Thinking about education...

In one of my favorite books on classical education, Norms and Nobility: A Treatise on Education, David hicks quotes another book that I enjoyed: The Rector of Justin: A Novel by Louis Auchincloss.  In that novel, the headmaster of a classical boys' school, Frank Prescott,  thinks about his philosophy of education. Hicks says:

Prescott's dream, no mere nineteenth-century show of "rugged individualism" or :muscular Christianity," embodies the teacher's ancient and perennial desire to connect the wisdom of the past with man's present and future actions: to educate the young to know what is good, to serve it above self, to reproduce it, and to recognize that in knowledge lies this responsibility.  But Prescott fails. [His school] refuses to produce uniform paragons of virtue, and Auchincloss leaves his readers to ponder some disturbing questions: Is Prescott's failure inevitable-- a flaw of conception, personality, or circumstance? What does his failure teach about the devastating influence of a materialistic and democratic society on education? What is the solution to the paradox between educating for the world's fight and for the soul's salvation?
~David Hicks, Norms and Nobility: A Treatise on Education, pp.1-2

This reminds me a movie we recently viewed: The Emperor's Club (Widescreen Edition).  It also has no easy answers for the educator, because there is something intangible at work to secular educators: the work of the Holy Spirit in the lives of students to bring change.  A teacher can only fulfill his or her calling before God and pray to inspire his students.

If you would like to think about the philosophy of education this summer, Gentle Reader, I recommend any or all of these resources for thoughtful consideration.  Hicks' book is my favorite on the subject of classical education, but no easy read.  The Auchincloss is an excellent little novel, fun if you want to ponder in a lighter way, and a good story.  And The Emperor's Club is not a great movie, but a good movie with lots of food for thought.

Climbing Parnassus...

As the Gentle Readers of this blog know, I have been reading Climbing Parnassus over the last year or two, in little bits and pieces. You know, because you have been reading my favorite quotes from the book as I've slogged along. Near the end of the book, Tracy Simmons sums up the work this way:

"Latin and greek are not dead languages," J. W. Mackail once said. "They merely have ceased to be mortal." Parnassus-- that resplendent symbol of inspiration, eloquence, refined polish, and grace-- has lodged within the Western mind a majestic image of the Baeutiful and the unattainable. it's steep, forbidding peaks, its cloud-girt summits, stood out against the sky, throne of Apollo, abode to the Muses, and source of inspiration for untold pilgrims seeking artistic perfection and the peace that comes at the end of arduous acheivement...Parnassus reminds even now that we must struggle and sacrifice, even to become fully human. Few reach the crest. But it's the climbing that counts.

The book is not only a fascinating history of classical education, but an inspiring apologetic for its revival and use. With me reading the book, of course, he was preaching to the choir. I already understand the importance of classical education. But i was inspired and encouraged on the journey. And I recommend the book to you, Gentle Readers, if the quotes have been provocative or interesting to you, you will enjoy the whole of the argument as well. Mr. Simmons ends the book this way:

...The best education, the highest and most bracing education, does not scorn the ground; without the ground we cannot spot the horizon. Yet it doesn't disdain the stars. it shows us how to be fully human-- and to exercise all the powers proper to a human being. It bids us, as Pope once inscribed, "to trace the muses upward to their spring."

The Divine Comedy complete...

On my walk this blustery morning, I finally finished Paradise, Canto 33, and brought my adventure through Hell, Purgatory and Paradise to an end. Of my two recent audio-book forays into epic poetry--Milton's Paradise Lost and Dante's Divine Comedy-- I must say I enjoyed Milton the most. I think that is true for several reasons.

First, I loved Milton's language. If I had been able to read Dante in his original Italian, that difference might have disappeared. Or if I had a different translation of Dante, that also may have helped. (I was listening to the John Ciardi translation).

Second, Milton's story is literally of Biblical proportion and roughly Protestant understanding, while I found much of Dante more Roman Catholic and extra-biblical in nature. My own RC baggage probably made this more irritating to me than it may be to others.

Third, Milton's allusions tend to be classical or biblical in nature, at least some of which I have a passing familiarity with. Dante tends to make local and historical Italian allusions, very few of which I know about or can relate to.

I am glad I completed The Divine Comedy. It is a great work which reflects its time in some remarkable ways. But I think my next audio book needs to be something lighter and more entertaining...

The end of publishing...

Thanks, Elsa, for pointing out this clever ad!

Meet the Puritans

Great give-away at J C Ryle Quotes. Check it out.

