Easy Street: The Great American Sentence Contest

It's here, at Easy Street magazine!
It's fun!
All the Edmistens are doing it!
It ends tonight!

Poetry Friday

This week, Barbara Crooker's poem, "Strewn" ....

It begins like this:

It’d been a long winter, rags of snow hanging on; then, at the end
of April, an icy nor’easter, powerful as a hurricane. But now

And it ends like this:

                                     The light pours down, a rinse
of lemon on a cold plate. All of us, broken, some way
or other. All of us dazzling in the brilliant slanting light.

And you can read what's in between here, at the Poetry Foundation. 

And I can tell you this: that just about everything I believe about God and love and people is contained in those two, final, iridescent sentences of hers.

~~~~~

The round up is at My Juicy Little Universe. 

Ramona Creates

We decorated coffee cups:

Ramona's Kermit the Frog quote cup is much kinder than my cup. 

And she made Minnie Mouse ears:

Even I want to wear these. 

Poetry Friday: Anne Porter

Turning today to the ever-reliable, ever-gorgeous, ever-evocative Anne Porter, who did not begin publishing poetry until she was 83 years old. 

Music

by Anne Porter 

When I was a child

I once sat sobbing on the floor

Beside my mother’s piano

As she played and sang

For there was in her singing

A shy yet solemn glory

My smallness could not hold 

....

(Read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac.) 

~~~~~

Linda has the round up today at TeacherDance. 

As I was saying over on Facebook:

Find Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle's book here. 

Fr. Barron's LentReflections.com

Go to Gracedays.net  to enter

Covering Subjects in a Non-Traditional Way (Part the Third): Percy Jackson Read Aloud

Part 1 is here.
Part 2 is here.

When I talk about teaching subjects in non-traditional ways, what I mean is that most of our curriculum is talking.

A recent example is the read-aloud Ramona and I just finished, Rick Riordan's The Lightning Thief. 

Topics discussed (if you haven't read the book, skip this post to avoid spoilers!)

• Greek mythology, obviously, and we'll delve further into this 
• ADHD
• Dyslexia
• Talents that don't translate to a classroom setting
• Greek currency
• Dreams and their meaning
• St. Louis arch
• Sisyphean tasks
• Why Riordan chose Los Angeles as the entrance to the Underworld (side discussion: Stephen King/Las Vegas as headquarters for the demonic Walking Man)
• Ethical situations/choices: Percy's mom, Sally (staying in an abusive relationship in order to protect Percy?!), Sally's decision to use a weapon (of sorts) on her husband, Gabe
• Comparisons: afterlife/Underworld vs. our beliefs in heaven, hell, purgatory
• Vocabulary: I point out new words, show Ramona the visual on spelling, etc., stop to define a word, if necessary 

That's a quick summary of the practical application. All of the above can be categorized under various subjects, from history and social studies, to literature and language arts, to faith. Reading aloud -- and talking, talking, talking! -- teaches so much. And inspires great jokes:

Near the end of the book (again, avert your eyes if you haven't read it and don't want spoilers!), Percy has to make an end-of-summer decision. Should he stay at Camp Half Blood all year and continue learning to fight monsters? Or should he go back to New York City for 7th grade?

Ramona's response: "Maybe 7th grade is the monster."

More fodder for discussion!

Poetry Friday: A Gift

Just when I think that spring can't come soon enough for me, I think of my friends in Boston, and realize I've got it easy this year. 

This one's for you, Melanie. 

A Gift
Leonora Speyer

I Woke: —
Night, lingering, poured upon the world
Of drowsy hill and wood and lake
Her moon-song,
And the breeze accompanied with hushed fingers
On the birches.

Gently the dawn held out to me
A golden handful of bird’s-notes.

~~~~~

Thanks to Poets.org for the daily poems in my Inbox.

~~~~~

The round up is at Merely Day by Day.

On Morning Air Today

... at 7 a.m. central time, on Relevant Radio. I'll be talking with John Harper about teens and young adults -- digging deeper during Lent and making the faith their own.

Covering Subjects in a Non-Traditional Way: Part the Second

Image Chef

The original question was:

"Where can one find examples of how common, daily activities with kids fit into 'subjects'?"

So, let's start with the activities, rather than starting with the subjects, and we'll start with very young children, because we all have to start somewhere.

