CS Lewis on how to read books from a different time

Ben's English teacher (or, as a French textbook might have it, The English Teacher Of My Son Ben) has encouraged him to read some books from Ye Olde England. Guess I'll be reading along.

My mouth is watering. I finally get to fill in some of the yawning gaps in my education!

When you do science all the way through school, and only come to Arts several years later (after an abortive attempt at Medicine), and then choose to study lots of modern literature (what was I thinking?!) ... well, let's just say that I've got a lot of catching up to do.

On the list are The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and Beowulf (translated from Old English) and Thomas Malory's Le Morte d'Arthur (Middle English). Also Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales, although I'll check the content first.
 
But how do you read books from such different times to our own? CS Lewis told his friend Arthur Greeves, who was obviously struggling with Beowulf and Malory,

Remember that nearly all your reading is confined to about 150 years of one particular country: this is no disgrace to you, most people's circle is far smaller. But still, compared with the world this one little period of English is very small and tho' you (and I of course) are so accustomed to the particular kinds of art we find inside it, yet we must remember that there are an infinite variety outside it, quite as good in different ways.

And so, if you suddenly go back to an Anglo-Saxon gleeman's lay, you come up against something absolutely different - a different world. If you are to enjoy it, you must forget your previous ideas of what a book should be and try and put yourself back in the position of the people for whom it was first made.

When I was reading it I tried to imagine myself as an old Saxon thane sitting in my hall of a winter’s night, with the wolves & storm outside and the old fellow singing his story. In this way you get the atmosphere of terror that runs through it—the horror of the old barbarous days when the land was all forests and when you though that a demon might come to your house any night & carry you off.

The description of Grendel stalking up from his ‘fen and fastness’ thrilled me. Besides, I loved the simplicity of the old life it represents: it comes as a relief to get away from all complications about characters & ‘problems’ to a time when hunting, fighting, eating, drinking & loving were all a man had to think of it.

(Letters, 143; Nov 1^st, 1916).

choosing a school (3) an example

Why we rejected some schools

We visited a few secondary schools with new buildings and a nice paint job, but here are some things I observed:

• the kids looked disengaged and miserable. There were no smiles or greetings as we entered the classroom, just sullen looks. 
• the principal - yes, the principal! - talked disrespectfully to one of the kids, and she responded in kind (a debate over something she wasn't supposed to be doing). 
• when I asked, "Why should we send our children to your school", the principal looked blank, then came up with "New buildings". Hmmm...
• the discipline seemed to be lacking: there was uncontrolled rowdiness in one class; and when I asked about the bullying policy, there was no talk about consequences.
• there was clearly little effort to enforce the uniform policy. This is really no big deal, but it may show they've run out of energy for the small issues.
• when I asked about Christian groups, I was told, quite belligerently, "No, we're a secular school." That's fine - of course they are. But to have an antagonistic attitude to religious groups is another thing.
• at one school, there was no academic program: it focusses on the "tech" end of things. I really like that, but it's not suitable for our kids.

Why we chose our kids' secondary school
It has old buildings and is in need of a new coat of paint, but here are some things I noticed:

• the kids smile at you. They're polite. They look happy and engaged.
• the principal thoroughly impressed me. He loves his school, and he's totally committed to making it the best it can be. He's warm and well-liked but also a good disciplinarian.
• there's a clearly stated chain of consequences for discipline matters
• there's an academic program, but the school has a great "tech" program too. There's no exclusive effort to get only the "smarties" along to raise the school's score.
• most of the teachers I've met have been enthusiastic and engaging. (In any school there are some poor teachers, but lots of good ones shows they're getting their employment policy right.)
• when I asked about Christian groups, I discovered there's a chaplain at the school, and they're open to churches running groups at lunchtime (in fact, there's one starting soon). There are lots of Christian teachers: not something I ever expected, but a bonus, and at least the school doesn't feel anti-Christian.
• I love the range of facilities and subjects: animals in the science room, hospitality kitchen, vege garden, automotive and tech programs, great music faculty, etc... Not essential but attractive all the same.
• my daughter walked in and instantly felt at home. That clinched it for me!

