Lift Up Your Hearts!

I've been silent too long, so here's a quick bit of common sense from a policeman who wrote to Free-Range Kids about common sense parenting: A Cop Weighs in on When to Call 911.

Being a street cop for 22 years, I have witnessed America’s slide from self-reliance to dependence in incremental steps. The invention of 911 has been a good thing and undoubtedly has saved many lives, prevented crimes, and has aided us in apprehending dangerous people.  It has also revealed an embarrassing lack of critical thinking and common sense among some who call the police for everything.

...

Parents are afraid.  Along with the daily media reminder their kids might die tortuous deaths, they also worry they might end up in jail if they allow their kids to walk to school alone.  All of this can be solved by applying good, old-fashioned common sense and a balanced approach to safety.

The writer also teaches child safety programs.  I haven't more than glanced at his Child Safety Fun blog, but you can check it out here if you're interested.

I teach them that most strangers are great people who are very helpful, but give them a few techniques to bolster their confidence and give their minds a rest knowing they will probably never need their skills, but if they find themselves in a jam, they know what to do.

This Rochester Review letters page cheered us both considerably tonight.  Mike Armstrong, brilliant computer guru at the University of Rochester Computing Center in our day, confesses to being overwhelmed by today's computing power.  His letter ("Something Doesn't Compute" in about the middle of the page) is worth reading as a peek into the field's ancient history; we joined the game in the days of the IBM 360/65.  But it was to the final paragraph that we could relate best:

But those were, to me, the good old days of wooden computers and iron programmers. When I left the Computing Center in 1980, I felt I knew the room-sized computer systems thoroughly, from the hardware to the operating systems and most of the application programs. Now I carry a small computer in my pocket that has more memory and more computing power than all of NASA’s computers when they put Neal [sic] Armstrong on the moon, and I have no idea how it works. And it also makes phone calls.

Wool by Hugh Howey (2012)

Despite being a die-hard science fiction fan in my younger days, I rarely venture into the genre now.  But I found my sister-in-law's description of Wool intriguing enough to request it from our library.  And it is an intriguing story.  Or, rather, set of stories, as this was an omnibus collection of Wool, Wool 2, Wool 3, Wool 4, and Wool 5.  The 532 pages slipped by quickly, though I was surprised at how dissatisfied I was.  The premise is good, the characters interesting, the plot twists satisfying, and as far as I can tell the author writes well.  The ending did not disappoint.  So why the dissatisfaction?

Perhaps because it was just a bit too gritty for me.  I enjoyed the first book most, and thought that perhaps our oldest grandchild might like it.  But it seems as if the author's critics told him after each book that he needed more profanity, gore, and action scenes.  True, it all fits into the story, but made it much less pleasant to read.  (Though it did remind me of one reason I prefer books to movies—it's a lot easier to skim through the fighting.)

My dislike of violence and profanity does not mean I like insipid books.  I've read plenty of squeaky-clean books that left me feeling as dissatisfied as Wool.  I prefer a book, like The Lord of the Rings (NOT the movie) where the paragraphs are a delight to read and the complexity and depth stand up to multiple re-readings.

I believe my dissatisfaction came because my strongest and most important criterion for enjoyment of a book, play, movie, or television show is whether or not the experience leaves me wanting to be a better person.  It doesn't have to be super-spiritual, but I want to be inspired to be kinder, to be more clever, to make our home more inviting, or even just to run a little faster—but to be better in some way.  Wool left me feeling that I had read an interesting tale, but nothing more.

The ending cleverly left room for many more books in the same setting, and there are at least four more available, though not at our library.  If, someday, the library chooses to add them, and if I'm in the mood for something merely relaxing, I may return to the story:  there are a few characters I'd like to follow further....

Not to mention a great lesson about cotton, and a potential field trip for some New Hampshire homeschoolers we know!  Check out the Occasional CEO's article this morning.

