Tag Archives: learning

Fetch the Heavenly Fire

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I am reading The Reformed Pastor aloud to my husband and discussing Pilgrim’s Progress with my son.  Although Baxter (1615-1691) and Bunyan (1628-1688) were contemporaries, I haven’t read anything that connected the two.   Time seems to be less available to me these days; I haven’t found the leisure to follow fun little rabbit trails lately. 

Baxter wrote The Reformed Pastor when he was too ill to speak at a ministerial conference.  Reading the Puritans is like climbing upward through thick bramble bushes into a clearing with a fantastic vista.  After reading through thick and creeping prose you come upon a clear and radiant sentence that rewards the effort.  In truth, after reading a few pages, you find your feet and make your way with greater ease.

The Puritans were much closer to our tidy medieval fathers; they are fond of enumerations and list-making.  There are handwritten notes in my copy which are sobering to read.  My brother-in-law bought an entire library from a pastor who left his pastorate and his faith.  His personal Ex Libris label is still in the flyleaf.  Sigh… 

I wanted to share some quotes about teaching that you might appreciate.

Theology must lay the foundation, and lead the way of all our studies.  If God must be searched after, in our search of the creature, (and we must affect no separated knowledge of them) then tutors must read God to their pupils in all; and divinity must be the beginning, the middle, the end, the life, the all, of their studies. p.58

Be much at home, and be much with God.  If it be not your daily business to study your own hearts, and to subdue corruption, and to walk with God–if you make not this a work to which you constantly attend, all will go wrong, and you will starve your hearers; or, if you have an affected fervency, you cannot expect a blessing to attend it from on high.  Above all, be much in secret prayer and meditation.  Thence you must fetch the heavenly fire that must kindle your sacrifices.  p.62

A Search, A Challenge, An Adventure

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The exercise of reading and thinking
is an extremely mental-visual psychological process,
difficult to learn,
impossible to a degree of efficiency
without continued conscientious effort,
but capable of improvement
throughout one’s lifetime.

Reading is thinking,
it is a search,
it is a challenge;
and when done successfully,
it is an adventure which involves two persons–
the reader and the author.

The reader must carry on a silent conversation with the author,
asking what is being said,
questioning reasons,
and approving or disapproving
of the manner in which the material is presented.

Reading is never passive acceptance.

It is an energy-absorbing activity,
requiring movement of the mind,
and sometimes heart,
out to meet the mind of the author
and to grasp the meaning of another’s thoughts.

“It is,” says A.B. Herr, “a two-way process;
the reader must give in order to receive.“

~  William H. Armstrong in
Study Is Hard Work

I can’t say enough wonderful things about this little book.  My niece and I are working our way through the book together.  It takes me a while to read it, because I stop so often to copy quotes into my commonplace book.

It was dear Janie, who turned me on to Study Is Hard Work.  I think of Janie in her classroom now and would sooooo love to observe the learning process with such a master teacher at the helm.  Thanks, friend.  Even though your blogging voice is quiet,  the gifts you’ve given in the past keep paying dividends.

Fine Art Friday

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We note Fine Art Friday in our home by watching Sister Wendy. 

I discovered the Watch Instantly tab on Netflix a couple of months ago.  You get to watch the same number of hours that you spend in dollars per month.  We are happy with the basement package of $4.99, which translates to five hours of free instant watching on the computer.  I can watch some movies which hold no interest for the other occupants of this household.  We had to download Internet Explorer 6 to use this feature – Firefox didn’t work.

Back to Sister Wendy.  On Fridays we watch one ten-minute segment of her Grand Tour. 

It is a nice length: she’s a dear, but one could easily get too much at one sitting.  

Like the daily poetry, my goal is regular exposure to the true, the beautiful and the good. 

 

Today’s Lesson: Attendance

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photo by brother Dan

Now to learn to think while being taught presupposes the other difficult art of paying attention.

