In the Garden

All righty, then . . .

We've been in the garden many evenings and some weekend days of late, weeding and tilling the soil where we hope soon to see thriving vegetation of the edible and fragrant varieties. After a two-year wait on a list somewhere, we were finally given the green light to choose a plot at our nearest local community garden. We were thrilled, though the weather was so wet for so long that it took us some time to get around to weeding and preparing the soil for planting. We still haven't planted anything, though that should change any day now, and definitely before next week's multi-day rain sets in.

We usually take our nine and five-year-old daughters with us to get them outside in the fresh air, though being true children of the technological age, I must confess, they are often at a loss as to what to do with themselves once they are there. We are attempting to retrain their brains, to have them fall deeply into their own imaginations for entertainment, and it is sometimes rough going.

Living in a townhouse makes it challenging to get the girls outside for free play. There are cars parked in what would otherwise be a front yard, a mere walk-in closet of a backyard, bounded at the back by a six-foot high privacy fence which prevents any truly satisfactory view of the narrow common area between the rows of properties. Throwing the kids outside to play is not such an appealing option. The nine-year-old learned to ride her bicycle on a grassy hill behind the house for lack of a cul-de-sac.

I'm whining, I know. But we may have found a way around that particular challenge. The garden plot.

We've met a few of our gardening neighbors who are very friendly and helpful, and we appear to have chosen a lot that is very near the park concert venue, so that in the summer, on Thursday evenings, we will have backdoor passes to all the shows that happen through. Music, picnic, playing, blankets, gardening—sounds idyllic. I won't take that statement to the bank yet, but I am at least hopeful that our summer will be filled with music, fresh air, imagination, and, if we're lucky and industrious, a bountiful harvest from our garden. Cheers.

Time Passages

"I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date! No time to say, 'hello,' Goodbye! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!"

So lamented the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.

I hear there are ways of slowing down time, but I have yet to find one that I can consistently practice. Some days seem to go by much more quickly than others, and those are the days that seem to be the least productive.

When you're young, and things do manage to get done, it seems there must be some cosmic To-Do list, and Time simply presents itself in a natural unfolding, during which, everything you need to do actually happens. Homework (generally) got done, there was time to relax, time to eat and sleep, time to spend doing nothing at all. But I suppose every child feels that way when the bulk of life's heavy lifting is being handled by their parents, or grandparents, or anyone older than themselves.

At least, that used to be my experience.

I don't really think it's a generational thing. I watch my own children now, and I wonder where that extra bit of childhood time went. They don't seem to have enough time in the day to play and just do nothing. Certainly some of the "nothing time" we used to have is now spent doing "something" on the computer, and the television is always a reliable way to remove quality time from the daily schedule. But even so.

My nine-year-old's typical school day is spent like this:

She wakes up, gets her breakfast, and gets dressed, me cracking the whip while repeatedly pointing to the clock. She catches the bus just before 9:00 in the morning and doesn't begin school until 9:15. She spends her day in whatever way it is judged at the school that she should be spending her day, and she comes back through the front door at 4:15 in the afternoon. If there are after-school activities, we must dash madly back out the door so that we are not made late by traffic, of which there is an overabundance in our area, especially at that time of the day, and then we come home again to have dinner, do homework and get to bed, waking up the next morning to do the same thing over again, five days a week, 180 days a year. I happen to be one of those parents who wish summer could be so much longer.

Is that all there is? We do our best not to schedule activities on the weekend so that we can visit with family and friends, take an impromptu road trip somewhere, or just do nothing except housework, shopping, yardwork, go to church, read the Saturday morning Financial Times, have breakfast, lunch, or dinner out on the deck. And all the while, it feels as if we are just barely squeezing ourselves into a contrived state of relaxation. "Relax, will you!"

I can remember two times in my life when the time seemed to keep a sane pace. One, as mentioned above, is my own childhood—and I should mention here that when I was a child, the Blue Laws were still in effect. No shopping or work were to be done, no business to be transacted, no banks open and no such thing as an ATM, though as I recall grocery and drug stores were still open. While these restrictions may have been religious in origin, I don't think they really hurt the average person who had to live with them.

I, being a child without any real responsibility, found Sundays to be rather tedious and boring because there was "Nothing to do!" Much to my chagrin, I remember being glad when they were done away with and we could go galavanting to our heart's content. Oh, the folly! Just the same as I wish I could conjure all those preschool naps I was expected to take and didn't want to, I likewise wish I could have my Sundays returned to me with no expectation that I would hop to it and do whatever was being requested—even damanded—of me. (I'm about this close to enforcing my own Blue Laws for my family!).

