I’m trying to saturate my mind with the meaning, structure, and embodiment of a liberal arts, or classical, education. So I’ve been tearing through some related books lately and will post some short reviews both for your interest and to help me think about what I’m reading.

The author’s first name irritates me immensely. It’s pronounced “lee,” and I always want to say “lay.” It’s because I was taught to read phonetically, and phonetically “Leigh” should sound like “lay” or “layg.” Leigh Bortins’ parents obviously were not phonetic readers. But she wants you and your kids to be.

I thought Bortins’ The Core, a simple and approachable read for a general audience, especially for families that don’t fit the backwoods-homeschooler stereotype. Bortins’ arguments for why families should homeschool in the classical tradition appeal to sensible people, and don’t rest on tinfoil hat or outsider-wary suspicions.

Bortins is the founder of Classical Conversations, a once-weekly set of group tutorials in core subjects for homeschool families. Enrollment is growing like wildfire. Nathaniel runs a new CC campus, and we care about classical education in general, which is why I picked up the book.

Her first part concerns why one would homeschool, and then why one would classically homeschool. Why homeschool is a pretty obvious one for me, given that my job entails tracking the rather grotesque U.S. education landscape. My rule of thumb is if I can do it better than the school, I’m doing it. (We’re talking culture plus academics, because I would rather have my child balance towards being a decent human who loves God than an intellectual whiz.) I think that’s a good one for most families, because not everyone should homeschool. It’s a usually a second-best solution next to an awesome private school. Sadly, there are few awesome private schools, which often moves homeschooling up to first.

Her approach to the why classical part I like very much and wish to emulate. She simplifies and demystifies classical education by speaking of how it integrates knowledge to educate the whole person in a manner fitting how children’s minds develop, rather than narrow job-training inflicted upon “human capital.” As my Hillsdale professors would have said, the liberal arts teach you how to live. Yes, that includes being able to contribute to society and your own table, but it’s so much more.

I also like her emphasis on discipline to learn what is good and necessary despite how much you or your kids like it. Very simply, good things in life require drudgery and hard work. This is one criticism I have of many homeschoolers and other education romantics, who let children pursue their interests to the exclusion of an actual scope and sequence of necessary, enriching, challenging learning. “Child-driven” education is only a good idea if you believe children are innately good. (And if you do…have you ever met a child?)

Bortins makes a good and easily acceptable point that people today will change careers five times in their life. Classical education sets people up to handle this by giving them “the skill to learn anything” by teaching how to memorize subject-related vocabulary and rules (also called grammar); arrange and relate new concepts logically (also called dialectic); and clearly explain these two things to others (also called rhetoric). But classical education is not an empty set of skills like modern education pretends to impart. Classically educated people develop these three essential qualities by actually doing this over and over to material vital to strengthening and enlarging our brains: understanding world geography, studying Latin, analyzing great literature.

The second part of the book gives examples and source books for teaching each major subject—math, music, art, science, history, reading, writing, geography—classically at home. I swiped much of her book list and have already started to read through it.

Bortins writes like the non-autistic engineer she is, meaning she is not humorous or even particularly entertaining but is interesting, conversational, and precise. I would not call her dry, but I would call her straightforward.

Bortins and I disagree about the scope of a good K-12 education, but I think that’s largely because she’s working in the limited homeschool context and I compare it to what could and should be done with more time and specialization in, again, a good private school. If you have three-plus kids and you homeschool, Bortins gives a good framework for what you are realistically and ideally able to accomplish in that setting. I just think kids should, ideally, get more flesh on those brain bones than what she suggests.

This is an introduction to a Wall Street Journal essay I recommend to you on the topic of classical education for our postmodern age. Its authors—one of whom, Hillsdale College professor Terrence Moore, I have met and respect—make a most salient central point: Our culture pushes education for jobs, jobs, jobs, money, money, money, making all these thin, utilitarian arguments and entirely sidelining that the entire reason a constitutional republic coerces taxes from citizens to fund public education is that democratic government’s health depends on the mental integrity of its people. Not for a booming economy, but for a vibrant citizenry: “Training them for getting jobs is not good enough; graduates of public schools are also citizens,” the men write. “Ask any physician today whether politics affects his livelihood.”

Typically, on the other side of the debate from school accountability types harping schools as an early step to the job conveyor belt are loony, touchy-feely types who believe children should construct their own knowledge (never mind that civilization could save them lots of time figuring out basic computation and grammar) and that self-expression with nothing to express is the highest goal of schools. Of course, these people don’t believe in tests, because for them there is nothing to test. If they would just listen, they’d find that the other side has something to correct and strengthen theirs.