Reading List 2008

You may have noticed, Gentle Readers, that I keep a list of books read in the side bar. I have decided it is getting too long, so I am going to make a permanent listing here at around this time each year. So below you will find the books I read in 2008. ANd a list will appear after the first of the year with all the books from 2009. That will keep my side bar more manageable. And I can't just delete them. There is something so satisfying about having a list of ideas accomplished.

I am very heavy on fiction. That is because it is so easy. I do make myself read some hard fiction, but still. I need to add some other genres in there in the coming year. I do all right with theology. Time to add history and biography at least.

What have you been reading? What do you suggest I add to my long list?

Books read in 2008

The Lord God Made Them All by James Herriot (completed 12-08)

Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi (completed 12-08)

Morality for Beautiful Girls by Alexander McCall Smith (completed 11-08)

Suffering and the Sovereignty of God ed. by Justin Taylor and John Piper (completed 10-08)

The Tears of the Giraffe by Alexander McCall Smith (Completed 10-16-08)

Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince by J. K. Rowlings (Completed 10-08)

The Wasteland by T. S. Eliot (completed 9-08)

Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan (completed 9-08)

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith (completed 9-08)

The Night Journal by Elizabeth Crook (Completed 9-08)

Busman's Honeymoon by Dorothy Sayers (Completed 8-08)

Shadow Puppets by Orson Scott Card (Completed 8-08)

Shadow of the Hegemon by Orson Scott Card (Completed 8-08)

Martin Luther in His Own Words (Completed 7-08)

The Man Who Was Thursday by G. K. Chesterton (complete 6-08)

Elephants Can Remember by Agatha Christie (completed 6-08)

Paradise Lost by John Milton (completed 5-08)

A Soldier of the Great War by Mark Helprin (completed 4-08)

The Cross-Centered Life by C. J. Mahaney (completed 4-08)

Book and movie notes

We are heading out of town tomorrow, and so the blogs will be quiet again for a time. Before we leave, I thought I'd fill you in on what I've been reading and watching...

On my walk this morning (on a beautiful fall day along White Rock Canyon) I made it all the way to Canto 31 of the Inferno section of Dante's Divine Comedy. I am happy to say that four more cantos, and I can leave Hell behind. It's a bit grueling. I'll wait for Purgatory and Paradise before making a final verdict, but I am finding Dante pretty obscure. Perhaps it is my own ignorance that doesn't understand the plethora of ancient allusions. And I am not enjoying the language as I did with, Say, Milton, but that could be a translation problem. I suppose reading Dante in Latin (or was it Italian?) would be a wholly different and more desirable experience. I felt that way when I read a translation of Les Miserables. The story was compelling, but the language was irksome, and that was likely do to the clumsiness of the translation. This is the John Ciardi translation, so let me know, Gentle Readers, if you have opinions on translators...

In my bedtime reading, which always has to be lighter and more friendly, I am enjoying meeting all my old friends in the Fellowship of the Ring. I am happy to say that finally, at something like my third time reading and after several times through audio listening, I did not have to skip over the barrow-wights, which have previously freaked me out. I made it through with barely a blush. And now we are in Rivendell, getting all the history and implications of the One Ring. There is simply little more delightful than a great story, told masterfully!

I continue to pick away at Climbing Parnassus. And it continues to pick away at my educational assumptions.

And recently we have viewed a couple of movies that I thought were worth watching. One was called "A Good Woman" and starred Helen Hunt and Scarlett Johansson. It is an adaptation of the Oscar Wilde short story, "Lady Windermere's Fan." I thought it was well done, and unexpected (especially since I had not read the story previously.) Dave didn't like it as much as I did, but I thought it was quite good.

Even better than that, however, is the quirky little movie entitled "Marilyn Hotchkiss' Ballroom Dancing and Charm School" This was an unexpected little movie. It revealed human pain and pleasure in subtle ways, and went places I didn't expect it to go. Give it a view.

Both of these movies deal with some mature themes, and would not be good viewing by children younger than mature, older teen years. But they both are very human movies, asking important human questions. I enjoyed them!

TTFN, Gentle Readers. Perhaps I'll write from Tucson, but perhaps I'll not see you again until next week.

Dante, and other audio adventures

Today as I took my walk, I wandered with Dante through the first 5 circles of Hell. It was sobering stuff as I walked against the wind, the gray sky, and the promise of moisture on its way. It all made a nice back-drop to the poet's travels with Virgil. I know I have mentioned it before, but be sure to check out the free monthly audio offerings here. They also offer a daily podcast of Spurgeon's Morning and Evening, which I have been enjoying.

