Shoo-fly Pie and Thanksgiving

In Mabel Dunham's historical novel The Trail of the Conestoga, the Bricker family has just crossed the Niagara River after many days on the road from Pennsylvania.

"It's the Promised Land," cried Sam, laughing good-naturedly and swinging the water-pail. "Look once, there's the Jordan River,"—he pointed to the Niagara—"and back there's the wilderness. We was forty years in it, not?"  "It seemed so," thought Annie.

But John was determined to be literal. "Forty days, it was," he said, "forty days exactly, for I counted them. And what for a river do you think the Jordan is?"

"Too hungry to tell you now," replied Sam, refusing to be depressed by his brother's prosiness. "Come, Little Johnny, fetch the dishes, and me and you'll set the table. Got some shoo-fly pie, Annie?"

"Shoo-fly pie," said Annie.  "It'll go a long time till we have that again."

The table was a deal one of the drop-leaf variety, which folded into a tiny corner when occasion demanded but spread two broad, obliging wings at meal-time. Around it the little company gathered for their first breakfast in Canada.

It was when Sam was drinking the last draught of coffee from his saucer that there was borne in upon his mind the importance of this day in the history of the Bricker family. Even in old age they would recall this first morning in Canada and all the events which should transpire in it. He proposed that they should celebrate it in some appropriate way.... He told Little Johnny to set the benches in rows, and get out the Bible and hymn-book. He induced John to read the account of the crossing of the Jordan, and then they all knelt together and said "Our Father."

And how they sang! Sam started the tunes as well as he could, while John and Annie and even the children joined in. Soon the silent woods reverberated with the long-metered hymns....

At daybreak on Monday the journey was resumed. A corduroy road followed the course of the river, and this the Brickers took, trusting that it would eventually lead to the Mennonite settlement, which was said to exist somewhere along the shores of a great lake called Ontario.--Mabel Dunham, The Trail of the Conestoga

Photo of the Vineland Cairn found here
Pie photos by The Apprentice, October 2011

The great wide road, the adventure we are given: a sort of manifesto

This week's Charlotte Mason blog carnival combines a Parent's Review article with Chapter IV of Towards a Philosophy of Education, "The Basis of National Strength." The theme common to them both seems to be delight--delight in knowledge, and delight in life, as opposed to indifference and a constant need for others to entertain us.

"....I write as an old woman who remembers how in the [eighteen-] sixties and seventies "countenance" was much talked of; "an intelligent countenance," "a fine countenance," "a noble countenance," were matters of daily comment. The word has dropped out of use; is it because the thing signified has dropped out of existence? Countenance is a manifestation of thought, feeling, intelligence; and it is none of these, but stolid indifference combined with physical well-being, that we read in many faces to-day."--Charlotte Mason, Towards a Philosophy of Education

"In order that the flavour and scent of existence may not be lost, we must have within ourselves some consciousness of this impelling power that may lead us to travel deliberately through our ages, realizing that the most wonderful adventures are not those which we go forth to seek. We shall then, perhaps, have some glimmering idea of what [Robert Louis] Stevenson himself meant when he said, "whether the past day was wise or foolish, to-morrow's travel will carry me body and mind into some different parish of the infinite." The conception of ourselves and our children as citizens of the "parish of the infinite" is undoubtedly one that must give us pause."  -- "The Open Road," by Frances Blogg (also known as Mrs. G.K. Chesterton), in The Parent's Review, Volume 11, 1900, pgs. 772-774

In this chapter, which was originally published in the London Times, Charlotte Mason talks about the countenance showing our interest in or indifference to the world, and how that affects the spirit of the nation.  She points out, though, that genuinely educated people are "not brought up for the uses of society only."  We are not cogs or dogs, as Mary Pride has termed it; not bricks in the wall.  Frances Blogg talks about life that retains its flavour and scent, that is more than mere existence.  We are given thoughts from Mr. Burns (the cabinet minister, not the cartoon character) and Socrates:

"Now personal delight, joy in living, is a chief object of education; Socrates conceived that knowledge is for pleasure, in the sense, not that knowledge is one source, but is the source of pleasure.  It is for their own sakes that children should get knowledge."--Philosophy, p. 302

In other words, education is for us.  For our own selves, for the children, and any interested others.  This is why Charlotte Mason emphasizes many books, important books, living books--because studying those books gives us power to think clearly, to make good judgments (meaning, for the good of society), and finally, to give us a life that is more than just passing time.  "But to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God."  She mentions, as she always does, that we don't respect or really love children by keeping their educational prospects arid, confined, shallow; we need to allow them to swim out deeper, to climb higher, and to go around more unknown corners than they have been generally allowed.

