Rerun: Reconsidering Kenneth Grahame's The Reluctant Dragon

Yesterday, I had reason to link to this post that I wrote three or four years ago. Upon re-reading it, I decided I'd like to dust it off, alter and add a few things, and republish it. It was good for me to think about it again, so I thought I'd share it. This is basically the same post, but updated a little.

The only thing I would add to all of this is that I think we ought not underestimate Grahame. We cannot know his intentions with certainty, but his book is a perversion of the legend of Saint George, the patron saint of his own country. I find it hard to believe that Grahame was unaware of what he was doing, that this was not a usurpation of, or attack upon, the traditional tale. The more I think about it, the more underhanded it seems to me.

____________________________

Truth and goodness and beauty go together so tightly that if you lose one, you lose all three of them.

--John Hodges, discussing Hans urs von Balthasar's Seeing the Form: The Glory of the Lord: a Theological Aesthetics in his lecture Reflections on Classical Education

Yesterday was the day on which I had planned to study the legend of Saint George and the Dragon. Or, actually, we were going to study Raphael's famous painting, and I was going to read Margaret Hodges' wonderful picture book to the children yet again in order to make sure that Neighbor M. also understood the legend.

Raphael's painting falls on deaf ears if one doesn't understand the significance of Saint George.

I was so excited, for I love reading this book to someone for the first time. I laid it proudly on my lap and announced that we were going to read Saint George and the Dragon. Neighbor M.'s face looked a little panicked, and she told me that her parents do not like dragons. She told me that dragons are bad {which they are}, and that they don't let her have anything to do with them.

Two things: {1} I was impressed with a little girl who obeys her parents wishes when they aren't around. She very obviously wanted to read the book. {2} I was convicted that I should never violate the conscience of a child. Ever.

So I told Neighbor M. I would write a note to her parents asking if we could read the book and study the painting. And I did. I tried to be brief in explaining the book and its significance to western culture, and how C.S. Lewis himself taught Edmund Spenser's Faerie Queene and how I really didn't want them to think that I was a crazy dragon-lady.

Ahem.

And today, a nice note arrived with Neighbor M. saying that of course I could read her the book and study the painting, and that this is the way that dragons should be taught. The letter briefly explained that many of the dragons they had met lately were supposed "good" and "friendly" dragons, and that this is what they were guarding against.

This was a pin-prick of correction for me.

It was then that I realized something about one book on my shelf, and that book is Kenneth Grahame's The Reluctant Dragon illustrated by my beloved Michael Hague.

But first, let me add into the mix a quote from Doug Wilson, who spent some blogging time lately discussing the wildly popular Twilight Saga in terms of the twisting of traditional cultural symbols:

[E]verything in this fallen created order "answers to" something unfallen, with the possible exception of hyenas. In other words, the dragon is the archtypical emblem of sly, crafty, rebellion -- and this goes back to the Garden. Satan is that ancient dragon. If we read our Bibles rightly, we will pay attention to the symbols. Honor the symbols, people.

But of course Satan was a fallen something, and that something was, before he fell, an unfallen version of that same thing. My personal view is that he was one of the seraphim, which means that the seraphim are glorious, unfallen dragons, privileged to cry holy, holy, holy in the presence of God. But in this world, the one we live in, dragons still mean what they mean. That meaning was assigned to us. Shifting the meaning of everything around in this metamorphing way seems to me to be not so much a testimony to our literary prowess as to the continued craftiness of the serpent.

Kenneth Grahame, whom we all rightly love for his best work, The Wind in the Willows, was born only seven months before John Dewey, who almost single-handedly created the world as we know and experience it today through his experiment in rebellion which we call modern education.

I think there is an interesting correspondence in the birthdates of these two men. They were contemporaries in a time that resulted in the world being turned upon its head.

While Dewey managed to transform education from a study in the permanent things to a quest for societal change, here we see Kenneth Grahame recasting Saint George's dragon as a, well, a reluctant one.

He would rather read, truth be told.

The story goes, however, that the common people believe that dragons really are bad, even though most of the stories they are telling are falsehoods. The Boy, who has a sort of "wisdom" about him, and is a great lover of books himself, befriends the dragon. The Boy becomes the mediator between two worlds--the people, who think the dragon is bad, and the dragon, his great friend, who is so smart and lovable, but a little naive when it comes to understanding how serious the townsfolk are about eliminating him.

When Saint George arrives on the scene, the Boy sits down with him and explains the truth: The dragon isn't bad. But, the townspeople must be appeased. So, the Boy suggests a pretend battle, in which Saint George defeats the dragon, but in such a way that he survives, and then Saint George, the dragon, as well as the Boy and all of the townspeople, can finally live in harmony together.

When I consider that the original story of Saint George was considered by C.S. Lewis to be a great Christian classic, and that Spenser's dragon tale, like all ancient dragon tales, was actually a retelling Christ's once and final victory over that dragon from the Garden, well, I wonder just how much influence I allowed Michael Hague's artistry to have over me.

The book is full of lies, it seems: The dragon is real enough, but he's actually a harmless, kindhearted old soul, and very intelligent. {The uneducated people are the ones who believe the dragon is bad.} Saint George's battle with the dragon is a ruse, and also ineffective. The townspeople who think the dragon is bad are just silly and superstitious.

Do you seem what I'm aiming at here?

Now, let's return to Hans urs von Balthasar via John Hodges. If beauty is subjective {and Hodges says it isn't}, then I can say that Grahame's writing is so lovely and skillful, and Hague's paintings are just gorgeous.

However, comma.

If beauty is objective, because it is characteristic of God Himself, then Balthasar has something to say about this book. It has lost its truth; as Wilson exhorted us, we must honor the symbols. If dragons represent Satan, and Saint George represents Christ, then the message of Grahame's work is untrue in the sense that it is a rejection of ultimate reality. And if the work is not true , then it is a lie, which means that it is not good. And if it is untrue and double-plus ungood, then its beauty is a deception, an instance of darkness masquerading as light, and, like the adulteress in Proverbs 7, it looks pretty good initially, but her house is a highway to the grave.