Even both sides together still have a hollow core.

Image by Dollen.

As I mature, I’m discovering maturity often means understanding the complexity behind what seem like basic tasks, like keeping your temper. I do try with all my might to not shout back at them, or refuse to pay them any mind, or otherwise misbehave, but after seven times biting my tongue I stop. When I was younger, I used to get all snippy about my mom doing the same thing. Now I realize she had three times as many kids, and can only imagine what that multiplied pressure feels like inside your head.

Even so, I’m trying to stop, of course. A few ways of thinking have begun to help me.

The first has been the verse that says “as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.” When I look at that little caterwauling Esther and think of her as my tiny neighbor, and that serving her is serving Christ, it’s easier to have compassion. She definitely does not deserve it, but neither do I, and Christ keeps giving it. When I comfort her ridiculous, self-manufactured suffering, I’m comforting Christ’s little sister, or as He says, Christ himself. Crazy.

The second is a repeated thought about parenting, how it lifts my perspective to see a peek through a God’s-eye view. Nathaniel and I feed these kids, who cannot feed themselves. We clean their little smelly butts several times a day. When they scream at night, we get up and meet the little needs they can’t figure how to meet themselves. We come up with kid capers to amuse them, and read them the same silly books what feels like a thousand times a month. In short, they are entirely dependent on us. They repay our constant care with whining, fighting, screaming, and rebellion. Just like I do to God. But he does not get impatient and tell me angrily to stop talking already. He doesn’t stomp away and shut the door so he can’t hear me anymore.

What a microcosm of the human race, and its relationship to our creator. This is one of the many reasons I think God made humans to have children. It’s a corrective on our innate selfishness. And you can’t really see why until you have them. And if the point of life is to love and be loved, boy, kids are in my experience the number one way to do both.

This week has made me groan that children are supposed to be a blessing, while mine are acting anything but. But, you know, I am being blessed with many fruits of the Spirit by having to deal with these little thorns: Love, patience, kindness, gentleness, goodness, self-control. God, help me truly love my little neighbors, instead of just imagining that I do.

Ransom really loves to read!

In Part 1 I talked about basic things you can do to help your child gain verbal ability, the biggest predictor of later intelligence (and, therefore, job prospects and likely increased happiness): Start early, talk to him a lot, get some books, read to your kids, and avoid screens. This time, I’m going to talk about what to do while you’re reading one of those lovely free library books to your precious little person.

It has a fancy name: “Dialogic reading,” or “Hear and say reading.” It’s very simple.

1. Ask “what” questions about the book’s pictures, or questions about nouns (remember from Part 1 that nouns are the easiest and first words a child picks up): “What color is the flower?”

2. Follow answers with another question. “Yes, it’s red. What is that it’s next to?”

3. Repeat what your child says. “Right, it’s a soccer ball.” Or, if no response or wrong response, cheerfully give it: “That’s a soccer ball.”

4. Then, if age appropriate (beyond babbling baby age), reinforce the answer: “Can you say soccer ball?” Or “What is that, again?”

After your child understands and is used to “what” questions, start asking open-ended questions, or questions that don’t ask for a specific answer. For example: “What do you see on this page?” “What do you think this boy is doing?” “Have you seen a garbage truck before?” Follow up again by expanding what your child knows: “Garbage trucks drive down our alley every Tuesday. They pick up our trash. They help us clean the house.”

In short, you are helping the child have a conversation with you and, like conversations do, adding to your child’s knowledge in the process. The two techniques are asking questions and offering information. Knowledge builds on knowledge, so by doing this you are giving your child more and more building blocks with which to construct a happy, healthy brain.

Of course, always make reading a positive event. Don’t punish a child by taking books away (except of course, if he’s like Ransom, you need to because he’s about to hit Esther with it). Don’t shame him or get annoyed if he answers questions wrong. Correct him like it’s normal and good to be corrected, because then we get things right.

If you want to see a teacher do this, go here. For more detailed information about this simple, effective method, go here. It’s research-tested to especially benefit kids whose homes did not offer them that crucial word-rich environment, but it’s good for all families. We do it (I discovered this when doing early childhood research and said, “Hey, we already mostly do this naturally”).

The next posts on this topic will recommend some good books for toddlers, particularly for those who like classic literature and learning.