"Education, then, to [Stevenson] was a journey, full of the delights of wide landscape, fresh invigorating air, or alternate sunshine and shadow, the great wide road stretching infinitely before--leading to that heart of its own, the beat of which he so longed to hear. There can be no liberal education when the eyes are closed or the ears sealed. In this, as in everything else, the wayfarer must live to the full extent of his being. Pitfalls he must find on that journey, blind paths perhaps, but through it all the philosophy of belief in the essential goodness, the actual significance of things created, the state of being 'in love with life.'"--Frances Blogg

On not throwing out food, or, let's rustle up some grub

Sometimes saving money on groceries is as easy as not buying what you know you won't eat. This assumes, however, that you know not only what you are going to eat but also what you, if you're the cook, are going to cook, and how you're going to cook it. It also assumes that you're going to need the whole piece or package or pound of whatever it is, or that you have a plan for the rest that won't involve even more leftovers.

Since this is not a perfect world and we are not clairvoyant at the supermarket, this does not always happen, at least in our treehouse. Factor in time pressures, unexpected events (people not home, flu bugs, fridge dying) and a certain amount of sheer laziness, and it's even more likely that at least some of what we buy is going to end up not getting consumed before it's green/blue/brown, stale, or freezer-burnt.

The way around this is not just more meal-planning, although that helps, but combining the planning with flexible recipes AND a personal repertoire of easy things you know how to do with whatever-it-is. One year during university I shared an apartment with roommates, and one of the visiting parents left a six-quart basket of tomatoes. That basket sat in the corner of the kitchen until...well, let's just say it wasn't too attractive by the end.

I'm not saying that we should all have gone out that weekend, bought cilantro, and canned the tomatoes into salsa. But we could probably at least have made a decent pot of chili out of them. Still, they weren't my tomatoes, so I stayed out of it (and away from it).

Over the years I've had my share of similar use-it-up challenges. Did you ever notice that certain things are hard to use up just because they're either not attractive or accessible in their usual state? Humorist and homemaking writer Peg Bracken pointed out that leftover cake is not a problem, because what you do with leftover cake is eat it. Same with leftover cheese, leftover chocolate, and so on.

But what about the dried beans, the too-large bag of carrots, the cantaloupe you bought on sale, the jar of sauerkraut, the half-head of cauliflower, and all those frozen blueberries? Our hungry ancestors would have been delighted to have had this problem, and you know how they would have solved it? Cooking it up, and eating till it was all. (All gone.) It didn't matter if it wasn't on the menu--whatever it was would have been sliced and put on the table, or put into the soup or the pie, and it would have gotten eaten.

So if you want to use stuff up, that's your first strategy: put it out with whatever else is for supper, or what's in the lunch bag. This is especially important if your family's at all polite or shy about eating what's in the fridge. Put it out there and let people enjoy it.

Strategy two, especially useful if you have young children, is to put it in a form that's easy to eat. That means melon balls, chunks, or slices, instead of a whole cantaloupe staring sadly from the fridge shelf. At that point you might also notice that you have two bananas and an orange, and there you go, fruit salad. Fruit kebabs. Or just eat the cantaloupe; the point is to eat it. I have found a peculiar thing about those big round rice cakes: they often get left in the cupboard UNLESS I quarter them (sharp knife, be careful) and put them out on a plate or in a bowl with other snacks. Somebody must have had the same idea, years ago, when they invented the idea of eating raw turnip sticks.

In the same way, make half the bag of carrots into carrot sticks. Cook up the beans and freeze them.  Get things ready to eat, or to add to future meals.

Strategy three is the what's-in-your-hand principle, the same one that the great-greats used. I recently followed a recipe for sweet-potato salad, and thought I would try it again if I had extra sweet potatoes. This week I had a large head of cauliflower in the fridge, so I used half of that, along with just one sweet potato, to make the same salad recipe; and it also turned out fine.

