The Nature of Reality

I had the rare occasion to drive somewhere alone last week, and I took advantage of the time by listening to a lecture from the Circe Institute. It was a talk given by Dr. James Taylor from their 2003 Conference entitled "Good to Great: Teaching Literature from Grammar to Rhetoric."

Dr. Taylor was discussing the fact that many of today's brightest students come to university literature classes unable to fully delve into the classic Good and Great Books because their experiences are so divorced from the reality of the natural world.  They somehow work out a way to give the right answers, but they lack the depth of true understanding. He gave the example that even in his Children's Literature class, the opening line from the nursery rhyme "Ding, Dong, Dell," had to be explained because the students did not know what a dell was.

Dr. Taylor also mentioned a saying popular among the early church fathers, and I may be paraphrasing here, but it was something along the lines of, "God wrote two books, and you have to understand the first before you can understand the second." The first being the Creation, and the second, the actual written Word.  Dr. Taylor had many other meaty things to say, but this is what I've been thinking about most. I've always believed in the importance of  enjoying the outdoors and learning about the natural world through literature and observation, but I had never made the connection of its significance in deepening my understanding of classic literature and the Scriptures.

Most of the classics were written in a time when people were living a lot of their lives outside; food came from their own land or a farmer they knew personally, and the wonders of creation were a source of delight and entertainment (and sometimes great worry). Vocabulary exercises are not the answer to this problem, as there is a vast difference between Googling what a dell is and standing in one,  giving it its proper name and coming into relationship with it.

 

It is true that a large part of my reality is a world of modern technologies insulated from the elements, literally a constructed reality. True reality is outside those walls. And what do I know of it, what relationship have I with it? It has only been in the last several years that I started gardening and so learned the names of plants other than dandelion, rose, and maple tree. I was so proud when I finally made the effort to learn the names of all the trees in our yard, yet learning their names, while a start, is certainly not anywhere near "knowing" them. I know next to nothing about the stars. So many of the ancient philosophers and mathematicians and scientists made their discoveries by looking up with a sense of awe and wonder. We have given ourselves so much else to look at--to the point that I often check the weather online instead of stepping outside and using my senses. There is head knowledge, and then there is knowledge through relationship.

Why, in the end, is all this important these days anyway? I think nature study and just "living outside" not only train us in careful observation, but give us a sense of place--hard to achieve in a time when identical shopping centers exist in all parts of the country. It helps us to not only know, but care. Most importantly, when we take the time to truly know the things that are made, we come to know more about their Maker.

"The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork." Psalm 19:1

Begin As You Mean To Go On

 Some of the best parenting advice I think I have ever received came from a blog whose name is lost to me now. It has stayed with me though, and I have even passed it on to others. It was, "Begin as you mean to go on."

I was happily surprised this week when reading  Chapter 4 of Volume 6  of the Original Homeschooling Series to discover that perhaps the blogger's original source was Charlotte Mason:

                "It is necessary that we should all follow an ordered course, and children, even infant children, must begin in the way in which they will have to go on." Vol. 6, p.70.

 

Principles for habit training, authority and docility, [training] the way of the will, and methods of education can all be derived from this deceptively simple statement.

Sometimes I allow things to begin that as an individual, wife, mother, or home educator I had no intention of ever allowing, much less allowing to go on. Once they have been permitted, however, they incrementally and insidiously take over more and more territory until a bad habit is established that must be overcome... which is ever so much more difficult than not allowing the habit to develop in the first place, though it may not seem so at the moment of its inception. The cultivation of good habits requires watchfulness and diligence, and is hard work itself, particularly when it runs counter to the status quo.

I think the takeaway is that when we are at a 'beginning' we need to have a vision for the end. Not the complete picture, but at least an overarching goal or hope for what lies ahead.  I am guilty too often of not taking a few moments to evaluate whether what I am doing or planning supports what I believe to be good and true. A knee-jerk, "Oh, that sounds like a good activity/curriculum/idea," or a weary, "Okay," often is not such a good idea at all.

Truth, Goodness, and Beauty

I borrowed an idea from Cindy at Ordo Amoris to add to our "morning time" this month. The plan was to at some point during our time, after our Bible study, Scripture memory, and hymns, ask each child to think of something "true, good, or beautiful." Last Tuesday was our first day to try this out, and I really did not know what to expect, but I was anticipating something along the lines of one of their toys, or  something silly to make the others laugh. 

So I read aloud Philippians 4:8 and asked each of them to think of something that they would then share with the rest of us. One of my girls caught her sister's eye and grinned and said she knew what she was going to say. The other one also smiled, and said she bet she was going to say the same thing. My son joined in with the grinning, and at this point, I figured all hope was lost.

Then my daughter said, "Mom. Mom is beautiful." And my other daughter said, "That is what I was going to say!" And then my son said, "Me too!"

And I, humbled and thankful, felt guilty that I had expected so little from them. The Lord blessed this first effort beyond what I had imagined, blessed me to see myself through the loving eyes of my children. And I am so grateful that however many times I have fallen short with them, I have not failed so horribly that they can't still find some beauty in me.

The rest of the week, we did have to talk about whether stuffed animals and iPods qualified for our "true, good, and beautiful" conversations, and honestly I am not sure myself about whether to place judgments on these things or just use them as a springboard into conversation about truth, goodness, and beauty as the children get older, but I will always carry the memory of our first morning time with "truth, goodness, and beauty" close to my heart.