All of this is to say that I've rethought the position which The Reluctant Dragon has had upon my shelf. Hodges says that true education rightly orders the affections. Children who are educated rightly, he says, don't just learn about Truth, but they learn to love Truth. If this is so, I have to ask myself the question, Am I encouraging a right ordering of affections if I hold up this book as something to love?

And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years...

--Revelation 20:2

*Thanks to CiRCE and Cindy, I will probably go crazy in the near future, but pleasantly so.

Tweet

Highly, Highly Recommended Reading: Uncovering the Logic of English

If you have been reading here for any length of time, you probably know that I run another little blog called Teaching Reading with Bob Books. Before I began that blog, I talked about teaching reading fairly regularly. Afterwards, I relegated those sorts of posts to TRwBB, with Rare Exceptions. I didn't want this blog to be swamped with teaching reading posts.

Today, then, is a Rare Exception day.

I just finished listening to two fabulous, wonderful, amazing talks from Denise Eide on the logic of the English language, which are available for download free online. If you teach reading or know budding readers--which is probably about every single one of you--you ought to carve out time to listen to these talks.

My interest in teaching reading began at a very young age. My parents told me, when I was twelve-years-old, that I needed to have a job in the summer. No more running around playing all of the time. Now, this wasn't a big deal--just four or five hours a week or so. They just wanted me to step it up a notch in the responsibility area, and I am thankful for that.

I opened a tutoring business, and I never looked back. Some kids babysit or walk dogs, but I was all about the reading. {At least until I got my driver's license. He he.}

The reason I love to teach reading is that English makes perfect sense.

I don't remember being taught phonics as I began reading at a very young age. Perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn't. But I have always thought in patterns. This is how my mind works, by noticing patterns and then noticing things that don't conform to the pattern. In English, though, it is not that a word does not conform, but that it fits in a different pattern. I love teaching reading because I love showing children who do not naturally see patterns that all of this seeming chaos actually makes sense.

According to Eide, somewhere between 95% and 98% of English words fit a pattern.

They have a rule.

I felt like Eide was a kindred spirit. She is my new best friend; I just haven't told her yet.

The difference between myself and Eide, however, is that she is way more informed than I am {or would ever care to be} and that she explains it all much better than I ever could.

Jesus said this:

A pupil is not above his teacher; but everyone, after he has been fully trained, will be like his teacher.

In her talk, Eide gave some frightening statistics on adult literacy in this country. How can we pass on a gift we have not received?

After listening to Eide speak, I can tell you that she gets it. She sees the patterns, and she knows how to teach them. But a pupil will be like his teacher, which means that first we who teach must know and understand these patterns. We must know that English makes sense, that it is not a crazy language full of exceptions.

Probably the most fascinating thing I heard Eide say was to explain functional MRIs that have been performed on children while they are reading. Good readers use different parts of the brain than struggling readers and non-readers. But here is the cool thing: after only 80 hours of teaching a la Eide, the struggling readers' brains looked like the brains of good readers! In fact, they were no long struggling readers. Some, she says, are now defining dyslexia as a student whose brain activity does not improve after the 80 hours of instruction.

So I am highly, highly recommending her book, even though I haven't yet read it {I want a copy so badly!} because I am convinced, after hearing her speak, that she is helping to bring literacy back to our country. So go. Listen to her talks. And buy her book. Become the teacher your children need you to be.

Tweet

January Books

Yes, we acquired more books for the family library this month, in spite of a windfall in the month of December. I momentarily wonder why my house isn't cuter, and then I remember I am too busy buying or trading for books and reading them. It's a sickness, really.

Here is what came our way this month:




In the mail, headed my way:



What about you? Did any books join your family this month...so far? Tweet

Lessons from The Master-Maid

The Master-Maid is a fairy tale from Andrew Lang's Blue Fairy Book, assigned in Ambleside Online Year 1. Unlike many of the other stories in this volume, I had never heard this story before when I read it to my oldest child a number of years ago. I wouldn't consider it one of the best fairy tales because there is a little too much going on. It's almost as if the writer took two separate fairy tales--one about a prince working for a giant and then escaping with a beautiful lady, another about a lady whose prince is stolen from her, and how she reminds him of herself--and smooshed them together.

Smooshed is a word, right?

Ahem.

Nevertheless, it is one of those tales that reflects small parts of the story of our faith, and I always get so excited when I find these hints nestled inside the old stories.

Today, we read the second half. The Prince tells the Master-maid that it would be bad form for him to bring her to his father's house on foot. He will return to the King's palace, get the horses, and come for her, that he might present her to his family in a royal fashion.

She begs him not to leave her. You will forget me if you go! Because he will not yield, she makes him promise that he will not have anything to do with anyone or anything other than the horses when he arrives at the palace. He must keep his mind on his mission. Do not greet anyone. Do not eat or drink anything. They will gather around you, because they have missed you, but you must pretend they are not there.


He gives his word, and then he makes a valiant effort. When he arrives, people are everywhere preparing for the wedding of the Prince's brother. They crowd around him. They want to know where he has been, what he has been doing. When he ignores him, and continues to prepare the horses, they bring him fine food from the wedding feast. You must be hungry after your journey.


Still, he stays the course.

And then it happens.

Well, if you will not eat anything, you might as well take a bit of this.


And an apple is rolled {by the bride's sister, incidentally} his way across the grass.

In that moment, he forgets his promise.

He takes, and he eats.

And then he really forgets, for suddenly he has no recollection of why he is saddling the horses and puts them back. The Master-maid waits for him for a long time before she finally gives up on him and tries another course.

The first time through, I didn't catch it, but this time I did.

That apple, rolled across the grass? It's rolled by a troll-witch, though the Prince doesn't recognize her as such.

The Prince, you see, is a reflection of Adam.

Oh, I'm not saying Adam forgot. I'm just saying the Prince's downfall was a result of a simple piece of fruit. Don't think for one minute the author randomly chose an apple.

I asked my little scholar who else in history ate a piece of fruit and paid a price, but she didn't want to discuss it. She wanted to know what happened to the Master-maid.

And who can blame her. Isn't that really what we want when we read about Adam? Gosh, he ate the fruit. Now what happens? Is there any hope?