Of course, these are all things parents want for their children. Thank heavens: Parents can help their kids get these things. One of the best ways to do so is by talking and reading to your children, from very early ages. Esther, for example, is not yet one year old, but she will walk over to the book shelf and pull out a book, then bring it to Nathaniel or I and exclaim in gibberish until we “read” it to her. (I included the quote marks because she wants to hear the words she knows or have us tell her what all the pictures are using nouns, not to have us read the words on the page.)

There are several extremely simple things parents can do to help their children love reading and words, starting from day one. And these are not stressful “baby brain training” exercises, but just natural ways to learn to interact with your children as their first tutor—or, better, their mother or father.

1. Start early. Parents are crucial to children’s smarts because verbal ability is largely determined in a child’s first 10 years of life. For about half of those years, and the most important, parents are the main guides to the world a child has.

2. Talk to your children a lot. Just simply label the world for them as you live out your life. Sing little songs about what they are doing. Repeat words a lot. “Clap your hands, clap your hands, clap clap clap.” “Ransom, let’s put on your coat. We are going to the store. Put your arm in. No, your arm. That’s right, your arm. Oh, your thumb is out. Now your hand. Other arm. Now I am zipping it up. Zipper. Zipping the zipper.” And so forth. The first things children learn are nouns, because they are easiest (you can see them and understand clearly what the label attaches to). Verbs are next.

3. Get some books. Nearly every town, no matter how much a hamlet, has a library nearby. Go get some books there for free. We go every Thursday night, and switch out the kids’ library books about every other week. We get about 5 or 6 books per week, and I try to pick subjects they are interested in or are starting to show interest in: Counting to five, then to ten; animals (Ransom and Esther especially like dog); trucks; stories about taking baths and messy houses (the current Ransom favorite—messes deeply concern and fascinate him). Just pick stuff. It’s free, and you can get a bunch, so you can’t go wrong.

4. Read to your kids (don’t stick them to screens). When we were little, we loved our babysitter Regina, because she would read us all the books we wanted. Depending on your kids’ appetite for reading, you probably can’t do that, but you can turn off the TV, iPad, cell phone, and computer and open up a book. Though screens try to have “educational kid content,” most of it is worthless, and especially so compared to a personal parent tutor. Lots of parents believe screens help their kids learn, but the truth is probably the opposite. Forty percent of 3-month-olds regularly watch screen media, and one in five kids 1 and younger have a TV in their bedroom. I think most parents would call that ridiculous…except obviously lots of parents do it. Don’t. The longer you delay regular screen time, the smarter your kid is likely to be and the less likely he is to become computer addicted and fat.* (Sources here.)

My next post talks about how to read to your kids. Again, very simple, concrete stuff (point at words, ask questions, and repeat what children say correctly). This is brain science, but you don’t need an expert to perform it. You are the expert. You’re the mom, and you’re the dad.

*I’m not talking a once or twice a week movie because mommy needs some quiet time. I’m talking daily media, I’m talking TVs in baby bedrooms, and so forth. Limit it as much as possible. If you need a break, put the kid in his crib or room with a toy for a half hour.

When we married, I was almost as scared as my parents that I was being a fool. Marriage is no guarantee of happiness. Nathaniel might become a monster. Or, as my parents worried, his Lutheran view that husbands lead the home might oppress me.

I’ve never felt more spoiled than after marrying Nathaniel. In my case, having a husband is like having an extremely attractive personal servant, whose devotion does not preclude vigorous intellectual discussion and—even!—disagreement. So I guess it’s more like having a rebellious and extremely attractive personal servant: every girl’s dream.

The Bible tells wives to submit to their husbands, and for husbands to lay down their lives for their wives as Christ has for the church, but it doesn’t tell women the dangerous secret that submitting to a husband like that is like submitting to a life of chocolate.

This week I’ve been enjoying myself at a journalism conference in the fall-leaf-studded mountains of Asheville, North Carolina while Nathaniel holds down the toddlers at home. It’s the first time I’ve left him and the babies, and it’s been a long time (six days). I worried about leaving with Esther still a dedicated nurser, but he firmly told me to go, so here I am. I have difficulty watching those crazies for a few hours alone, so am not sure the “we’re doing fine” survival reports he’s sent are entirely accurate. It’s an unusual situation, but typical of his character.

My terror has changed from fearing him to fearing losing him. But we Christians always have eternity. And there, he’s promised to find me.

