Showing posts with label Little Women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Little Women. Show all posts

Thursday, April 07, 2016

Why I'm Adding Little Men to My List of Favorite Homeschooling Books


Although I've loved Little Women for as long as I can remember, I somehow (scandalous!) never got around to reading Little Men and Jo's Boys. I just finished Little Men today and now I have to add all of the following to my quote book:

Two large rooms on the right were evidently schoolrooms, for desks, maps, blackboards, and books were scattered about. An open fire burned on the hearth, and several indolent lads lay on their backs before it, discussing a new cricket-ground, with such animation that their boots waved in the air. A tall youth was practising on the flute in one corner, quite undisturbed by the racket all about him. Two or three others were jumping over the desks, pausing, now and then, to get their breath and laugh at the droll sketches of a little wag who was caricaturing the whole household on a blackboard.

In the room on the left a long supper-table was seen, set forth with great pitchers of new milk, piles of brown and white bread, and perfect stacks of the shiny gingerbread so dear to boyish souls. A flavor of toast was in the air, also suggestions of baked apples, very tantalizing to one hungry little nose and stomach.

The hall, however, presented the most inviting prospect of all, for a brisk game of tag was going on in the upper entry. One landing was devoted to marbles, the other to checkers, while the stairs were occupied by a boy reading, a girl singing a lullaby to her doll, two puppies, a kitten, and a constant succession of small boys sliding down the banisters, to the great detriment of their clothes and danger to their limbs.

~~~

Boys at other schools probably learned more from books, but less of that better wisdom which makes good men. Latin, Greek, and mathematics were all very well, but in Professor Bhaer's opinion, self knowledge, self-help, and self-control were more important, and he tried to teach them carefully. People shook their heads sometimes at his ideas, even while they owned that the boys improved wonderfully in manners and morals. But then, as Mrs. Jo said to Nat, "it was an odd school."

~~~

The class stopped in the middle of 7 times 9, and everyone looked up to see what was going on.
Thinking that a lesson in learning to help one another was better than arithmetic just then, Mr. Bhaer told them about Nat, making such an interesting and touching little story out of it that the good-hearted lads all promised to lend him a hand, and felt quite honored to be called upon to impart their stores of wisdom to the chap who fiddled so capitally. This appeal established the right feeling among them, and Nat had few hindrances to struggle against, for every one was glad to give him a "boost" up the ladder of learning.

~~~

Till he was stronger, much study was not good for him, however, and Mrs. Jo found various amusements in the house for him while others were at their books. But his garden was his best medicine, and he worked away like a beaver, preparing his little farm, sowing his beans, watching eagerly to see them grow, and rejoicing over each green leaf and slender stock that shot up and flourished in the warm spring weather. Never was a garden more faithfully hoed. 

~~~

"Let him be a mechanic if he likes," said Mr. Bhaer. "Give a boy a trade, and he is independent. Work is wholesome, and whatever talent these lads possess, be it for poetry or ploughing, it shall be cultivated and made useful to them if possible."

~~~

"How much the lad knows of these things [the natural world]! How absorbed he is in them! And what a mercy it is just now, for he cares so little for books, it would be hard to amuse him while he is laid up; but the boys can supply him with beetles and stones to any extent, and I am glad to find out this taste of his. It is a good one, and may perhaps prove the making of him. If he should turn out a great naturalist, and Nat a musician, I should have cause to be proud of this year's work," and Mrs. Jo sat smiling over her book as she built castles in the air. 

~~~

"Now, boys, I have arranged it so that you can all go," said Mrs. Bhaer, running back again, much relieved, for she loved to make them happy, and always felt miserable when she had disturbed the serenity of her little sons; for she believed that the small hopes and plans and pleasures of children should be tenderly respected by grown-up people, and never rudely thwarted or ridiculed.

~~~

After the last excitement, peace descended upon Plumfield and reigned unbroken for several weeks....

"It is too good to last," said Mrs. Jo; for years of boy-culture had taught her that such lulls were usually followed by outbreaks of some sort, and when less wise women would have thought that the boys had become confirmed saints, she prepared herself for a sudden eruption of the domestic volcano.

~~~

...the boys were charmed with Dan's pleasure, and crowded round him to shake hands and expatiate on the beauties of their gift. In the midst of this pleasant chatter, Dan's eye went to Mrs. Jo, who stood outside the group enjoying the scene with all her heart.

"No, I had nothing to do with it. The boys got it up all themselves," she said, answering the grateful look that seemed to thank her for that happy moment. Dan smiled, and said, in a tone that only she could understand, "It's you all the same."

