From the archives: Charlotte Mason works, because it just does

First posted March 2013, as a conclusion to the study of Philosophy of Education by Charlotte Mason.

The last chapters of Volume Six are a) rambling, b) written for the public rather than homeschooling parents or PNEU teachers, and c) slightly out of alignment with the rest of the book because some of it ("The Basis of National Strength") had been published ten years before.  However, much of it is still relevant; in fact, very much so, since public education is such a hot topic. Charlotte looks at trends in education--good and bad--as they had affected whole nations:  a push for education in Prussia that got out of hand and ended in a utilitarian disaster, compared with cheerful-sounding adult schooling in Denmark that aimed at "a brand new world of readers." "Faced with infinite possibilities on either hand," which way would the nation's schools go?

"I do not hesitate to say that the constantly recurring misery of our age, 'Labour Unrest,' is to be laid at the door, not of the working man, but of the nation which has not troubled itself to consider the natural hunger of mind and the manner of meat such hunger demands."  ~~Charlotte Mason, "The Scope of Continuation Schools," Towards a Philosophy of Education

And if you have Philosophy of Education handy, check out pages 290-291, where Charlotte unfolds a secret of education.

"[They will say that] extensive reading is a 'good idea which we have all tried more or less' and that free narration "is a good plan in which there is nothing new.' It is true that we all read and that narration is as natural as breathing, its value depending solely upon what is narrated. What we have perhaps failed to discover hitherto is the immense hunger for knowledge (curiosity) existing in everyone and the immeasurable power of attention with which everyone is endowed; that everyone likes knowledge best in a literary form; that the knowledge should be exceedingly various concerning many things on which the mind of man reflects; but that knowledge is acquired only by what we may call 'the act of knowing,' which is both encouraged and tested by narration, and which further requires the later test and record afforded by examinations. This is nothing new, you will say, and possibly no natural law in action appears extraordinarily new; we take flying already as a matter of course; but though there is nothing surprising in the action of natural laws, the results are exceedingly surprising, and to that test we willingly submit these methods."

In other words:  yes, reading and narration are natural, that's why they work!  "Possibly no natural law in action appears extraordinarily new."  Why should we be amazed if we put the right pieces together and they actually work?  That is not to say that learning is a mechanical process--fit this here, solder this here and you'll have an educated child--but only that this approach to education fits the realities of who we are and how we are made.

"As things are we shall have to see it that everybody gets fed; but our hope is that henceforth we shall bring up our young people with self-sustaining minds, as well as self-sustaining bodies, by a due ordering of the process of education.  We hope so to awaken and direct mind hunger that every man's mind will look after itself."  ~~"The Scope of Continuation Schools"

Photos of 1942 Addison Courthouse radio by Mr. Fixit.  Copyright 2013 Dewey's Treehouse.

Old meets new (photos)

Over the weekend, Mr. Fixit cleaned out some records, sold the small cabinet that held them, and moved this 1940's Sparton console radio into the living room.

This photo is Mr. Fixit's "man cave," five years ago; the radio has been in the corner there (under the Three Stooges poster) for at least that long. Console or floor-model radios aren't something Mr. Fixit usually handles; they're not a big seller these days, and they're hard to move around (and ship). This was one he just liked and didn't worry about re-selling.

But it was time to polish it up and give it new life upstairs.

This old radio is more compatible with new technology than you'd think. It has an input on the back that can connect with a smartphone. Ponytails came over on the weekend and said she had heard a song she thought Mr. Fixit would like. He plugged her phone into the input and played the music through the radio.

Saturday Yard Saling

We went to a couple of street sales today. Mr. Fixit found a multiband radio from about 1969, that (according to the seller) "hums but doesn't play music." I found a makeup/hairstyling cape for Lydia, and two white pillowcases that I'll probably make into handkerchiefs.

I actually found this purse a couple of weeks ago. It went to Waxahachie with me.

Circle scarf printed with feathers

And a necklace!

So...we counted it a pretty good morning.

Dewey's Treehouse, inside and out (photo post)

Living room

Bone china flowers inherited from Mr. Fixit's grandma.

One of Mr. Fixit's specials.

Cookbook browsing

Corner of the kitchen (the picture on the wall is my spice wheel)

Chocolate-chip muffins

Backyard apple tree

Rhubarb

Hosta aren't supposed to blossom this time of year.