For a long time in the story, it really does look hopeless. The Master-maid settles herself quietly in a little hut in the woods near the palace. She has a variety of suitors who visit her, none of whom are the Prince. The Prince is engaged to the troll-witch {he still is blind to her true identity}. We begin to think that all really is lost. Will the Master-maid remain forever hidden away in the woods? Will the Prince marry a troll-witch? Will one piece of fruit really change history forever?

It is not until the very last moment that the day is saved. A series of strange happenings lead to the Master-maid being seated in the place of honor beside the Prince at his wedding banquet, because the King believed she was more than she appeared. She makes a simple comment, and the effect is as if scales fell from the Prince's eyes.

He remembers.

He remembers who he is, who she is, who he ought to be marrying. And he finally recognizes that he has been tricked.

The troll-witch is torn to pieces by horses, and the couple is finally united. All is set right in the world.

And we're left remembering that this is how it is in our world, too. One day, all will be set right. One day we will not forget, nor will we be forgotten, and the Wedding Feast will be in perfect order.

Tweet

Incoming

If you haven't noticed, it's turned into Book Week here at Afterthoughts! Today I thought I'd give you a glance at the books that entered our family library in the month of December. These were books we were given as gifts, books we found for free, etcetera.

Because who doesn't love another book list?

Fiction for E-Age-Nine
The Red Keep
The Lost Baron
The Fields of Home

Christmas Books

The Story of Christmas

Memories of the Manger

The Little Drummer Boy

The Real Night Before Christmas

Picture Books
Oscar Wilde: Stories for Children
N.C. Wyeth's Pilgrims
Augustine of Hippo
Martin Luther
Caps for Sale
Tikki Tikki Tembo
Stone Soup
Autumn Story

Non-fiction

Natural Goat Care

Storey's Guide to Raising Dairy Goats

Natural Detoxification

Food and Nutrients in Disease Management

What's So Great About Christianity?

Postmodern Times

Gut and Psychology Syndrome

Tweet

Ten Books to Read in 2012

This is new for me this year. I don't usually plan out my reading, which happens more as a result of a complicated equation involving time + interest + chance. Why chance? Because there are books that have been up on my PBS wishlist for over two years. Eventually, they come to me, and I read them. I can't plan it. It just happens as a result of God's sovereign care for my reading habits.

Ahem.

This year, however, I decided I have enough unread books on my shelves to provide a bit of direction. And my husband has some opinions on what I should be reading this year, as well. I think he's tired of trying to discuss a couple books with me that he's read...and I haven't.

So, while this is not my entire plan for the year, and though I still prefer to leave a lot to time, interest, and chance {Providence?}, here are ten books I plan to read this year.

1. Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv. This was suggested at a CiRCE Conference a year or two ago, and I got it as a wishlist match a couple months back.
2. Acedia and Me by Kathleen Norris. Everyone already read this, right? I'm okay with being two years behind...if it means my books are cheap or free!
3. Postmillenialism: An Eschatology of Hope by Keith Mathison. Assigned reading from my husband, who believes I am woefully ignorant concerning the eschatological schools of thought.
4. Culture Makers by Josiah Vencel. Yes, I'm going to read my husband's book, which he wrote a four years ago. It's not that I haven't read it--I edited it! But apparently it doesn't count to my husband, who wants me to mark up a copy. Hey, maybe I'll improve it and have it re-printed in an updated version! {Because I have time for that.}
5. The Paideia Program by Mortimer Adler. Because it is listed in the sidebar of the Life, Books, and Education blog as one of the "best books on education," I couldn't resist ordering it on PBS...and one of you ended up sending it to me! {You know who you are!}
6. Ideas Have Consequences by Richard Weaver. I've read parts of this book over and over, but this year I'll read it the way it ought to be read: straight through.
7. Kim by Rudyard Kipling. I need to read this eventually because it's assigned for AO Year Five, but let me just tell you: I really adore Kipling.
8. Puck of Pook's Hill by Rudyard Kipling. A free read for AO Year Five, I see this as an excuse to have a Kipling party.
9. The Warden and Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope. Two separate volumes, actually, though I linked to a book that includes them both in a single cover, thereby justifying my decision to place them together at number nine.
10. Why Gender Matters by Leonard Sax. As a mother of equal numbers of boys and girls, the concept of gender differences is both obvious as well as a consistent source of conversation between my husband and myself. Sax, from my understanding, gets into the actual, scientific differences, and I'm hoping he helps me become a better mother.

Tweet

A Year of Reading

I know that lots of bloggers were posting their lists last week, but I have a tradition that I Do. Not. Blog. from before Christmas all the way until New Year's Day. I consider this non-negotiable because I find I enjoy the holidays much more without thinking about my writing.

All of this to say, I post my lists, my analyses of how I kept my resolutions, and my new resolutions, sometime in the month of January.

So today we'll talk books.

In January 2011, I resolved to keep a list of books read. I haven't done this since I was a kid trying to win reading contests at the library! I keep enough notes on my reading {both here on the blog and in my numerous notebooks I carry around and pile up around my house--much to my husband's dismay}, that I'm sure I could recreate my lists from past years if I really wanted to.

However, comma.

I found that keeping a list as I went caused me to be more mindful about my reading. It reminded me to finish books that I had put down and aside or become distracted from. There are a number of books that I know I completed this year only because my list reminded me.

Which means I'll be keeping a list again this year.

I included all of my pre-reading for school in my list. Not everyone does this, I know, but I do. There are a couple of reasons for this. First and foremost, if I really think that these books are important to a good education, then they should be important to me and not just to my children. The vast majority of books assigned in a given year are books I never read because my education was plagued by those horrible things we call textbooks. Secondly, I find that incorporating pre-reads into my own list keeps it from ever feeling like a chore. It is true that I probably wouldn't read these particular books in this particular order were it not for school, but approaching them with the attitude that this is my reading, too has caused pre-reading to become a delight for me over the past couple years. It is a weekend ritual that I enjoy. Another thing I included on my list were the family read-alouds. I only included chapter books here and not the piles and piles of picture books. A huge amount of my reading time is spent orally--my husband doesn't read aloud much, and I love to do it.

I counted, and if I counted correctly, there are 55 books on my list. I believe that 11 of them, however, remain unfinished. So this means I completed 44 books. I was sort of hoping for 52 because it works out to an average of a book per week, but that's okay.