A few everyday activities and their relevance to education (and life):

Breakfast (home ec, nutrition, health)
Reading to the kids over breakfast (reading, reading comprehension, faith [if you read Bible stories or other faith related books], history [if you read historical works], English [hey, it's a book!], vocabulary)
Morning routine (personal hygiene = health ... threats about what will happen if we don't wash and brush teeth = science)
Morning chores (citizenship, faith and self-discipline as those relate to family cooperation)
Daily Mass (faith, history, recess if you go for donuts afterward)
Make cookies (math while measuring, home ec, science, kitchen chemistry)
Make lunch (home ec again ... lots of home ec)
Break up a fight among siblings (explaining interpersonal communications = psychology ... repentance and forgiveness = faith ... learning to get along = management and human resources skills)
Trip to the post office (social studies, community study, citizenship, how government works, art ... yes, art! Aren't you going to examine all those stamp designs?)
Drive home (point stuff out -- geography of your town)
Watch an episode of Magic School Bus (science)
Take a nap (health)
Wake up from nap (science: explain the necessity and importance of sleep, explain the difference between night mommies owls and insane morning people.)
Take a walk (a nature walk! Science! Charlotte Mason is so happy with you right now!)
Tell children to play while you check email (play is serious business, people!)
Check email some more or call your best friend (hey, your sanity is important ... explain to children that social contact is vital. This is psychology and sociology.)
Start dinner (home ec! Again! Lots of home ec!)

You get the the idea. This is the easy stuff. When they're little, you really don't have to worry about record-keeping the subjects but do it if it makes you feel better, as it often made me feel better, or if you need to report on your schooling in your state. And do it for practice, for later days.

And as they get older, the connections, the overlap of subjects, the science of relations becomes clearer in so much of what we do with our children, and in what they do on their own.

More to come.

Sisyphean Tasks: I've Taught Her Well

Ramona and I are reading the first Percy Jackson book, The Lightning Thief. Today, Sisyphus came up and I asked if she knew what a Sisyphean task was. She thought she knew, but she asked me to explain anyway.

"So, you know that Sisyphus was condemned to push a boulder up a mountain, only to have it roll back down every, single time. Then he had to push it back up again. So, a Sisyphean task is one with no end in sight ... you just have to do it again and again and again."

"Like laundry," she said, nodding.

This girl understands life.

My work here is done.

Homeschooling: Covering "Subjects" in a Non-Traditional Way

In a Facebook group for homeschoolers, the question arose: "Where can one find examples of how common, daily activities with kids fit into 'subjects'?"

I want to put together a post that goes into a lot more detail, but in the meantime, I was reminded of this old post from years ago:

From today's Charlotte Mason excerpt, found at AmyAble's new blog, A Full Life: The Works of Charlotte Mason

"One thesis, which is, perhaps, new, that Education is the Science of Relations, appears to me to solve the question of curricula, as showing that the object of education is to put a child in living touch as much as may be of the life of Nature and of thought. Add to this one or two keys to self knowledge, and the educated youth goes forth with some idea of self management, with some pursuits, and many vital interests."

One of the first things that attracted me to Charlotte Mason's ideas was this "Science of Relations" business. It matched up so perfectly with my (admittedly limited at the time) observations about how my own child learned. Anne was constantly making connections about things in her world, in our world.

Reading a book about ducks would lead to talking about baby ducks, which would lead to talking about baby people, which in turn led to playing with our own baby person, her little sister, and that led to counting said person's fingers and toes. Amidst satisfied giggles from baby-person-Betsy, Anne would ask about how God made babies, and how did God make dirt, for that matter? And did God have sisters? And speaking of dirt, could we go outside and play in some?

I could have said, "Now, now, hold your horses. One thing at a time. We can either talk about science (ducks and human reproduction), or math (counting those scrumptious little toes), or about theology, or we can go do P.E., but we can't jumble it all up like that. One subject at a time, please."

No, no, no. Anne didn't break the world into "subjects" ... that would have been absurd. All the "subjects" are connected. So, why should I attempt to divide the whole world into subjects? Learning seemed to happen more quickly, more completely, and in a more integrated way when I allowed the Science of Relations to influence our "studies."

One might argue that it's all well and good for a toddler to follow connections in an If You Give a Mouse a Cookie sort of way, (and, of course, one of the reasons I love Laura Numeroff's books is that she understands how children's minds work) but continuing to do so as they get older will just lead to ADD. Hmmm. Maybe. But, my personal experience has been that following connections and looking for the ways in which the "subjects" are interconnected has paved the way for a greater appreciation for what a real education is. For example, when we read about Archimedes were we covering history or math or science?

The kids, ahem, didn't really care which category it fell into.