Today I became aware of a couple of fun podcast sites for history. I have started the series of podcasts by Mike Duncan on the history of Rome here. It's good to be reminded about the ties between Aeneas and Romulus and Remus, to put the Sabine women in their context (and not just in a song from Seven Brides for Seven Brothers) and to be reminded why Tarquin was a tyrant. We started at the beginning, and are now through the monarchy, and about to embark on the Republic.

A couple of other sites I look forward to exploring are also podcasts about history: the first is the history of the Byzantine Empire, and the second on the Norman Centuries, both by Lars Brownworth.

I love history, but sometimes have a tough time slogging through the books. So this is a great way to bone up on history while cleaning, folding laundry, or walking the wide world!

Book notes

I am thoroughly enjoying my reread of The Hobbit by Tolkien. I have just the battle of the three armies to go, and then Bilbo will be making his way back home.

I am also enjoying listening to the audio version of Isaac Asimov's Foundation (the first book in his famous sci-fi series). However, I must admit that his agenda is painfully clear, at times evenly blatantly so. I find myself chuckiling out loud as he assures us that the only really honest people are the schietists, and replaces expletives that would normally involve the name of God randomly with the word "Space", as in "Only Space knows...", or "Space! How much more do I have to listen to..." I am enjoying the story despite the obvious worldview vehicles.

Last month, I finished off both Home to Holly Springs and The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society. They were light, summertime reads, neither great fiction, but both enjoyable and worth the time (each in its own way). They also both suffered from a deplorable amount of overly-convenient resolution, that became almost unbearable by the end. And I threw in My Man Jeeves at the beginning of this month. Everyone needs something as silly as Wodehouse from time to time. It's got to be good for the soul.

I am about a half-hour from finishing off the audio version of Augustine's Confessions. Not only is the man one of the most clever at using figures of speech that I have ever run across, but his prayers, which run with the narrative so seamlessly that you cannot always tell whether he is praying or narrating, are excruciatingly beautiful. Also excruciating at times, though not in the pleasing sense, are his arguments and ponderings about various philosophical ideas. I now know how to understand the quote that Augustine's problem is that he thinks too much. If you need an example, read the chapters that deal with the concept of memory, or the ones contemplating the nature of time. Yikes!

I also continue to chip slowly away at Climbing Parnassus and The Writer's Workshop, though reading for teaching is now taking more of that time, and I'm not getting as much done as I would wish.

And, I am afraid we've been off the wagon on reading Calvin since summer set in. Perhaps, with the coming of dark evenings and quiet schedules, we will resume.

Words about words...

How about a few meditations about the word: written, read, or taught?

Here columnist David Ulin laments the loss of the art of reading. And here, Ben Hall reports the explosion of e-books and e-commerce as one more problem for book sellers. And Lachlan Markay reports that Conservative books are once again climbing the best-sellers lists, but being ignored by the media.

Here is an interesting article about the messy business of translating ans recording a language by those who do it best: Wycliffe and SIL.

While here is a thought provoking article by Stanley Fish, who is a rather curmudgeonly professor who is a gadfly to academia (I agree with much of what he says, though not all!) talking about what words should constitute a college education.

And finally, here is an incisive and damning essay on the state of writing in our universities.

A few literary (and not so literary) thoughts

One of the joys of camping is lounging around in a beautiful place with a good book. The dh at left is lounging in our little camper, with a view of 14,000-foot peaks, reading a Dorothy Sayers novel. I, taking the picture, was on one of the beds in the little camper, reading The Full Cupboard of Life by Alexander McCall Smith. What could be better?

According to NPR, here is a list of its reader's 100 best beach books ever. I am currently finishing up #55, and have read approximately 19 of the others. How about you, Gentle Readers? (Thanks to RG for the idea...)

I have posted articles here before that bemoan the loss of reading in our world. Now, here's one that bemoans the loss of youth culture in cyberspace. interesting that the growing number of adults on social networking sites is driving out the young. That was actually one of my stated goals in joining facebook years ago: to teach my children and their friends and my students that there was no "free" territory on this whole earth, either irl or in cyberspace, where you could say things without consequences. I guess I succeeded! Old foggeys arise!

And in a related note, many are mourning the demise of good penmanship. Apparently, it is another by-gone virtue slain by the computer. And another death: children's books published before 1985. More stupid consequences of legislation in our litigation-happy, overly-preoccupied-by-safety world.