And now...for the list. This is roughly in order, though there were a few that I forgot to put on at first, which I later tacked on at the end. Naturally, there will be commentary.

Fiction

• Oliver Twist: This is the first time I began and completed a Dickens novel {other than A Christmas Carol, of course}. What can I say? I liked it, and I'm willing to read more Dickens.
• The Charlatan's Boy: I loved this book, and immediately gave it to over to E-Age-Nine to enjoy. You can read my review here.
• Uncle Tom's Cabin: I wish I could have blogged through this book, but I didn't know it would be that kind of book when I started it. This is definitely an ideas sort of book, great for starting fruitful conversations. I wrote two posts {see here and here}.
• An Old-Fashioned Girl: I have always liked Alcott, but this book was a little preachy in places, even for her. Still, it had that typical Alcott feel, along with the typical Alcott admirable, dutiful heroine.
• The Book Thief: Loved it. My son thought it was hilarious to "steal" the book from me at every opportunity, so that he could be a book thief. My review is here.

Non-fiction

• Ten Ways to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child: This was one of our fabulous book club books for the year. Here is a link to the category label which will bring you to all the posts I wrote for the club.
• Future Grace: I haven't finished this one. We're reading it for our small group with our friends, and at only a handful of chapters a month, I hope we finish it in 2012! Piper is profound. But he is also very wordy and we are all getting antsy to finish the book and just be done with it. I wrote about chapters 1, 2, and 3 and then I got tired of writing about it.
• Childhood Vaccination: Questions Every Parent Should Ask: The review for this one is here.
• Spanking: Why, When, How: I have to laugh at the title of this book...for a couple reasons, actually. First, it is from the 70s, and no author in their right mind would use this title these days. It's a tiny little book and really would work better as a chapter in a bigger book on the various facets of parenting. There were no surprised at all, at least not for someone like me who has read a typical "spanking" chapter before. The other {better} reason I laugh has to do with a memory. My friend, who lent me the book, mailed it to me. When I opened the book, I made a big deal out of it. You know: "Oh! I am so happy this finally came! I can't wait to read it!" E-Age-Nine was all curiosity and wandered over. As he read the title, his eyes got bigger...and bigger. It was hilarious.
• Home Economics: I love Wendell Berry, as you know. I think I actually have a couple essays left in this one to read. It's wonderfully thoughtful and beautifully written, which is expected of a man like Berry. I posted a quote from it here. That's still my favorite one so far.
• Crazy Love: I haven't finished this either. It is my pet peeve that the New Christian Authors try to be all interactive, pointing us to websites and videos along the way as a way of "taking action." I wanted to like this book, mainly because I like Francis Chan. But seriously? I think Chan is a weak writer with good ideas. I'll finish it, though, just because I try not to quit unless it's terrible.
• Holy Cows And Hog Heaven: Ah, Joel Salatin. He's Wendell Berry with more energy and action, but less strength in the art of writing. Good read, though, especially if you are thinking about raising your own meat.
• Cure Tooth Decay: Read this book, and we still have cavities. Actually, what I learned is that, hypothetically, cavities can be healed, but in reality it is expensive to do so. And I mean very expensive. However, I'm glad for what I learned, especially when it comes to remineralizing my two older children, who were so depleted from their early food allergy years. Read more in these posts: Tooth Decay and Germ Theory, Teeth are Alive and Need Their Vitamins, and Final Thoughts: How to Cure Tooth Decay.
• Mere Churchianity: I sympathized with the author's plight, but didn't agree with the book. My review is here.
• A Philosophy of Education: I've read this one before, but I'm not done with this reading yet. I'm going through one chapter per month with my local {in person} reading group. It's been great fun, and the slow pace is perfect.
• Creation in Six Days: It took me over a year to finish this. It was okay. I wrote some thoughts on this book in 2010, and those thoughts still stand, while also explaining why I am only "okay" with the book.
• Love That Lasts: Great marriage book! My posts are here: I'm in Love with Love that Lasts and Love that Lasts: Final Thoughts.
• Poetic Knowledge: This is another book club book, and it was the second time I read the book. This is, as many of you know, my favorite book ever, ever, ever. All of my posts for the club are here.
• Did I Kiss Marriage Goodbye?: Great book for ladies who have been single longer than they expected. And, honestly, a great book for all women, in my opinion. It's better than a lot of wife-type books I've read. I posted quotes twice: here and here.
• From Behind the Veil: This is one of the two commentary-type books I've been using this year. I'm not done with it yet, but I'm close, and I've enjoyed the process of learning to use a commentary to enhance my Scripture reading. I quoted this book in my post How to Evaluate Technology.
• Creation Regained: I read this aloud with Si. It was the only book we were able to get through together this year, as he's had lots of reading to do for school. It's a good primer on the application of Reformational theology. I posted some quotes here and here.
• Young and in Love: This was a copy I reviewed. My review post is here, and some quotes are here.
• How to Read a Book: I'm not even close to done with this book. I'm reading it in little snatches here and there, rather than sitting down and combing through it. There are great thoughts on every single page, and so I grab a thought, and ponder. Wash, rinse, repeat. I posted quotes once so far, and I also mentioned one of the concepts from the book in my post On Herbartian Unit Studies.
• Against the Protestant Gnostics: This is another book I am reading slowly, but this time it's because it is a tough read and I can't read much at a time due to lack of brain power {or something}. I'm learning a ton, though. Also: this is the first book I've ever borrowed from a reader {Thanks, GJ!}. I quoted this book in my post Why We Read Mythology.
• The Twilight of American Culture: Okay, I read this book because it came highly suggested from a lot of different folks out there. It was very difficult for me to go through it and tease out all of the intellectual hubris, the socialist/communist angles, and so on. This author is one of those guys who thinks people like me are only Christians because they are arrogant. He also insists that the Middle Ages were truly Dark {an outdated concept even in 2000, when the book was published}, while thinking the best thing we can do is return to an Age of Enlightenment. His comments on monasticism were worth reading to the very end, however, and I'm glad I didn't put it down.
• Raising Them Right: This book was highly over-protective of children, especially older children. With that said, I appreciated that the faith of the parents was emphasized, as was the idea that Christian children ought to literally be raised in the faith. 
• A Return to Modesty: Hard to read in some places, this book is great for mothers of daughters. I quoted the book here, here, and here, and wrote about it here.
• Raising Real Men: Good book for...mothers of sons. {I guess we have something for everyone on this list!} Quotes are here and here, and my review is here.
• Reversed Thunder: I'm not quite done with this book, but I'm loving every page. It is poetically written, in the best sense of the phrase. Quotes are here and here {so far}, I wrote about it in my post God the Poet, and it got an honorable mention in Bible Lessons, CM-Style {Part II} and at the end of my On Religion article.
• The Abolition of Man: Yet another book club book. The category for the club posts is here.
• A Mother's Rule of Life: I had hoped to finish this over Christmas break, but instead I had fun and then nursed sick children {actually, I am still nursing sick children}. I don't' know that I'll blog every single chapter, but so far I've written four posts {1, 2, 3, and 4}.