Lots of question, close observation, and getting a "feel" for the school: that's how we did it.
I know parents have different methods, but this worked well for us.

What was your experience of choosing a school for your kids? 

Tell us here.

choosing a school (2) how we did it

Choosing a school  is a huge decision - and a scary one! I'm often asked how we did it.

Here are the steps I go through when choosing a school.

1. I visit the local schools

• I call in advance and ask for a tour.
• I ask to visit on a normal school day (not an open day, when everything and everyone has been prepared!).
• The principal is incredibly important in shaping a school's culture. Make a time to get to know them. Bonus points if they take you on the tour.

(Do this well ahead of time - a year, two years. You want time to think.)

2. My goal is to observe and get a "feel" for the school. 
As I look around, I ask myself questions like these:

• do the kids look happy? Are they engaged and interested? Are they polite and well-behaved? Are they friendly? Do they smile and make eye contact?
• how do the kids talk to the teachers? How do the teachers talk to the kids? What about the principal? I was very impressed when our principal greeted the kids we ran into by name, and they responded enthusiastically.
• how does the school see itself? e.g. as a professional environment with lots of programs (nice but not necessary) or as a community school with lots of local involvement (this ticks the boxes for me)

It's amazing how much you can pick up about the "feel" of a school from a single visit, and how accurate this generally proves to be. (If you're not good at "feel", maybe take someone with you who is.)

3. I ask lots of questions. 

I write them down on a sheet and ask them all, even if it's tiring! Questions like:

• what would you say if someone asked you, "Why should I send my kids to this school?" 
• how do you handle discipline issues? Bullying?
• how do you cater for kids at both ends of the learning spectrum?
• how would you feel about a Christian group running at lunchtime?
• etc etc etc... 

You can find lists of questions like this online. Print them out, add your own, and take them along. Never be embarrassed to ask!

Oh, and don't set too much store by local rumours.
You'll hear all kinds. Listen, but make up your own mind. You know your kids and what you're looking for!

Now it's over to you. How did you choose your kids' school? Any other suggestions?

Tell us here.

Next time I'll give you some examples.

choosing a school (1) why our kids go to local schools

Sometimes I'm asked about our children's schools:

• What kind of school did we choose (local, Christian, private, homeschooling)? Why?
• How did we choose our kids' schools?

Today I'll answer the first question; next time, the second.

We send our kids to local schools, both primary and secondary.

Why?
We want to be part of our local community. We want to get to know local families, share our lives with them, pray for them, and chat with them about what we believe.

We want our children to learn to live in a non-Christian world. We want to equip them to relate to and reach out to their classmates, who are from all kinds of backgrounds and religions. We want to talk with our kids about the issues raised by secular philosophies and practices.

We have friends we greatly respect who school their kids differently, and I can see the advantages. Given different circumstances, we'd make a different decision. But local is our preference.

You might also like to read
Here are some great posts about why other families went local:

• Nicole - Missional lifestyle: Education and Benefits of going local
• Jenny - Why we chose our local high school and Book review: Going public

Now it's over to you. What kind of schooling did you choose? Why? 

Tell us here. 

Next time I'll talk about how we chose our kids' particular schools.

image is by UGArdener at flickr

starting school

Here they are, all ready to start school.

Lizzy, beginning year 9, wondering if she will make friends in her electives, looking forward to subjects like Design and Food Tech, already missing the holidays, learning what it means to be a Christian, ready to live for Jesus at school.

Ben, starting secondary school, a little apprehensive about making friends and migraines (he got one half-way through the first day of school), but "energised" (his word) by the thought of this brave new world where he gets to study science, history and geography.

Thomas, all set for grade 4, looking forward to having his best friend in his class again, constantly surprising me with his affectionate, considerate, helpful nature.

Andy, heading into grade 1, so cute with those two front teeth missing, facing school with his special brand of independence, determination, thoughtfulness, and friendliness.

I love the various stages of our children's lives. I'm enjoying (though a little exhausted by!) the in-depth 10 o'clock chats with adolescents, and the way their minds are unfolding and their faith growing. I revel in the cuddles and morning nestling of the little ones, knowing they will grow up all too soon.