I remember the first time another child asked my kids what their favorite subject was. Anne and Betsy were about 8 and 6 years old, and they looked at the child as if she were a Klingon. "What do you mean?" they asked.

I explained the whole school-and-subjects thing. I told them that since they loved books of historical fiction, they could honestly say that two of their favorite subjects were "reading" and "history." Or, because they loved to draw and paint, they could say "art." Or, because they loved to swim and ride horses, they could say, "P.E." But, really, I assured them it isn't important to break it all down into subjects. It can be helpful, especially where the Dewey decimal system is concerned (and that led to another discussion) but it wasn't necessary.

So. That's my take on today's bite-sized chunk of Charlotte Mason.

Be a rebel. Don't do subjects.

More to come soon.

~~~~~

Part 2 is here.

Poetry Friday: Beverly Rollwagen (for the times you want a stunt double)

Ever have one of those days? Of course you have. Every wife, mother, daughter, neighbor, friend has had one of those days.

I have only one complaint about Beverly Rollwagen: I can't find about more about her! Ms. Rollwagen, have you replaced yourself with an understudy who travels incognito? Inquiring understudies want to know.

understudy 
by Beverly Rollwagen

She just wants an understudy, a body
double for the days when she does
not feel like appearing in any of the roles
she has assumed and/or been assigned.

(Read the rest of this very short poem here, at The Writer's Almanac.)

~~~~~

Elizabeth Steinglass has the round up.

I really, really, really just wanted a cup of hot coffee

My friend, Paula, and her daughter are visiting. The daughter is one of Ramona's besties, so when the family's in town, we temporarily adopt Paula's daughter (whom I'm going to blog-name Miranda Sings for reasons that will probably mortify her mother. Paula, I'm blog-renaming you Miranda's Mother. No arguing.)

So, since I have twelve-year-old twins this week, and I hate cooking anyway, and I didn't feel like cooking, naturally I took everyone out for some disgusting fast food.

I won't target the particular fast food chain, but here's how things unfolded:

Ramona and Miranda and Anne and Betsy ordered some food and stepped aside.

Me? Well, though I hate cooking, I hate eating fast food even more, so I decided to just get coffee. I planned to eat something later at home while I complained to Atticus about cooking and the evils of fast food.

I said to the girl who worked at the evil fast food place, "Do you have any coffee brewed?"

She shook the coffee pot (I could hear some lame, cold coffee swishing around in there) and said, "Yeah, there's a little bit left here."

"Okay," I said, "Here's the thing. I'll have a coffee, but I can wait until you brew a fresh pot."

"Okaaaay," she said, blinking. I should have detected the beginning of confusion.

She started piling food on the tray, while I dug out a credit card. When I looked up from my wallet, there sat a cup of coffee in front of me. Unless I had just stepped into a wormhole, this was the old coffee, not the "I'll wait for it" coffee.

Ramona and Miranda, et al, got their tray and settled in at a table, and I caught the counter girl's attention.

"Okay, so, can I just give this back to you, and I'll wait for the fresh stuff?"

"What?" she squinted at me.

"Well, this is lukewarm -- I'll just wait while you start a new pot."

"It's too warm?"

"No, it's lukewarm."

She squinted again.

"It's not warm," I said. "Not warm."

She cocked her head, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"It's not hot. Isn't hot," I said, grasping for something that expressed not-hot more simply than, well, say, "not hot."

"It's unhot. I'd like a hot cup of coffee, so I'll wait."

"Do you want it in a cup?"

"Yes, a cup would be nice." (I may have been nodding desperately at this point.)

"Okay. I'll have to brew some."

I nodded again. Emphatically. "Ok, sure, that's a good idea," I said. "I'll be at that table over there, okay?" My eyes were wide, and probably wild. Had we fully established contact? Would a hot cup of coffee be forthcoming?

She blinked and turned away in the general direction of the coffee pot.

A couple minutes later, she brought me a coffee.

In a cup.

And it was hot.

I'm pretty sure someone probably spit in it, but it was really hot. Maybe even lukehot.

Ash Wednesday is Coming! Ash Wednesday is Coming!

Top Ten Things For Me To Consider Doing (Or Rather, Not Doing) This Lent

(Based on things I have done in the past): 

10.   Give up meat.
  9.   Give up coffee.

Anyone can give up bad coffee....
clipart from Vintage Digital Stamps

  8.   Give up radio/music in the car.
  7.   Give up wearing jewelry/accessories.
  6.   Give up wine (I'd say "alcohol" but let's face it ... wine).