Something Other Than God:  How I Passionately Sought Happiness and Accidentally Found It by Jennifer Fulwiler (Ignatius, 2014)

I've been a fan of Jennifer Fulwiler's Conversion Diary blog since it was called Et tu?, which takes me back at least as far as 2008.  Granted, like Free-Range Kids and the Front Porch Republic, it has gotten short shrift in the last year or so simply because I like it so much:  not only was I spending a lot of time reading (which I could have managed) but it too often inspired me to spend much more time writing (which I couldn't).  I long to get back to these excellent blogs again, but only after I've acquired more control over responsibilities closer to home.

Be that as it may, when I discovered that our library now has copies of Something Other Than God, I grabbed it, all other responsibilities notwithstanding.  Having followed the conception, gestation, long-and-agonizing labor, and finally birth of this book, how could I not?  Okay, a real fan would have bought a copy, rather than waiting for the library, but if possible I like to know what I think of a book before I spend money on it.

This one is well worth spending money on, if you can't borrow a copy.  (Heather, the Concord library has it.)  Jen writes really well, even without an editor, and if I can perhaps detect a little heavy-handedness on the part of that editor ("you need more adjectives"), I can still say with assurance that the agonizing re-re-re-writing process resulted in a well-told, powerful, and entertaining story.  My current Kindle-read was set aside once I opened the book, and I finished it two days later—it would have been sooner had I not had some discipline to avoid seriously compromising my other responsibilities.  It's a compelling story, serious and funny, and seriously fun to read.

Something Other Than God takes its title from C.S. Lewis, who wrote:  All that we call human history ... [is] the long, terrible story of man trying to find something other than God which will make him happy.  Jen's journey from fire-breathing atheist to devout Catholic is not only for people who appreciate conversion stories; even those who are certain the pilgrimage took her and her husband in the wrong direction can appreciate the humor and the sheer humanness of the story.

The back-cover endorsement written by Gretchen Rubin (author of The Happiness Project) says it well:  Thought-provoking, honest, and often hilarious.  It will strike a chord with anyone who ever posed—or tried unsuccessfully to avoid—the big questions of life.

But those who are familiar with Jen's blog will be disappointed to learn that there is no scorpion story.  Not one.

I'm not a big fan of going to the dentist, but yesterday's visit paid an unexpected benefit:  the hygienist, a former neighbor of ours, shared this video with me.

Heather, this is especially for you, but I think Janet will appreciate it as well, despite her memories being less happy than yours.  I enjoyed it a lot despite my own mixed feelings.  There are plenty of good memories for Porter as well.  :)

This video is just the trailer for a documentary project promoting music education, Marching Beyond Halftime.  As such, it has relevance to many outside of our immediate family.  Enjoy!

I haven't written much on the Common Core school standards mess (just this), but since Florida give us the opportunity to take sample tests, I couldn't resist checking out what was expected of third graders in mathematics.  I was a math major in college and usually enjoy taking standardized tests, so it should have been a piece of cookie, as we say in our family in honor of one of Heather's college math instructors, who was, Ziva-like, idiom-challenged in English.

I'm strongly in favor of holding students, teachers, and schools accountable for what is learned in school.  What's more, I have always had little sympathy for those who whine about the standardized testing that comes with a welcome concern for such accountability.  For endless years schools have failed to work with parents, to open their doors and records to parents, and to provide parents any reasonable assurance that the massive amount of their children's time spent at school is not being wasted.  They brought it all on themselves with their high-handed, "we know best, you just have to trust us" attitude.

And to those who complain that too much time is being wasted in school with teaching to and practicing for the tests, I always say the fault is not in the test, but in teaching to it and practicing for it.  Any generalized testing system worth its salt should be able to count on the fact that test results are a representative sample of a student's knowledge; teaching to the sample undermines its reliability.

All that said, this is a test that requires practice, and specific, test-related teaching.  First, doing math by mouse clicks instead of paper and pencil is a non-trivial exercise.  In this I was aided by my hours of Khan Academy math work.  But certainly students need time and practice to learn the specific testing interface.