A little Dante, anyone?

This month's free give-away at ChristianAudio is all three books of Dante's Divine Comedy. I must admit to never reading this in its entiurety, and I think Dante and I could be very amicable walking pals.

And to get you in the mood, Gentle Reader, check out this site of sand art centered around a Dante theme!

The Eclogues

I received a copy of this little book for my birthday from my dear husband. Now, he is not usually wont to buy me old Latin poetry for my birthday, but he had particular reasons for doing so in this case. Eldest ds (Ben, the Classicist) is likely writting about this very set of 8 poems by Virgil, and we feel we need to understand what he is writing about. Still, I find the thought a little intimidating.

There are only 8 short poems in this book. Why the pages and pages of introduction? Do I have to wade through that before I read the poems? Do I need a tutor to understand them? These are the questions I ask as I slide it to the bottom of my nightstand pile.

One of these days, I will be courageous, and just dig in to the first poem. And i can always call Ben and have him explain them to me.

Any other courageous souls out there want to read Virgil with me?

Book notes

I recently read, in one of Andrew Kern's posts, a definition of writing. He defines writing this way:

Writing is the overflow of the soul into a pattern of words encoded in visual symbols (letters or hierogliphs) for the purpose of communication.

He goes on to point out that most of the teaching of writing occurs in the second and third parts of writing: putting into a pattern of words, and communicating. But none of that is meaningful without the overflow of the soul.

A couple of days ago, I finished reading The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. I think it is book born out of the overflow of the soul. It was a book full of beauty and brutality. At times it was very difficult to read. And at times it moved me to tears. The prose and description are beautiful, heart-wrenching. Mr. Hosseini manages to tell a gripping tale, full of love for the Afghanistan-that-was, and yet not without hope for the Afghanistan-that-is. Somehow, amid the many opportunities to turn overly smarmy, he avoids that and gives us something ringing of truth. And he takes a hard look at guilt and the need for redemption.

Though this book is brutal, and despite the fact that the hero figure "discovers" Islam as a sort of comfort despite its emptiness, I highly recommend this book to mature readers. It is a moving portrayal of cowardice and guilt, and the consequences of fleeing from them. And it ends with just a hint of hope. I'm going to have get a copy of Hosseini's second novel, A Thousand Splendid Suns.

Have any of you read these, Gentle Readers? I would love to hear your ideas!

And to correct my last Book notes post, I have, indeed, read another Thomas Hardy novel. I read Tess of the D'Urbervilles back in high school or college. It was so depressing, and so different, in my memory at least, from Far from the Maddding Crowd, that I forgot it was also a Hardy novel.

I am one section into Daisy Miller by Henry James. Hmm. Don't know if I'll like this one, but I'll give it a try while I take my walks.

And while I sew or do handwork, I am listening to another of Orson Scott Card's novels, this one the first book of the Alvin Maker series, Seventh Son. Card is a compelling and entertaining story teller, and we'll see if I can overlook his Mormon predilection and still enjoy his tale.

And lastly, Al Mohler gives us his summer reading list here. I'm not sure I'll be picking up lots of these, since they are all military-type themes, and that's not necessarily one of my favorites, but there are many good non-fiction titles there for you history buffs and war mongers.

Happy reading, Gentle Readers!

Book notes

I have recently finished several books, and thought i'd give you a few impressions...

Susan Cooper's The Dark Is Rising: I must confess I didn't love this book. it was a fairly interesting story line, but features a "hero" who not only doesn't know he's a hero, but never figures out what it means exactly, and things seem predetermined to make him do what is needed without any volition on his own. I have no desire to read further in this children's fantasy series.

Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy: This was an excellent book, interesting for its story, its pictures of both redemption and the consequences of sin, and the ironic, meticulous voice Hardy brings to his work. It is my first time to read a Hardy novel, but I hope it will not be my last. I disagree with my eldest dear son, who see so much overly-romanticized English agrarianism in the novel. But I do agree with my dear daughter-in-law that Gabriel Oake is the best of heroes.

And now, I'm off on a weekend excursion with my dear husband. Hope you all have lovely reading time this weekend, Gentle Readers!

Mrs. Miniver

I recently finished reading the book Mrs. Miniver by Jan Struther. I thought I might have an inkling about the book since I had seen the movie version, and loved it. But I was in for a surprise. The book has almost nothing in common with the movie, except the characters, the setting (England, just before and during the start of World War II) and the fact that I enjoyed them both!

