Mid-school year here, I feel compelled to tell how entirely pleased I am with the Latin-Centered Curriculum as outlined in Andrew Campbell's book of the same name (and by the way, I link to his own homeschool blog in my blog list at the right). You can check out a link to his book here. I've devoured both Volumes 1 and 2, and while Mr. Campbell modifies his course suggestions in the second volume, I've designed our classical curriculum using a combination of suggestions from both books.
My boys, ages 9 and 7, are thriving, and I'm learning a lot too! I never had a word of Latin in my public school education experience, but I'm learning it right alongside the boys, chanting with them, amo, amas, amat.... We're also learning Greek, mainly focusing on the alphabet this first year. We're working our way through the first level (Aesop) of a composition program called Classical Writing, which is going very well. We're studying Greek Myths, and will soon begin Norse Myths (both texts being written by the D'Aulaires), and doing a lot of other reading from various texts in literature and religion. Math, early American history, continued spelling work, science and piano round out very full school weeks for us.
I find January can be a motivationally-challenging time in the school year, what with having just come off a never-long-enough Christmas break, outdoor temps being cold enough to stay indoors all day, and another break being yet a long way off. But we're persevering, and I have to say things are rolling along very well, with much thanks to Mr. Campbell's curriculum guidance.
I give The Latin-Centered Curriculum an A+!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Charlotte's Web
I just finished reading Charlotte's Web by E.B. White to the boys this evening. I think it might be the first time I've actually read it myself, though the copy I have was given to me when I was very young. I remember Miss H (see post below) reading it to my class, but that might be the last time I heard the story.
The boys were enthralled from the first chapter. What I thought would take the better part of a month to read to them, took only about five nights, as after each chapter the boys begged for just one more, and I usually obliged.
As most readers probably know the story, I won't give a full review here. Simply put, it is a sweet story of friendship and love, and the sacrifices one is willing to make for her beloved. As I read the final few chapters I had to really swallow the lump in my throat--if the boys see Mom getting misty, well, suffice it to say, they're not going to join Wilbur in his teary moments, and Mom probably shouldn't either! But we loved the book. A highly-recommended read-aloud.
The boys were enthralled from the first chapter. What I thought would take the better part of a month to read to them, took only about five nights, as after each chapter the boys begged for just one more, and I usually obliged.
As most readers probably know the story, I won't give a full review here. Simply put, it is a sweet story of friendship and love, and the sacrifices one is willing to make for her beloved. As I read the final few chapters I had to really swallow the lump in my throat--if the boys see Mom getting misty, well, suffice it to say, they're not going to join Wilbur in his teary moments, and Mom probably shouldn't either! But we loved the book. A highly-recommended read-aloud.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Miss H
Each year I receive several Christmas letters from friends and family. While I am not one to compose an annual update--I simply send a card and a photo--I do enjoy being on the receiving end, as it is nice to find out what's going on with those I hear from only once a year.
Today I received one I always look forward to. It was from the teacher I had in the third grade! Yes, we have kept in touch all these years. Miss H, as she was when I was 8, was but 22 years old as she taught my class, her first ever. Her letter today tells me she just turned 60 and is in the middle of her 38th year teaching third graders, with no immediate plans to retire. She still loves working with her 'little people' as she fondly refers to her students.
Thirty-eight years ago Miss H quickly became my favorite teacher. I remember her being enthusiastic, smart, inspiring (yes, you CAN write in cursive and I don't want to hear 'I can't'!!) funny and clever. She was everything this little third grader needed to be inspired to do my best in school.
When I moved on to fourth grade and beyond, we stayed in touch. In grade school I would help in her class when my other teachers would let me; in junior high and high school we sent cards to each other on birthdays. At my high school graduation she took me to dinner at one of the best restaurants in town.
When Miss H was nearing 20 years in the classroom, she decided to pursue a second career: law. She continued teaching by day, and went to school at night, completing her degree and passing the Bar somewhere around age 40. To this day she practices law and teaches third graders.
What makes this story amazing though is that in the midst of law school, Miss H was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. She was hit pretty hard at times with acute disability, but she forged on in spite it of it all, and attained her goal, obviously herself practicing the 'I can do it' philosophy she preaches as a teacher.