Sauerkraut is an easy one for us--we use it as a base for cooking chicken breasts or any kind of pork, in the slow cooker or in the oven. If you're a vegetarian, you can try it with potato chunks.  Omnivores can combine all three.

Frozen fruit is likely to go into a crisp-type dessert, or the sort of thing I made earlier in the week (graham crackers, vanilla yogurt, and blueberries), or as fruit sauce on top of pancakes.

A final tip: know your particular food foe, and figure out a way to defeat its demise. Bags of potatoes that rot before you remember to eat them? The other half of the cauliflower? Leftover meat? A half-gone package of cream cheese? Don't look for complicated recipes to use them up; find simple things that you will actually do and that your eaters might actually eat. If you don't like sour things, or don't have a friend who does, or aren't going to a potluck anytime soon, then making bean salad with leftover beans is not a solution. But bean soup might be.  Making a potato casserole uses up as many potatoes as you have...and "potato casserole" could be as simple as cooking cut-up (sliced or chunked) potatoes in some broth or milk, and adding a little seasoning...and that could be in a pot, in the oven, or in the slow cooker.  Add some of the carrots and an onion, and you're on your way to stew.

To misquote Bloom County's Milo, "it's food and we're going to eat it."  There's not much simpler than that.  And happy Canadian Thanksgiving.

This post is linked to Festival of Frugality #301 and The Common Room: Four Moms Discuss Keeping the Food Budget in Control as Prices Rise. 

What's for supper on election night? Reuben Enchiladas

I made up something new tonight.

We had some leftover Reuben Chicken (chicken breasts cooked with sauerkraut and Thousand Island dressing)...almost enough for dinner, but a bit on the skimpy side as is. We had a package of whole-wheat tortillas, and a box of chicken broth. We had some uncoloured sharp Cheddar cheese.

So: I rolled what was left of the chicken-and-sauerkraut up in the tortillas, along with a strip of cheese for each one; arranged them in a casserole, and poured a cupful of chicken broth over top (mixed with a bit of chili sauce as well). I added an extra squirt of Thousand Island dressing on top. Lid on and into the toaster oven at 350 degrees. Ours turned out just moist enough--but you might want to check them partway through and make sure they're not getting too dark on the bottom.

Non-traditional, but good. We had the enchiladas with brown rice and green beans. Dessert was dairy-free chocolate pudding.

What's for supper? What's to use up?

Tonight's menu:

Potatoes, cut up and cooked in the crockpot along with a tiny bit of leftover pork roast, a spoonful of margarine, a cup of chicken broth, some leftover mustard sauce, some milk, pepper, dried onion, and smoked paprika.  Basically, scalloped potatoes.

A bit of thin-sliced smoked pork loin from the Euro-butcher, fried up in the non-stick pan.  Basically, back bacon.

Last night's salad:  spinach, celery, green pepper, and pink beans.

Corn bread

Dessert:  layered graham crackers, blueberries (from a frozen package), and vanilla yogurt (the discount grocery had all the flavoured yogurts on for a dollar last week)

Napoleon and his tub tantrum (History lesson)

I don't know if this is an apocryphal story, but it appears in Edith Deyell's textbook Canada: the New Nation.

"Great men like Napoleon sometimes change their minds.  When they do, they often make it known with a thud.  Out of a clear sky, the emperor called his finance minister to him on April 11th, 1803, and said: 'I renounce Louisiana...with the greatest regret.  To attempt to retain it would be folly.'

"When his advisers tried to reason with him, he would not listen.  Two of his brothers rushed to argue with him while he was in the bath tub; but he ended the quarrel by splashing water on them.  He was the emperor and he had decided to sell Lousiana."  --Chapter 2, "The United States Doubles in Size"

You just never know what will stick

Today in history we read about the Louisiana Purchase, and how Lewis and Clark were then sent out to explore the West. 

"I know about them," said Crayons.  "From Beezus and Ramona."

And she was right.

"'I am too a Merry Sunshine,' insisted Ramona, but she got down from the table and ran out of the room.