Talents and trust, and the music chapter (Hidden Art of Homemaking, Chapter 3)

"If what we have
we believe we have gotten,
and if what we have
we believe we must hold onto,
and if what we have
is not available to others,
then we will live in anxiety.

"If what we have
we receive as a gift,
and if what we have
is to be cared for by God,
and if what we have
is available to others,
then we will possess freedom from anxiety.

"This is the inward reality of simplicity."  ~~ Richard J. Foster, Celebration of Discipline

I get anxious about the challenges of The Hidden Art of Homemaking, from Chapter 3 on.

Because Chapter 3 is music, Chapter 4 is art, and so on.  Something definite is going to be demanded of me.

I get anxious because I don't think I have "gotten" enough talent in any of those areas to make it worth worrying about.  I get anxious because I would rather hold on to the little I have (hold on to it in private, thank you), than risk being compared with those who have serious talent.  I feel guilty because, out of the small talents I do have, I probably haven't worked hard enough on improving them.  I get anxious because I would not think of nailing leather over a barrel to make a chair.  Joyce Radway,  I am not.

But look, this is what Richard Foster is saying: 

Our creativity did not come from us.  We have not "gotten" it ourselves. It is not ours to hide under the bed with.  It is not ours to obssess over, whether we think we have enough or not enough, whether we have read enough interior design magazines or listened to enough Beethoven CDs.  It has been given to us by God, is cared for by God, and needs to be used, made available to others, in a spirit of thankfulness.

And yes, if there is no real awareness of what is dull or ugly or un-creative, or just too random in our lives; no deliberate attempt to try to improve those things, a bit at a time; then we do need to be dissatisfied, even to repent.  We don't need to set the curtains on fire in an attempt to beautify, as one of Louisa May Alcott's characters did; but we need to be open to trying. (Hmm, that didn't come out quite right--trying to celebrate creativity, not trying to start fires!)

This is one thing I have done lately about music:  bought a couple of new-to-me CDs at the thrift store.  We often have the radio on ("the radio" is a misnomer in this house--say one of many), particularly tuned to a favourite FM jazz station; but again, that is somewhat random.  What I want are a few music choices that I can put on, when I want them, and listen repeatedly.  I don't have any of those gadgets that shuffle tunes and so on--tapes and CDs will do fine, but I want to listen a bit more deliberately.  Right now I'm rotating between a Handel CD (NOT the Water Music, I've heard that way too often), a CD of lute music, and a CD of the original Quartetto Gelato members.  Here's something by QG's more recent incarnation:



Linked from The Hidden Art of Homemaking: Linky for Chapter 3, at Ordo Amoris.

Related posts:
On cupcakes and ceramic unicorns, and something more
Embroidered homebodies
Quote from "Drawing Lessons"

Father-daughter project.

Thanksgiving in our Treehouse: photo post

All photos by Mr. Fixit.  Copyright 2012, Dewey's Treehouse.

Making the most of Treehouse collections: dolls and more

We are Squirrels, and don't forget it.  We may not be parts-stashers, but we do like to collect things.

These are Red Rose Tea Figurines. Some of them were Mr. Fixit's grandma's. Some were Mama Squirrel's. The shelf had hung in a corner of our rec room for a long time, kind of hidden and dusty. We decided to move it up to the kitchen.

Dollygirl's TY Teenie Beanie Boppers. (Also here.) She has been collecting these at yard sales and thrift shops for several years; I think only one was bought new.  Mr. Fixit helped her spray paint and frame a piece of pegboard, so now the Boppers can all hang out together.

Mr. Fixit's restorations are part of our living room decor--they come and go, and we make room for them while they're in the Treehouse.  The glass-fronted cabinet was the grandparents', and it holds a group of dolls handed down from both sides of our family.

All photos by Mr. Fixit, copyright Dewey's Treehouse, 2012.

Treehouse, Christmas Eve

Transoceanic radio courtesy of Mr. Fixit. All photos, Mr. Fixit.

Answers to the Antique Market

Here are the answers to last week's game:

1. Mr. Fixit:  b. really cool Bakelite radio

2. Mama Squirrel:  e. four vintage Scholastic paperbacks, found in a baby cradle full of children's books

3. The Apprentice:  d. didn't come because of university orientation weekend

4. Ponytails:  c. 1959 cosmetics ad to use as a wall decoration

5. Crayons/Dollygirl:  a. plastic bag filled with tiny dolls, doll furniture, and playdough doll food


Bonus question: which item was (reluctantly) left behind?