We make our way through worries and tantrums and whinging and arguments. We face sickness and doubts and rebellion and repentance. We teach the Bible and try to model godliness (and often model complaining and grumpiness instead) and pray, pray, pray for our children - so many prayers!

They are growing, and they are growing well. And for that I give thanks.

the joy of starting school

It's a magical time, the year a child starts school. This is the last year I'll see it first-hand. I'll miss the confidence and optimism of a child this age: awards are received with pride, a teacher is beloved, friends are treasured, and one's own abilities are boundless.

At the start of the year I interviewed Andy about starting school. Here are some snapshots from the year so far.

Andy on his teacher:

"Miss M. has a beautiful name, doesn't she Grandma?"

"Miss M can see from the back of her head. She really can, Mummy!" And then, as he realised that this might not actually be true, "Well, at least her eyes see out sideways more than most people's."

Andy on humility:

"I am looking forward to the school disco 'cos I am a really good dancer!" (He took one look and decided that a disco wasn't really to his liking.)

"I am the most popular kid in the school because all the kids know me!" (A slightly inaccurate self-assessment based on the blessing of having 2 older brothers.)

Andy on his learning goals:

Term 1. "My goal is to hold my breath for longer."

Term 2. "My goal is to make new friends." (He wanted to keep his goal from term 1, but the teacher suggested this instead.)

Term 3. "My goals are to read more fluently and to learn the sounds of 'y'."


The way the goals change, from light-hearted to earnest to academic, makes me a little sad about the whole growing-up thing.

Andy on friendship:

Since his term 2 goal was "to make new friends", Andy did just that. Soon he was playing not just with Toby, his best friend from preschool, but also with Matilda and Lauren.

When asked how he was enjoying his new friendships, he answered,

"Yes, 'cos I'm achieving my goals."

Did I mention that Andy is both practical and determined? Now he's achieved that goal, he's back to playing with Toby again.

But Andy also has a soft heart. One day Lauren was feeling sad, and Andy talked with her and cheered her up. When I said it was good to see him being kind, he answered,

"O' course! 'Cos that's what friends do."

Names have been changed throughout this post.

when all your kids go to school

I've been writing and re-writing this post in my head. How do you sum up the end of one season of life and the beginning of a new one? The answer is: you don't. But here are a few thoughts that occur to me.

Well, I've finally done it. Thirteen years of parenting, and my youngest is in school. I can't quite believe it. I catch my breath, and the world spins by.

There's a mixture of grief and relief. Grief that my littlest boy will no longer be around, asking me to play. Grief for those small interruptions in my day when I downed tools and sat down for a jigsaw, a book, a game - or just a cuddle. I see young mothers pass by, holding their toddlers by the hand, and my own hands felt empty.

But I won't deny that I also feel relief. Relief that - finally! - there is a stretch of time in my day when I can just be. Be by my blessed self. Like all introverts, time alone is - well, how can I put it? It's a bench where you catch your breath on an uphill hike. It's a clearing in the forest where you lie back and disappear into the sky. It's the plunge of hot skin into an icy stream. (Sorry about the purple prose, but that's how I feel about time by myself. Purplish.) Without solitude, I grow small and shrunken. I gasp for breath. I prickle.

There are benefits for the kids, too. When they get home from school - wonder of wonders! - I actually feel like spending time with them. Instead of fighting the urge to escape to the computer, I sit on the couch with my daughter and we chat like civilized grown-ups. I make milk-shakes with energy instead of reluctance. I ask my sons if they want to play a game, and they're the ones that refuse me. Not sure how I'd do home-schooling!

As for those thirteen years with young children at home, I've realised one thing: they were really tough! If you're in the middle of them, here's my advice: don't be surprised or dismayed if you're exhausted and get nothing done. I got some medical tests a year ago to work out why I was so tired. They came back with every box ticked: yes, I was in perfect health. I was just plain tired. With every year that passed, every child that was born, I got tireder and tireder. I got less and less done. That's just the way it is during that season.

(But oh, the joys! The naked new babies with their soft, wrinkled skin and that indefinable new-baby smell. The ridiculous pigtails askew on my toddler daughter's head. The tender curve of a boy's head under his newly-cut hair. The books - endless books! - that we read together. The games that we played, and the tumbling wrestling cuddles.)