"Everyone was silent for a moment. 'Beezus, what was it you were trying to tell me?' Aunt Beatrice asked.

"And finally Beezus got to tell about leading Lewis and Clark to Oregon, with a doll tied to Mother's breadboard for a papoose, and how her teacher told her what a clever girl she was to think of using a breadboard for a papoose board. Somehow she did not feel the same about telling the story after all Ramona's interruptions."

--Beverly Cleary, Beezus and Ramona

There are more and more and more and more of us...

in the world. It's estimated that by the end of October, there will be 7 billion human beings on this planet.

According to the same Toronto Star article, and Wikipedia, we hit the 6 billion mark in 1999. Twelve years seems like a very short time to add a billion people.

When are we expected to hit 8 billion? 2027.

"“The world is currently in the midst of the greatest demographic upheaval in human history,” says David Bloom, professor of economics and demography at the Harvard School of Public Health."--Antonia Zerbisias, Toronto Star

Crayons and Mama Squirrel noticed something strange about population as well. In the Mission Monde French workbook, Crayons was asked to find the population of Burundi. She clicked on a couple of websites, and this is what she found: a 2009 estimate of 8,303,000 2009; and a July, 2011 count of 10,216,190.

The teacher's manual for the course, published in 2006 and re-edited in 2008, gives the population as 6,370,609.

Either someone miscounted, or the population of tiny little Burundi, one of the ten poorest countries in the world, is growing exponentially. WikiAnswers seems to agree with that fact, but we still don't have a clear answer as to why. We guessed that it might be an influx of refugees from famine-stricken areas, but that didn't seem logical either. Second guess: that it's just what the Toronto Star article is talking about, more babies born in the poorest parts of the world.

I don't pretend to have answers. I just read the papers. And the teacher's manual.

Playing the Mennonite Game...ca. 1800

In Chapter 5 of The Trail of the Conestoga, the Brickers arrive in Canada and meet up with another Mennonite family, the Moyers, who have settled in the Niagara area. After a welcome and a meal, they begin discussing the really important things.**

At this juncture, Sam found it convenient to change the subject of conversation by inquiring if Rachel, too, might be an Eby.

"No," replied Levi, "Rachel is a born Cressman, and her mom was a Shantz. Her mom's oldest sister was married with a man that had a brother, and he was a hired man once to Christian Eby. Ain't that right, Rachel, how it goes?"

But Rachel had a different version of the connection. According to her tell, it was her mother's youngest sister that had married a man, whose sister had married the hired man himself. But whichever it was, they were agreed upon the personnel of the hired man in question. He was a Baumann. Black Ephraim, they called him, for he was of a swarthy complexion.

"Baumann!" exclaimed Annie. "What for Baumann would that be now?" She knew so many by that name.

"His mom was a Bingeman, or a Sauder," replied Rachel, "or was it a Wissler? I can't think. But anyway he hears a little hard."

"Ach, him," cried John, discovering a flash of identity in the midst of diversity. "I mind him. He was at a funeral once—"

"That's him," interjected Levi, with an air of finality. "He chenerally always likes to see folks get buried."

And so the identity of the hired man was established and the bond of friendship strengthened between the Moyers and the Brickers. "It seems like we are long friends already," observed Levi, "knowing Ephraim Baumann together like we do."

**"Find-the-relatives" smalltalk among Mennonites is jokingly referred to as the Mennonite Game.

What's up for school this week?

I did a lot of pre-planning over the summer.  I went a bit overboard, in fact.  I don't plan every school year down to the day, but that's the way it worked out this time.  I do know that things change, people get sick, afternoons get busy--so there are lots of blank spaces in the schedule.  But, allowing for that, each week is laid out.

So all I should have to do each week is open the book and go for it, right?

Well, I still like to know ahead what we're doing.  Looking through the week's work also gives me a chance to search (online or otherwise) for maps, pictures, animations, French games, or other ways to help present or reinforce the work.

A hymn we're singing:  Eternal Father Strong to Save.  Folk songs:  Come to the Fair.

Bible chapters we're reading:  1 Samuel 2 through 4; some verses from Ephesians; Psalm 44.

For I will not trust in my bow, neither shall my sword save me.
But thou hast saved us from our enemies, and hast put them to shame that hated us. --Psalm 44:6,7

Memory work:  The first four commandments plus Luther's explanations; geography questions.  Choose a poem to work on.