The radio...Mr. Fixit says that that particular model was extremely rare and collectible, and the price reflected it.  Too bad.

Let's play a game: The Squirrels and the Antique Market

On the weekend, most of us (plus Grandpa Squirrel) visited an antique market in a nearby town. Mix and match what you think each Squirrel brought home (or would have liked to).

1. Mr. Fixit
2. Mama Squirrel
3. The Apprentice
4. Ponytails
5. Crayons/Dollygirl

a. plastic bag filled with tiny dolls, doll furniture, and playdough doll food
b. really cool Bakelite radio
c. 1959 cosmetics ad to use as a wall decoration, kind of like this
d. didn't come because of university orientation weekend
e. four vintage Scholastic paperbacks, found in a baby cradle full of children's books

Bonus question: which item was (reluctantly) left behind?

We are still on Spring Break (pretend we're live-blogging)

The weather is positively balmy. Perfect weather for March Break, even if it gets cold again this weekend. Every so many years you get one of these...

Mr. Fixit (having his week of holidays) treated us to a couple of thrift shops and a burger out, by way of celebration. Crayons found herself two summer shirts and two pairs of shorts, each two for a dollar, and picked out all by herself. Mama Squirrel found three hardcover Mitford books, all ones she has but she knows some ladies at church who like Mitford books too so they're easy to pass on. We also stopped at the supermarket to get bagels, ketchup, and sugar-free Jell-O to make gummy worms. (Just the Jell-O is for the gummy worms, in case you were worried.)

The Apprentice will be off to work this afternoon--hair customers don't take March Break off.

Crayons had a visit last night from her friend Schmoo and her Only Hearts Club doll; Schmoo gave Crayons' doll Anna Sophia a fancier braided hairdo, so this morning Crayons requested that The Apprentice do her own hair (Crayons, not The Apprentice) to look like Anna Sophia. She did a good job too! Anna Sophia came along on the shopping trip and Crayons found her a new cocker spaniel at the thrift shop--just about the right size for a 9 inch girl.

Mr. Fixit is now outside the Treehouse doing outside things that involve running a lot of water. Ponytails is helping him. Crayons and Anna Sophia are out there too. And Mama Squirrel, fortified with a large cup of fast food coffee, will now go back to extracting key points from Home Education.

2:30: The Apprentice is just leaving for work. The gummy worms are freezing (they smell like one of The Apprentice's hair dye solutions). Mr. Fixit is listening to the Rachmaninoff and Nana Mouskouri albums he got at the thrift shop. Ponytails is sewing something for Anna Sophia. Crayons is somewhere...

About 4:00: Ponytails watched her favourite cooking show at 3. Mr. Fixit finally convinced Crayons to come inside for awhile while he had a cup of tea. Mama Squirrel started heating frozen cabbage rolls for an easy dinner (since The Apprentice won't be here). (The Squirrelings will probably have sandwiches.) The lime-flavoured gummy worms turned out kind of strange...maybe it takes some experience to get them right, I'm not sure. There was almost too much gelatin in them...or maybe it was that lime flavour that made the girls go ewwww... Well, it was worth a try.

The Squirrelings watched a Three Stooges video with Mr. Fixit. Mama Squirrel started the first of several loads of laundry. Ponytails started sewing something else that she wouldn't let Crayons see. Crayons pleaded for a few more minutes outside. Mr. Fixit checked his email. Mama Squirrel sorted her typed notes.

5:30: We finished dinner: cabbage rolls, instant mashed potatoes (finishing the end of a box), reheated meat loaf, and yogurt. Crayons asked Mr. Fixit if he would play G.I. Joes with her later (what they were doing yesterday--playing with his boyhood Johnny West and G.I. Joe toys), but he said he might think of something else this time...after he rests for awhile.

7 p.m.: Ponytails is ironing and is waiting to use the computer. Crayons is upstairs play ironing. Mama Squirrel just finished a review that was due and doesn't want to look at a screen for the whole rest of the evening...well, maybe just to finish this off later. Mr. Fixit came in and said he was heading out to the electronics store (he needs a stereo part) and to pick up The Apprentice from work. Both girls decided to go with him, leaving Mama Squirrel to do another couple loads of laundry and keep working on what needs to be worked on.