Second, and most important, even with a bachelor's degree in math I found questions that made me stare blankly at the screen.  I don't just mean i didn't know the answer:  I hadn't a clue how to begin answering the question.

I'd like to tell you how I did on the test, but when I finished I was presented with this annoying screen (for all images, click to enlarge):

Now that's just lazy website design.  Being lazy myself, and fully confident of most of my answers, I didn't bother to confirm them.  However, I did pull up the answers to the two questions I couldn't figure out for love nor money.  Here are the problems, for your own amusement, edification, or frustration.  (Scroll down after the second problem to see the answers.)

If I wanted to graph the data, I would simply set Blue to 3, Green to 6, Brown to 12, and Hazel to 9.  But what does "Use a scale of 3" mean?  That on the Number of Students axis, the number 1 actually represents 3 students?  If so, I need to make the Eye Color bars 1, 2, 4, and 3, which is not only ridiculous but can't be done:  the bar heights snap to multiples of three.  Does it mean that I should scale each entry up by a factor of 3?  No, because then I'd need one entry to be 36, which is beyond the range of the graph.

Okay, this seems reasonable at first, with the little trick thrown in that one X on the graph means 2 students.  I'm glad to see that third graders are expected to notice such subleties.  So I plot "Two students like camping" with a single X.  But wait a minute.  "At least 5 students like playing basketball."  What am I supposed to do with that?  I can plot 2 1/2 X's, but there's no obvious way to indicate that the number might or might not be higher than 5.  And what about "Twice as many students like hiking more than playing basketball"?  Who cares if they like hiking better than basketball?  Maybe they like camping better than either one.  And twice as many as what?  Even if you rewrite it as "twice as many students like hiking best as like playing basketball best," you're still left with the problem of how to graph "at least."

Scroll down for the answers:

It seems that all they mean by "use a scale of 3" is that the vertical axis labels should be multiples of three, which is totally unnecessary, and thus confusing, since the axis is already labelled.

Except for the poor wording, this turns out to be a good puzzle, and I like to think that if I hadn't been rushing through the test—because I was in a hurry, and it was for third graders, after all!—I would have caught it.  Assuming that "twice as many students like hiking best as like playing basketball best" was meant, embedded within the graphing question is a simple algebra problem:  if B = the number of students who prefer basketball, then the number of students who prefer hiking is 2B, and thus 3B + 2 = 32, or B = 10 and 2B = 20.  But for third grade?

My limited experience more than once made me question the language abilities of whoever wrote the questions, but I have to say that a problem of this complexity on a third grade test is impressive.  It's not a hard problem, but it requires realizing that it is not a simple graphing question.  That's a subtlety I'm not accustomed to on standardized tests at this grade level, and might be indicative of an exam that actually measures students at the higher levels of skill and knowledge, instead of levelling them all out at "99%."  Unless, of course, you teach to the specific questions.

I came out of the exercise with no strong feelings one way or the other about the new Common Core approach to math.  All in all, it's very like the Khan Academy approach, so there's plenty of practice available for those who want it.  But I'm not sure what I think of the Khan approach.  It's not unreasonable to demonstrate multiplication of multidigit numbers via diagrams like the one below, but is it useful as a primary teaching method?  Does it really increase mathematical insight?  That's more than I know.  But I'm pretty sure that taking someone who already knows how to multiply and making him spend much time on this kind of exercise is less helpful than educators would like to think.  Especially if it's just to pass a test.

 Sunday, September 21, 2014

Give to the Winds Your Fears (words by Paul Gerhardt, translated by John Wesley; music by Joseph M. Martin; Shawnee Press 35029616)

Porter graciously waited in the airport so I could sing this one with the choir.  It was a special day because we had a guest cellist to play with us.  (You can hear the cello part with the anthem, though not our performance, at the link above).  The anthem itself was notable for a couple of reasons.  First, the words (albeit in translation) are by Paul Gerhardt, a German hymn writer I've come to appreciate thanks to Stephan's efforts.  Second, although I'd never heard of this hymn before, I encountered it again in a Christianity Today article on the temperance movement.  (I've included the link, but you'll only just be able to start reading this one unless you're a subscriber.)

