If You’re Looking for a Composer to Study This Month…

Castle of the Immaculate is sharing some good stuff on Elgar. I looooove the Elgar cello concerto. We’ll be jumping right on this bandwagon, with gratitude for the links and information. Always nice when another mom does my homework for me. Thanks, Helen.


Another wonderful music resource: Ambleside’s composer study page.

Charlotte Mason on music appreciation:

With Musical Appreciation the case is different; and we cannot do better than quote from an address made by Mrs. Howard Glover at the Ambleside Conference of the Parents’ Union, 1922:––

"Musical Appreciation––which is so much before the eye at the present moment––originated in the P.N.E.U. about twenty-five years ago. At that time I was playing to my little child much of the best music in which I was interested, and Miss Mason happened to hear of what I was doing. She realised that music might give great joy and interest to the life of all, and she felt that just as children in the P.U.S. were given the greatest literature and art, so they should have the greatest music as well. She asked me to write an article In the Review on the result of my observations, and to make a programme of music each term which might be played to the children. From that day to this, at the beginning of every term a programme has appeared; thus began a movement which was to spread far and wide.

"Musical Appreciation, of course, has nothing to do with playing the piano. It used to be thought that ‘learning music’ must mean this, and it was supposed that children who had no talent for playing were unmusical and would not like concerts. But Musical Appreciation had no more to do with playing an instrument than acting had to do with an appreciation of Shakespeare, or painting with enjoyment of pictures. I think that all children should take Musical Appreciation and not only the musical ones, for it has been proved that only three per cent of children are what is called ‘tone-deaf’; and if they are taken at an early age it is astonishing how children who appear to be without ear, develop it and are able to enjoy listening to music with understanding."
(Vol 6 pg 218)

Melissa Wiley on music appreciation (LOL): Easiest thing in the world. Pick a piece of music and play it often. Tell your kids what it’s called, and drop in some interesting biographical information over dinner or while doing dishes. Pick out some good rousing housecleaning music (Beethoven and Tschaikovsky work for me; so does Aretha Franklin) and some lively breakfast music. Mellow and soothing is perhaps better for dinnertime. But really, just loving the music yourself and playing it often, naming it, discussing the composer and the instruments: it’s easy and pleasant to encourage a taste for fine music. In our house, that ranges from Celtic tunes to the Beatles, Shostakovich (Daddy’s favorite) to Springsteen.

The WSJ Has Left Me Speechless—Almost

From The Wall Street Journal Online:

The rise of digital entertainment has upended whole
industries, from Hollywood to the music business. Now it’s striking at
a touchstone of the American family: the allowance. Kids are pouring
money into things that can’t be bought with cash — music downloads,
cellphone ringtones and online videogames. JupiterResearch estimates
teenagers spent $3 billion online last year alone. In many families,
the upshot has been the demise of the weekly cash dole that parents
have long used to teach kids financial responsibility and keep them
from busting the budget.

Instead, "giving the kids their allowance" now often
entails untangling a complex web of electronic transactions. It means
figuring out which sibling blew $29.99 to download Season 4 of "South
Park" on iTunes and getting someone to fess up for charging those Jay-Z
ringtones to mom’s cellphone bill. Some parents find themselves taking
on the role of bill collector and dunning their kids for reimbursement,
while others are throwing up their hands and giving up on spending
limits altogether.

Okay, this paints a picture of a world so different from mine that I hardly know where to begin. I don’t have teenagers (yet), and I don’t have kids who are into ringtones or have any clue what South Park is. The only person in this family who has paid money to download a ringtone is, ahem, the mother. (A Green Day song to ring when Scott calls me, if you’re curious.)

But come on. Come on! Really? Kids are racking up e-bills and parents feel helpless to stop them? These kids are getting credit card numbers from somewhere. Surely their parents possess enough wit to figure out how to keep the cash card numbers out of their children’s keyboarding fingers.

Answering Some Reader Questions: Latin and Record-Keeping

Ana Betty wrote:

Some questions! Why did you choose the particular Latin programs
that you did? What about grammar/copywork? I find that this slips
through the cracks for me. If I rely totally on their narrations which
are not written (my 8 yr old twin sons), I never get around to typing
them out or recording them. We’ve used a couple of different things for
grammar/copywork and have yet to find a real good fit.

I’d love to see how you record your school plans and reading
schedules. I’m a little organizationally challenged but feel it would
really help the kids and I to have it all laid out.

(I’ll get back to the grammar/copywork questions in another post.)

Latin:

I talked a bit about the Latin program we’re using in this post:

Rose is using Prima Latina
because I like its simple format with manageable lesson size, and I
love that it includes Latin prayers. We are using the book and CD only,
not the DVD.

