Monday, May 11, 2015

We Do Not Know How Children Learn. (So how do we teach?)

The Tree of Knowledge


A while back I wrote a post on how children learn. Or rather, our ignorance as to how children learn. Because no one really understands how it happens (and it does...happens). One thing we do know: learning cannot be coerced.

As the old saying goes: you can bring a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink. In the same way, we can bring a child to the lip of the “Pierian spring” but we cannot make her “drink deep.” We cannot force a child to learn.

Because the child has free will; the child is a person.

This is the first principle of Charlotte Mason’s philosophy of education. But another of her principles is equally important. It is that the child is equipped, suited, in fact, created to learn.

For the mind of a child is “a spiritual organism, with an appetite for knowledge.” And knowledge is “its proper diet.”

I think sometimes it would be helpful for us to remember that story by Kipling about the Elephant’s Child, who was full of “ ‘satiable curiosity.” Or we could just recall the four-year-old living in our own home. Elephants’ children, and human children also, are hungry, ravenous, starving for knowledge. They want to know why, where, how, when, what. They want to hear stories. They want to look at pictures. They want to know what is in the dirt. They want to know how to draw a nose. They want to know what sound the vase makes if you drop it down the stairs. You don’t have to “teach” a small child. You merely have to let them play, let look at books, talk to them, read to them, answer their questions. They are hungry and knowledge is their “proper diet.”

According to Charlotte Mason, this hunger is the first tool of a good educator. It means that the educator doesn’t have to resort to those commonly used tools of education which encroach upon the child’s free will, namely “fear, love, suggestion, influence or undue play upon natural desire.” It means you don’t HAVE to threaten or cajole with the promise of reward or penalty, you don’t have to give grades (gasp!). The child will want to know what kind of animals lives in Kenya/what happens at the end of the story/how Monet painted the water-lilies even without the threat/promise of grades.
In fact, grades can distract/dilute this natural hunger. The child begins to think she should learn about poetry/history/etc.  so she can get a grade, rather than because these things are worth knowing. The natural hunger is compromised. Sometimes it is lost altogether.   

This might be as good a time as any for me to say this: Charlotte Mason was not a proponent of “unschooling.” I am not a proponent of unschooling. Charlotte Mason advocated for a broad and rigorous curriculum. She expected excellence from even the youngest pupils. She expected her students to perform tasks with “perfect execution.”

But how can an educator expect these things (and get them!) without the use of the above listed forbidden tools (fear, love, suggestion…play upon natural desires), without grades, bribes, threats, etc?

As I suggest above, the natural hunger for knowledge does much of the work—if left intact.

But there are, according to Mason, three legitimate “instruments of education” available to the educator. These are:

1. Atmosphere or Environment

2. Discipline or Habit

and

3. The Presentation of Living Ideas
    

In the next few weeks I will try to explore each of these "instruments," and try to understand how I might implement them in my own home-life and home-school. 

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real on Wise Road

Pretty


Against all odds, I installed shelves in the kitchen. They are "crafted" from "reclaimed" "barn-wood." That sounds so Pinterest-worthy, urban homesteading sophisticated, right? But don't get too excited. Note the sarcasti-quotes. When I say "reclaimed" I mean "pried from the walls with a crowbar and scraped down with a shovel to get rid of the hornets nests." And when I say "barn" I mean "the old shed covered in corrugated iron where we keep the tractor lawnmower." (We don't have a tractor, much to my husband's chagrin. If we DID have a tractor it wouldn't fit in the "barn.") Livin' the dream.

But still. The wood, once I sanded it down and oiled it was...pretty! And after a trip to Home Depot to pick up some metal brackets, we have some nearly free shelves. And they are (once again) pretty, yes?







Happy


The happiest thing about Wise Road is the evening. The light is gorgeous, slanting in, everything turns gold, even the long weeds grass that we didn't get around to mowing (again).




We are trying to take advantage of the lovely spring weather and (relative) absence of bugs by enjoying the following outdoor activities: mowing, making campfires, mowing, eating s'mores, mowing, eating dinner outside, and mowing. Hattie and Hugo are entranced by my fire-building skilz.