Last Friday, after 15 months of not switching my driver’s license to Indiana from Maryland, where I have the misfortune to hold it, I went to the apparently renowned Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles. It took me three minutes to get to a pleasant lady who informed me transferring licenses requires a written test, which I cannot take after 4 p.m. So I went back today at 1 p.m., bearing every form of identification ever known to man , neatly held together in a black clamp.

Because my wallet, which contained my Maryland license, had been stolen several weeks ago, I had to bring a copy of my Maryland driving record. So I’d obtained that. But it wasn’t good enough. The record apparently had to be issued within 30 days of me appearing at the bureau. I was about two weeks late. Another nice lady told me I could call the Maryland MVA and ask them to fax an updated copy right to the Indiana branch. Hah. 

So I took and passed the written test, while holding a squirming Esther who must go with me everywhere because the snotty little jail-keeper refuses a nursing substitute and requires food about every hour. She climbed up on the table and squeaked from the booth next to me, prompting the branch manager to nervously ask that I take her down. Sit her in my lap, I suppose, since that was obviously working so well.

Then I called the Maryland communist party, aka Motor Vehicle Administration. I sat on hold for 20 minutes listening to all their new road rules: texting while driving is illegal, truck drivers need tests every month, cell phones while driving are illegal without a headset, the state has decided to institute an even crueler form of psychological torture known as “express centers,” even as it demonstrated its Orwellian idea of the word “express” while I sat there on the phone, following a squeaking Esther around the office as about 50 people came in and did their business.

I was furious. So, naturally, Esther decided it was time to dirty her diaper. I don’t know why that combination makes sense to her, but it clearly does because this happens every time. I guess pooping your pants under stress must be natural.

I finally reach a call center lady, who informs me waiting for 20 minutes is normal like that’s supposed to relieve the fury.  She then proceeds to tell me that an Indiana BMV employee must make my request, and must do it to another phone number. So I head back to the counter and furiously pop cereal bits into Esther’s drooling mouth while the branch manager adopts an “I don’t know if this will work out and you are obviously mad so I don’t really want to tell you to bleep off” attitude. So he goes into another room to call the Maryland party elders.

He comes back in about 5 minutes. Turns out the Maryland MVA wants him to fax them all of my sensitive documents–Social Security card, birth certificate, passport, marriage license, everything. He doesn’t want to send my IDs out into the ether.

So, having wasted nearly three hours (two trips) of work time in an overwhelmingly busy week (remember, working mom here, step aside) where literally every hour is extremely painful to recover, and being once again penalized for some jerkface’s decision to steal my wallet, I cried. Right at the now-very-awkward DMV man, who to his credit tried to console me.

The kicker: Maryland already has copies of all the personal documents I’ve ever generated. They scanned them into their system on the cursedly successful third try I made to get a Maryland license. But no. Now I have to send another check and form (on which I must write, right next to each other, my driver’s license number and address three times) to get another copy of my driving record and financially perpetuate the country’s communist regime. The other option is appearing in person in Baltimore to get a reissued copy of my Maryland driver’s license. Really, that’s the other option.

If I had that damn license, I would pee on it. Or make Esther pee on it. It might be worth the trip.

Image by Andy Matthews.

All of that said, I also am a busy work-at-home mom who nevertheless wants to spend enjoyable, productive time with her adorable son. So I devised a little “curriculum” of books, music, and play for us to do together in the coming school year on the Tuesday mornings daddy is away and mommy can’t work anyway. I thought readers might be interested in borrowing it for their own use.

Here’s a link to my set of “lesson plans” in a Google Docs spreadsheet. Feel free to share, but please link to this post or the site.

I also profoundly recommend E.D. Hirsch’s work to parents and teachers. I’d start with Cultural Literacy, his first research-infested manifesto. This is everything public schools do not provide (mostly for progressive ideological reasons—yet  Hirsch is a self-described liberal!), but should. I pinched most of my list from his foundation’s What Your Preschooler Needs to Know. You can also get the foundation’s preschool scope and sequence layout PDF free (with permission) here (do consider a donation if you like it). I plan to build on these materials with Caldecott Medal books (The Ox Cart Man!), Ransom’s interests, and art projects and such, and will keep you informed of my progress this year and in years to come (for free!).

More about specific reading instruction in the next small-child installment.

One of the greatest moral challenges living in Washington, DC posed to me was the “card check.” Whenever you met people, inevitably the first question after names was, “What do you do?” and your erstwhile correspondent would evaluate how long to talk to you by your professional status.