The second time I remember feeling that life had slowed down sufficiently was when I home schooled my older two children, one of whom is now in college, the other of whom is doing online high school. We had just bought a house, my husband lost his job six weeks later, we had a baby six weeks after that, and he spent the next nine months searching for a job. Except, of course, for the minor anxiety that a lack of real income will cause in such circumstances, our time was precious. My husband taught the girls their history and spent more time getting to know the newest member of the family than he otherwise could have. And I was able to get rest and get away from the house more than I otherwise would have been able to.

Even when he finally found a job in another city and we spent a year-and-a-half living mostly apart, the time still felt like my own. It's funny how much of your family's time you can reclaim when you take the structured school regimen out of the picture. People would marvel that we were able to live that way for so long. "How in the world are you home schooling with your husband not even around!" I suspect that not having another adult's schedule and agenda to contend with as well was tremendously helpful during this time, to be honest, but we'll make that our little secret.

It is enough to say that once we sold one house and bought a newer one (this time with no yard) in a densely populated area to once again live together—all of us, as a family—time sped up. My older children went to school for a number of years, which sped things up even more, as they rarely went to the same school. Traffic patterns had to be noted or you could easily spend the bulk of your life in the car. Schedules were compressed, short distances became major undertakings and long journeys. Poly-multi-tasking became the order of the day. And you know, when you try to do too many things at once, you never feel like you complete any of them satisfactorily. If you can complete them at all.

A few things have changed over the past year. One of my children has moved on to college, so there is one less agenda to take into account. One has stopped attending the local public high school in favor of online high school. The other two will be at home with me next year, so we may actually be able to return to some semblance of a dignified family life.

We'll see. We've thrown in a community garden plot, maybe a dog and some fish in the near future, and we still have the requisite music lessons, sports, and other childhood occurrences that will continue to ebb and flow over the next several years. But I am hoping that we can usher in a new age of enlightenment, halcyon days of doing what we were created to and truly long to do, to live.

My Ideal School—Structure

I'm just going to make an outline here, a list as much as anything.

K-4 & 5: Classical learning, with a Montessori-style emphasis on practical life skills. Half-day seems sufficient to me, though I know that the working schedules of parents may not make it as appealing as full-day.

1st through 3rd/5th: Grammar Stage, though the material is presented according to level of ability.

Dialectic: Middle School

Rhetoric: High School

Ideally?

Lunch is a sit-down affair in which children do learn to use a napkin (preferably a cloth one) AND good table manners. As an example, I offer you this interesting link to the web site of a woman who, not so long ago, moved to France and is sharing her experience by comparing the typical French school menu to the typical American school menu: brightonyourhealth

Of course, it is impossible to bring this about in a school with many hundreds of children, so . . .

Ideally?

Schools should be small and run K-4 through 12th. In my experience, in smaller schools where the grades run the gamut, there is better social adjustment among all the students. The younger ones look to the older ones for good examples of how to behave, while the older ones benefit from the knowledge that the younger ones do look up to them. It's a circle-of-life kind of thing. The way our public system currently works in the U.S. is that it breaks that circle, leaving a lot of loose ends, and don't even get me started on the "Lord of the Flies" known as middle school.

Middle schoolers, perhaps more than anyone else, need the example, the attention, and positive interaction with those a little bit older than themselves. I would go so far as to say that they actually crave it. They want the chance to express themselves and to be validated when appropriate, and perhaps "smacked down" (resepectfully, of course) when they need it.

I believe that part of the reason that our children are remaining children so long (well into their twenties, according to "experts") is that the "socialization" that is occurring in the public school system is not helpful, but is, in fact, damaging to many as they develop from children to young adults. Babies, after all, graduate from milk to solid foods at the right age, losing their milk teeth and gaining adult teeth to better handle the solids. Can you imagine a ten year-old who has never had anything but milk to drink his entire life? Wouldn't you expect there to be some deleterious physical consequence as a result?

Ideally?

Now, this is a real kicker. It is very hard to make happen, whether public or private school is in question.

The school should be near to the home of the child. Impossible I know. But it would be ideal, in my opinion. Otherwise, everyone loses valuable time to the commute, and isn't time one of our greatest luxuries? I remember having time to just be bored as a child, and like nap time, I wish I could have bottled that time and saved it for later. sigh.

Being able to walk (safely) to school would provide time for children and parents to talk (or comfortably say nothing), to breathe deeply, to enjoy the weather (or appreciate the indoors!), and to notice the natural world, which is so easy to overlook and take for granted when, as a Ugandan Orthodox priest once said, we "move from our little box that we call home, to our little box on wheels, to another little box that we call school or work." He was right. Still is.

'Nuff for now.

My Ideal School—The Classical Model

Where were we? Oh, yes . . . Education in the classical style.

