April 26, 2010
As every homeschool year draws to a close, I like to recall all of the read-alouds that we have done. The read-alouds alone make homeschool worth it to me, but of course the kids have learned a lot of math and some history and science, too. Not to mention Latin.
Anyway, this year we set about finishing the Little House books as read-alouds. When we read aloud, the kids and I take turns reading, of course.
We read On the Shores of Silver Lake, The Long Winter, Little Town on the Prairie, These Happy Golden Years and the First Four Years. We also read both Penderwick books, which the kids absolutely loved -- The Penderwicks and The Penderwicks of Gardam Street. We just finished The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis And we read saints stories, some of the Gospel readings and the occasional story from The Book of Virtues.
Two of my favorite math add-ons this year were the I Hate Mathematics Book. And Penrose, the Mathematical Cat.
On their own, the kids have discovered favorite authors. Olivia loves Beverly Cleary and Joey seems fond of Eleanor Estes of The Moffats fame.
They both did book reports this year, as well. Olivia on Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm and Little House in the Big Woods. She currently is reading Lassie Come-home - her last assigned book of the year.
Both of Joey's book reports were on historical fiction. The Childhood of Famous Americans story of the Wright Brothers was one of them.
When I remember all they've read, I'm pretty sure they are getting a decent education.
If I were to change anything in the coming year, it would be to increase the Catholic content of my homeschool. I am going to use some book recommendations from the free, online Charlotte Mason curriculum - materamabilis.org
Monday, April 26, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Appalachian Catholic
April 24, 2010
I have been thinking lately about my two identities: the one into which I was born, and the one I chose as an adult. My first identity is Appalachian. Born in West Virginia to parents from Kentucky and West Virginia, I grew up in Eastern Kentucky and never heard the word Appalachian. But you don't have to hear it to be it. All I can say is that if you have performed with your clogging group at the opening of a second-hand car dealership ..... you might be Appalachian. And I've done that.
As an adult, I learned how different my upbringing was from that of other college and workplace friends. I'm an Appalachian who went "out" and stayed there. That is not very common. I lost my accent. I married into a Spanish family. I'm not ashamed of my heritage at all, but it's not exactly a joyful heritage. And, as I was growing up I found my reading interests centered around Jewish authors -- Bernard Malamud, Chaim Potok, Leon Uris, Herman Wouk, Isaac Bashevis Singer.... The list goes on and on. I was fascinated with these writers because their work depicted an actual "way of life." Despite all of the problems and dramas in their books, there was a shape and structure to their lives -- an orientation toward something outside their own world. And that something was God. Because of that, their "way of life" actually worked, unlike my way of life.
I didn't become Jewish. I became an agnostic in college, a rather boring, much-to-be-expected decision by a young adult away from home for the first time. But years later, living in a big city in the Deep South, I met Catholics. Again, they weren't perfect. Their lives held problems and sometimes dramas, but they had a "way of life." And it worked. There it was again. An orientation to something outside themselves that their religion helped them to incorporate into their lives in a way that my religion never had. And they were Roman Catholic. After two years of reading and thinking, I became a Roman Catholic, too. I never regretted it and I don't plan to ever stop being Catholic.
But trying to be Catholic and Appalachian at the same time is just weird. Appalachian culture is not Catholic; it is very, very Protestant. Appalachians are attuned to the beauty of the natural world around them, but their churches are usually as plain as potatoes. Intellectualism is not regarded highly, in my experience. Fighting and independence run through Appalachian culture like bright ribbons. But in the Catholic world, obedience and community are emphasized.
This culture clash wasn't much of a problem for me when we lived in Memphis, but now that we live in SW Virginia, I find that I often just don't "get" the culture here. Perhaps I have simply been converted. For example, I'm much more concerned about life issues (re: the abortion debate) than I am about mountain-top removal mining. I believe such mining should be stopped and that all mining should be regulated to be safer, but the question of whether a human has a right to life somehow seems to me to be a more basic and pressing issue.
One of the things I have always loved about being Catholic is that it is truly universal. The readings are the same every day everywhere in the world. So I can continue being Catholic right here in Appalachia, awkward as it sometimes feels. If anyone else out there has experienced a similar culture clash. Please post a comment.
I have been thinking lately about my two identities: the one into which I was born, and the one I chose as an adult. My first identity is Appalachian. Born in West Virginia to parents from Kentucky and West Virginia, I grew up in Eastern Kentucky and never heard the word Appalachian. But you don't have to hear it to be it. All I can say is that if you have performed with your clogging group at the opening of a second-hand car dealership ..... you might be Appalachian. And I've done that.
As an adult, I learned how different my upbringing was from that of other college and workplace friends. I'm an Appalachian who went "out" and stayed there. That is not very common. I lost my accent. I married into a Spanish family. I'm not ashamed of my heritage at all, but it's not exactly a joyful heritage. And, as I was growing up I found my reading interests centered around Jewish authors -- Bernard Malamud, Chaim Potok, Leon Uris, Herman Wouk, Isaac Bashevis Singer.... The list goes on and on. I was fascinated with these writers because their work depicted an actual "way of life." Despite all of the problems and dramas in their books, there was a shape and structure to their lives -- an orientation toward something outside their own world. And that something was God. Because of that, their "way of life" actually worked, unlike my way of life.
