged her for the first time in more than fifteen years. She comforted me the way she did when I was 10 and when I was 15 and when I was 20. I cried and cried out to the Lord and admitted to Him that there was nothing left of me. I died on that trail.
After you have died, there is nothing to be afraid of.
I am not afraid to ask people to help out at church. I am not afraid to send out a manuscript to publishers. I am not afraid to talk to my husband about uncomfortable subjects. I am not afraid to ask questions of small children.
You can do a hard thing. You can be like my friend who is raising her three kids while her husband is in Afghanistan for a year. You can be like my daughter who is starting a business with a lot of knowledge, but few resources. You can be like my son who worked two part-time jobs and studied for the CPA exam, having to re-take two parts of it. You can be like another friend who does not like to go into unfamiliar territory but who is going on a mission trip to Haiti. These are all Mt. Everests.
Mt. Everest doesn't just affect you in the moment and until you get your strength back; the effects are lasting.
My bruised toenails are just now falling off to reveal smooth, clean nails underneath.
Years of slouching to the right shortened my right back muscle and ligaments; walking perfectly balanced for 15.3 miles stretched them out. When the pain went away weeks later, I found I could sleep on my right side for the first time in more than a decade.
At one point, I stopped for a break and didn't even take off my pack. I laid back on it with my arms lifeless by my sides and looked up at the sky and cried. And, I felt a tremendous peace. I was not alone. Coming to the end of myself, actually seeing the end and knowing I was incapable of doing any more -- and then doing it because I wasn't doing it alone -- has made me braver. I will never wonder again if I can do it. I have. And, if I could climb my Mt. Everest with God's help, there is nothing He can't help me do.
Monday, January 14, 2019
"Train Up a Child -- According to His Bent"
"Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it."
Does this verse mean that we make our children do what we know is best for them? Or, that we try to shape them in the way that is right according to what we have discerned from the Bible so that they will never drift away from what we have taught them?
Actually, neither.
The expression "the way he should go" is a viniculture term -- grape-raising -- and it literally means "according to its bent" -- according to its inclination or the way it wants to go.
When we bought our 130 year old house, there were 75 year old grape vines in the backyard. They were growing on a split rail fence in the backyard and I felt such a responsibility for them. We can compare childrearing to grape-raising in a lot of ways. We could discuss weeding, pruning, fertilizing, and any number of other issues. But, we are going to discuss "according to his bent" -- support.
Grapes need support. Without support, the vines will grow along the ground and the fruit will rot. So it is with our children: if we don't support them, their fruit will be poor to non-existent. My grapevines need their fence. But, if I try to force them in a direction that those curly vines don't want to go, I will either restrict the flow of sap by twisting the vines or actually break the vine, allowing disease to enter and cutting off sap flow, once again, damaging the fruit production. In the same way, if I try to force my brainiac kid to play football, I might damage him both physically and emotionally.
What does that support look like?
Well, with 10 kids, we have had kids go in all kinds of directions that I never would have expected or even felt comfortable with. Take my second son, Mick. I got him going in band when he was eleven and he ended up being one of the premier tuba players in the state, playing principal tuba in the Wisconsin Youth Symphony Orchestra. For three years, we shlepped him an hour one way to Madison every week for Saturday morning rehearsals. Now, I was a musician, so I was all over that; this was my world. But, around the same time, he wanted to hunt. And, Steve and I, coming from urban Chicago, were not in a position to support him in that desire. But, we did, in two ways. His uncle came to hunt on our property and we gave him permission to take him out and to lend him a bow. When Uncle Bill went home, we let him get up before dawn and go out into the woods for months (have you any idea how long bow season is?) And, we listened to him talk endlessly about hunting and weapons and Steve went out into the woods and helped him load up his first deer and take it to get tagged and processed. I later became his processor and we paid for his tags in exchange for keeping the meat. Meanwhile, in the woods, Mick discovered God as he prayed to overcome his fear of the dark and read his waterproof Bible for hours on end. His love of weapons took him to the Internet where he discussed 2nd Amendment rights and, more to the point, the responsibilities of citizenship. Mick decided to pursue engineering instead of music, but his life choices -- where to live, what kind of job to get -- have been informed by his love of hunting. So, now, he lives in a small city close to the country where he works at a metal shop that is run by a great Christian family and is taking responsibility in every area of his life, including leading his wife, getting out of debt, and being involved in church. These things all came out of the time he spent hunting. Would I have been proud to have him exceed my accomplishments as a jobbing musician and music teacher? Sure. But, we supported him in the way he was inclined to go -- according to his bent -- and I am, instead, proud of the man he has become.
Does this verse mean that we make our children do what we know is best for them? Or, that we try to shape them in the way that is right according to what we have discerned from the Bible so that they will never drift away from what we have taught them?
Actually, neither.
The expression "the way he should go" is a viniculture term -- grape-raising -- and it literally means "according to its bent" -- according to its inclination or the way it wants to go.