Pre-reads

• The Children of the New Forest; Wonderful book, and if you think about it there is a lot of applications for parenting and educating. I enjoyed this book as an adult, but would have adored it as a child. I'm so glad my son was able to read it this year.
• The Landing of the Pilgrims: Nice, basic book on Pilgrims.
• Secrets of the Woods: Written by a naturalist, and very intriguing. It almost made me want to go live in a tent for a while. The key word here is almost.
• Robinson Crusoe: Can't believe I never read it before. It's a story of Divine correction, and great for conversation.
• Poor Richard: Also a great book for conversation. Yes, we learned about Benjamin Franklin, but what we talked about after the reading were great ideas.
• Madam How and Lady Why: We are only a quarter of the way through, and it is tough going. I'm glad this was split into two years.
• Story Book of Science: Fabre is a joy to read. His love for the natural world is contagious. We'll finish this book by June.

Family Read Alouds

• Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass: I liked this one better as a child.
• John Adams: McCullough is fabulous. If you want to get a feel for the founding of the United States, read this book.
• Redwall: Great fun for the children; we'll have to read more in the series in the future. This book inspired my post {Mis?}Judging Heroism.
• The Hobbit: This was the first time through for the little girls, and they liked it much more than I expected.
• Farmer Giles of Ham: This was read in a single day on a long drive. Highly recommended.
• Sir Nigel: This was a great book for young and old. I cannot suggest it enough. It was mentioned in my post Modesty and Chivalry.
• More Stories from Grandma's Attic: Great for little girls!
• Pinocchio: This is the story of all of us: the story of redemption.
• Men of Iron: Also great fun to read aloud. We read it quickly because we couldn't get enough.
• Still More Stories from Grandma's Attic: Also great for little girls.
• Bambi: A Life in the Woods: Wonderful coming-of-age-type novel. Lots of application for those of us who think about education. Enjoyable for the children. Disney really gutted this novel of its best stuff when they made their movie.
• Pollyanna: Not annoying as I expected! Wonderful story, and helpful to be able to encourage my grumpiest child to "play the glad game."
• Miss Hickory: Strange book about a "doll" made of an apple twig and hickory nut. The children loved it. I thought that near the end, when a squirrel eats her head was very disturbing. Sometimes I wonder what some people are thinking when they write. 
• The Peterkin Papers: Please don't make me read this book again. I read it, but I feel about it the way I felt about Mr. Popper's Penguins: "remind me why this is a good book again??" Ahem.
• Treasures from Grandma's Attic: We just loved this series, and it was funny enough that even my son tolerated it as a read-aloud.
• A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23: This was a perfect fit for us this year. The children memorized Psalm 23, and then we read this book every day at lunch. It is written by a shepherd, and it goes phrase by phrase, explaining how each phrase relates to the literal keeping of sheep, and then using that context to interpret the passage. The children ate it up--it was great.

Tweet

In Praise of the Jesse Tree

And it came to pass, that, while they communed together and reasoned, Jesus himself drew near, and went with them. But their eyes were holden that they should not know him. And he said unto them, "What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another, as ye walk, and are sad?"

And the one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answering said unto him, "Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the things which are come to pass there in these days?"

And he said unto them, "What things?"

And they said unto him, "Concerning Jesus of Nazareth, which was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people: And how the chief priests and our rulers delivered him to be condemned to death, and have crucified him. But we trusted that it had been he which should have redeemed Israel: and beside all this, to day is the third day since these things were done. Yea, and certain women also of our company made us astonished, which were early at the sepulchre; And when they found not his body, they came, saying, that they had also seen a vision of angels, which said that he was alive. And certain of them which were with us went to the sepulchre, and found it even so as the women had said: but him they saw not."

Then he said unto them, "O fools, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken: Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into his glory?"

And beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself.

-Luke 24:15-27

This is our second year using a Jesse Tree. Part of the appeal was to have something to do in the morning while my husband was at work, being that Advent {with the candles and such} has always been his domain. I had heard good things about the Jesse Tree tradition, but I really wasn't even sure what I was doing when we started. We figured it out as we went along.

And, oh, what a blessing it has been.

When else do I walk my children through the entire Gospel in a short 24 days?

With each story, with each turn of the page, we are reminded of God's faithfulness to His covenant, from Adam and Eve, to Jesse and his son David, and on to Christ...and beyond. When God promised Adam and Even that He would crush the serpent's head, when He sent redeemer after redeemer to His people to preserve them and make way for the One who would Redeem in full, when He provided a ram for Abraham and promised Him that He wouldn't be the father of a mere ethnic nation, but of all the nations that Jesus commanded His people to make disciples of--we stand in awe of each reminder that God began a good work in the beginning, and He really will bring it to fulfillment.

We've been using The Jesse Tree by Geraldine McCaughrean. It sticks pretty closely to Scripture, so I'm happy. Yes, there is a grumpy old man throughout, but isn't that one of the themes of the many Christmas tales out there? Grumpy-old-man-finds-joy? There is something to that theme, I'm sure.

We made our own ornaments, and we're hanging a new one up each day, on the tree Grandma gave us years ago when we were fewer in number.

It's a simple tradition, and I love it. I am so grateful to whomever decided that a Jesse Tree was more than a decoration carved on a wall or stained in some glass in a church somewhere, but that we could imitate it in our own homes.