...He thanked them both with the silent, hearty squeeze he gave the kind hands that had held him up, and led him into the safe refuge of a happy home.


~~~

P.S. Discussing the book on my Facebook page. There are spoilers in the comments, as we're talking about the good, the bad, and the ugly in this book. There were a couple of weird, random things that I didn't like. 

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

"Hearing tell of sewing makes me want to sew, too."



So said Ramona yesterday as I read Little Women to her. 

Apparently, hearing tell of people using phrases such as, "hearing tell" also makes her want to talk that way.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Ramona, Little Women, and Masterly Inactivity



I am loving reading Little Women aloud to Ramona, and I was reminded of this post from six years ago, when I read the book to Anne and Betsy, then ages 12 and 10.

If you can manage some masterly inactivity this week, I wish you sweet daydreams.

~~~~~~

What would one think if one were to happen upon a scene such as this:

A girl is lying on a couch, doing nothing. It is evening, around sunset. She remains in the same spot for some time. Is she lazy? Or sullen? Has she no evening chores to do? No one to care for, nothing to accomplish that is more worthwhile than wasting an evening in slothful lounging?

Hmmm.

What would one think if one were, while reading, to happen upon a passage such as this:


Jo was alone in the twilight, lying on the old sofa, looking at the fire, and thinking. It was her favorite way of spending the hour of dusk; no one disturbed her, and she used to lie there on Beth's little red pillow, planning stories, dreaming dreams, or thinking tender thoughts of the sister who never seemed far away.
~~ Little Women

Charlotte Mason used a phrase of her time -- "masterly inactivity" -- to refer to the time that must be allowed children (or young adults, as Jo was in the above passage ... or old adults, ahem....) to simply be. To think, to ponder, to make connections between life, faith, literature, and sunsets.

How far we have wandered, in our "I'm so proud of how busy we are" world, from the idea that masterly inactivity is of intrinsic value. When we lose the time needed to think and ponder, we lose connections. We lose sunsets, and we forget that life cannot and should not always be managed, scheduled and controlled. We forget to dream dreams and before we know it, tender thoughts are forgotten, because we find we have been too rushed to allow ourselves the luxury of them.

If you can, plan to spend some unplanned time soon ... a quiet twilight, time on the couch, a fire, and tender thoughts.

Tuesday, October 02, 2012

Happy-Making

~ A picture book about Julia Child.

~ This chocolate syrup recipe from Alton Brown

~ Finishing The Prairie Thief with Ramona (review to come soon.) Looking forward to the book club meeting and the prairie-themed, thief-themed, brownie-themed, horseradish tea-themed luncheon that will accompany the discussion. Loving the way Melissa Wiley's writing inspires Ramona's creative writing.

~ Tumblr page sent to me by a friend: Murmuring Cottage. (I hide in the cottage whenever I need a respite in my day.)

~ And this one, found through Murmuring Cottage: Caught In Another World.

~ Reading Little Women to Ramona. Receiving a note from her that says:

Dear Mrs. March, 
You have been randomly selected out of 10 to write an article for The Gazette. 
Sincerely, Beth March

~ Hearing the tapping and whirring of our old electric typewriter as my Beth March pounds out edition after edition of her Gazette.

~ Autumn brilliance.

~ Reading Quinn Cummings' book, The Year of Learning Dangerously. (Amazon review here.)

~ Art class this month. The sweet and wonderful Magical Mrs. M. made Ramona our artist of the month, displaying her artwork and sharing one of Ramona's ideas with the group.

~ Showing this to my daughters today (because their Aunt Kathy and I played Mystery Date....):




Thursday, June 04, 2009

A Book Meme!


Got this one from Jennifer, Faith and Alicia:

1. What author do you own the most books by? C.S. Lewis, William Faulkner, Shakespeare, and Dr. Seuss. (Now there's a group I'd like to put together in a room -- what would they create? A sing-songy, nonsensical, incomprehensible, lyrical, heart-probing and classical defense of Christianity....)

2. What book do you own the most copies of? I think it's the Bible. Or Shakespeare. Or a Harry Potter book (I blame the children for that one.)

3. Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions? It is something of which I had not thought.

4. What fictional character are you secretly in love with? It's no secret that I adore Atticus Finch and hope to spend the rest of my life with him.

5. What book have you read the most times in your life? Actually, it's probably a little paperback called My Name is Elmo.