And this leads me to the other thing that was to connect Miss H and me in life, besides our student/teacher-turned-friend relationship: about five years after Miss H was diagnosed with MS, I received the same diagnosis. An unfortunate connection, to be sure, but one that is comforting nonetheless as I watch Miss H, even from the long distance that now separates us, continue to do great things to help others, as both a teacher and a lawyer.
In both of our lives, MS has taken its toll, in different ways, but I can easily say that in this we are very similar: we have neither of us allowed the disease to hinder our spirit or our drive to attain that which we deem important in life, inasmuch as we can control these things.
Miss H is still an inspiration to me now as I endeavor to live a full life amidst the struggles a chronic condition brings. And now as I am teaching my own little third grader (and second grader), I find myself saying some of the same things to my sons, my 'little people', that she said to me, in hopes of encouraging the same love for learning that Miss H fostered in me so many years ago. I hope and pray I am as successful as she was... and still is.
Today I received one I always look forward to. It was from the teacher I had in the third grade! Yes, we have kept in touch all these years. Miss H, as she was when I was 8, was but 22 years old as she taught my class, her first ever. Her letter today tells me she just turned 60 and is in the middle of her 38th year teaching third graders, with no immediate plans to retire. She still loves working with her 'little people' as she fondly refers to her students.
Thirty-eight years ago Miss H quickly became my favorite teacher. I remember her being enthusiastic, smart, inspiring (yes, you CAN write in cursive and I don't want to hear 'I can't'!!) funny and clever. She was everything this little third grader needed to be inspired to do my best in school.
When I moved on to fourth grade and beyond, we stayed in touch. In grade school I would help in her class when my other teachers would let me; in junior high and high school we sent cards to each other on birthdays. At my high school graduation she took me to dinner at one of the best restaurants in town.
When Miss H was nearing 20 years in the classroom, she decided to pursue a second career: law. She continued teaching by day, and went to school at night, completing her degree and passing the Bar somewhere around age 40. To this day she practices law and teaches third graders.
What makes this story amazing though is that in the midst of law school, Miss H was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. She was hit pretty hard at times with acute disability, but she forged on in spite it of it all, and attained her goal, obviously herself practicing the 'I can do it' philosophy she preaches as a teacher.
And this leads me to the other thing that was to connect Miss H and me in life, besides our student/teacher-turned-friend relationship: about five years after Miss H was diagnosed with MS, I received the same diagnosis. An unfortunate connection, to be sure, but one that is comforting nonetheless as I watch Miss H, even from the long distance that now separates us, continue to do great things to help others, as both a teacher and a lawyer.
In both of our lives, MS has taken its toll, in different ways, but I can easily say that in this we are very similar: we have neither of us allowed the disease to hinder our spirit or our drive to attain that which we deem important in life, inasmuch as we can control these things.
Miss H is still an inspiration to me now as I endeavor to live a full life amidst the struggles a chronic condition brings. And now as I am teaching my own little third grader (and second grader), I find myself saying some of the same things to my sons, my 'little people', that she said to me, in hopes of encouraging the same love for learning that Miss H fostered in me so many years ago. I hope and pray I am as successful as she was... and still is.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
How to Make Time Fly.....
..... Have your parents fly 2200 miles to be with your family for Christmas!
Two weeks ago today we celebrated the much-anticipated arrival of my Mom and Dad. In almost 10 years of marriage, we have never shared Christmas together at our house, and so this was the year. And a wonderful visit it was.
The boys were thrilled to have Grandma and Grandpa (who is affectionately known as 'Toast-and-Eggs-Grandpa', or simply 'Toast and Eggs', a nickname #2 son gave Grandpa when he was about 3 years old--a descriptive name for Dad's usual breakfast!--to distinguish between my dad and their other grandpa) here for two whole weeks. We did lots of the usual Christmas-y things, all of which was a bit better this year just because they were with us.
We made cut-out cookies and fudge, listened to songs of Christmas by various singers from Dean Martin to The Chipmunks. We watched Christmas shows--The Polar Express remains at the top of our list. It's hard to choose my favorite part of that movie, but the Hot Chocolate number is right up there! We enjoyed the Christmas smells by way of simmering Spiced Cranberry drink (and though I leave off the alcohol in this one, we always refer to it as, simply, 'grog') and festive Yankee candles--Red Berry and Cedar is the best I've smelled yet!
And of course most importantly of all, we attended Holy Mass together, which is still a special blessing, knowing my folks--at then-ages 70 and 71--only just came into the Church at Easter '06.
