Children are Born Persons, Revisited

As my kids are getting older, and my friends' kids are getting older, Charlotte Mason's "Children are born persons" is meaning something more to me. Or maybe it's just hitting home more.

For years, I've heard that if you "train up your child in the way he should go, when he's old he will not depart from it," and various interpretations of that -- if you train them to be good, they'll always be good, if you teach them right, they might stray, but they'll always come back.

At a recent gathering of moms, one of the moms said that "raise up your children in the way they should go" means that we guide them in the unique direction/career God has planned for them -- as if we could be presumptuous enough to know what God has planned for them. I'm not sure I'd even want to arrange a marriage for my child, much less their entire life.

I think of all the things I've attempted to do with/for my kids, like instilling values, presenting opinions, and nurturing tastes for reading and music -- when they grow up, they choose for themselves, and it might be very different than what I wanted, or even from what I thought from observation was "the way they should go." One of my little boys used to build things. Friends would even comment that he was very good at building things and would someday be an engineer. But, nope, as he's gotten older, I see his interests going somewhere else, and his brother being the one to show an interest in building things as a possible career, and I'm glad I didn't lock the wrong child into that path.

The first time "Children are born persons" really hit home for me was when my oldest son was in maybe fifth grade and showing some talent in his school lessons. I remembered reading about a child back in history who was extremely gifted, and spoke multiple languages. No doubt his parents threw everything they had into his gift and harbored hopes of what was in store for this child. And then he died at age nine of some childhood disease. I don't know what kind of childhood he had -- whether he had been allowed to play, daydream, enjoy nature, and seek out his own interests, or whether he had been pressured to make the most of his time by studying for hours on end because of what he would be someday. But his "someday" never came. In the end, what mattered for him wasn't the hopes for his future, but his childhood. It was all he had. It occurred to me at the time that each child is a born person and may only have a few years to live their life, and withholding any life from them in the hopes of their useful, prosperous future may rob them of what life they have. That was the first time I thought I understood what CM meant.

Now, watching the kids around me -- my own as well as my friends' children -- becoming adults, it's hitting me again. These children we thought we were raising are complete people, very different from us, very much their own people, and they always were. I look around at my adult friends and their opinions and ways of life, and wonder if they're even an inkling like what their parents thought they were raising them to be. The children we've collectively raised represent our contribution of a few full-grown adults thrown into the general population with their own opinions and ways of life, and, in many cases, they are very different as adults than what we saw in them as children. They have gifts we totally missed, or interests it never occurred to us to introduce them to in their childhood, or information gleaned from sources we never heard of.

Sometimes I think that the best we can do as parents is to watch them grow up into adult people, and hope we don't do anything to damage them along the way. I don't say that to sound helpless or despairing, but raising a child is more awe-inspiring and bigger than I thought, and I as a parent have less influence and control than I imagined. We attempt to set their feet in a large, broad room, without really considering the large, broad room we're in ourselves as their parents.

Cassatt's Woman Reading

Fragonard's picture of Girl Reading Etexts on Her PalmTX got outdated since I (and the rest of the world, it seems) have traded my PDA in for an iPod Touch as an ereading device. This is Mary Cassatt, with a bit of modernized touching-up by moi.




(That's The Brothers Karamazov that she's reading. She can't figure out why Dmitri is acting so odd as he's being questioned about his father's murder.)

Tea with Two Toy Kitties

This is something I meant to post awhile ago...



Miss M set up a little tea party with her two "friends." This particular tea party was right when she had turned six. Typically, she'll carry on conversations as she plays, doing all the speaking parts herself, like two grown-up ladies discussing what real grown-up ladies discuss -- concerns about fashion, their children, little life crises, etc.:

"Is everybody done with their cookies? Okay, good - now we can have a discussion."

"How did you like the opera last night?"

"It was HORRIBLE! My friend Lisa was in it, and she didn't have enough practice." (She doesn't really a friend named Lisa, nor has she ever been to a real opera.)

"Yesterday the kids were all in the backyard murdering each other. Leopard tried to stop them, but he got his brains knocked out, and now he can't think. And all those kids are living with us now because their house burned down, and we have all their money. And that's good, because we have more than we need. We won't give any of it away. And Leopard still can't think, he might have an operation - oh, there's the telephone, that's the news I've been waiting for . . . Hello? Is the brain functioning? We'll make the appointment for Wednesday? The doctor can't get to his brain unless he does surgery on it..."

Back

I took a little break from blogging - I guess it's been 8 months since I last posted. I've been busy on Facebook, which has been fun, but it's not really the same thing. It's also a different thing to be part of a group blog, with someone else providing substance and just doing whatever strikes me in between for light relief, and being pretty much a sole blogger. But my blog partner is moving on in life, and has limited time with his college and other stuff. And, for a long time, I haven't felt like I had anything to say. So Facebook has been good enough.