I happened to visit yesterday a home school cooperative that utilizes a classical model of education. The kindergarten classes were learning Latin, the 2nd Law of Thermodynamics—albeit it on a very simple level—and a little bit of the history of the Vietnam War, with simple geography lessons about Southeast Asia. The five year-olds were learning to identify the countries by shape and location, and they seemed to enjoy doing it, as the parent/teacher made it thoroughly hands-on and engaging.

The older elementary students were learning the same lessons, but on a higher level, and in more detail.

The high school students had a completely different curriculum, which is to be expected, because they have already learned what the younger students are learning, but when I sat in on a group of 7th graders, they were playing a game of Jeopardy, "hosted" by the parent/teacher, in which there were two teams playing for nothing more than the highest number of points (as opposed to dollars or other prizes). the questions were spread over many different subject areas, and I would have to admit that I didn't know many of the answers myself. Though the middle and high school students only attend school one day per week, the program is strenuous enough that they must make the most of the intervening time to finish the assigned work by the next class day.

The time that I spent observing these students in their respective classes was informative and rewarding.

The classical model of education can basically be broken down into three parts:

The Grammar Stage, in which children memorize and recite their facts. These students are in their earlier elementary school stage.

The Dialectic Stage, in which facts continue to be memorized, but students learn to analyze the information they're taking in and to discuss it in depth. These students are in the upper elementary and middle school stage.

The Rhetoric Stage, in which students study and learn at a higher level, doing research, learning not only to discuss, but to debate, to speak publicly and give oral presentations. I've noticed that students who are educated through this stage tend to be more poised and have more confidence when speaking with and in front of adults. Why? Simple. Because they've practiced.

By the time the student has matriculated, he/she is pretty well prepared to move into adulthood, which is no small accomplishment in today's culture, in my humble opinion.

My Ideal School—Part 1

Forgive me, I must blog about my ideal school. My husband said I should, and I think he is right. Caution: potential ranting ahead.

First up, the Classical Education.

I never understood why all my school subjects were handled as separate universes, sufficient unto themselves, when I was in public school (Private school is frequently not much different, mind you.).

Each subject, and let's list them for the sake of clarity—math, English (also known as Language Arts), history, science, music, art, handwriting (a rapidly dying art, I'm afraid, in the orgy [forgive me] of keyboarding that is taking place in our insanely frenetic world) . . . did I miss any? Probably. Anyway, each subject, was taught without any real reference to the others.

In history we might be learning about the French Revolution, while in math we're grinding away at Algebra without ever knowing who first discovered these functions and what made them want to. And over here we might be reading "The Catcher in the Rye", but learning about Degas and Beethoven.

Is it any wonder we don't retain what were being fed? Why should be hop back and forth around the world and across several eras all at once? Why couldn't we just pack up our trunks, make the journey, and plop our selves down for a good old-fashioned visit, remaining in one place and time for a few weeks or even—gasp!—a whole month?

Why don't we start with the ancients and learn about the individuals who discovered and implemented the principles of mathematics and science? It would have been simple enough in the early days, right? And I bet more students would retain more of what they learned in the process.

We could then proceed around the world, chronologically, using—and this is REALLY important—Original Source Material. That's right. Instead of reading about the Magna Carta, the would read the Magna Carta; instead of reading about the the Declaration of Independence, the would read the real thing, or a reasonable facsimile thereof; instead of reading pre-selected excerpts, pull-quotes and captions, they would get their (ideally greedy) little hands on the real deal.

To give them bits and pieces of an education is like giving a child a toy that is meant to mimic real tools and devices that big people, accomplished people, fully individuated people (And remind me again, exactly how do the aforementioned get that way? By eating pretend food and playing make believe at everything they do in life?) use for creating and operating in the real world. As anyone who has spent time with a small child will know, they will not long remain satisfied with the play kitchen, the pretend remote, the fake car keys, the computer replica, the toy tools, and other colorful plastic items of the same ilk.

No, of course not. They want the real thing. They understand intrinsically that they're being given a predigested copy of something that must be appealing or no one would have bothered with its imitation. But why, they ask, do I not get the real thing? Why is that being kept from me?

Are children wrong to feel this way? I know how I feel about news media choosing for me what is important for me to know and what is not. I know how I feel when an item that I purchase does not work well or breaks long before it was supposed to. It feels fake. I feel cheated.

So, why do we do this to our children? Why do we cheat them? Why in the world would we cheat their minds of the opportunity to learn as much as they are capable of learning? Why do we assume that the limitations we set for ourselves are necessarily appropriate for them? Many of us grew up on the gruel of mediocre education, but does what was deemed "good enough" for us have to be the same bar we set for our children?