Many temperance advocates also promoted voting rights for women.  After all, women were more likely than men to vote to shutter the saloons that were destroying their homes.  Carrie Nation and her hatchet may be the most famous image, but the 1873-74 Woman's Crusade—which led to the founding of the Woman's Christian Temperance Union (WCTU)—is a more accurate representation, with its crowds of nonviolent protesters linked arm-in-arm before saloon doors.  A later WCTU historian described the crusade in Ohio:

Walking two by two, the smaller ones in the front and the taller coming after, they sang more or less confidently, "Give to the Winds Thy Fears," that heartening reassurance of Divine protection now known to every WCTU member as the Crusade Hymn.  Every day they visited the saloons and the drug stores where liquor was sold.  They prayed on sawdust floors or, being denied entrance, knelt on snowy pavements before the doorways, until almost all the sellers capitulated.

Here's something else I learned from the article:

There are a number of misconceptions about the 19th-century temperance movement.  The first, which was shared by temperance activists themselves, is that it didn't work.  In fact, it did.  American drinking dropped dramatically after the temperance movement took off in the 1830s.  Americans in 1830 were drinking 7.1 gallons of absolute alcohol per year per person.  ...  By 1835, they were down to 5.0 gallons; by 1840, 3.1.  By 1910, shortly before Prohibition, this had dropped to 2.6 gallons; post-Prohibition, it was down to 1.2.... Even after every moral loosening the 20th century wrought, from flappers to the counter-culture movement, by the year 2000, the average American drank less than a gallon of absolute alcohol.  That's more than six gallons less a year than their ancestors had about 200 years before.

Your Life Calling:  Reimagining the Rest of Your Life by Jane Pauley (Simon & Schuster, 2014)

This is why we have friends.  I would never have picked out this book to read.  For one thing, I tend to avoid books by or about celebrities.  For another, I in no way can identify with people who, when their children go to school, or leave home, or when they turn 50, or retire, say, "What on earth am I going to do with the rest of my life?"  I don't need a new life; I have enough planned in the one I have now to see me through more productive years than I can possibly have left.

But a friend highly recommended Pauley's book, and I'll admit that it kept my interest even though I didn't buy into its focus.  The Penzey's fans among my readers will best understand the effect that Your Life Calling had on me.  It was very much like reading a Penzey's catalog, where I find myself repeatedly annoyed by the self-aggrandizement, the leftist slant, and the in-your-face distain for several of my strongly-held principles—yet I keep reading, because the stories are interesting and inspiring.

Pauley premise is that our generation is the first to have the long lifespan and the leisure to "reinvent" ourselves, possibly several times as we go through life.  Today's young people are already doing it ("what we call reinvention is just 'the churn' for them").  In fact, for them it may be more of a necessity, given the pace at which technology (and thus the job market) is now changing.  (The last sentence is my analysis, not Pauley's.)  But it's new for us.

You may be surprised to know that people over fifty-five represent the largest age group of owners of new business start-ups.  At an age when our own parents and grandparents expected to wind things down, people are getting a second wind.

The Stanford Longevity expert, Laura Carstensen, notes that withour new vitality come some pretty big questions.  She says, "Those of us living today have been handed a remarkable gift with no strings attached—an extra thirty years of life for the average person.  Now that gift is forcing us to answer a uniquely twenty-first-century question—what are we going to do with our supersized lives?"

Permit me an exasperated wail at yet another expert who misunderstands the term "life expectancy."  But aside from that, it is true that our generation finds itself thinking in terms of second, often radically different, careers more than previous generations.  One only needs to listen to someone of my parents' generation talk to realize that the men, at least, defined themselves very much by their careers.  Of my generation this is less true, mostly I think because we were betrayed by the "be loyal to your company and your company will be loyal to you" compact.  What is "me" is not my employment, and therefore I am free to move on to something entirely different.