Still, Facebook has its limitations. For one thing, you can only post short quips and links. For another, once something moves down to the bottom of your "wall," it's pretty much gone for good. It's a hassle to back up to older things that were posted, and I'm not sure how far back you're even allowed to go.

So, I'm dusting off this old blog and I'm going to try and bring it back to life.

Last Child in the Woods Summary

I finished Last Child in the Woods, and, to keep notes, started a summary -- one or two sentences to sum up each chapter. And these are the sentences.

1 Most adults have fond memories of being outside climbing trees but today, kids don't go outside much anymore. Why?

2 Kids used to build forts and tree houses but today's kids don't even have grandparents who live in rural farms where they can play and see where food comes from.

3 Parks and open places are no longer places for kids to free-play--too much liability if kids fall out of a tree, and too many flowers they might trample.

4 Vacant lots left untouched can be wild natural areas. Nature relaxes us and can help with mental health.

5 Spending two weeks in the desert helped at-risk inner city teens. Most people today only experience nature as store theme-displays or in sensationalized nature documentaries.

6 Howard Gardner added a 'nature smarts' category to his theory of multiple intelligences. But it can only be developed by being in nature. Building forts teaches lots of other skills, including use of all the senses.

7 Lots of creative people--writers, musicians, etc.--list nature as an early inspiring influence in their creative life.

8 Being outside in greenery seems to calm and ground kids with ADD. Perhaps nature is as necessary for kids' growth as food and air.

9 Organized sports and busy lives can squeeze out time for free play outside. We think of free play as a luxury, but it's necessary for physical and mental health.

10 Emphasis in the news of crime makes parents afraid to let their kids play outside, but the risk is exaggerated, especially considering how much we sacrifice by letting fear confine our kids indoors.

11 Even families who do get out miss the beauty as they tear up the landscape in their ATV's. College science majors no longer know basic life forms in nature because they didn't learn that as children.

12 If kids view nature as far removed and all about abstract global warming and rainforests, how will they ever be passionate about protecting the environment? They need to love the nature near their homes first by playing in it.

13 Adults need to take kids out and share their own awe at nature. As an antidote to too much falsely stimulating entertainment, take them hiking or camping or even just for a walk. Watch bugs, grow vegetables.

14 Teach kids to be alert under your watchful eye to keep them safer in general; nature is great for teaching alertness.

15 Saving stranded turtles, keeping nature notebooks, gathering plants for food or medicine, even hunting and fishing can create a connection with nature.

16 Finland: 'The core of learning is not in the information . . . being predigested from the outside, but in the interaction between a child and the environment.'

Ho hum; I got bored with the book and started speed-skimming. So, I have nothing to say about chapters 17 and 18. I cracked down on myself the day before the book was due back at the library to make myself finish.

19 Nature and animals can coexist with people through innovative plans in urban areas: cities can plan wild, overgrown patches of land or rough, green 'pocket parks' and encourage wildlife to live there by planting native plants they like. ('Pocket parks.' I love the term. I like how it sounds when I say it out loud: 'pocket parks.' And the concept sounds good, too!)

20 Imagine an idyllic world where kids grow up in a natural green environment and a world where buffalo roam once more on the prairie. Can we do it? Yes we can! (MBTI: I sense some INFP here...)

21 For Christians, caring for the environment isn't earth-worship; it's good stewardship.

The End

How to Make a Pizza (or Two)

As Brother J and I were coming home yesterday around dinner time, we had one of those rare moments of creative genius that only happens when brilliant, hungry minds meet.

      "You know what sounds good right now?" I said, thinking aloud as I drove. "Homemade pizza."
     "You mean like the Jones's homemade pizza?"
     "No, like our homemade pizza. The way we used to make it, only better."
     "That does sound good. We could do that."
     "We could."
     "We should."
     "Let's do it!"

We phoned home to change dinner plans, stopped at the store to purchase some necessary supplies... and this is what ensued.

Step 1: Gather a selection of fine ingredients. We used freshly made dough, red bell peppers, feta cheese, tomato sauce, shredded Italian cheeses, and pepperoni.

Step 2: Stretch out your dough. You can use the tossing method...

...or the rolling method.

Step 3: Spoon on sauce. Not too much; remember, it's just for flavor.

Step 4: Add pepperoni. You can do this before adding cheese...

...or after.

Step 5: Cover liberally with cheese--whatever cheese you like best. Ours was a combination of mozzarella, provolone, parmesan, asiago, fontina, and romano. Vive le fromage!

Step 6: Add whatever other toppings your heart desires.

Now they're ready to be baked!

Step 7: Put your pizza in the oven and bake. 400 degrees, 8 minutes in our oven. Take it out just as the crust begins to brown.

Step 8: Let your pizza cool for a few minutes.

You can use this time to admire your handiwork.

Step 9: Cut into four parts and repeat for eight slices.

Step 10: Eat and enjoy.

Bon appetite!