I didn't become Jewish. I became an agnostic in college, a rather boring, much-to-be-expected decision by a young adult away from home for the first time. But years later, living in a big city in the Deep South, I met Catholics. Again, they weren't perfect. Their lives held problems and sometimes dramas, but they had a "way of life." And it worked. There it was again. An orientation to something outside themselves that their religion helped them to incorporate into their lives in a way that my religion never had. And they were Roman Catholic. After two years of reading and thinking, I became a Roman Catholic, too. I never regretted it and I don't plan to ever stop being Catholic.
But trying to be Catholic and Appalachian at the same time is just weird. Appalachian culture is not Catholic; it is very, very Protestant. Appalachians are attuned to the beauty of the natural world around them, but their churches are usually as plain as potatoes. Intellectualism is not regarded highly, in my experience. Fighting and independence run through Appalachian culture like bright ribbons. But in the Catholic world, obedience and community are emphasized.
This culture clash wasn't much of a problem for me when we lived in Memphis, but now that we live in SW Virginia, I find that I often just don't "get" the culture here. Perhaps I have simply been converted. For example, I'm much more concerned about life issues (re: the abortion debate) than I am about mountain-top removal mining. I believe such mining should be stopped and that all mining should be regulated to be safer, but the question of whether a human has a right to life somehow seems to me to be a more basic and pressing issue.
One of the things I have always loved about being Catholic is that it is truly universal. The readings are the same every day everywhere in the world. So I can continue being Catholic right here in Appalachia, awkward as it sometimes feels. If anyone else out there has experienced a similar culture clash. Please post a comment.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
On a Lighter Note
April 22, 2010
So it's Earth day, and I did nothing Earth Day-ish except make a loaf of bread. We've just about given up store-bought bread around here.
Today, though, I am considering how very different each person is. Tonight, we took the kids to the Dogwood Festival, a local event that includes a bunch of carnival rides, which the kids absolutely love. There's the Ferris wheel, the Magic Carpet ride, the Rainbow, the Zipper, the flying swings, the Cliff-Hanger. It's goes on and on.
I only have two kids and they are wildly different. Joey rode every single ride offered, even the Zipper. Olivia rode the tame rides and had a blast. The look of joy on both of their faces as they raced this way and that with the wind blowing their hair back. . . .Well, that look is what parents live for, I think.
Joey doesn't care how high he goes or how fast. Olivia has a definite limit. If it goes high and fast, it is off the list! But Olivia is the one who talked a games person into letting her play a game for $2 instead of $3. She is the one who won a stuffed dog, named Dogwood, to bring home from the fair. And my husband is the one who rides motorcycles and insisted that Joey ride every ride he wanted. After all, he had an all-night wristband. It was a lot of fun. I'm grateful to the grandparents who send a monthly allowance to the kids. They used their Baboo (grandfather) money for the festival and had a great time.
I'm also grateful for the differences in people and for the flexibility in families to let each person just be.
So it's Earth day, and I did nothing Earth Day-ish except make a loaf of bread. We've just about given up store-bought bread around here.
Today, though, I am considering how very different each person is. Tonight, we took the kids to the Dogwood Festival, a local event that includes a bunch of carnival rides, which the kids absolutely love. There's the Ferris wheel, the Magic Carpet ride, the Rainbow, the Zipper, the flying swings, the Cliff-Hanger. It's goes on and on.
I only have two kids and they are wildly different. Joey rode every single ride offered, even the Zipper. Olivia rode the tame rides and had a blast. The look of joy on both of their faces as they raced this way and that with the wind blowing their hair back. . . .Well, that look is what parents live for, I think.
Joey doesn't care how high he goes or how fast. Olivia has a definite limit. If it goes high and fast, it is off the list! But Olivia is the one who talked a games person into letting her play a game for $2 instead of $3. She is the one who won a stuffed dog, named Dogwood, to bring home from the fair. And my husband is the one who rides motorcycles and insisted that Joey ride every ride he wanted. After all, he had an all-night wristband. It was a lot of fun. I'm grateful to the grandparents who send a monthly allowance to the kids. They used their Baboo (grandfather) money for the festival and had a great time.
I'm also grateful for the differences in people and for the flexibility in families to let each person just be.
Monday, April 19, 2010
The Last Battle
April 19, 2010
Today reading The Last Battle with my two children, I was really struck by the blindness of The Dwarfs who - after being duped by the false Aslan (Puzzle in lion-skin) - decide they will believe in nothing. Their slogan is this, "The Dwarfs are for the Dwarfs." They personify the self-interest that is so prevalent today, as well as in C.S. Lewis' day, I suppose.
And, in the chapter where all the protagonists are flung into the stable and find a beautiful world there with all the Kings and Queens of Narnia, the Dwarfs still find themselves in a dark stable. They are in the SAME PLACE. And yet, the Dwarfs see nothing but dark, and feel nothing but discomfort. Even after the King and Aslan try to help them, they are oblivious.