Hugo would not relinquish this smashed marshmallow, even to eat it.


Devin rigged up this old (what the heck IS is?) pallet thingy that someone used to keep firewood on...or something...so now we have a table outside, which has improved our life by approximately 28%.

And I am finally getting the hang of getting meals prepared out here, thanks, in part, to a working stove and a trip to Ikea. Mealtime has gotten a bit more civilized.


Of course i this picture you can't see the plastic silverware or the power tools which were also on the table. Never ignore what is just outside of the frame!

Funny

With all the reclaiming of barn-wood and sewing of curtains (stay tuned) I have been a bit distracted from child-related duties. Usually while I am working the kids are outside, engaged in some wholesome countrified activity--like playing with barbed wire and broken glass. KIDDING! Usually their just digging in the dirt with sticks (why? what do your kids do all day?). But the other day Hattie got into my car and found my makeup. She was there for a while.

Here she is just before I decanted her into the bath. The photo unfortunately doesn't do justice to her artistry or adequately capture the gallons of foundation on her skin and clothing.



Real

I bought a sewing machine.

I didn't exactly intend to buy a sewing machine, but I was at Ikea. You know? Come on, I know you've had this experience. It's like this. You are in Ikea. You have been in Ikea for more time than you would like to admit, weaving back and forth through tastefully modern kitchens and sleek bedrooms. You actually don't know exactly how long you have been there, you don't, in fact, know if it is day or night Outside because *there are no windows!*. Both of your children have reached The End and are throwing epic tantrums. (Yes, those were my children.) You just pried the four-year-old from the floor for the tenth time. The two-year-old is about to make another desperate escape attempt into the basket, box, and random container department. Your ability to think rationally left you back where you buy wall-mount shelves. You start to look at objects you didn't even know were Things and think: "Wow, this Enudden Toilet Roll Holder and Magazine Stand is so cool! How could I have survived this long without a toilet roll holder that incorporates a MAGAZINE STAND! And it's so cheap!"

So, when I saw a shiny new sewing machine I bought it (obviously!!).

"What are you going to do with a sewing machine?" Devin asked me once we were safely back in our car with all our stuff and the still-screaming progeny. Suddenly I was swept away in grand delusions: With my new sewing machine I was going to become a Truly Accomplished Woman, I would sew all of my children's clothes, I would make ties for my husband to coordinate with feast days and liturgical seasons, I would craft elegantly austere tunics for myself from organic linen. ...

"Why don't you start with some curtains," he replied.

And so I did. And let me just say this: Sewing machines: SO complicated, okay? I had NO idea how many pieces and steps and tiny movements were required. It took FOREVER just to find the bobbin (I didn't even know what a bobbin WAS!). It took HOURS of fiddling before I finally sewed a stitch. And then I had to stop: because I had sewed the edge of the curtain to the middle of the curtain. It was awesome.

But I did it. I sewed some curtains. And they don't look too bad.

(Of course I forgot to take pictures so have no documented proof.)


This post is linked to Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real at Auntie Leila's blog!

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

The Garden



"The garden is one of the two great metaphors for humanity. The other, of course, is the river. Metaphors are a great language tool, because they explain the unknown in terms of the known.

But...the garden did not start out as metaphor. It started out as a paradise. Then, as now, the garden is about life and beauty and the impermanence of all living things. The garden is about feeding your children, providing food for the tribe... And what a wonderful relief every so often to know who the enemy is--because in the garden, the enemy is everything: the aphids, the weather, time. And so you pour yourself into it, care so much, and see up close so much birth and growth and beauty and danger and triumph--and then everything dies anyway, right? But you just keep doing it."

                                                                                            Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird









May is a good time in the garden. The seeds I planted have come up, and the seedlings have yet to be desecrated by heat, drought, or varmints. The mesquitos haven't appeared, so we spend a lot of time outside. The things I planted last year surprised me by surviving til this year. Our grape vine luxuriates; I'm sure Bacchus holds midnight revels beneath the arbor. A pair of robins is nesting in the pergola. 

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