6. Favorite book as a ten year old? Nothing startlingly classic -- I didn't even read some of the most wonderful stuff until I was an adult, such as Anne of Green Gables. No, my favorite was something from the Daytona Beach, Florida library. We lived by the ocean for a year when I was ten, while my father was stationed in Korea, and I read and reread a book about a woman who had twenty or thirty cats, one of them named Felicity. I vowed I would one day name a child (or a cat) of mine Felicity.

7. What is the worst book you’ve read in the past year? The worst half of a book I read was Twilight. I do not care for the "alluring bad boy" theme with which it drips.

8. What is the best book you’ve read in the past year? Ginger Pye with the kids. For me: Malcolm Gladwell's Blink and his Outliers, and Charles Shields' Mockingbird: A Portrait of Harper Lee. And my reread of To Kill a Mockingbird. So fun to share it with Anne.

9. If you could force everyone you know to read one book, what would it be? To Kill a Mockingbird. But they can't have Atticus. He's mine.

10. What book would you most like to see made into a movie? They already did it. To Kill a Mockingbird is probably the closest thing I've seen to a beautiful translation to screen.

11. What is the most difficult book you’ve ever read? I'm sure it was something by William Faulkner, and I blame him. And alcohol. His, not mine.

12. What is your favorite book? I can never choose just one! Don't torture me with sadistic mind games! (And that is a stolen quote from, not a book, but an episode of a Bob Newhart show.)

Doesn't "my favorite book" depend on one's mood? One's season in life? The season of the year? I love different books in different moments. Don't you? Who created this meme, anyway? Is this a psychological test?

Now, I'm not saying that love depends on a mood (don't get me started) but to choose a favorite book is akin to choosing a favorite child. And, I'm not saying that I have different favorite children on different days, depending on my mood. Anne, Betsy, Ramona, you know that, correct? I would hate to have a little blog meme inflict some deep and lasting psychological damage on my children. But, I digress.

Loads of favorite books that everyone should read at some time or another:

To Kill a Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, Fr. Elijah, The Fire Within, Mere Christianity, The Secret Garden, Anne of Green Gables, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Abandonment to Divine Providence, My Antonia, all the Martha and Charlotte books, everything about Beezus and Ramona, Little Women, Brave New World, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, Miss Rumphius, Dandelion Wine.

And that's just one mood.

13. What is your favorite play? The first play I ever fell in love with (via reading) was Romeo and Juliet, so of course it still holds a place of privilege. And sniffles.

14. Poem? Too many to name. See all those Poetry Friday posts.

15. Essay? Every one that C.S. Lewis wrote, and Annie Dillard's "God in the Doorway" (which I would probably never have found if not for my friend, Jack.)

16. Who is the most overrated writer alive today? I'm gonna have to say Stephanie Meyer. I just don't get it. Well, I do get it, but I don't care for it.

17. What is your desert island book? In this book meme from awhile back, I said I wanted something with practical tips and hut organizing strategies.

18. And . . . what are you reading right now? I just finished the reread of Fr. Elijah (which falls for me under "spiritual reading" much more strongly than under "fiction" ... such a beautiful book) that I began on Mother's Day; I'm reading Fruitless Fall, by Rowan Jacobsen, and The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell. Also, Mother Teresa's Secret Fire, by Jospeh Langford. And, I'm reading The Silver Chair aloud to the kids.

Friday, January 18, 2008

The Post Office in the Hedge

Read Lesley's post about blogs and what they are, what we want them to be, or what they can be, here.

We have a little box in our house, labeled "The Post Office of the Little Women" and it's a place where my daughters and I leave each other little notes (Atticus can use it, too, but he forgets ... the fun of secretive little missives is enjoyed mostly, I think, by us girls.)

I do think that's what my favorite blogs are ... a place where I leave a note for someone I love, someone whom I hope will leave a note for me, too. But, I had never consciously connected such communication to that lovely little portion of Little Women, or to our little Post Office here at home, and I love that Lesley made that connection for me.

So, if you have ever thought of leaving me a note in this little post office in the hedge, I hope that you will.

No pressure, of course. The best letters are surprises that arrive when we least expect them.

And perhaps you'll leave a note for Lesley, too, as she muses on what she wants her blog to be.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Masterly inactivity

What would one think if one were to happen upon a scene such as this:

A girl is lying on a couch, doing nothing. It is evening, around sunset. She remains in the same spot for some time. Is she lazy? Or sullen? Has she no evening chores to do? No one to care for, nothing to accomplish that is more worthwhile than wasting an evening in slothful lounging?