That I get, as evidenced by my need to elaborate on it.  I also appreciated Pauley's description of Imposter Syndrome:

I'll never forget how [David Letterman] described his television career.  He said, "It's like robbing 7-Elevens.  The money's good, but sooner or later you know you're gonna get caught." This was a perfect depiction of a popular psychological term—that wouldn't be coined for another two years—"imposter syndrome."  There was a lot of that going around.

Apparently a lot of people feel that way.  The most amazing choir I've even been in was the work of an extremely gifted and experienced musician who couldn't get over the feeling of having to prove that she was not an "imposter."  I've met great teachers who deny that they do anything more than keep one step ahead of their students.  I myself received A after A after A in school without ever being convinced I understood any of the material I was supposedly learning.  I think there's more to it than Pauley's suggestion that maybe we're all in the wrong career, but the following point is certainly true:

You've got to have the goods to get that promotion, to get through medical school, to be the successful job applicant.  But a successful career isn't necessarily a happy one.  And a proficiency is not the same as a passion.

Most young people I know would say amen to this one, a quote from Paul Giannone, a successful Information Technology professional suffering from Imposter Syndrome, who reinvented himself as a New York City pizza restaurateur:

I just thought that you go out, you pick a career, you work, eventually you build up a retirement fund, you retire, and you go do something you like.  I wish they had told me that you need to find something that you like and do it right now for the rest of your life, because that's what everybody should do—find your passion and do it because you're gonna be good at it."

Pauley adds, "Sometimes it takes the better part of a lifetime to find out what your passion is, but in my observation, if you do, it might be the best part of your life."

Later, Pauley says of Paul,

If you're ever in Brooklyn, drop by Paulie Gee's for some great pizza!  Paul Giannone is always there.  I asked him how many days a week he worked.  "Seven," he said.  Then quickly blurted out, "No!  I work no days a week.  I haven't worked in over two years.  I really haven't.  When I come in here I'm not working."

Your Life Calling is full of stories like this, of people who have taken on second, often radically different careers.  I find in the collection and interesting and contradictory charitable selfishness, or selfish charity.  Seeking more meaningful use of their time, several of the "reinventees" went into fields, from teaching to social work to drilling wells in Africa, where they could have a direct, positive impact on others.  At the same time, there's a disturbing thread of hyper-individualism in most of the stories:  My children are out of the house, so it's my turn; I'm going to make my own life.  I've just been divorced; now I'll do what I want to do.  Worse still:  My husband won't accommodate my new life, so I'll ditch my family and go my own way.  Not all the stories are like this—one woman's reimagining was going into business with her son.  But I found so many of the stories sad, even as they were inspiring.  There's too much self-centeredness, too much divorce, too much of the attitude that you have a small number of children and get them quickly out of the way so you can live your real life.  As if family responsibilities end there.  Haven't these people heard of grandchildren?  :)

Still, as I said the stories are both interesting and inspirational.  I'm grateful for my friend's recommendation.  And I've tried not to hold against the author the fact that the otherwise-rational-sounding husband Garry she keeps talking about is actually Garry Trudeau, creator of the comic strip Doonesbury.

It was good to sing this one again.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

To Love Our God (Mark Hayes, Hinshaw Music HMC1576)

Forget Area 51, the NSA's invasive civilian spying, and anything else you may think the U.S. government has tried to keep up its sleeves.  Edward Snowden has nothing on me.  I will now reveal to you the government's greatest secret:

The United States Post Office has discovered instantaneous transport!

Here at Lift Up Your Hearts! we have obtained a copy of the official government record of a small package sent between the United States and Switzerland.  (Not to CERN, but to what our sources indicate may be the home laboratory of one of its top up-and-coming scientists.)