Nothing is more rare: listening seems to be the hardest thing in the world and misunderstanding the easiest, for we tend to hear what we think we are going to hear, and too often we make it so.  In a lifetime one is lucky to meet six or seven people who know how to attend: the rest, some of whom believe themselves well-bred and highly educated, have for the most part fidgety ears; their span of attention if as short as the mating of a fly.

~  Jacques Barzun, Teacher in America as quoted in Study is Hard Work by William H. Armstrong

Morning Routine

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Cindy calls it Morning Time.  She has 20 Morning Time posts: you will be inspired to read them all.  We call it Morning Routine.  This is the time we begin together at the table.  I am remodeling our Morning Routine this week.  Exercise, brekkers and shower come first on both plans.

Before:

Read chapter of Bible   from what we were studying at the time
Sing Psalm     mix learning new ones with reviewing familiar ones
Pray   don’t ask me why, but this has always followed the singing
Read Psalm from the Vulgate    One verse in English, one in Latin
Read Catechism question    Currently WLC
Read a poem   reading through different anthologies

Remodeled:

Pray   We will begin with the daily prayer from the Lutheran Book of Prayer.  It has four weeks of daily prayers.  I would like our prayer life to grow in maturity; I like the tone and posture of these prayers.  On a tired Friday morning I want us to pray, “Send me, O Lord, into the tasks of this day rejoicing.”  

Read chapter of Proverbs   This is how we began school back in 1994, our first year of home schooling.  I’m returning to my roots, at least for autumn.  I even like the idea of picking one verse and copying it in a journal.  I remember one of my former lit students told me he was working on handwriting, and he was a high school junior at the time.

Sing Psalm    Continue on our course with more emphasis on memorization.  My husband puts me to shame with the hymns and psalms he has stored in his head.  He works on them on his lunch half hour.  Many psalms we sing are challenging musically; I have a fond hope that my son is improving in musical sight reading.

Catechism   Continue through WLC; re-evaluate when we are completed.  This makes me laugh, though.  When I was growing up catechism is what the poor kids in the Catholic church did.

Poetry    Continue through The Top 500 Poems for three weeks of the month. [Oh – Oh – and when we complete that the next anthology is The Oxford Book of English Verse.  Yippee!! ] One week during the month we will focus on one poet (Frost, Service, Cowper, Bradstreet, Kipling, etc.).  My greatest aid in sustaining any interest in poetry in my son has been Jeeves and Wooster.  More than once, Collin has read or listened to a story that referenced a poem the same week that we had read it.  The glow of recognition keeps us going.

Art   This is an addition which requires more thought and planning on my part.  We have several books to work from.  I like the drip, drip of daily exposure with a concentrated focus on one artist, one week a month.  I plan to watch Sister Wendy’s art films to educate myself.  

When I get to this point, I always want to add more.  One year we read through Grant & Wilbur’s Christian Almanac.  I’d love to do that again.  I’d love to read the Proverbs in the Vulgate.  I’d love to work through our set of People and Places and pray for the nations, learning a microbit about them each day.  I’d love to incorporate prayer for those being martyred, to raise our awareness of our brothers and sisters in chains. 

This is where my husband shines.  He has such a skill at estimating the time it takes and making priorities.  He’s always subscribed to the philosophy of Do A Few Things Well. 

Hands On Learning

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Back then, the Outdoor Education Camp was an annual
highlight.  Local home school families of different stripes joined
together, rented a primitive 4-H camp and focused on a period of history or a
specific topic to study.  Costs were low,
friendships formed, and learning actually occurred.  One year we studied the Constitution; a local
judge was a guest lecturer as well as a judge for a mock trial. 

I was sitting across from a dad during lunch when his eyes watered
and he started to cough. 

“Are you okay, Bob?” I asked.  We made eye contact before he shook his head
and got up from his seat.  He didn’t make
it seven steps when we realized that Something was Very Wrong. 