What about you? Do you Jesse Tree?

Tweet

Books I'm Giving

Every year, I like to do a post about gifts I'm giving. It's just plain fun, after all, to dream about books gifts like this. Here is a quick list of some of the books I'm giving, and why:

• The Jesus Storybook Bible. It's for one of my nieces.
• The Big Picture Story Bible. This is for my other niece. They are sisters, so essentially their family is getting our family's two favorite children's Bibles. I wanted to give these before they get too old for them.
• Autumn Story. We have two of the Brambly Hedge books already, and this will add another. Our four-almost-five-year-old will be thrilled. {How is it she is almost five?}
• NC Wyeth's Pilgrims. This is for O-Age-Three. We are Wyeth fans, so this looked promising. Every review I've ever read of it commends it not only for its artwork, but also for its "well-researched text." Son O. is undaunted by supposed "reading level" as long as I read aloud to him, so I think he'll like it well enough. We'll just label this one "Baby's First History Book."
• Stories for Children. This little collection by Oscar Wilde has been on my list for years now, and I finally found a copy I liked. A.-Age-Six will like the pretty bird on the front. She is simple like that.
• Champions of Mathematics. I picked this tiny volume up for E-Age-Nine as a little extra gift. I've heard good things about Tiner, so this is our test-run. I thought he'd enjoy becoming familiar with Pythagoras, Fibonacci, and the like.
• Defending Constantine. This is for a relative that enjoys reading controversial history. It was either Constantine or the Crusades.
• My Grandmother is Praying for Me. Recommended by Cindy, it seemed like the perfect fit for Siah's mom.

There are other books, of course, but I can't share them because those recipients read my blog sometimes.

My list this year is simple, but fitting I think. Are you giving any books this year? What are your top titles?

Tweet

The Mother as Fairy Truth

Yesterday, we began reading through Andrew Lang's version of Prince Darling from The Blue Fairy Book. If you are unfamiliar with the tale, I'll give you a quick summary of the first half {and suggest you read it all for yourself later!}: The Good King is tested by the Fairy Truth and proven to be actually good. Because he passes the test, the fairy offers him a wish granted. The king immediately thinks of his beloved son, Prince Darling. His wish is that the fairy would be Prince Darling's friend. The fairy offers to make him handsome or rich or powerful--whichever the king would choose. And then the king says:

I do not ask...these things for my son...but if you will make him the best of princes, I shall indeed be grateful to you. What good would it do him to be rich, or handsome, or to possess all the kingdoms of the world if he were wicked? You know well he would still be unhappy. Only a good man can be really contented.

We all hope, naturally, for the swift granting of this beautiful, perfect wish. But it seems that the king has inadvertently stumbled upon the boundaries of Fairy Truth's power:

You are quite right,...but it is not in my power to make Prince Darling a good man unless he will help me; he must try hard to become good; I can only promise to give him good advice, to scold him for his faults, and to punish him if he will not correct and punish himself.

There is the rub. Even a magical fairy cannot make someone good. Purity of heart is God's business.

We had a bad start to our week. There was a lot of misbehavior around here, and I was quickly worn down by it all. It is one thing to correct and train preschoolers all day long; it is another to deal with the sins of older children who "should know better"--who do know better.

I found myself having one of those talks with a child, where all the uncomfortable yucky things have to be said. And in that moment, I bumped up against the limits of my own power. As we began to talk about discipline and its purpose, and one word led to another word, and suddenly I found myself saying that I can't make you good, nor can I make you want to be good, child. I can't.

The interesting thing is that I think sometimes children--if they have good hearts at all--really would rather if Mother could make them good. It would, after all, save them all the trouble of having to deal with pain or commitment or self-control or...God.

It was a couple days later that I read aloud Prince Darling for the second time in my career as a mother. I have loads more experience now than I did upon the first reading, so it struck me differently this time. I am Fairy Truth, I thought to myself. Only without magical powers. I can only be their friend and helper along the way. I can point out the path. I can give good advice. I can punish and correct. But it will only work if it is in concert with their own little wills.

Maybe this is why the sage of Proverbs asks for nothing less than his son's heart. Tweet

Why We Read Mythology

Often, when I come across a blog I haven't read before that mentions Ambleside, I notice that the curriculum is mentioned with a warning--something along the lines of "great curriculum, but uses fairy tales and/or myths." These "warnings" are usually worded in such a way that it is assumed that the blogger and her readers all understand how awful and immoral it is to read fairy tales and myths.

I have already discussed fairy tales a little.

Today, I want to discuss the Greek and Roman myths, and why someone might read them...and not be evil, after all.

He he.

Last night, I read a portion of a chapter in Philip Lee's Against the Protestant Gnostics, a book which I am reading slowly, as it requires all of my brain power. Here is an example passage:

All of this is not to say that either the Gospels or the epistles are in these instances setting out to dispute gnostic claims or that there is always a conscious argument against gnostic individualism. It is simply to recognize that biblical religion is far removed from the kind of narcissistic concerns we find in gnostic writings.

Our English word "narcissistic" has a long history. We all know what it means, but the interesting reason is why we know what it means. Other words in our personal vocabularies have been derived mostly by contextual usage. Authors or people we know use certain words, and once we figure out how to use them myself, we integrate them into our vocabularies.

But words like "narcissism" and  "narcissistic" are living words to us. Most of us know them because we read the myth of Narcissus as a child. We can tell explain that these words involve a deeply rooted character flaw of self-centeredness, selfishness, and pride--but not only these things. There is also a dangerous form of introversion and a lack of awareness concerning the surrounding world. It is the myth which gives the word such a powerful imagery, something a dictionary-plus-context never could.

Knowing a single Greek myth gave my comprehension of an admittedly difficult {for me, anyhow} book a depth that would not otherwise have been possible.

Examples of this kind abound.

Milton is arguably the brightest of all our Christian poets {excepting John the Revelator, of course--my apologies to all the Dante fans out there}. And yet I would argue that a child who has not had an education which offered him a basic mastery of Greek and Roman myths cannot read Milton at all.

Not really.

Let's just take Milton's assertion that his poem was given to him by the Muses. Who or what are Muses?