Jane completed Prima Latina a couple of years ago, and has resumed her studies with the highly engaging Latin for Children
(ecclesiatical pronunciation—although the DVD seems to use only
classical pronunciation—V is pronounced like W, for example—and when we
watch the DVD we have to remind ourselves to adjust the pronunciation.
The chant CD, which we use more than the DVD, offers both forms). All
of us are enjoying the chant CD and I’ve written before about how
delightful it is to hear five-year-old Beanie running around chanting
declensions.

Jane especially likes the LfC activity book, which is heavy on
puzzles, crosswords, and such. Puzzle = perfect, in Jane’s opinion. We
also scored an ancient, battered copy of Latin Book One for a few
bucks, and Jane is really enjoying it as a supplement to Latin for
Children. It has you diving right in to real paragraphs in translation, and for both of us beginners, that has been a thrill.

Midyear update: Jane continues to love Latin for Children. Rose, returning to Prima Latina after several months off during our move, is less enthusiastic. She enjoys learning the Latin prayers, but the rest of it (so very workbooky) leaves her cold. Latin for Children is really a step beyond her right now, so I’m pondering. I’ll keep you posted.

Record-keeping:

What I like to do is jot down a few notes at the end of each day, recording what we did. Even during our most unschooly periods, I have made a habit of this—usually dashing down book titles and activities in a daily planner of some kind. Despite my planner fetish, I don’t use a planner as much for planning as I do for recording.

This past year, I have (on and off) experimented with the blog format for record-keeping. I have a no-frills spinoff blog over at Bonny Glen, and that’s where I jot down our daily reading and such. It’s sloppy and informal, but I left the public settings in place because I get so much mail from readers who want to know "how do you fit it all in???" and I wanted to reassure these nice folks that we are by no means fitting it ALL in EVERY day. My hope is that in sharing our daily learning notes, I can help ease the worries of moms who read all the great ideas out there in the blog world and feel overwhelmed at the thought of making it all happen in their own homes. It doesn’t ALL happen in anyone’s home, and certainly not in this Lilting House.

One recommendation for others who decide to make their learning journals public: if you have regular out-of-the-house activities, I wouldn’t include them in your notes! YOU’LL know, looking back, that you had ballet on such-and-such an afternoon. No need to announce to the world at large that your house is empty at a certain time every week.

Another point about record-keeping: the notes I described above are separate from (and far more detailed than) the kind of records I am required to maintain according to the laws of our state. And of course I only give the state what I am legally obligated to, not a syllable more. Here in California, under the private-school provision I opted for (registering as a private school), I must have up-to-date attendance records to present if asked. I keep those separately, on a simple form, in a folder beside my front door. (Which reminds me, I haven’t checked off the "here" boxes all week. Oh, that cracks me up. Hey, kids, are you here?)

Oh My Goodness!

I’m so excited! I just learned from Fuse #8 that the most beloved picture book of my childhood has been reissued—and the icing on this cake? The new illustrations are by George Booth. So! Excited!

Weasel
The book: Never Tease a Weasel by Jean Conder Soule. Did you hear that, father of mine? The very one, the book we quoted a dozen times a day when my sisters and I were tiny. I remember standing in my grandma’s kitchen chanting, "Never tease a weasel, Daddy! Not even once or twice…" (The Daddy part was a bit of preschooler editorializing.)

I have hunted for this book to no avail on Abebooks and other bookfinder sources. And now, finally, FINALLY, someone at Random House has gotten smart and brought it back.  Who was the brilliant editor, I wonder? I shall have to investigate and send flowers or something. I am that thrilled.

And getting George Booth to do the art! GENIUS! George is a New Yorker cartoonist, but far more important, he was the illustrator of April Halprin Wayland’s It’s Not My Turn to Look for Grandma—which Bonny Glen regulars might recognize as another one of my favorite picture books ever. Nobody, nobody, does whimsy-with-an-edge like George Booth. He was the perfect choice, an inspired choice, for Never Tease a Weasel, and Fuse#8 seems to agree.

Another illustrator might have gone the ootsy-cutesy route and
sacchrined this puppy up by the end. Not Booth. The final image is
heartwarming without ever becoming too overtly adorable. It’s nice.
That’s what Booth brings to the book. The rhymes are exceedingly clever
at times, but it’s the illustrator that has to compliment the action in
just the right way. For example, the rabbit in the riding habit, then,
hops along in his picture, losing various accouterments as he goes
“plop ploppity plop plop.” Booth gets how to do "awkward". If the
thought of a possum in an Easter Sunday hat is silly then Booth knows
how to make such an image doubly so. Plus, he never makes the mistake
of having these ridiculous combinations make any sense. So the goat in
a coat “with a collar trimmed in mink”, looks simultaneously goatish
AND pissed off. The mule in swimming trunks (blinders still on) leaps
from the diving board in pretty much the most peculiar position
possible. And even as these various critters do their thing, they’re
enticing enough to hold a squirmy child’s attention for long periods of
time.