Taking Mom and Dad away from the rest of my extended family for Christmas is something I didn't do lightly, knowing how my brothers and their families would miss them. So I appreciate their temporary loss, which was our joyful gain this time.
And so today we said good-bye. Again. It never gets easy to have 2200 miles separating us, and the farewell hugs are always the ones we don't want to give. But we thank Our loving Lord that we were brought together one more time, and look forward to the next embrace. Hopefully the time between will fly as quickly as did these past two weeks.
Two weeks ago today we celebrated the much-anticipated arrival of my Mom and Dad. In almost 10 years of marriage, we have never shared Christmas together at our house, and so this was the year. And a wonderful visit it was.
The boys were thrilled to have Grandma and Grandpa (who is affectionately known as 'Toast-and-Eggs-Grandpa', or simply 'Toast and Eggs', a nickname #2 son gave Grandpa when he was about 3 years old--a descriptive name for Dad's usual breakfast!--to distinguish between my dad and their other grandpa) here for two whole weeks. We did lots of the usual Christmas-y things, all of which was a bit better this year just because they were with us.
We made cut-out cookies and fudge, listened to songs of Christmas by various singers from Dean Martin to The Chipmunks. We watched Christmas shows--The Polar Express remains at the top of our list. It's hard to choose my favorite part of that movie, but the Hot Chocolate number is right up there! We enjoyed the Christmas smells by way of simmering Spiced Cranberry drink (and though I leave off the alcohol in this one, we always refer to it as, simply, 'grog') and festive Yankee candles--Red Berry and Cedar is the best I've smelled yet!
And of course most importantly of all, we attended Holy Mass together, which is still a special blessing, knowing my folks--at then-ages 70 and 71--only just came into the Church at Easter '06.
Taking Mom and Dad away from the rest of my extended family for Christmas is something I didn't do lightly, knowing how my brothers and their families would miss them. So I appreciate their temporary loss, which was our joyful gain this time.
And so today we said good-bye. Again. It never gets easy to have 2200 miles separating us, and the farewell hugs are always the ones we don't want to give. But we thank Our loving Lord that we were brought together one more time, and look forward to the next embrace. Hopefully the time between will fly as quickly as did these past two weeks.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Merry Christmas!
To all who would venture by to share my morning cup with me...
A most Blessed and Merry Christmas to you and yours, as we celebrate the birth of the Christ Child. May this Holy Christmastide bring peace and joy to you!
A most Blessed and Merry Christmas to you and yours, as we celebrate the birth of the Christ Child. May this Holy Christmastide bring peace and joy to you!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Kids' Lit
I love children's literature. There are so many treasures to be found on the well-turned pages of so many children's books, and it is so exciting to find one worth pondering, or reading over and over to the delight of eager young listeners, and to the olders as well. One such treasure is from The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White:
"My dear," said her husband, the cob, one afternoon, "do you never find your duties onerous or irksome? Do you never tire of sitting in one place and in one position, covering the eggs, with no diversions, no pleasures, no escapades, or capers? Do you never suffer from boredom?"
"No," replied his wife. "Not really."
"Isn't it uncomfortable to sit on eggs?"
"Yes, it is," replied the wife. "But I can put up with a certain amount of discomfort for the sake of bringing young swans into the world."
I love that. Life as a stay-at-home-mom can, indeed, be onerous at times. But is it not worth every hardship to raise these gifts God has entrusted to us?! I never expected to be spurred on in my vocation during the evening's read-aloud, but there it was. One of those treasures.
Another evening last Lent I read a new-to-me, but well-known, book to the boys, The Giving Tree, by Shel Silverstein. My goodness, talk about a treasure. By the end, the lump in my throat was so big, my oldest asked me if I was going to cry. I denied it, but truth be told, I was close. It is a sweet book about a tree that gave everything to and for the boy she loved. A wonderful Lenten read for young children, and even for kids who are a bit older. For us it prompted a conversation comparing this story to the greatest story of Jesus, The One Who gave everything for us. Worth pondering, to be sure.
Currently we are in the middle of The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. What a fun book. I think I'm enjoying it as much or more than the boys, and they are laughing aloud regularly at the silliness that jumps off the pages. The story is the adventures of a boy who passes through a tollbooth into the fantastic land of Dictionopolis where among other things, words are taken (and given) literally. For example, when the boy's car won't start and he is questioning why it won't, the native of Dictionopolis informs him, "Oh, it goes without saying." So when they are quiet, the car goes! The plays-on-words are seemingly endless. We've yet to get to Digitopolis, where numbers rule. I'm sure it will be equally clever.