This new season isn't all blessed solitude and after-school reunions. There's a vagueness to my days that disturbs me. You see, I've decided not to take on huge new work or ministry responsibilities - not yet. I've been advised by many friends to treat this as a year of recovery and adjustment: a year of grace. I want to feel my way into the shape of my days before I take on new tasks.

I like control. I like structure. I grow tired of the question, "What are you going to do now the kids are all at school?" It's not easy for me to sit lightly to order and organisation and regular commitments. But I think this is where God wants me this year, and perhaps for many years: being present for my husband and growing children, making a home, giving time to relationships outside the home (Titus 2:3-5, 1 Timothy 5:9-10). If life is vague and unstructured - if, at times, I feel like a waste of space, or like I'm lost in space - well, God knows and determines my path. I'm learning to put my hand in his and feel for each step of the way.

The days slowly fill. I invest in relationships with neighbours and mums at school. I get to know younger women at church. I look around the house, and all the jobs I didn't do during the last thirteen years vie for my attention. I read the books I haven't had time for. I write. I'm grateful for space to do these things. I'm sure they will gradually coalesce into some kind of routine.

So what will I be doing this year? I wrote down three words in my journal the other day: "Wait. Trust. Depend." That seems like a good place to start.


image is by from flickr

more reflections on the year all your kids go to school

As you may have noticed, I've been collecting women's reflections on the year all their kids go to school. I think I'm trying to smooth the transition when my youngest child, Andy, goes to school in a couple of years - forewarned is forearmed and all that! Here's what a friend wrote to me recently:

I'm still finding mothering and homemaking heavy going this year. I feel like I've got a knot in my head that I can't unpick. I wish I knew why things seem so trying this year when really there's no new burden or disaster to account for it. I think partly it's because I came at the year with unrealistic expectations. E. was starting school and I thought this somehow meant that caring for a family of five would get magically easier. It sounds ridiculous when I think back on it now. What did I think I wasn't going to be doing that I was doing before? I guess I've always thought mothering was hard before this point because I've been either pregnant, breastfeeding, waking up at night or had "three small children at home". I've been really cross with myself for finding things tiring and exasperating because now I've "got no excuse" not to be managing perfectly. Slowly, slowly I'm coming to the realization that mothering is actually (drum roll please) hard work! All on it's own. Without even needing the excuse of "small children".

If you're a mum and you're made this transition, what was it like? What did you expect? Did reality match your expectations? What's one piece of advice you would give a woman whose youngest child is starting school next year?

image is from amishsteve at flickr

pride, humility and the non-Christian world

I was reading Titus 3 the other day. It was one of those mornings when you don't expect much from your Bible reading and you think, “Oh, yes, one of those concluding chapters in Paul's letters where he rambles on about a message for such-and-such and a gift for so-and-so”.

I dutifully prayed for God to open my eyes to see wonderful things in his word (Ps 119:18), and despite my sinfully low expectations, he did! It's astonishing, always, although it shouldn't be by now.

I've been growing increasingly bitter about my kids' primary school. I've always loved this school—it's warm, welcoming and community-focussed, and the teachers are enthusiastic and energetic—but I'm starting to see the cracks in the veneer.

But as I read the Bible, my attitude shifted—it turned right side up—and I saw things from God's perspective:

Remind the people to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready to do whatever is good, to slander no one, to be peaceable and considerate, and to show true humility toward all men.

At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, (Titus 3:1-5, NIV)

Trace my unforgiving bitterness back to its root and you get pride—pride for being different and pride for not behaving like those mums over there. It's never struck me before, but what God wants from me is “true humility toward all men”—including non-Christians—for my salvation and character are not of my making. “For we ourselves were once” just like this. We are saved and changed only through God's “kindness” and “mercy”.

As I read God's words, my bitterness dropped away and was replaced with gratitude and awe. My pride shifted sideways and was replaced with humility. Judgementalism gave way to love, withdrawal gave way to involvement, and resentment gave way to prayer.

True humility toward all: now there's something to aim for.

images are by Francis Barton and Carlo Nicora at flickr