There's nothing quite like you. 
photo from FreeImages.com

  5.   Give up online time-wasters and/or TV.
  4.   Give up complaining.

You know what I'm talking about.
cliplart from Vintage Digital Stamps 

  3.   Give up sugar.
  2.   Give up all purchases that are not necessities.
  1.   Give up some time and devote it to reading/re-reading spiritual favorites and classics.

This doesn't sound like a sacrifice at all. 

~~~~~

I'm still thinking and praying on what I really need to do this Lent, which begins in two weeks.

~~~~~

"It feels like it's always Lent!" said Atticus yesterday. "Lent is always just around the corner!"

~~~~~

Last year I wrote Lent a letter as I pondered what to give up, take on, do, refine, ponder, pray. It's like we're old friends having a vist: "Happy to see you come, happy to see you go."

~~~~~

If you're looking for more ideas and discussion, here's a link to A Meaningful Lent: The Monstrously Long Post.

When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit: Ramona and I Continue Reading About WWII

Ramona and I are still reading about World War II. The other day we finished When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit. She loved it, and I do, too (as did my older girls.) It's a lovely, moving, and sometimes funny book that explores one family's experience. (There are just two incidents that would be disturbing for sensitive children -- if you are doing this book as a read-aloud, you should see them coming and so can handle them accordingly.)

The story is based on the life of the author, Judith Kerr, whose family, thanks to her father's foresight, fled Germany in 1933 when she was ten years old. They subsequently lived in Switzerland, France and England, where Judith Kerr still resides. (She's 91! I must tell Ramona! We must write to her and tell her how much we love the book!)

The protagonist, ten year old Anna, is a writer, like her father:

Lately she had been producing a number of illustrated poems which had been much admired both at home and at school. There had been one about a fire, one about an earthquake and one about a man who died in dreadful agonies after being cursed by a tramp. Why not try her hand at a shipwreck? All sorts of words rhymed with sea and there was "save" to rhyme with "wave" and she could use the three new blue crayons for the illustration. She found some paper and began.

Soon she was so absorbed that she did not notice the early winter dusk creeping into the room ....

Anna's father is a wise man and a marvelous mentor. Ramona and I loved this sage writerly advice:

Anna said, "Papa, do you really like the poem?" 

Papa said he did.

"You don't think it should be more cheerful?"

"Well," said Papa, "a shipwreck is not really a thing you can be very cheerful about." 

"My teacher Fraulein Schmidt thinks I should write about more cheerful subjects like the spring and the flowers."

"And do you want to write about the spring and the flowers?"

"No," said Anna sadly. "Right now all I seem to be able to do is disasters."

Papa gave a little sideways smile and said perhaps she was in tune with the times.

"Do you think then," asked Anna anxiously, "that disasters are all right to write about?" 

Papa became serious at once."Of course!" he said. "If you want to write about disasters, that's what you must do. It's no use trying to write what other people want. The only way to write anything good is to try to please yourself."

We liked Anna and her entire family immensely. I enjoyed her mother's trials as she learned to cook and sew, and we were amused by Anna's (initially) underachieving older brother, Max, who met the word count on his school essays by padding them with long lists of the foods his characters ate. In every essay the feasting ended with, "And then they all burst."

We identified with many things that reminded us of our homeschooling life. For example, I love the following passage about studying history. Anna's father has just asked her what she learned about Napoleon, and she's rattled off an impressive list of dates and events:

"What an extraordinary way to learn about Napoleon," said Papa. "Is that all you know?" 

"But it's everything!" said Anna, rather hurt, especially as she had not made a single mistake. 

Papa laughed. "No, it's not everything," he said, and settling down on her bed he began to talk about Napoleon. He told the children about Napoleon's childhood in Corsica with his many brothers and sisters, about his brilliance at school and how he became an officer at fifteen and commander of the entire French army at the age of twenty-six; how he made his brothers and sisters kings and queens of the countries he conquered but could never impress his mother, an Italian peasant woman. "C'est bien pourvu que ca dure," she would say disapprovingly at the news of every new triumph, which meant, "It's good as long as it lasts." Then he told them how her forebodings came true, how half the French army was destroyed in the disastrous campaign against Russia, and finally of Napoleon's lonely death on the tiny island of St. Helena. 

Anna and Max listened entranced. 

"It's just like a film," said Max.

Later, Anna's parents consider sending the children to live with their grandmother while they search for housing and work in England. Anna panics, fearful that the family will split up.

"It's just that I think we should stay together," she said. "I don't really mind where or how. I don't mind things being difficult, like not having any money, and I didn't mind about that silly concierge this morning -- just as long as we're all four together." 