“He’s choking,” I called out and the nearest man began the
Heimlich maneuver.

Instantly the dining hall was quiet, an intense quivering
quiet.

Terry thrust several times, to no avail. He kept at it, but it wasn’t working.

“Lord God,” I silently prayed, “You just can’t let him die here
in front of all these children! Help us!”

Another friend darted into the kitchen and called 911.  Mentally I rolled my eyes: we were 18 miles
from the closest ambulance, beyond a timely response.

“No, Nooo!!! Not my Daddy!”  The daughter’s sobbing wail was the only
sound that broke through the strained silence.

Bob’s body was slumped forward and drool dribbled out of blue
lips.  He repositioned Terry’s hands
higher on his abdomen before Terry thrust once again.  The piece of carrot popped out, Bob’s face
pinked up, and everyone took a collective breath. 

Though stunned, we paused and prayed, giving thanks for the deliverance.

Before the evening meal a paramedic gave us a talk on the Heimlich, a nice, clean, clinical echo of the real thing we had earlier witnessed.  Two striking points embedded themselves on my psyche.

1.  Because choking and gagging are queer, risky spasms of weirdness, our first impulse is for privacy and preservation of dignity.  But in distress, isolation could become termination.  Bob was headed to the bathroom.  Had he made it there, he may have died.   Isn’t there a life lesson here?  So often we are more concerned about shielding our distress from the eyes of others than (seeking and) receiving needed assistance.

2.  When you are choking, you cannot talk.  Communicate your problem by pantomime, hands pointing at your throat or encircling your throat.  If you see someone choking, you need to talk for them. The first question is “Can You Breathe?” They can respond nonverbally to that question.

That noon after sanity was restored, we gathered together our stunned senses. There was a moment when the drama of it all absorbed all conversation. Soon a buzz began throbbing  as everyone rehearsed their perspective of the story.  A lot of food was left unfinished that meal. 

A local reporter had spent a few hours at the camp that day and had joined us for lunch.  After the dramatic interruption, a mom turned to him, picking up the thread of conversation and said, “As you can see, home schoolers tend to emphasize hands on learning!”

 

Hoffer

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My baby, my first born son, turned 25!  Christopher (always with three syllables) became Hoffer (his brother’s best pronunciation); Hoffer became Chris.  Since his mother-in-law, my good friend, is also named Chris, he is often My Chris.  But to me he will always be Hoffer or The Old Gentleman. 

Chris has always had a keen sense of propriety, a kind and gracious heart, and a relaxed but courtly bearing; I started thinking of him as T.O.G. when he was five or six.   No one calls him The Old Gentleman – this is all in my head – but it captures a part of who he is.  Masculine modesty without improper prudishness. 

Don’t be fooled though.  He’s a magnet for fun; he laughs heartily and delights in practical jokes. 

When I think about Chris it is always in the context of relationships.  Old or young, very old or very young, he is good with people. I love to see him in the various roles he’s been given: husband, father, son, grandson, boss, big brother, friend.  He’s nothing if not dependable.  He’s learned to work hard and God has given him success.  Blessed (is) the man that fears Jehovah...

For those interested in homeschooling, I want to share his success to give you a different sort of encouragement.  Chris always did well academically, but wasn’t particularly brainy. He was a solid B+ student, an 89 per center. He did what was assigned to completion whether or not he enjoyed that subject. These are his strengths: he likes to work hard, he’s great with people, and he enjoys learning new things. 

He started working part-time for a manufacturer when he was 17, an entry-level job in which his fingernails got very dirty.   He mastered that job, challenged himself, and kept at it. He was moved to another job and worked at that.  His boss recognized his native abilities, appreciated his attitude, and tacitly put him through an informal management training.  Marrying the boss’s daughter wasn’t part of the scope and sequence, but Chris applied for that position and was granted permission. This spring when a retirement opened up a foreman job, managing the assembly plant, Chris was the man the managers thought best suited for the job.  He is highly respected by both his subordinates and his superiors.