In the first 40 lines of Book III, Milton makes reference to:

• The Stygian Pool {which is a reference to the River Styx in Hades}
• The Orphean lyre { which was invented by Hermes}
• The heavenly Muse
• Thamyris
• Maeonides
• Tiresias
• Phineus

How in the world could someone get through those 40 lines with understanding if they don't have a basic knowledge of Greek myths? I know that when I was in high school, I tried to read Milton and couldn't. I knew I was lacking something, but didn't know what. I now know that, among other things, my lack of breadth of Greek and Roman knowledge was to blame.

If we decide to keep mythology away from our children, we are isolating them in a historical vacuum. We are cutting them off--forever--from the most important, most beautiful thoughts which have ever been expressed. Milton was doing something important, but they will never have their souls touched by his work.

This is basically the argument made in the Introduction to Bulfinch's Age of Fable {assigned in Ambleside Year Four}:

We propose to tell the stories relating [to the Greek and Roman gods] which have come down to us from the ancients, and which are alluded to by modern poets, essayists, and orators. Our readers may thus at the same time be entertained by the most charming fictions which fancy has ever created, and put in possession of information indispensable to every one who would read with intelligent the elegant literature of his own day.

Not only Milton, but Byron, Spenser {another brilliant Christian poet who is unparalleled}, Macaulay, Shelley, Armstrong, Moore, Shakespeare, Keats, Lowell, Milman, Landor, Dryden, Swift, Hood, Coleridge, Schiller--the list literally goes on and on and on.

To say nothing of the novels {and nonfiction} of the likes of C. S. Lewis, G. K. Chesteron, and even  Rudyard Kipling.

The introduction to Charles Kingsley's The Heroes begins with an explanation of all the ways in which the Greeks have left their mark upon the earth, which really is amazing when we consider that we are over two-thousand years removed from them. He tells us that, next to the Jews, our world owes more to the Greeks than any other culture--their advances in art, science, math, literature, and so on and so forth are mind-boggling. Kingsley then reminds his readers:

For you must not fancy, children, that because these old Greeks were heathens, therefore God did not care for them, and taught them nothing.

The Bible tells us that it was not so, but that God's mercy is over all His works, and that He understands the hearts of all people, and fashions all their works. And St. Paul told these old Greeks in aftertimes, when they had grown wicked and fallen low, that they ought to have known better, because they were God's offspring, as their own poets had said; and that the good God had put them where they were, to seek the Lord, and feel after Him, and find Him, though He was not far from any one of them. And Clement of Alexandria, a great Father of the Church, who was as wise as he was good, said that God had sent down Philosophy to the Greeks from heaven, as He sent down the Gospel to the Jews.

For Jesus Christ, remember, is the Light who lights every man who comes into the world. And no one can think a right thought, or feel a right feeling, or understand a real truth of anything in earth or heaven, unless the good Lord Jesus teaches him by His Spirit which gives man understanding.

The entire introduction is a worthy read, but this excerpt is enough for our purposes.

My point here is that there is value in reading the stories of the Greeks. Not only do they have a practical value, many of them illustrate the human condition or some aspect of wisdom in a way that deserves to be respected. We can learn from them. Our own art can be inspired by them.

The next time someone tells us that "Christians don't read mythology," let's remind ourselves that the Lord tells us to think on things which are noble and pure and good and true. This means that some Greek myths are certainly not worth reading {as is some "Christian" literature}. And others are priceless and worthy of being passed on to the next generation. We are commanded to give honor where honor is due...even when it is due to the heathen.

Tweet

Because Reason is a Good Servant but a Poor Master

Last night, I was dusting up on the ninth chapter of A Philosophy of Education: The Way of the Reason. Naturally, it reminded me of how brilliant Charlotte Mason is {I know you are all shocked by this}.

Mason tells us:

[C]hildren should be taught...that the chief responsibility which rests upon them as persons is the acceptance or rejection of ideas presented to them.

Why?

Well, firstly, Mason realizes that ideas necessarily have consequences. But that is not the only reason:

Children should know that...whenever they want to do wrong capital reasons for doing the wrong thing will occur to them*.

She later tells us that

reason will put a good face on any matter we propose.

The idea is that once we entertain an idea, we tend to decide what we think is right or wrong about it, and then justify our conclusions, regardless of what they are. This is why reason is a poor master. Reason cannot tell us right from wrong, and it often helps us justify the wrong:

It is only when he chooses to think about some course or plan, as Eve standing before the apples, that reason comes into play; so, if he chooses to think about purpose that is good, many excellent reasons will hurry up to support him; but, alas, if he choose to entertain a wrong notion, he, as it were, rings the bell for reason, which enforces his wrong intention with a score of arguments proving that wrong is right.

I noticed this exact process--this justification of a desired course--in our Year One reading this morning:

During a lull the sailors fished and made a big haul of cod. They invited Benjamin to eat with them, but Benjamin said no, thank you, he ate neither flesh nor fish, for he had read in a book that it was murder to kill and eat creatures that had done him no harm. But he loved codfish and, when the fish was cooking and the good smells reached his nose, he began to hunt about in his mind for a reason to share the sailors' meal. He remembered that when the codfish were cut open he had seen small fish in their stomachs. If big fish ate small fish, why should he not eat big fish? Then he ate heartily and thought to himself how lucky he was to be a thinking creature who could find a good reason for doing what he wanted to do. After that, Benjamin always ate what was set before him.

Obviously, I think the decision to eat was a good and right one, but that is hardly the point. What I found fascinating was that Benjamin Franklin {or at least his biographers} recognize the justifying function of the will in the story. Benjamin wanted something, and he used his reason to rationalize it.

Sometimes, bad ideas sound good to our ears. Sometimes, good ideas sound bad to our ears. Will reason help us find the solution to this problem? And since the obvious answer is no, to what {or Whom} do we turn for direction? If the scales of reason are not the appropriate place to weigh ideas, what is?

*Just ask my three-year-old. Tweet

The Tenth Birthday Gift

What does one buy for a ten-year-old boy on his birthday? Especially one who already owns his weapons of choice? Well...if he likes to read, one buys him this:

The Story of Rolf
and the Viking Bow
by Allen French

"He's going to love it," says my E.-Age-Nine of his best friend.