There are so many books I want to read, and so little time, but if I can't sink my teeth into a book for myself (how would that phrase play out in Dictionopolis?!), I do find time to read to the boys. I love it and so do they. And as time goes by, their books are getting more involved and interesting. We're definitely beyond Go Dog Go, not quite to The Lord of the Rings, and now exploring a wonderful world of kids' lit in between.
We'll do our best to find all the treasures all along the way.
"My dear," said her husband, the cob, one afternoon, "do you never find your duties onerous or irksome? Do you never tire of sitting in one place and in one position, covering the eggs, with no diversions, no pleasures, no escapades, or capers? Do you never suffer from boredom?"
"No," replied his wife. "Not really."
"Isn't it uncomfortable to sit on eggs?"
"Yes, it is," replied the wife. "But I can put up with a certain amount of discomfort for the sake of bringing young swans into the world."
I love that. Life as a stay-at-home-mom can, indeed, be onerous at times. But is it not worth every hardship to raise these gifts God has entrusted to us?! I never expected to be spurred on in my vocation during the evening's read-aloud, but there it was. One of those treasures.
Another evening last Lent I read a new-to-me, but well-known, book to the boys, The Giving Tree, by Shel Silverstein. My goodness, talk about a treasure. By the end, the lump in my throat was so big, my oldest asked me if I was going to cry. I denied it, but truth be told, I was close. It is a sweet book about a tree that gave everything to and for the boy she loved. A wonderful Lenten read for young children, and even for kids who are a bit older. For us it prompted a conversation comparing this story to the greatest story of Jesus, The One Who gave everything for us. Worth pondering, to be sure.
Currently we are in the middle of The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. What a fun book. I think I'm enjoying it as much or more than the boys, and they are laughing aloud regularly at the silliness that jumps off the pages. The story is the adventures of a boy who passes through a tollbooth into the fantastic land of Dictionopolis where among other things, words are taken (and given) literally. For example, when the boy's car won't start and he is questioning why it won't, the native of Dictionopolis informs him, "Oh, it goes without saying." So when they are quiet, the car goes! The plays-on-words are seemingly endless. We've yet to get to Digitopolis, where numbers rule. I'm sure it will be equally clever.
There are so many books I want to read, and so little time, but if I can't sink my teeth into a book for myself (how would that phrase play out in Dictionopolis?!), I do find time to read to the boys. I love it and so do they. And as time goes by, their books are getting more involved and interesting. We're definitely beyond Go Dog Go, not quite to The Lord of the Rings, and now exploring a wonderful world of kids' lit in between.
We'll do our best to find all the treasures all along the way.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Mom in My Kitchen
My Mom hasn't been in my kitchen for over a year. Fifteen months, to be precise. But as I go about my days preparing meals for my family, and especially surrounding Thanksgiving, I think of her often.
Growing up, Mom wasn't that kind of teacher-Mom who thought I needed sessions in her kitchen where she imparted to me the how-tos of all things culinary; in fact, just the opposite. Mom was (and still is) very practical and efficient in the kitchen. Always one who would rather be working in her yard or cleaning her house, cooking nightly meals was an important and necessary duty, but not one she enjoyed as much as her other 'chores'. Don't misunderstand, Mom is a very good cook. She just isn't the type of person who wants to spend a moment more time in her kitchen than is absolutely necessary. And so I had to glean what I could strictly from observing. If I didn't pay attention of my own accord, I likely wouldn't have taken much away from her.
When I remember my days at home (and they were many, as I stayed under Mom and Dad's roof for.... a long time) I don't remember taking mental notes on how to do things. But now, with a family of my own, I realize just how much gleaning was going on on my part. For the kitchen is perhaps where I think of Mom most. Thanksgiving, pre-, actual and post-, are all times I take what I learned and put it into practice. When I need to thaw a huge turkey that I forgot to allow enough in-the-refrigerator-thawing-days, which is the only safe way to thaw said bird, according to the all-knowing USDA, I hearken back to year upon year watching Mom thaw 25-pounders on the kitchen counter. We all lived to tell about it, and so I thawed mine this way. Thanks, Mom.