When we bought our 130 year old house, there were 75 year old grape vines in the backyard. They were growing on a split rail fence in the backyard and I felt such a responsibility for them. We can compare childrearing to grape-raising in a lot of ways. We could discuss weeding, pruning, fertilizing, and any number of other issues. But, we are going to discuss "according to his bent" -- support.
Grapes need support. Without support, the vines will grow along the ground and the fruit will rot. So it is with our children: if we don't support them, their fruit will be poor to non-existent. My grapevines need their fence. But, if I try to force them in a direction that those curly vines don't want to go, I will either restrict the flow of sap by twisting the vines or actually break the vine, allowing disease to enter and cutting off sap flow, once again, damaging the fruit production. In the same way, if I try to force my brainiac kid to play football, I might damage him both physically and emotionally.
What does that support look like?
Well, with 10 kids, we have had kids go in all kinds of directions that I never would have expected or even felt comfortable with. Take my second son, Mick. I got him going in band when he was eleven and he ended up being one of the premier tuba players in the state, playing principal tuba in the Wisconsin Youth Symphony Orchestra. For three years, we shlepped him an hour one way to Madison every week for Saturday morning rehearsals. Now, I was a musician, so I was all over that; this was my world. But, around the same time, he wanted to hunt. And, Steve and I, coming from urban Chicago, were not in a position to support him in that desire. But, we did, in two ways. His uncle came to hunt on our property and we gave him permission to take him out and to lend him a bow. When Uncle Bill went home, we let him get up before dawn and go out into the woods for months (have you any idea how long bow season is?) And, we listened to him talk endlessly about hunting and weapons and Steve went out into the woods and helped him load up his first deer and take it to get tagged and processed. I later became his processor and we paid for his tags in exchange for keeping the meat. Meanwhile, in the woods, Mick discovered God as he prayed to overcome his fear of the dark and read his waterproof Bible for hours on end. His love of weapons took him to the Internet where he discussed 2nd Amendment rights and, more to the point, the responsibilities of citizenship. Mick decided to pursue engineering instead of music, but his life choices -- where to live, what kind of job to get -- have been informed by his love of hunting. So, now, he lives in a small city close to the country where he works at a metal shop that is run by a great Christian family and is taking responsibility in every area of his life, including leading his wife, getting out of debt, and being involved in church. These things all came out of the time he spent hunting. Would I have been proud to have him exceed my accomplishments as a jobbing musician and music teacher? Sure. But, we supported him in the way he was inclined to go -- according to his bent -- and I am, instead, proud of the man he has become.
Wednesday, January 9, 2019
#15 of 15 Ways To Teach Your Child to Write Using Books -- To Have Your Child's Heart
Here we are! The last of our 15 Ways. And, after all we've been through, we need to discuss why we are even doing this.
Why do we choose to have children? Frankly, to have a heritage, someone to pass down what is important to us to. Unfortunately, sometimes those things can't be passed down or are done unhealthily because we have lost our children's hearts.
We keep our children's hearts by maintaining our authority while respecting them as individuals. How do books enable us to do that?
20 years ago, I attended the Illinois Christian Home Educators Conference and sat in on a session led by the curriculum specialist for the state of Illinois. She mentioned book reports -- a standard school assignment, right? She said she NEVER had her children do book reports because all it teaches them is that reading results in drudgery. Instead, she would ask a child about the book he had read and sometimes had a fascinating, in-depth discussion with him. Her reasoning? She wanted a relationship with her child, not a piece of paper they were both eager to see the last of. And, the best way to get a relationship with her child was by talking about the books he had read.
While sitting after breakfast reading (everything from the Bible to poetry, to novels to leadership books), we have had a wonderful chance to listen to our children. Even the very youngest can bring up an example from his own picture books or Sunday School lessons that applies to the topic at hand. And, when he does, we can commend him, thus showing him respect and firming up our relationship with him.
We each hope we are doing the best we can and are getting better all the time. And, don't we hope for our children that they will be even better than we are? If we show them and their ideas respect, when they are the one writing the books, establishing the policies, teaching the next generation, they will delight in the lessons we shared and will carry our values to the future.
Why do we choose to have children? Frankly, to have a heritage, someone to pass down what is important to us to. Unfortunately, sometimes those things can't be passed down or are done unhealthily because we have lost our children's hearts.
We keep our children's hearts by maintaining our authority while respecting them as individuals. How do books enable us to do that?
20 years ago, I attended the Illinois Christian Home Educators Conference and sat in on a session led by the curriculum specialist for the state of Illinois. She mentioned book reports -- a standard school assignment, right? She said she NEVER had her children do book reports because all it teaches them is that reading results in drudgery. Instead, she would ask a child about the book he had read and sometimes had a fascinating, in-depth discussion with him. Her reasoning? She wanted a relationship with her child, not a piece of paper they were both eager to see the last of. And, the best way to get a relationship with her child was by talking about the books he had read.
While sitting after breakfast reading (everything from the Bible to poetry, to novels to leadership books), we have had a wonderful chance to listen to our children. Even the very youngest can bring up an example from his own picture books or Sunday School lessons that applies to the topic at hand. And, when he does, we can commend him, thus showing him respect and firming up our relationship with him.