I was an editorial staffer at Random House Children’s when Mr. Booth was finishing up the art for Not My Turn to Look for Grandma. As I recall, he had been working on that book for a long, long time, and in the end he began coming into the RH offices to work: his idea, I believe, to get himself past the final hurdles. I was a young coffee-fetcher perched in a cubicle at the end of a long corridor, and I loved to see Mr. Booth amble down the hall in his quiet, courteous, gentle-giant way. I don’t believe we ever spoke, unless perhaps he asked once or twice if my boss, his editor, was in her office. Usually my boss was the one who went in search of him, peeking into the room down the hall and around the corner where George had set up camp. Inevitably I would hear her peal of laughter ringing down the corridor within seconds of her arrival in George’s office. He cracked her up, every time.

When the finished boards for each page would mosey past my desk, I too would dissolve into helpless giggles: George Booth’s art is quietly, deliciously killing. That sneaky old porcupine in the Grandma book! The dirty old dogs! Grandma herself, the hillbilly queen, with her knobby bun and toothless smirk, toes upspread as she slides down a haystack: children’s book art doesn’t get better than this.

And now, and now! This perfect marriage! I cannot WAIT to get my hands on a copy. Thank you, Betsy, for the heads-up!

Copywork as Consequence

Jeanne wrote:

I admit to being curious about your giving copywork to the oldest
sister as a consequence. It sort of surprised me. Maybe it’s because I
have boys, for whom copywork-as-consequence would pretty much cement in
their brains writing-is-punishment. Have I not read enough Charlotte
Mason to get some underlying connection, or is this just something that
you don’t have to be concerned about because the proclivity-to-write is
so strong in your kids? (Which wouldn’t surprise me a bit).
Copywork-as-consequence is one of those things that would never cross
my mind as appropriate for our family — while totally respecting that
if it works for your family, you surely know and use it wisely and well.

Ooh, Jeanne, that’s a really good question. No, I’m not drawing this particular idea from Charlotte Mason, and in fact it does run a bit counter to her views on habit-training. (I admit to finding her total optimism a wee bit amusing; while I TOTALLY AGREE that proactive habit-training is the best way to cultivate pleasant behavior, I do also find occasion for some remedial measures!)

But back to your question. Yes, my girls—the two oldest only, so far, mind—are enthusiastic enough about writing that I do feel comfortable assigning the occasional passage of copywork as a consequence for inappropriate behavior. It doesn’t happen often; perhaps twice a month. ("No dessert" as a consequence is much more common around here.) Like you, I wouldn’t dream of assigning punitive copywork to a child if I thought it would give that particular child a bad taste in the mouth for ALL writing.

The reason I like it as a once-in-a-while measure for Jane and Rose is because I can choose a passage related to whatever incident merited the consequence, and I really think they benefit much more from the quiet, reflective act of copying out someone else’s words (perhaps a passage from Louisa May Alcott) than listening to a lecture from me. (Not that a lecture is the only alternative, but there are times a mom does need to get a certain point across.) I try not to make it a big "in-your-face" thing, just something subtle, a paragraph or two in which a fictional character is dealing with a similar fault.

As I write it, it sounds awfully smarmy, but I can honestly say it has never felt that way in practice. It seems to work very well for Rose in particular, and usually afterward there will come a time later in the day when she—my most reserved, introverted child—gets very chatty with me about whatever incident precipitated the copywork. We’ve had some great talks this way, and I think the copywork helps her cool off and get outside the emotional storms she struggles with, if that makes sense.

By the way, Jeanne and everyone, I really appreciate the thoughtful questions and comments you all contribute here! Thank you for keeping the conversation rolling!

Um, Kid, You DO Know You Could Just Do It for Fun, Don’t You?

Shortly after one of her older sisters earned herself a chunk of copywork as a consequence for something-or-other, Beanie, aged almost six, appeared at my side with one of our Draw-Write-Now books.

"Mommy," she said, all bright-eyed eagerness, "if I do something naughty and have to have copywork, you could give me THIS book. See?"

Draw-Write-Now is primarily a drawing tutorial, but there are a few lines of simple text beneath the pictures, suitable for handwriting practice if you are so inclined. I never have been, not wishing to suck the fun out of my kids’ favorite, favorite how-to-draw manuals.