Mrs. Miniver is a quiet, reflective sort of book. It is the sort of book in which almost nothing really happens, but we watch a slice of someone's life, and are enriched as we do so. I will leave you with a few quotes to give you a flavor of its gentleness and humor. And if you need a little escape to a quiet time, Gentle Reader, you will enjoy Mrs. Miniver. It would be lovely to read over the summer, under an apple tree or on a beach somewhere.

Clem (Mr. Miniver) caught her eye across the table. It seemed to her the most important thing about marriage was not a home or children or a remedy against sin, but simply there being always an eye to catch.
~p.32

"It was a Wedgewoood day, with white clouds delicately modelled in relief against a sky of pale pure blue. The best of England, thught Mrs. Miniver, as opposed to countries with reasonable climates, is that it is not only once a year that you can say, "This is the first day of spring." She had already said it twice since January--
~p.75

"Looking up casually in the middle of writing a letter, Mrs. Miniver saw, through the back window of the drawing room, something that she had never consciously seen before: the last leaf being blown from a tree. One moment it was there, on the highest bough of all, waging wildly in the wind and rain. The next moment it was whirling away across the roof tops, a forlorn ragged speck. The line of its flight was the arabesque at the end of a chapter, the final scroll under the death-warrant of summer. Once more the lime tree stood bone-naked.
~p.171

Monday Miscellany

Economics item of the week: watch the video here to get some perspective on what it means to cut $100 million from the budget.

Frightening statistic of the week: try these thoughts about torture, and pray for the church in America...

Sale of the Week: Check out this sale from Canon Press.

Photos of the week: look at these photos from Alaska's Mount Dedoubt volcano.

Agrarian literature and maturing children...

In a recent discussion with my eldest son Ben this week (you should know, Gentle Reader, that Ben and I cover deep territory in our talks: literature and theology and philosophy, and Ben always acts like he thinks I understand what he is talking about, which is very gracious of him) we turned to talking about the agrarian movement, and utopian movements in general. This topic came up because I am reading Thomas Hardy's Far from the Madding Crowd, and Ben identified this as English agrarian literature. He claims we Americans tend to read seriously English agrarian literature and take it at face value, while if we were reading the same novel placed in the antebellum South, we would dismiss it as a romanticized version of reality. He then went on to describe agrarian literature as doing the same thing as progressive literature, but in retrograde. In other words, where the progressive plants his utopia in the future and grasps towards a future than can never be reality, the agrarian places his utopia in the past and grasps towards what never was. We went on to discuss Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry, and the fact that you rarely hear the agrarians talk about the stagnation that can occur in a rural setting, nor the fact that breaking into such communities results in just as much displacement often as breaking out of them does.

I found these fascinating ideas, and have been pondering them ever since. And I feel blessed to have had such conversations with a child of mine, grown to adulthood, and surpassing me in many ways. And he is becoming a friend in a way childhood never allowed. I feel like he is rising up in the gates and calling me blessed because he enjoys my conversation, and has so much to teach me. What a joy to watch your children leap ahead of you. May each of you, Gentle Readers, be so blessed!

Some Dickensian thoughts

Tonight we hope to watch the final installment of Masterpiece Theater's version of the Dickens tale, Little Dorrit. We have really enjoyed it so far, though neither of us have read this novel, Dickens fans though we be.

In discussing Dickens recently with a friend at church and with my ds, I was reminded of one of my favorites, Our Mutual Friend. We also loved Bleakhouse and Hard Times, and I loved Tale of Two Cities and Oliver Twist and David Copperfield, and of course, A Christmas Carol. Part of the magic of Dickens is how he has you slog through seemingly disconnected lives, like multiple themes in a symphony, and at the proper moment, they all come together to form an exciting and cohesive climax. This is typified in Our Mutual friend, Bleak House, and to some extent in the movie version of Little Dorrit. lot of coming-together has to happen in tonight's episode to bring it all off.

Hope you can enjoy it too, Gentle Readers. And who among you are Dickens fans? And what are your favorites?

Reading reacting upon us

To this end we must be supremely careful in our choice of authors, lest an inartistic and debased style infect our own writing and degrade our taste; which danger is best avoided by bringing a keen, critical sense to bear upon select works, observing the sense of each passage, the structure of the sentence, the force of every word down to the least important particle. In this way our reading reacts directly upon our style.
~Leonardo Bruni D'Arezzo, as quoted by Tracy L. Simmons in Climbing Parnassus: A New Apologia for Greek and Latin