Last Child in the Woods

I'm halfway through this book (by Richard Louv), and this quote struck me:

"If such joy [in nature] is dormant, we must reawaken it. This is not an easy task for parents who previously missed the chance to connect with the outdoors. But that opportunity is still available, and I believe most parents will do this -- when they fully understand that nature is not just 'nice to have' but a must for healthy childhood development."

It struck me because it's almost exactly what Charlotte Mason said about finding a way to get kids out in nature:

"Impossible! Says an overwrought mother who sees her way to no more for her children than a daily hour or so on the pavements of the neighbouring London squares. Let me repeat, that I venture to suggest, not what is practicable in any household, but what seems to me absolutely best for the children; and that, in the faith that mothers work wonders once they are convinced that wonders are demanded of them."

---------------------

And there's this from teacher John Rick, envisioning a change in schools that would bring kids and nature back together:

"The society we are molding these kids toward is one that values consumer viability. The works of John Muir, Rachel Carson, or Aldo Leopold are seldom if ever taught to children in the public schools. Even in the sciences, where nature could play such an important role, the students study nature in a dry, mechanized way. How does the bat sonar work, how does a tree grow, how do soil amenities help crops grow? Kids see nature as a lab experiment.
The alternative? I imagine a classroom that turns outward, both figuratively and literally. The grounds would become a classroom, buildings would look outward, and gardens would cover the campus. The works of naturalists would be the vehicle by which we would teach reading and writing. Math and science would be taught as a way to understand the intricacies of nature, the potential to meet human needs, and how all things are interlaced. A well-rounded education would mean learning the basics, to become part of a society that cherished nature while at the same time contributing to the well-being of mankind. Progress does not have to be patented to be worthwhile. Progress can also be measured by our interactions with nature and its preservation. Can we teach children to look at a flower and see all the things it represents: beauty, the health of an ecosystem, and the potential for healing?"

I like it, but I'm reminded of how people tend to see all of education through the lens of their own interest. For example, the guy who did the Robinson Curriculum happens to be a mathmetician and feels that every child should be required to spend three hours a day on math. "The works of naturalists would be the vehicle by which we would teach reading and writing." I wonder if this means he would replace classic literature for nature books?With some balance, I think his suggestions are good.

Another take on public school

According to this article, Finnish students have the highest test scores in the world while spending fewer hours in school than the students of any other nation. Children learn by playing until age 7; their parents read to them at home; education does not center on competition, either between students or between schools; and primary and secondary schools are combined, so one teacher stays with her students all the way through. Sounds like some Charlotte Mason principles in action, to me...

BBC News - Why do Finland's schools get the best results?

Words to think with

(Cross-posted at In Search of the Perilous Realm)

The semester has dwindled to a sliver of its former self, the way an ice cube shrinks when you pour water over it in the sink, and I am just watching and waiting now for the last few weeks to melt away. And I'm studying, of course. And rehearsing. And writing papers. And memorizing lines. And planning summer projects. And summer trips. And summer work. And next semester's classes. And vacillating, all the while, between bleary-eyed complaints about the workload and moments of utter wonder that I am allowed to eat and drink and breathe history, literature, philosophy, music; that I have lived through the hardest winter in living memory to see a spring which is the loveliest in history, as every spring is; that I love and am loved by a woman who is fair and seemly and wise beyond my highest hopes; that I continue to wake up every morning to find that someone else has been up before me scrubbing the sky and pulling up the sun and pouring dew on the grass—in short, that I keep on living in God's good earth under God's bright heaven. This must be the way a sprout feels when it wakes up from hibernation in its seedpod to find itself planted in rich soil with clean air swirling around it and the sun beaming down overhead.

Meanwhile, time slips away from me and it's early morning and I should try going to bed. I oughtn't to be blogging at all, except that I was studying late and broke policy and bought a coke and now I'm awake on caffeine. I'll rue it tomorrow.

I heard a lecture this morning about modern women who are writing—Annie Dillard and Toni Morrison and people like that. It was a good lecture from start to finish, but this simple quote stood out to me. It comes from Toni Morrison, whom I've not read. It returns to the question of ownership, which I've pondered before, but Morrison makes it more personal that Steinbeck did:

Freeing yourself was one thing; claiming ownership of that freed self was another.

Words to think with, words to live by...

Ownership

From The Grapes of Wrath, which I'm reading for school:

...It's our land. We measured it and broke it up. We were born on it, and we got killed on it, and died on it. Even if it's no good, it's still ours. That's what makes it ours—being born on it, working it, dying on it. That makes ownership, not a paper with numbers on it.

What do we mean when we say we own something? The word has different shades of meaning. We say we "own" our clothes, by which we mean they are our property. But we also say we "own" someone as a friend, by which we mean we acknowledge the relationship, not that we possess them. What makes something our property? A book may sit on your shelf, but can you really say it's yours until you've read it and slipped bookmarks in the folds or dog-eared the pages or stuck sticky notes to favorite paragraphs or added notes in the margins or whatever you do with books—in other words, until you've made it yours by spending time with it and letting part of yourself become involved in it? The relationship makes it yours, not the purchase.