But Beanie was all kinds of excited about her new idea. "I wonder how naughty I would have to be," she mused, "to make you give me some copywork."

Hey, don’t look at ME, child—I’m certainly not giving you any suggestions!

Cottage Blessed

Happy First Blog Anniversary (a day late) to one of my favorite people in the whole world!

Maybe it’s because we just watched It’s a Wonderful Life, but all this week I’ve been thinking about Alice and the gentle, quiet, beautiful influence she has on everyone who encounters her, both in the world and on these here internets. She is a gem, a regular George Bailey: a person humbly oblivious to the effect she has on the lives of those who know her, and those who read her words.

I was thrilled—nay, triumphant unto gloating!—when Alice the Best (as she is known in my household; just ask her goddaughter Beanie) began blogging a year ago.  Her zest for motherhood, her celebration of the merriment and mishaps that make up life in a house full of small children, her genius for creating crafts that enliven the traditions of our shared faith—all these things have enriched my life since we met (at a bakery, of course) ten years ago, and the lives of hundreds of homeschooling mothers since the first day she plugged in her modem. Now her blog brings those gifts to a whole new audience.

In a sphere full of lovely, intelligent, inspiring blogs, hers stands out. One day she has me laughing so loud I wake up my baby, and the next day I’m bawling at how beautifully she captures a fleeting moment of childhood. And no one does crafts like Alice. Time and again she has shown us, in pictures, how she puts together her beautiful crafts step by step. And then there are her liturgical teas! I’ve been harrassing urging Alice to put together a book of teas ever since she dazzled her children and me with a Shakespearean "tempest in a teapot" long, long ago. Instead, she shares them freely with the whole world.

This is why I keep coming back to this image of Alice as the George Bailey of the internet. It’s hard to imagine what the homeschooling world would be like without her. Her brainstorms are contagious. Years ago, her fabulous idea to help her daughter put together a First Communion notebook met with such enthusiasm among the Catholic homeschooling crowd that the concept is now almost a given. Her Easter Vigil notebook and Pope John Paul II memorial notebook were embraced with similar zeal.

I remember a time years ago when she eagerly showed me a copy of Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady and spoke of how one day, when her tiny girls were old enough, she would like to help them keep a family nature journal. Ooh, good idea! I said, mentally adding this notion to my already bursting-at-the-seams collection of Alice’s Ideas to Copy. Blogging inspired her to take the family nature journal to a new medium, and thus was Cottage Garden born. From fairy houses to spring soups, mantis adventures to epic battles, there is always something interesting to discover in that garden. The kids’ narrations and observations make you want to let your own kids stay outside all day from now on. When you read their pieces, you can see how much they have absorbed their mom’s merry sense of humor and appreciation for nature.

Most of all, I think Alice reminds us what a privilege it is to be entrusted with the children we’ve been given. She writes eloquently and movingly of the profound gratitude she feels for her husband and growing family. Reading her blog, I am suffused with exactly the same sense of joy and wonder I have always found in her comfortable kitchen. There is such a spirit of fun there: the fun that fills the atmosphere of a home in which the mother is cherishing every precious day of the happy golden years when her children are young.

Thank you, dear friend, for inviting us into your cottage day after day. Here’s to many more years of happy posting.

Oh No Ivanhoe

I can’t find my copy of Ivanhoe. I know exactly where it used to be—in Virginia. Hmm. Guess I’ll have to make a quick trip to the library to tide us over until it turns up. Or maybe I’ll just do something wild and crazy like pick a different book. Robinson Crusoe? Oliver Twist? Oh, the delicious agony of choice!

Flexibility is king in our little homeschool. Okay, maybe not KING. More like court jester. Yes, that’s it: always ready for an interjection. Nothing ever, ever goes according to plan. I don’t call my plans "plans" anymore; they are merely "suggestions."

For example, Scott had planned to go to work today. Then his back went out. Perhaps it had something to do with his having to hold our almost-six-year-old at an awkward angle so that her vomit would land on the floor instead of our bed. This morning he could hardly walk, so I suggested he take his medication and stay in bed. (Hey, he gave himself his own little Gift of the Magi there, didn’t he? Saved the bed from getting thrown up on, and now he’s stuck in it?)

The older girls and I went ahead with the launch of our CM term this morning. Beanie is feeling much better and was happy to play with flower fairies on the couch while Jane and Rose and I read some of those nifty books we’ve been talking about. Feels good to be back in the groove, even if the groove is a little lopsided.

You guys have asked a ton of great questions in the comments lately. I’ll be answering them throughout the week—at least, that’s the plan suggestion.