He doesn’t have a college degree.   I don’t either.   I have often wished I had.  When people suggest I go back and get a degree, I laugh and say, “Then I’d have to study whatever they require, and I don’t want to take Abnormal Psychology, thanks all the same.”  I’m not against a university education.  But I want to go on record saying it’s not necessary for success.

We’ve always chanted the mantra: we’re raising our sons to be lifetime learners.  We’re giving them the tools with the hope that they will continue.  I see that happening with Chris.  He will never read Virgil in Latin, but he just roofed his steep 1920’s roof.  He won’t discuss Quantum Theories, but he will counsel  people in need.  He started reading his son Winnie the Pooh at about 18 months.  He opens his home to others, leads his family with confidence, loves his Grandpa and Grandma, and he always has a smile and hug for his mom!

Happy (belated) Birthday, my Hoffer.  You make your dad and me happy and grateful parents, you bring us joy all our days.

I Used to Think

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I used to think … that a woman who lost a day of productivity each
month due to her cycle was a wuss and lacked gumption.

I used to think… that the persistent taking off and putting on
of reading glasses was vanity over appearances,
not simply because one cannot see some things with them,
nor can one see certain things without them.

I used to think … utility trumped beauty every time.

I used to think … liturgy in worship was mechanical, cold, and dead.

I used to think… painted toenails were pointless.

I used to think … if you listened to country music, you were a moron to be pitied.

I used to think … because it was fruit, I could eat all I wanted.

I used to think … cloth napkins were a waste of time.

Forgive me, Lord.

How have you changed?

What did you use to think?

oh – Oh – OH!!

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One of the minor irritants in my life is the drop down tab to input your state in an address.  Here’s why I dislike it: I use the keyboard to input the address and zip code before and after the state, but I have to move my hand to the mouse and scroll down to find OR for Oregon. 

It’s just not efficient. I usually type O, which gets me OH, a small scroll away from OR.  Often, in my haste I type OR and suddenly I’m at Rhode Island.  Bother!!

Yesterday I was working on a project at the pharmacy bringing our formerly outsourced payroll in house.  For each employee I needed to choose Oregon from a drop down tab four times.  After playing around with it several ways, I discovered that if you type the same letter it toggles through the states beginning with that letter.  For instance, if you want Indiana, type I – I – I – I  and you will see IA, ID, IL, IN.  If you type it five times by mistake, you’ll just get IA again.

This is such a tiny thing, but it made me so very happy to type O-O-O with my finger and avoid the mouse.  I couldn’t keep from giggling and feeling smug and victorious.  My co-worker chuckled and said, “It doesn’t take much to make you happy, now, does it?”  That’s me.  Easily amused.

Disco, baby, disco!

What My Brother Taught Me Today

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My brother, the tenor

For those of us who are sight-impaired this is such a cool thing.  If you’ve read this blog for a while, you are familiar with my embarrassing gaffes because I didn’t see clearly.  Like the time I thought the little boy had breeches on and he was buck naked on the bottom.   Or when I added a picture of an elderly woman reading to illustrate how-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up and didn’t realize that she was reading a book of dirty jokes.  Ay-yi-yi!!

So I just hung up from a lovely mid-day phone call from my brother Dan.  In the midst of our chit chat I mentioned a blog I liked but complained about the font being so small. 

“Here’s how you fix that,” my helpful brother-who-lurks suggested. “Hold down the control key and move the scroll-wheel on your mouse. Moving down makes the print larger, moving up makes it smaller.”

Control-Scroll makes print larger or smaller. 

Go ahead!
Try it!
Right now.

Who knew?

Thanks, bro. 

This was a much easier entry than
the book review I was going to write. <wink>

[Addendum: I was showing this to my co-workers
at the pharmacy and it didn’t work at first.
It won’t work with graphics at all, only print.]