"But Anna," said Mama, "lots of children leave their parents for a while. Lots of English children go to boarding schools." 

"I know," said Anna, "but it's different if you haven't got a home. If you haven't got a home, you've got to be with your people." She looked at her parents' stricken faces and burst out, "I know! I know we have no choice and I'm only making it more difficult. But I've never minded being a refugee before. In fact, I've loved it. I think the last two years, when we've been refugees, have been much better than if we'd stayed in Germany. But if you send us away now I'm so terribly frightened ... I'm so terribly frightened ...." 

"Of what?" asked Papa. 

"That I might really feel like one!" said Anna and burst into tears.

As someone who felt like a nomad much of her life (I grew up in an Air Force family, and Atticus and I have moved a number of times) I loved this illustration of how very little where we live can mean to us, and how much -- everything, really! -- family means as a way of defining whether or not we are "home."

A highly recommended book.

Purified, Tear by Tear (for the Feast of Candlemas)

(from the archives):

The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, Rembrandt van Rijn

Today is the Feast of Candlemas ... the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Presentation of Christ in the Temple.

This feast day is rich and full of meaning -- so dear to me, and to the hearts of other women who have lost children. There are many ways in which they have been lost: through miscarriage ... stillbirth ... failed adoption attempts ... infertility. Those who have had our souls pierced by such a sword cannot read the Scripture passage on which this feast is based without feeling the sharp pain of the blade again.

And thy own soul a sword shall pierce

Other mothers have shared the connections they've made between the loss of their children, and Mary's obedient offering of Jesus in the temple and later at the foot of the Cross. I share their nods of recognition, their tears of recollection, their sorrow.

And I've always been struck by the fact that this day is both Mary's presentation of her Son and her purification, for it has been through the presentation of my own children to the Lord that I have been purified, bit by bit, tear by tear, and sorrow by sorrow:

When I had my first miscarriage, I asked the Lord, "Why?"

He whispered in my heart, "I won't tell you 'why' ... but I know what you feel."

And I was purified, knowing that He's with me in every emotion, and every circumstance, in a very real and personal way.

When I miscarried again, I asked the Lord, "Will we ever be allowed to have a baby?" and He whispered, in the depths of my pierced heart, that I must walk in darkness for a time.

And I was purified, knowing that I will not always understand His ways, but that His plans are for my good.

When we followed His promptings to try again, and then miscarried a third time, I asked the Lord, "How can I trust again? I was so wrong." He whispered to my confused and grieving heart that I was not wrong ... He had called us to conceive again, and now He was calling me to surrender to His wisdom at taking this child so soon.

And I was purified, knowing that I could trust His promptings, even when they did not end as I had thought or hoped they would.

When next I miscarried, I wept to the Lord, and said, "I am so sad ... and yet I know You will use this suffering. Please accept it, Lord. I give you my child and I beg her intercession for her father's sake."

And I was purified, knowing that He would allow my children in heaven to pray for their father's conversion.

When I miscarried again, I whispered to the Lord, "Oh, how I had hoped it would be different this time ... I so hoped for life instead of death." He held me close and whispered to my bruised and battered heart that my baby did have life, the Life we all long for and hope to share one day. And in this way, He used the short life and death of my child to heal me of an old and terrible wound.

And I was purified, knowing that He is the Lord of all creation, the Lord of my life, the God who saves and heals me, the Christ.

My Christ, my Savior.

And I gave thanks.

Mary's fiat -- her "yes" to bearing the Child -- was both an openness to life and an openness to death.

And that is what God asks of us. To be open to life is to be open to its loss, open to suffering. And yet, what choice do we have but to say, "Yes. Let it be done to me according to Thy word"? It's the only way that I know to answer the One I love so much.

And it is through our fiats that He will purify us. He is purifying me still, daily. Hourly, sometimes, it seems. Through sorrow? Yes. Through the sword? Yes.

But also through the resurrections. Because, though there is sorrow, there will always be a Resurrection, and there is joy awaiting us.

Mary saw her Son again. And we will see our children. Mary's Son -- and all our sons and daughters -- are waiting for us. As St. John Paul II said :

"You will come to understand that nothing is definitively lost .... "

And so we wait, we yearn. And we are purified, a little more. And then a few steps more.

Our presentations give us glimpses into the depths of the Divine, even -- especially -- the presentations that hurt. We will weep in the nighttime of this life, but there will be joy in the morning.

Because, as Simeon said in the temple, knowing that he had seen the face of God:

Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace,
according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you prepared in sight of all the peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.