Since I was there on my first job after college, my status was just above intern. And I worked in a writing and academic environment, where everyone was always mentioning “my piece in The Atlantic” or “as I wrote in the Washington Post the other day” or how “Fox News is sending ‘round a car for me soon.”

It was very hard, in that environment, for me not to want desperately to be more important, and at least mentally to catch on to the self-promotional, intellectually supercilious nature of the place.

Sometimes I can sit back and envision the world as if I am telescoping out to behold it, and see points of light marking every person who holds a similar social position to me. There are many such points of light. It is difficult, facing that reality, not to either resign myself to anonymity or push myself as hard and fast and possible to reach the edge of the lemming cliff faster than everyone else. (This is sometimes what I see Twitter and “social media self-promotion” as.)

But there is a third way. It has been easier to find outside DC.

One of the most liberating doctrines is vocation: Serving your neighbor is serving God, and it pleases Him. We see this in passages such as the Good Samaritan and the Golden Rule in Luke. So when I change Esther’s diaper or respond to her hungry whines, I am doing what I should. Motherhood is a vocation God has given me by giving me children.

Many people can edit and write well. Only I can mother my babies or be a wife to Nathaniel.

These are the thoughts I preach to myself when I start feeling worthless. Another is that, while many people can do the work tasks I do, and even take on my specific job, God has given me my current job. So to do it well is also to fulfill my current calling. That gives me pleasure in even the mundane and frustrating aspects of my work, and pushes me to do my best wherever I am.

Envy is one of my besetting sins. I look at other people who are able to do things I cannot—take trips to fun places, or at all; make tasty, elaborate dinners because they have time and no underfoot screamers; get published seemingly at ease in all the “right” places—and increase my own misery with the comparison. And then the envy feeds my pride, because it tells me I deserve to be more comfortable, more adored, more…something.

These are lies. I have already been given the greatest honor anyone could receive. God killed and resurrected himself for my sake. And he didn’t stop there, although it would be enough. He gives me children to love and help whack out my selfishness. He provides me a job I enjoy that also pays for our food and house. He gives me a husband, when many women are alone.

I have been very tired lately. The haphazard lapse of a redesign around here is one evidence I can barely keep it together. This state is inevitable given my responsibilities. But, you know, I am blessed to have them.

Image of the morning glories that cover our back fence.

It’s my list of what kind of clothing to avoid. God doesn’t give specifics, so I’m not saying this is scripture, but what I generally think women should not wear, with very few exceptions. 

1. Short bottoms. Obviously, anything where I wonder if that’s your butt showing is out (and I’ve seen butts actually poke out–gross), but so are things that come close, both shorts and skirts. The usual skirt rule for professional women is “not much above your knees,” and I think that should hold for women in general. Shorts can be a bit shorter, because there’s less chance of your underwear showing, but mid-thigh is my usual stop-range. Short shorts are trashy and hideous.

2. If you can’t tell whether it’s a shirt or dress, the answer is no.

3. Revealing private body parts and undergarments. This includes cleavage, belly buttons, bra straps, thong straps, and underwear lines. Sorry, ladies, it’s trashy. I don’t want my husband or son to see yours. Heck, I don’t want to see yours. Save it for the bedroom. (I understand that women who are well-endowed will only wear turtle necks if they can never show cleavage, so I just ask that they keep it to a minimum.)

4. Anything strapless. First, it almost always shows cleavage, unless you’re small, in which case you’ll be constantly hiking the “dress” back up. Plus, between your breasts and chin there’s a lot of skin. I have seen a very few strapless dresses look nice, but most look like they were trying to look nice and failed.

5. Prostitute clothes. Enough said.

6. Skin-tight clothing. This is a recipe for cracks showing, flubber flaring, loss of respect, and unwanted attention. See: Prostitute clothes; Kardashian sisters.

7. Burkas. I know sex and modesty are controversial, and that people don’t like other people to tell them what they should do, especially when they are doing the opposite already. So I need to mention what I did spend a lot of time on in my talk, which is that I believe modesty is about beauty. And women are beautiful. Skanky clothes are not.

Because women are beautiful and God made us this way, I think making women wear burkas is wrong. First, a burka calls more attention to a U.S. woman than normal clothes do, and for the wrong reasons (a rejection of her person). Second, men bear some responsibility in taming their lusts, and a burka implies immodesty is all a woman thing, when responsibility for proper and modest behavior lies within us all.

More posts to come on this topic (I know, I always say that, and then life happens.)

Image by Chuck Coker.