8:45: The Apprentice is home and has finished her cabbage roll. Mr. Fixit helped Mama Squirrel finish the dinner dishes and is slightly disgruntled about the Gummy Worm debris stuck in the saucepan. (Obviously we got something out of whack with that.) The Apprentice had a good story about a buzz cut, and Mr. Fixit had one about the guy at the electronics store who got talking about the Good Old Days of CB Radios and Cassette Tapes, and who looked at the Squirrelings and said, "I guess you've never heard of any of that." Obviously he doesn't know their dad well enough to know the answer to that...

And now we're going to watch Wonder Woman, and sign off here.

Thrift and thanksgiving

This is a response to The Common Room post Thrift, Parsimony and Freegan Living, which the DHM wrote after reading the NY Times review of Lauren Weber's book In Cheap We Trust. As the DHM mentioned, you can read an excerpt from the book here.

While making a day-after-Thanksgiving leftover casserole, I thought of a definition for sensible frugality: frugality (vs. miserliness) means cutting the meat off the bones, but not so close that you cut yourself with the knife. (Don't go spoiling my metaphor by telling me I should have been boiling it instead. It really was a very little turkey to start with, and I doubt I would have gotten much broth from what was left.)

Re-dipping your teabag so many times that you poison yourself is miserly. (Some will argue about that but I'm sticking by what my auntie told me.) Depriving people of what would make their lives pleasanter, healthier or safer, if whatever it is really does take money and if you can afford it, is miserly. Spending half an hour looking for a free parking spot (as an acquaintance of Weber's does) is just silly, especially if you have other people in the car who will never get that time back that you wasted. There are definitely ways to be too much of a tightwad.

On the other hand, those who slam Amy Dacyczyn, for example, seldom bother to bring up some of the most sensible and thoughtful articles from her Tightwad Gazette. She once described a frugal meal that her family served to guests: it included chicken, potatoes, and fresh vegetables from their garden. There was nothing miserly-sounding about it at all; in fact, some people would think that all that fresh, homecooked food was a treat. A Family Fun article about the Dacyczyn family focused on the cool and creative toys and other amusements that their children--those poor, deprived children of tightwads--spent their time with. And the point she was trying to make by using things like metal strips from waxed paper boxes (see Weber's excerpt) was that if you have it, then use it, instead of wasting your time and gas and money going out to buy something else while the metal strip goes into the landfill. She wasn't suggesting that you spend your life stockpiling metal strips in case you might someday need one to hang a picture. (I might also point out that some of the ideas such as jump ropes were actually sent in by TG readers.) It's not crazy to re-use things, and to keep using them until they wear out or smell bad. Sometimes it's not worth the fuss over what something costs; other times it just makes more sense to look for a tightwad solution. As Amy pointed out more than once, frugal living, including used stuff, can be better than its equivalent in new things, and it can help you achieve other goals that are important to you (like staying home with young children, or buying a house).

Lauren Weber is right about the fact that when we think we can afford to "live better," we usually do--although we sometimes confuse "living better" with "living more expensively." In the Treehouse we have a 1929 floor radio that originally sold for $275. Quite a chunk of change in those days, but someone must have thought it worth the money. (Mr. Fixit bought it at an estate sale before we were married.)

I knew an elderly woman whose husband refused to update the worn linoleum in their kitchen. For forty years she waxed that linoleum and hated it. One of the first things she did after he died--and she told me this with a chortle--was put in a no-wax floor. (Was she justified in wanting this? Did she deserve it after fighting the linoleum all those years? Is that just small potatoes compared with people who want bigger cars and fancier furniture?)

Some of Mr. Fixit's relatives survived very lean times during the Depression, when opportunities for immigrants on the Prairies were scarce. But they worked hard, saved all they could, and eventually built themselves a house with an oil furnace and--an amazing luxury--a thermostat to control it. They had no desire to return to methods of home heating that involved chopping or shovelling. It reminds me of another article I once read about a woman who grew up through tough times, and never could get over her amazement over simply "standing in the warm."

I'm not sure I relate to Ms. Weber's interest in fancy shoes marked down to ninety-nine dollars, or to her enthusiasm for the latest in televisions. We ourselves have made do just fine with our '70's and '80's TVs, and there's always the most radical idea of all--doing without one. To each her own, but I'm not sure how much I trust that kind of "frugal" advice. It's not wrong to enjoy good times, to look forward to a special meal, even to splurge on a bit of candy corn; but I do question large amounts of money spent on something that doesn't pay you back. (A chest freezer is an investment. A pair of high heels are probably not, unless they're sending you home from Oz.) I guess I just slice my turkey a little closer to the bone than she does.