Hmmm.

What would one think if one were, while reading, to happen upon a passage such as this:

"Jo was alone in the twilight, lying on the old sofa, looking at the fire, and thinking. It was her favorite way of spending the hour of dusk; no one disturbed her, and she used to lie there on Beth's little red pillow, planning stories, dreaming dreams, or thinking tender thoughts of the sister who never seemed far away." -- Little Women

Charlotte Mason used a phrase of her time -- "masterly inactivity" -- to refer to the time that must be allowed children (or young adults, as Jo was in the above passage ... or old adults, such as I ....) to simply be. To think, to ponder, to make connections between life, faith, literature, and sunsets.

How far we have wandered, in our "I'm so proud of how busy we are" world, from the idea that masterly inactivity is of intrinsic value. When we lose the time needed to think and ponder, we lose connections. We lose sunsets. And we forget that life cannot and should not always be managed, scheduled and controlled. We forget to dream dreams and before we know it, tender thoughts are forgotten, because we find we have been too rushed to allow ourselves the luxury of them.

If you can, plan to spend some unplanned time soon ... a quiet twilight, time on the couch, a fire, and tender thoughts.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

You are what you read, Part II


I often found myself thinking of Charlotte Mason's methods of education as the kids and I read Little Women.

This excerpt is from Chapter 33, in which Jo is trying to learn German from Mr. Bhaer:


I took four lessons, and then I stuck fast in a grammatical bog. The Professor was very patient with me, but it must have been torment to him, and now and then he'd look at me with such an expression of mild despair that it was a toss-up with me whether to laugh or cry. I tried both ways, and when it came to a sniff or utter mortification and woe, he just threw the grammar on to the floor and marched out of the room. I felt myself disgraced and deserted forever, but didn't blame him a particle, and was scrambling my papers together, meaning to rush upstairs and shake myself hard, when in he came, as brisk and beaming as if I'd covered myself in glory.

"Now we shall try a new way. You and I will read these pleasant little MARCHEN together, and dig no more in that dry book, that goes in the corner for making us trouble."

He spoke so kindly, and opened Hans Andersons's fairy tales so invitingly before me, that I was more ashamed than ever, and went at my lesson in a neck-or-nothing style that seemed to amuse him immensely. I forgot my bashfulness, and pegged away (no other word will express it) with all my might, tumbling over long words, pronouncing according to inspiration of the minute, and doing my very best. When I finished reading my first page, and stopped for breath, he clapped his hands and cried out in his hearty way, "Das ist gut!' Now we go well! My turn. I do him in German, gif me your ear." And away he went, rumbling out the words with his strong voice and a relish which was good to see as well as hear. Fortunately the story was the Constant Tin Soldier, which is droll, you know, so I could laugh, and I did, though I didn't understand half he read, for I couldn't help it, he was so earnest, I so excited, and the whole thing so comical.

After that we got on better, and now I read my lessons pretty well, for this way of studying suits me, and I can see that the grammar gets tucked into the tales and poetry as one gives pills in jelly. I like it very much, and he doesn't seem tired of it yet, which is very good of him, isn't it? I mean to give him something on Christmas, for I dare not offer money. Tell me something nice, Marmee.

I, too, have found that teaching grammar and spelling through literature are indeed very much like hiding pills in jelly. The medicine is not noticed yet one is treated ... The lessons are not dry and torturous but rather become delightful.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Adventures with Little Women


We're revisiting the March household. Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy, as well as beloved Marmee, are a big part of our days right now.

Yesterday, we made a post office. Just as the Marches shared with their neighbor Laurie the delights of unexpected mail, we're sharing the delight of notes full of love, gratitude or silliness. Betsy made mini flip-books for everyone, Anne shared one of her fashion designs with each of us (see this link for the Christmas present Anne is still enjoying), "Marmee" left the girls notes telling them how dearly she loves them, and Ramona (who had decorated her mailbox with a primitive happy face) checked her mail a number of times. "Father" came home from the war last night and was happily surprised by an overflowing mailbox.

Our post office is simple: Five envelopes, each made from two pieces of construction paper, taped together, with the front panel cut down decoratively to reveal the opening. Each bears a name (poor Meg has been left out as my girls dubbed themselves Amy, Jo and Beth) and they are all taped on a door in the kitchen, with Ramona's low enough that she can reach in and check it by herself.

What's up next? The girls are planning a Little Women tea party based on ideas from Emilie Barnes's Let's Have a Tea Party!