Literature and shared books:  Continuing Great Expectations and Madam How and Lady Why, "The Coral Reef."  (The Ambleside Online site has study notes now for these MHLW chapters.)  Continue with Tennyson's poems.

Language arts:  Finishing a lesson on Carry On, Mr. Bowditch; starting a lesson on Bambi.  Second Look:  The Mr. Bowditch lesson ends with a writing assignment: write a brief report on the life of Nathaniel Bowditch.  This does not assume that you are reading the book; but Crayons is.  She says she would rather wait and finish the book first.  Suspicious moms might see that as just procrastinating on the assignment, but I agree it makes sense.  So I think I will give her another day or so to work on what she already has, and then start the Bambi lesson (most of the lessons start with dictation and grammar/mechanics).

French:  Keep working on what we have learned so far (numbers, -er verbs, greetings and personal questions, facts about Burundi, words containing the sound "oi"); continue with Mission Monde stories and workbook pages, and lessons from Usborne Beginner's French, because Crayons enjoys those.  We also have a new supplement:  two levels of  "L'art de lire" showed up, unused, at the thrift store, and I was very happy to pay what we figured was fair for them and bring them home.  (Because the thrift store wasn't quite sure what to do with them either.)

History:  Read lessons from Canada: A New Nation, about the Louisiana Purchase, Lewis and Clark, steamboats, Napoleon, and the War of 1812.  Second Look:  After reading through the chapter, I think we will skip the details about the settlement of Vermont, Kentucky and Tennessee (no offense).  I just want to cover the general idea of Americans going west, and then about Napoleon selling off Louisiana (the book tells that as an interesting story).  I'm  not sure how far we'll get into the war--maybe next week. UPDATE: We snuck in a few pages as well from The Trail of the Conestoga.

Math:  Finish the January Business in the Pet Store.  Do half a page in Key to Fractions.  If there's time, do "The Breakfast Special" in Critical Thinking's Math Detective, which is a figure-it-out story about a family going out to breakfast and what combinations of menu items they could order.  Second Look:   "The Breakfast Special" involves probability, which is not something we've worked on much, but I don't think it should be a problem to say that the boy's chances of ordering pancakes and bacon were 1/6. UPDATE: I shouldn't have worried about that. I asked her another question from the exercise, about the boy's grandma who had only two menu choices. What were the chances then that she would order pancakes and bacon? Crayons responded, "50-50." Oh--I guess she has picked up a bit of probability!

Science:  Mr. Fixit is going to teach about how screws work. UPDATE: Crayons and Mr. Fixit did this at lunchtime, and I think they had fun with it. Anyway, Crayons ended up with a piece of scrap wood full of screws.

Nature study:  Plants in the daisy family.  Which kind of fits, since Thursday is Michaelmas.

Plutarch:  One lesson about Poplicola.

Art and music:  Continue with our Bernstein music set and with the art book we're using.

Fun and other things:  we may try a pioneer-style basket...which could be a Thanksgiving decoration.  It's supposed to be rainy this week, so we may not get outside much.  But Wednesday is our volunteer afternoon. 

Literary criticism--and digging up the last of the logocentrics

Cindy at Ordo Amoris posted a link to Martin Cothran's article "The Death of Literature" at ClassicalBlogger.com (where she herself recently posted notes about The Bible and the Art of Teaching).

I agree with Cindy--this is a great reading list!  I would love to watch The Teaching Company's "From Plato to Postmodernism," by Louis Markos.  Martin Cothran describes it here: "It is an excellent introduction to the history of literary criticism. Markos points out that Northrop Frye was the last of the logocentric literary critics and after that, it is all been downhill." Fearful Symmetry (Frye's 1947 book on Blake, mentioned in the article) is one book of Frye's that I don't have...I know he loved Blake, but I personally find Blake's tigers (and other imagery) more than a little scary.  Maybe someday.