Obviously, he has good taste already. Tweet

Book Review: The Book Thief

I was reading this book mainly because Karen mentioned that she liked it. When I heard it was a World War II novel, I thought that perhaps I could mix it into the upper grades when it fits with our history rotation.

The writing is good. It is artistically done--well done. And it is unique, being that it is written in the first person, from the perspective of Death, or the death angel, or the grim reaper {if you like--he is not grim}.

Another unique point is not just the choice of Death as a narrator, but also its choice of who to focus on, as far as characters. I think it humanizes the Germans who were just trying to get through the Third Reich as best as they could. Zusak himself {in the interview printed in the back of my copy} says:

I...hope that readers of any age will see another side of Nazi Germany, where certain people did hide their Jewish friends to save their lives {at the risk of their own}. I wanted them to see people who were unwilling to fly the Nazi flag, and boys and girls who thought the Hitler Youth was boring and ridiculous. If nothing else, there's another side that lives beneath the propaganda reels that are still so effective decades later.

I liked it.


The Book Thief
by Markus Zusak

Yes, it had some profanity. Yes, it is not for young children.

It was touching, moving, and there are enough ideas in it to be worth discussing--I see many possibilities.

At this time, I'm going to put it up on my shelf {well, after lending it to Aunt Rebecca, of course}. I don't own many books written in the post-modern style {in which, for instance, time does not pass altogether chronologically}, and I'd like my children to learn to read books in that style before leaving home. I think this is worth keeping as an option for that purpose as well.

It's a hard time period to read about. Perhaps that is why I'm a little resistant to giving it an enthusiastic double thumbs up and all that. It's a sober read, but, as I said, I'll be giving it a well-deserved place in the library.

Have any of you read it? What did you think?

_________________________________________
Future Reading: I've got all sorts of reviews I'm doing this month. I've got a nonfiction book called Raising Real Men, a DVD curriculum review of Body of Evidence: The Hearing Ear and Seeing Eye, and two children's fiction books called Still More Stories from Grandma's Attic and Treasures from Grandma's Attic. This should be a fun! Tweet

Playing it Safe: Making Room for Danger

Last night, I read a chapter of the book I'm reviewing {Raising Real Men} to Si while he was working out. The first chapter starts with a little boy, who is disappointed because while his big brothers and father are climbing a waterfall, he's staying behind with Mom and the little girls. Here is Mom's response:

She looked around for a climb that would allow her to compromise, to allow him to exert his growing manhood without taking too big a risk.

She finds one, of course; a little hill he can conquer on his own. He is ecstatic.

Soon after, the book tells me:

It may not seem important to let your little ones take reasonable risks, but it is part of a principled attitude toward raising our boys to be real men, godly men, warriors for Christ.

More than once, I've wondered where these wimpy, effeminate guys behind the counter at Starbucks come from. Oh, I don't mean that every guy has to be That Guy. {You know the one, right? The man with the machismo, or maybe the Texas cowboy type.} I couldn't think of how to describe it exactly, but this first chapter had words for that, too:

But what about the dirt? Why do boys love dirt? And blood and guts and worms and insects? Because one day he might be waist-deep in a swamp, pulling your family out of a wrecked automobile. Or splattered with arterial blood while pioneering a new surgical procedure. Or eating roasted grub worms with the natives to earn their permission to share the Gospel. It might not be our cup o' tea, any of them,. but would you rather have men able to overlook things like that for the higher business at hand--or would you prefer fastidious pseudo-men who are only good to wait for someone else to take care of it? {emphasis mine}

I found all of this very interesting, because we just finished up reading Men of Iron.

{**spoiler alert**}

Myles Falworth doesn't realize until close to the end of his training {from squire to knight} that he is being carefully raised up for a purpose. He initially thought that he was simply being given the best possible start in his career as knight errant, something he would need in light of his father's fall from the king's favor. His family having plummeted into poverty and forfeited all their lands and riches to the throne, Myles needed all the help he could get.

But it turns out that the Earl of Mackworth {under whose care he resided for many years of his youth} was not giving him a "good start." Myles was being carefully groomed to perform a very special task, the effects of which would ripple throughout the kingdom.

He was to challenge the Earl of Alban to a trial by combat.

This required many details to fall into place, which I won't go into at this time. All of this is the just the context for two connected passages I've been pondering for a few days now, both of which tie neatly into the above point:

So Myles went to France in Lord George's company, a soldier of fortune...He was there for only six months, but those six months wrought a great change in his life. In the fierce factional battles that raged around the walls of Paris; in the evil life which he saw at the Burgundian court in Paris itself after the truce--a court brilliant and wicked, witty and cruel--the wonderful liquor of youth had evaporated rapidly, and his character had crystallized as rapidly into the hardness of manhood. The warfare, the blood, the evil pleasure which he had seen had been a fiery, crucible test to his soul, and I love my hero that he should have come forth from it so well. He was no longer the innocent Sir Galahad who had walked in pure white up the Long Hall to be knighted by the King, but his soul was of that grim, sterling, rugged sort that looked out calmly from his gray eyes upon the wickedness and debauchery around him, and loved it not.

And:

The Earl of Mackworth stroked his bear softly. "Thou art marvellous changed," said he. "I would not have thought it possible."

Myles smiled somewhat grimly. "I have seen such things, my Lord, in France and in Paris," said he, quietly, "as, mayhap, may make a lad a man before his time."

"From which I gather," said the Earl, "that many adventures have befallen thee. Methought thou wouldst find troublesome times in the Dauphin's camp, else I would not have sent thee to France."

What does this have to do with the quote from Raising Real Men?

Well, did you notice that in both instances, a youth was directed toward manhood through putting him in a position of risk? In both situations, the possibility of danger-as-tutor was considered and used.

I'm not one to say we need go back to the wild dangers of knight-errantry. I do not pretend to understand the extremes of that time in regard to hazarding a man's life. But I do think that something has been lost over time, until we have reached the point of today, where we coddle and protect boys, smothering their natural instincts, and telling them that the most important thing they can do in this world is to Be Careful.

I don't pretend to know much about raising boys. Generally, I feel more competent with girls. But I do know that Being Careful is not the path to forging heroes.

Not even normal, everyday heroes. Tweet