"You see," said Aslan. "They will not let us help them. They have chosen cunning instead of belief. Their prison is only in their own minds, yet they are in that prison; and so afraid of being taken in that they cannot be taken out."
I know a lot of Dwarfs. It can be hard not to be a Dwarf in the modern world. But I'm with Queen Lucy... It is truly saddening to watch people sit miserably in the dark when they can choose beauty, hope, and life.
Today reading The Last Battle with my two children, I was really struck by the blindness of The Dwarfs who - after being duped by the false Aslan (Puzzle in lion-skin) - decide they will believe in nothing. Their slogan is this, "The Dwarfs are for the Dwarfs." They personify the self-interest that is so prevalent today, as well as in C.S. Lewis' day, I suppose.
And, in the chapter where all the protagonists are flung into the stable and find a beautiful world there with all the Kings and Queens of Narnia, the Dwarfs still find themselves in a dark stable. They are in the SAME PLACE. And yet, the Dwarfs see nothing but dark, and feel nothing but discomfort. Even after the King and Aslan try to help them, they are oblivious.
"You see," said Aslan. "They will not let us help them. They have chosen cunning instead of belief. Their prison is only in their own minds, yet they are in that prison; and so afraid of being taken in that they cannot be taken out."
I know a lot of Dwarfs. It can be hard not to be a Dwarf in the modern world. But I'm with Queen Lucy... It is truly saddening to watch people sit miserably in the dark when they can choose beauty, hope, and life.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
A Narrow Gate
April 18,
Today, my reading from Preparation for Total Consecration according to Saint Louis Marie de Montfort offers the apt reminder, "Do not judge and you will not be judged...........Why do you observe the splinter in your brother's eye and never notice the plank in your own."
Words of wisdom which I would do well to follow. Pride is always my downfall, and all Christians are sinners first, and conversion is continuing - we hope - all of our lives.
The entire reading for today comes from St. Matthew. "It is a narrow gate and a hard road that leads to life, and only a few find it."
Today, my reading from Preparation for Total Consecration according to Saint Louis Marie de Montfort offers the apt reminder, "Do not judge and you will not be judged...........Why do you observe the splinter in your brother's eye and never notice the plank in your own."
Words of wisdom which I would do well to follow. Pride is always my downfall, and all Christians are sinners first, and conversion is continuing - we hope - all of our lives.
The entire reading for today comes from St. Matthew. "It is a narrow gate and a hard road that leads to life, and only a few find it."
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Revival
April 17, 2010
I am reviving this blog, which I've so long neglected, after an interesting experience the other night. Board members of a pro-life group here, of which I am one, were ending a meeting with the Hail Mary. This is a prayer that I have said thousands of times, I'm sure. But as we said it I felt a real presence and sense of protection. As I drove home, I wondered how I had gotten on this board that does good work and includes such faithful Catholics in an area that is so heavily Protestant. And I remembered that I just said, "Yes," when someone asked me to attend a meeting. That was all it took.
So, I have resolved to say, "Yes" more often to those urgings of the Holy Spirit and to renew my commitment to really being a "Mom under Mary."
A few years ago at my parish in Tennessee a very devout woman gave me and another Mom a little set of books. One was Total Consecration to the Blessed Virgin, by St. Louis Marie de Montfort, and the other was a book on preparation for that consecration. I followed the month-long prayer and preparation and did make the consecration in 2007, but I have not been faithful in living it. So I am beginning a renewal of that consecration which I may share here as an encouragement to others who may be inspired to follow that path of spirituality.
The first 12 days of prayer and reading involve casting off the spirit of the world, which certainly creeps into our lives so very easily. I am on Day 2, and am reminded that the heart of Christian spirituality is humility.
I am reviving this blog, which I've so long neglected, after an interesting experience the other night. Board members of a pro-life group here, of which I am one, were ending a meeting with the Hail Mary. This is a prayer that I have said thousands of times, I'm sure. But as we said it I felt a real presence and sense of protection. As I drove home, I wondered how I had gotten on this board that does good work and includes such faithful Catholics in an area that is so heavily Protestant. And I remembered that I just said, "Yes," when someone asked me to attend a meeting. That was all it took.
So, I have resolved to say, "Yes" more often to those urgings of the Holy Spirit and to renew my commitment to really being a "Mom under Mary."
A few years ago at my parish in Tennessee a very devout woman gave me and another Mom a little set of books. One was Total Consecration to the Blessed Virgin, by St. Louis Marie de Montfort, and the other was a book on preparation for that consecration. I followed the month-long prayer and preparation and did make the consecration in 2007, but I have not been faithful in living it. So I am beginning a renewal of that consecration which I may share here as an encouragement to others who may be inspired to follow that path of spirituality.
The first 12 days of prayer and reading involve casting off the spirit of the world, which certainly creeps into our lives so very easily. I am on Day 2, and am reminded that the heart of Christian spirituality is humility.
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