Can you be "too frugal?" Opinions?

Thanksgiving photos by Mr. Fixit. The centerpiece was made from a vintage Native basket (free from Grandpa Squirrel's basement); dollar-store fake leaves that we bought for a craft class; a glass thingy from a cousin's wedding; a few horse chestnuts; and a spray from our lilac bush, which looks quite different in autumn. The turkey salt and pepper shakers belonged to Mr. Fixit's grandma. Most of the furniture in the photo also came from the Squirrel grandparents.

Why we homeschool

We homeschool for a wide variety of reasons...academic, religious, lifestyle...and have been doing it since 1996. So, for us, the question becomes-- what reason would we have for needing or wanting our children to attend school? (For any of you who aren't regular visitors here, we have three daughters who have always been homeschooled. This is mostly about our oldest, who's known as The Apprentice.)

I can pinpoint one of the lines I read, early on, that propelled us towards homeschooling. I had borrowed Nancy Wallace's account of her own family's unschooling journey, Better Than School, from the library, and I came to the part where she described their son's classroom experiences in first grade. It wasn't a good year; her son was exhausted and unhappy, and when asked what the problem was, he complained that he no longer had enough time to read! (The link is to a 1984 Mother Earth News story about homeschooling; if you scroll down far enough, you'll see some excerpts from the book.)

I related to that. I remembered being yanked down by my jumper straps when I tried to climb up to an above-my-grade-level library shelf in the first grade. (Did anyone else go to a school where the books were actually arranged by grades?) I remembered having to use second-grade readers two years in a row (it involved a move from a school that encouraged "enrichment" to another one that didn't). I remembered doing many, many spelling lessons that taught me absolutely nothing (I was already a good speller. I was lousy at handwriting, but spelling lessons didn't improve that). I remembered getting to staple the teacher's papers as a reward for getting my work done early. (What a motivation.)

I also remembered the darker side of school--the pressures, the bullies, the unhappiness when you can't seem to find a place to fit in. I was a geek from the get-go. Many of us have been there and it's not a memory we'd want to spend much time musing on.

And right at that time (when we were thinking about homeschooling), our flavour-of-the-month provincial ministry of education announced a brilliant idea. They would provide optional junior kindergarten not only for the four-year-olds (that was already in place) but also for the three-year-olds. Moms who wanted free babysitting cheered. Everyone else seemed doubtful, including Mr. Fixit's cousin who was teaching JK and had had to buy a supply of changes-of-underwear for her classroom already. And we had a child turning three. Oh but wait--a change of government came in right then and axed not only that idea, but also four-year-old JK. For a little while. Then JK came back (but not for the three-year-olds).

Oh, and then there was the common curriculum that our province brought in (like the "standards" some other countries talk about). And there was a teachers' strike. And there was provincial testing for grade 3 and 6 classes. And the whole idea of self-esteem (that is, spending time on how special we are instead of on math) and values clarification (whatever its present-day name is) and groupthink and not hurting a child's feelings by saying that his work is careless or his spelling is wrong.

In short, we had no intention of allowing The Apprentice to become a guinea pig for some government's idea of what her education should be. Or shouldn't be. Or might be for six months until the latest greatest idea came up. (The newest thing in our school system is that children don't have a lunch hour anymore. They have two "nutrition breaks" during the day instead. This was sold to the parents as something that would encourage better nutrition and more time to play outdoors, but it was actually prompted by demands for longer breaks for the teachers.)

And I wanted her to have time in her life to read.

The Apprentice has never become what you'd call a bookworm. She prefers to make things (like bead jewelery or knitted Barbie skirts), or help Mr. Fixit build CB radios and install computers. But when she does read...she knows what's worth reading, what's middlin', and what's garbage. Would she be better off in a classroom, now that she's getting close to the usual high school age? Maybe...if we can get enough of the important stuff covered first. Does she want to go? She's not sure herself. It would be sort of fun...but right now, she says she likes being at home.

[Update, May 2007: This was first posted in January 2006, when we were tossing around the possibilities for The Apprentice's future education. In September 2006, she enrolled part time at the local high school, and she has spent two interesting semesters there taking all the hands-on things that she enjoys--plus science and French--and I get to brag that she's on the honour roll too. She's planning on continuing there, still part time, next school year. Beyond that, she's looking at apprenticeship possibilities in a couple of the trades that interest her.]