When the turkey comes out of the oven, the first thing I instruct my husband to do is get the bird on a platter so I can have the roasting pan and it's yummy drippings to make gravy. Pan over two burners, both on high, add the water in which the giblets boiled all morning, bring to a boil, mix flour and water in a cereal boil to a thick-ish liquid, slowly pour it in boiling drippings while quickly stirring with a whisk, and voila! Perfect gravy every time. Thanks, Mom.
Today, after boiling all the meat off the carcass (yeah, just like Mom did), I made homemade turkey and noodles. Yes, real egg noodles, made from eggs, salt and flour. Since I make these only once a year or so, I always guess on the number of eggs to begin with, but the rest of the process is just like Mom does it, down to unrolling the cut jelly-rolled-noodles with a table-knife. It so reminds me of Mom, I even remember the sound of her cutting the noodles and the knife she did it with. Tonight my family will enjoy bowls of these noodles and I know I'll start talking of how we grew up on them. Thanks, Mom.
There are countless other things that daily remind me of Mom, but somehow that she taught me so well how to cook for my own family, simply by doing it each and everyday of her life for her family, gives me a special pride in providing for mine.
And in just two weeks she (with Dad) will be welcomed into our home, and my kitchen, once again. I know she'll be making her 5-loaf batch of bread at least once, to the delight of us all, as well as helping me with the Christmas day feast, and lots of other tasty treats in between. I love reminders of her, but there's nothing like the real thing!
Once again... thanks, Mom, I can't wait for you to get here!
Growing up, Mom wasn't that kind of teacher-Mom who thought I needed sessions in her kitchen where she imparted to me the how-tos of all things culinary; in fact, just the opposite. Mom was (and still is) very practical and efficient in the kitchen. Always one who would rather be working in her yard or cleaning her house, cooking nightly meals was an important and necessary duty, but not one she enjoyed as much as her other 'chores'. Don't misunderstand, Mom is a very good cook. She just isn't the type of person who wants to spend a moment more time in her kitchen than is absolutely necessary. And so I had to glean what I could strictly from observing. If I didn't pay attention of my own accord, I likely wouldn't have taken much away from her.
When I remember my days at home (and they were many, as I stayed under Mom and Dad's roof for.... a long time) I don't remember taking mental notes on how to do things. But now, with a family of my own, I realize just how much gleaning was going on on my part. For the kitchen is perhaps where I think of Mom most. Thanksgiving, pre-, actual and post-, are all times I take what I learned and put it into practice. When I need to thaw a huge turkey that I forgot to allow enough in-the-refrigerator-thawing-days, which is the only safe way to thaw said bird, according to the all-knowing USDA, I hearken back to year upon year watching Mom thaw 25-pounders on the kitchen counter. We all lived to tell about it, and so I thawed mine this way. Thanks, Mom.
When the turkey comes out of the oven, the first thing I instruct my husband to do is get the bird on a platter so I can have the roasting pan and it's yummy drippings to make gravy. Pan over two burners, both on high, add the water in which the giblets boiled all morning, bring to a boil, mix flour and water in a cereal boil to a thick-ish liquid, slowly pour it in boiling drippings while quickly stirring with a whisk, and voila! Perfect gravy every time. Thanks, Mom.
Today, after boiling all the meat off the carcass (yeah, just like Mom did), I made homemade turkey and noodles. Yes, real egg noodles, made from eggs, salt and flour. Since I make these only once a year or so, I always guess on the number of eggs to begin with, but the rest of the process is just like Mom does it, down to unrolling the cut jelly-rolled-noodles with a table-knife. It so reminds me of Mom, I even remember the sound of her cutting the noodles and the knife she did it with. Tonight my family will enjoy bowls of these noodles and I know I'll start talking of how we grew up on them. Thanks, Mom.
There are countless other things that daily remind me of Mom, but somehow that she taught me so well how to cook for my own family, simply by doing it each and everyday of her life for her family, gives me a special pride in providing for mine.
And in just two weeks she (with Dad) will be welcomed into our home, and my kitchen, once again. I know she'll be making her 5-loaf batch of bread at least once, to the delight of us all, as well as helping me with the Christmas day feast, and lots of other tasty treats in between. I love reminders of her, but there's nothing like the real thing!
Once again... thanks, Mom, I can't wait for you to get here!
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