We each hope we are doing the best we can and are getting better all the time. And, don't we hope for our children that they will be even better than we are? If we show them and their ideas respect, when they are the one writing the books, establishing the policies, teaching the next generation, they will delight in the lessons we shared and will carry our values to the future.
#14 of 15 Ways to Teach Your Child to Write Using Books -- It Takes Time
Every subject takes time to learn, whether you are doing
block study -- studying a single subject in-depth intensively for a
short period of time -- or piecing it out over a year. My daughter,
Becki, Queen of Research, has discovered that if you study any subject
for either 1,000 hours or 7 years, that you will become an expert in it.
We can have our students fill in blanks in workbooks, or dissect the passages
they read, but that kind of literary education is actually quite new,
being taught starting only in the 50s and 60s. C. S. Lewis, the English
professor, despised this kind of literary analysis. He preferred the
traditional, immersion method. He himself was a voracious reader reading
every book in his father's house - and books were stacked on the stairs
and in the attic. The immersion method teaches by osmosis. Children
learn language usage by reading the best books.
I have never taught Grammar. Once, maybe, for a few weeks. And, we've read "Eats, Shoots, and Leaves", a funny book about punctuation. But, aside from helping my graduates format their final papers, never have I taught Grammar and every one of them got 24 or above on the English portion of the ACT and those who took the English CLEP passed the first time. They may not know what a noun is, but they definitely understand noun/verb agreement. But, this comes from hours reading on their own, both required and elective reading, and reading together.
I heard a quote from a football player: "An amateur practices till he gets it right; a professional practices until he can't get it wrong." And, that only comes with time, whether practicing football, or the English language.
I have never taught Grammar. Once, maybe, for a few weeks. And, we've read "Eats, Shoots, and Leaves", a funny book about punctuation. But, aside from helping my graduates format their final papers, never have I taught Grammar and every one of them got 24 or above on the English portion of the ACT and those who took the English CLEP passed the first time. They may not know what a noun is, but they definitely understand noun/verb agreement. But, this comes from hours reading on their own, both required and elective reading, and reading together.
I heard a quote from a football player: "An amateur practices till he gets it right; a professional practices until he can't get it wrong." And, that only comes with time, whether practicing football, or the English language.
#13 of 15 Ways to Teach Your Child to Write Using Books -- Relax and Enjoy Yourself
I just got a book in the mail yesterday. And, I asked the kids if they
wanted to read it with me. They were less than enthusiastic.
You see, as I said before, we just finished reading "Alice in Wonderland" -- required reading. And, I looked at my list of books I wanted to read with the kids and I saw E. Nesbit's "5 Children and It," which I chose because it was one of JRR Tolkein's and C. S. Lewis's favorite books when they were children. But, 16-yr-old Mimi damped everyone on that by making a disgusted face and saying, "that was just weird." So, the kids were not in the most receptive state of mind for reading a book.
But, then, I explained to them about this book. It was called "The Whispering Mountain" (that sounded promising) and I had been trying to find it for years. It wasn't at the bookstores, though Joan Aiken is still having books printed, and it wasn't in the Southwest Wisconsin Library System. So I had to order it. I think it had to be shipped from England! And, I assured them that not only could we stay up late, but there was absolutely nothing educational about it! That got them very excited.
So, although the little boys were playing with their new velcro ball-and-plastic-mitt game, and Anna was looking at manga pictures on the internet, and I was quilting, and we weren't able to finish the chapter (it was 34 pages long!), we read around and were relaxed and Mom wasn't scolding, "Now, pay attention! This is important!" And, you can read all the greatest books in the world but, as Prof. Rosalie de Rosset said so long ago, "If you don't enjoy it, you won't get anything out of it." So, have fun!
You see, as I said before, we just finished reading "Alice in Wonderland" -- required reading. And, I looked at my list of books I wanted to read with the kids and I saw E. Nesbit's "5 Children and It," which I chose because it was one of JRR Tolkein's and C. S. Lewis's favorite books when they were children. But, 16-yr-old Mimi damped everyone on that by making a disgusted face and saying, "that was just weird." So, the kids were not in the most receptive state of mind for reading a book.
But, then, I explained to them about this book. It was called "The Whispering Mountain" (that sounded promising) and I had been trying to find it for years. It wasn't at the bookstores, though Joan Aiken is still having books printed, and it wasn't in the Southwest Wisconsin Library System. So I had to order it. I think it had to be shipped from England! And, I assured them that not only could we stay up late, but there was absolutely nothing educational about it! That got them very excited.
So, although the little boys were playing with their new velcro ball-and-plastic-mitt game, and Anna was looking at manga pictures on the internet, and I was quilting, and we weren't able to finish the chapter (it was 34 pages long!), we read around and were relaxed and Mom wasn't scolding, "Now, pay attention! This is important!" And, you can read all the greatest books in the world but, as Prof. Rosalie de Rosset said so long ago, "If you don't enjoy it, you won't get anything out of it." So, have fun!
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