What's for supper? Tortellini salad, and turkey

Tonight's menu, which I am anticipating is going to be Really Good:

Crockpotted turkey breast (found on sale this morning at the supermarket, and dropped into the slow cooker as soon as we got home at noon)
Reheated sweet potatoes
Tortellini Salad, with variations (see below)
Pop-out-of-the-tube crescent rolls, which are a big treat around here

I bought a small package of refrigerated tortellini at the supermarket, and thought it was about the right size for a salad.  But the first tortellini recipe I found (in a lunch cookbook) didn't have any dressing on it at all, just salt and pepper. I think it was intended to appeal to kids, but it didn't sound very exciting.  This one at AllRecipes.com fit pretty much with what we had in the fridge, and sounded tastier, so that's what we're having.

Here are the ingredients as given, with my changes and notes.

1 (16 ounce) package refrigerated cheese tortellini:  I bought an 190 g package of tri-colour tortellini, which works out to about 7 ounces.  I honestly think 7 or 8 ounces is about the right size, though, to balance the amount of other ingredients and the dressing.  Otherwise you would have a huge bowl of tortellini and not much else.  Note:  this salad was really good with tortellini, but I think it would also be fine with non-stuffed pasta--maybe tri-colour fusilli.  Then you could use more cheese--see our note below about that.

4 ounces sliced pepperoni, quartered:  check. (Thank you, Mr. Fixit--pepperoni wasn't even on the grocery list, and he just happened to get some)

2 green onions, sliced:  left these out, they make Mr. Fixit sick.

1 (2.25 ounce) can sliced black olives:  our can was bigger, so I weighed out a couple of ounces.

1 (6.5 ounce) jar marinated artichoke hearts, drained and chopped:  substituted chopped red pepper

6 ounces mozzarella cheese, diced:  I substituted a small (5 oz.) bag of crumbled feta, since that's what we had and because I wasn't using the artichoke hearts or green onions--I figured a zippier cheese wouldn't hurt. (NOTE:  After eating this, The Apprentice and I agreed that it would probably be fine with about half that amount of cheese--particularly with the cheese-filled tortellini.)

1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1 1/2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1 1/2 tablespoons distilled white vinegar  I think we used the last of it to clean out the teakettle, so I used cider vinegar

1 teaspoon dried Italian herb seasoning:  I used dried basil and oregano instead

salt and black pepper to taste

Frugal Food Fix: Half-baked Granola

As we have mentioned before, electricity prices in this part of Ontario are higher than they used to be.  I used the regular oven as infrequently as I could manage this summer.  Even in fall, I try to load it up when I do use it.  And I experiment with alternatives when I can--no-bake cookies and so on.

Yesterday I made a batch of overnight granola--just made it during the day instead of overnight.  You've probably seen the recipe:  mix the ingredients, bake at 375 degrees for ten minutes, then turn the oven off and leave it for several hours.

I have tried this recipe before, without great success, but I decided to give it one more go.  At bedtime last night, it should have been done. But this batch, like the others, came out stuck to the pan, full of large dampish lumps in some places, and almost raw in others.  I very much prefer our usual method, toasting it gradually at a lower heat.  But what to do with this batch?

This is what I did with it (after prying it out of the pan and storing it overnight): 

1.  Warmed some oil and  homemade pancake syrup together in the microwave. 

2.  Returned the granola to the large glass pan I baked it in, and drizzled the syrup-oil mixture over top.

3.  Baked it for awhile longer at 250 degrees, stirring a couple of times.  This not only toasted the undercooked bits, but the reheating also softened the large lumps enough that they could be broken up.

Success!

Three weeks into school...this and that...

Two favourite things so far:  Crayons really likes both The Trail of the Conestoga and Great Expectations, so we've gotten ahead on those.  We've gotten the Bricker family just across the Niagara river to Canada (they used their wagons as boats), and as far as Pip's fist fight with the "pale young gentleman."

We've looked at inclined planes and wedges, and are moving onto screws.

Crayons is researching the life of Nathaniel Bowditch.

We've talked about the different ways vines grow, and we've gone outside to look for purslane.

We know where Port Huron and Sarnia are.

The Pet Store business is off to a good start.

We've learned about chalk, and foraminiferae.

And we've listened to some of  Moussorgsky's "Pictures at an Exhibition."

Not bad for three weeks.

We still use Cuisenaire rods too...and dolls...and chocolate bars...