Some of my teachers in school were outstanding. Some I barely remember. Along with the bland information they presented. The only texts I remember are the originals that we were somehow fortunate enough to be handed, or the ones I read on my own. Is that the way it should be? No wonder our children retreat to computers, T.V. and video games. It's for the lack of anything more interesting to come from the adults entrusted with educating them in the things they need to know to live this life, in this world.

And we only get one chance. Once they're out of school their education, or lack thereof, is a part of who they are and will be. No mulligans, I'm afraid. How many children, when out of school during a break or summer vacation, pick up a book that requires anything of them? How many high schoolers will pick up a book that requires more than a sixth grade reading level? Or do they need Manga actually to finish reading the story? Once upon a time, not so very long ago, it was stated that in order to read the original King James Version of the Bible, one needed an 11th or 12th grade reading ability. What is it now, I wonder? Masters, maybe? PhD?

Enough of my rant. Back to Classical Education. Back to the original drawing board. Back to my ideal school.

To be continued . . .

For Aspiring "Know-It-Alls" . . . (It's Not What You Think)

So tired of it I finally kicked it. I think.

All my life I have felt the need to apologize for being good at certain things because my particular abilities made other people uncomfortable. Well, not everyone obviously, but some people.

I won't tell you how old I am to save you the sudden rush of discomfort that inevitably follows such an admission, either because you pity me for taking so long to get to this point or because you are older than I am and haven't arrived there yet yourself. Either way . . .

I was watching an episode of "Mad Men" recently in which the lead character, Don Draper, tells a young female employee, Peggy, who aspires to climb the ranks in the advertising world by using her talents in that arena (God forbid!) that she should never apologize for doing something well. She felt guilty for succeeding. Something clicked.

In any case, I verbalized to myself out loud this morning that I refuse to apologize for being good at the things I am good at. Period. God gave each of us our gifts in the expectation that we would use them appropriately, and it is not possible to use them appropriately if you keep them locked in a dark safe so that they might not offend.

Besides, it is glaringly apparent that some people aren't bothered in the least that they might be offending others, even when they are obviously in the wrong. So why should I make myself a hostage to this practice? And anyway, the gift I have in mind is of the sort that that is actually quite helpful when I use it, and, technically, I'm depriving people of something that might help them if I don't offer it to them. So, you see, I am actually obligated to use my gifts, and how can you apologize for something that you are morally obligated to do?

My "secret" gift that I've orphaned for so long?

Being a know-it-all.

There have been so many times in my life when I have felt it impossible to tell someone something that seemed obvious to me, but which seemed to elude them. And many times when I did speak up, I was even accused of being a know-it-all. When you're very young, that can hurt. So I shut up. No, I'm not talking necessarily about family, either. In some cases, yes, but in other cases, no.

Gradually, over recent years, through painful experience, and learning to stick my neck out in little bits here and there, I have realized that my contributions are, indeed, contributions, and not simply "butting in" or "showing off." I used to cringe at the prospect of telling someone something that I thought they might need to hear for fear of being told off for it. I hate confrontation. Or at least I used to. It doesn't bother me so much anymore. Don't get me wrong, I don't run around speaking my mind any time and any place I choose. Just when and where I feel it's the right thing to do.

The fear of confrontation came, I think, from the fear that, in any given encounter, I might have to stuff my own feelings, invalidate my own opinions, and, in fact, violate my own psyche in order to accommodate the person standing or sitting before me. After all, I was strong enough to take it, and they might not be. Right?

Slowly, I've come to see such instances not so much as "CONFRONTATIONS", but as "Opportunities," which, when taken, usually leave both parties stronger for the exercise. Where I used to see "potential foes," I tend now to see "potential friends, cohorts, or allies." Of course, I've had to learn the "language" that accompanies being a know-it-all, but each time I allow myself to exercise my particular gifts, I come away calmer, more lucid, stronger, more positive. And a heck of a lot more comfortable in my own skin.

Now, when someone doesn't appreciate what I might have to offer, I can let it slide right off my back . . . most of the time, anyway. I'd be lying if I said I have become impervious to rejection. But I'm much better at handling it today than I have been on any day of the past 40+ years.

Not so long ago—even very recently, really—I would never have allowed myself to write something like this in a public space. But I have, and I don't plan to apologize for having done so today.

Well . . . one month later . . .

If I ever pen a memoir or an autobiography of myself (Perish the thought!), I believe I shall have to call it something like "Fits & Starts" or "Dribs & Drabs." I would hate to live life on a timer, but some things seem just to beg for one. Writing, for me, is one of those cases.

I'm now finally sitting down to start my agent query letters, however many there might end up being. Wish me luck. Say a prayer. See you later . . .