Jennifer in MamaLand posted about Cuisenaire Rods for Big(ger) Kids, showing how she and her daughter used them to solve a problem of area.  The "which one has more wood" idea is classic Miquon, and it does work!

Crayons/Dollygirl and I had the rods out yesterday too, for some work on mixed numbers (in the last book of Key to Fractions).  After several pages of very easy stuff, the book suddenly demanded that she divide, and show the remainder as a fraction.  For instance, 64 ÷ 7 = 9 1/7.  Division is not one of Crayons' strong points anyway, and she was mystified as to why you would want to have something other than an "ordinary" remainder.  The best illustration I could come up with was the idea of somebody running laps around a track of a given length, running a certain length, and then figuring out how many whole laps and how many fractional laps they had completed.  We set up a demonstration with some building blocks (they were all over the floor already--don't ask) and a Ty Beanie Bopper, who enthusiastically ran around the track.

But the real breakthrough came when we set up a length of Cuisenaire rods, and let "Footie" run past those.  For the question above, we set up a long row of black rods (which normally represent 7).  I asked how many black rods he would have to run past to get to 64.  Past one...puff puff...past two...and so on, all the way to 9.  Where did he stop?  Just past the 9th set of 7.  Actually ONE unit past it.  So he ran past 9 and 1/7 sets.

For some reason, that made perfect sense to Crayons, and she was able to finish the page without any more trouble.

As a postscript:  today's page took that idea into the "new" realm of changing an imperfect fraction into a mixed number by using division.  For instance 15 / 4 becomes 15 ÷ 4, which is 3 3/4.  This was still a bit puzzling, so I drew several "chocolate bars," divided them in quarters, and had Crayons colour in 15 quarters.  How many chocolate bars did she get?  3 3/4.  Then we compared that to the next question:  13 / 3.  Would you rather have 15 / 4 chocolate bars, or 13 /3?  We drew more chocolate bars, divided them into thirds, and coloured those too.  Oh--that means you would get 4 1/3 chocolate bars!  So if anybody offers you 13 / 3 chocolate bars--choose those.

(The concept of "more wood" may be classic Miquon, but "more chocolate" works just as well.)

Favourite recent read: Serious Times, serious ideas

"God calls us to live large on the very stage we find ourselves.  God has placed us in this very situation to infuse it with meaning and significance.  This enables us to live for Christ now rather than waiting for a set of circumstances we imagine will allow us to serve him in the future.  This simple but profound attitude has marked many of the great lives...."

The best book I've read lately...really the best...is Serious Times: Making Your Life Matter in an Urgent Day, by James Emery White, published in 2004. 

I'm not sure if I'd ever read anything by Dr. White before.  I didn't go looking for him.  The book turned up in a pile of "religious non-fiction" I was pricing at the thrift store.  I liked the look of it and decided to buy it myself.

The Amazon reviews are pretty right on.  To say it's an entertaining book (as someone there said) might sound like you were doing it an injustice (I mean, the title is Serious Times); but it is written in an engaging and readable style.  Good thought stuff, good faith stuff, good life stuff.  I especially liked the chapter on "Developing Our Minds."  Here's a quote from that chapter:

"Beyond engaging various fields of thought, it is critical to be able to think about our faith in relation to its significance.  In dialogue with the world, the deepest question regarding the Christian faith is 'So what?'  This simple question gets to the heart of not only thinking Christianly but communicating Christianity itself....The Christian mind must understand the significance [of the resurrection] in order to offer it to the world.  If we cannot, we will have lost our place in the most critical of conversations--indeed, the only conversation that matters."

This one is a keeper.  I'd like to figure out a way to use it for an adult Sunday School class.  It would also be a great addition to a highschool worldview course.

One more quote:

"By nature we tend to adapt, to conform, to our surroundings.  There are only two forces shaping us: one is the world and the other is the will of God.  If we are to avoid becoming in the surrounding culture, we must take a stand.  That stand comes through the renewing of our minds....Taken into prayer, ideas become real, life-changing, dynamic.  Then, and only then, they change my life."

Sweet Potato Something Dip

Yesterday I was intrigued to read about a new healthy-ingredients cookbook written for University of Guelph students.  Students who are short on food can get assistance through an on-campus food bank, but they tend to take the familiar stuff first and leave the lentils behind.

Yeah, big surprise.

Anyway, the article I read didn't provide any recipes, but it did mention Sweet Potato Hummus.  An online search for a recipe brought up quite a few variations, most of them pretty "hummusy," and that was fine except that I didn't have the extra ingredients called for like tahini.  I decided to try an online recipe for Super Sweet Potato Hummus, which takes it in a whole different direction.  I don't know if I'd call it hummus so much as just an autumn-flavoured dip or spread. Think pumpkin pie with a bit of bean. It's pretty quick: you just cut up the sweet potato, cook it, and then run it through the food processor with drained chick peas, sweeteners and spices.  I did add some lemon juice at the end--it seemed to need a bit of a boost.

I froze half and took the other half to a church meeting, where it got a thumbs-up from those who tried it.  I didn't have a lot to offer for dipping--corn chips didn't seem to be just right, and neither were vegetables.  I settled on whole-wheat tea biscuits (mini ones) and sliced apples.  (Bagel chips would have been awesome.)

And look at all those food groups!  Even public-school lunchbag critics should like this one.

Can I be remarkably critical here? (Grammar gripe)

Ontario is approaching a provincial election.  We are being overloaded with advertisements, mailbox cards, and all the rest of it.

Today we got a postcard which quoted the currrent government's Special Advisor on Early Learning (scroll down, it's on the right hand side of that page):

"Full-day learning....is a remarkably critical investment in our children." 

This refers to full-day kindergarten programs, which have recently been implemented in Ontario.  No matter what you think about the usefulness or uselessness of such things, is there really such a phrase as "remarkably critical?"

Once something's critical, hasn't it already become remarkable?

"Highly critical" would make sense (although it's redundant).  Or maybe "critically important." But "remarkably critical?"  That's sort of like saying "remarkably terrible."

The more you say it, the less sense it makes.

What do you think?

Ordinary Children: Quick Review

Norms and Nobility took me quite a while to read...and even to re-read.  There is no way to jump ahead quickly in that book; each sentence needs to be considered carefully before you move on to the next.

Marva Collins' "Ordinary" Children, Extraordinary Teachers, on the other hand, took me from last night until this afternoon, in spite of the fact that it's 250 pages long.  Especially if you've read Marva Collins' Way, it's a very fast read.  Most of the book is made up of talks that Mrs. Collins gave over the years; and, like most speakers, she has favourite images, illustrations, and phrases that she repeats every time.  For that reason, the book should have been edited much more carefully.  I'm also not a fan of the Teacher-please-hear-me style of inspirational poetry that makes up the last section of the book.  A tiny bit of that goes a long way.  (To get even more nitpicky, I was also surprised by her use of "alright," not to mention three or four "Judas Priests.")

Best reasons to read the book?  The detailed notes for several works of literature, from The Little Engine That Could to The Song of Roland.  While Mrs. Collins' deliberate emphasis on phonics and her teacher-questions-students-answer style are not identical to Charlotte Mason's methods (and/or may not be exactly how we work as homeschoolers), there is still much that we can draw on.  She does not write in the formal academic style of David Hicks, but she touches on many of the same points, such as the importance of asking normative questions.

If you liked Marva Collins' Way and want additional insight into her methods, this will add a bit more.  Not a lot more, but a bit...an interesting bit.

Some things Mama Squirrel did today

Finished rereading Norms and Nobility.  I had read it a long time ago, but didn't have access to a copy for a long time.

Baked a giant pan of banana bread, mostly to freeze for school lunches and quick breakfasts.

Washed three loads of laundry.

Cooked one pan of spaghetti sauce with lots of green, red and yellow peppers.  Plus spaghetti.

Finished today's school plan with Crayons/Dollygirl, including French, Great Expectations, Leonard Bernstein's "What does music mean?", and some Math Pet Store.  Mr. Fixit handled a science lesson on inclined planes, while he was home during lunch hour.  His version of the lesson had something to do with the picnic table, a doll, a ball, and a stuffed monkey.

Wrote several emails and cleaned out a bunch more.

Conversation over the day's happenings with Ponytails.

More anticipated ditto with The Apprentice when she gets home this evening.

I think that's it.