There it is, ladies and gentlemen:  the Secret of the Century is out.  And you thought only quantum particles could be in two places at the same time.

Next up for our intrepid investigative reporters?  Digging into the dirty secret of why it still takes four days to travel the 250 miles from Altamonte Springs to Miami.

"Great goddess Athena, great god Apollo, we ask that you impart wisdom in these proceedings today," Jennifer Zarpentine, a Wiccan priestess, prayed at the town board meeting of Greece, New York, in April 2008.

"Help the board to make the right, informed decisions that will benefit the greater good of this community. This we ask of you." As board members contin­ued to bow their heads in prayer, several other meeting attendees responded with the pagan version of amen, "So mote it be."

Thus begins a Christianity Today editorial from a couple of months ago (subtitled "Why we pray before public meetings—and let pagans do the same").  It's a serious article, which is no doubt why the location of this town meeting passes without further comment.  To the writer, I suppose, it might as well have been Chili, or Brighton, or any of the other suburbs of Rochester, New York.  Being from that part of the state, however, and under no compulsion to be serious, my own first reaction was that nothing could be more appropriate in Greece than prayers to Athena and Apollo.

The Brainy Bunch by Kip and Mona Lisa Harding (Gallery Books, 2014)

Facebook, like smartphones, can enslave or empower.  Or both at once.  At the moment I'm feeling grateful to Facebook, and the friend who posted a link that eventually led me to this Today Show feature about the Harding family and their book.

As most of you know, education has long been my passion, particularly the education of young children, and most especially my belief that most children can learn and do so very much more than we give them the opportunity to achieve.  It will thus come as no surprise that when I heard of a family where seven (so far!) of the children had gone to to college by the time they were twelve years old, I immediately ordered the book from our library, and finished reading it the day after I picked it up.  If read with an open mind, this is a book that can blow away a number of stereotypes and presuppositions, and not just about education.

Although a large number of homeschoolers are Christians, including many who have spectacular records both academically and socially, as the movement has grown there have slso been examples of less-than-stellar achievement, especially in academics.  It is unfortunate that when many people think of "Christian homeschoolers," it is the latter example that comes to mind.  The Harding family is a stunning counterexample, especially since The Brainy Bunch bristles with buzzwords that set off alarm bells:  Mary Pride, A Full Quiver, Josh Harris, early marriage, Michael and Debi Pearl (at least they label the Pearls' book "a bit legalistic"), creationism, the Duggar Family, and others that might send some running for the hills.  But hang on—they also mention John Taylor Gatto, Raymond and Dorothy Moore, unschooling, and the Colfaxes, quite on the opposite end of the spectrum (inexplicably leaving out John Holt, however).  Mona Lisa and Kip sound like people after my own heart, able to take the best from many sources and leave aside what doesn't work for them.  In any case, the family deals a clean blow to many prejudices, including that of the college student who once told them, "Children in big families have low IQs."

The Hardings insist, however, that their IQs are strictly average; their children are not geniuses.  This bothered me at first, as it seemed almost a reverse boast, as if there were something wrong with being smart.  But I think I know why they make this point, and it's important.  There are a surprising number of people who have gone to college at an extremely young age (here's a list of the ten youngest), but they are generally prodigies with super-high IQs and extraordinary skills.  This does nothing to encourage most families to believe that early college entrance is possible for their children.  Or desirable.  Despite its title, The Brainy Bunch shows that this higher-level work is well within the grasp of the average student, and why this is a good idea.

Some might even say the Hardings started out as a below-average family, or at least one with several strikes against it when it came to predicting their children's academic success.  Kip and Mona Lisa were high school sweethearts who married in their teens.  After high school, he went into the military and she started having babies.  Lots of babies.  Their life was not easy, requiring many moves, and times of great financial hardship.  And yet here they are, with their children not only college graduates but successful at a young age in many fields:  engineering, architecture, medicine, music, and more.

So how do they do it?  The book may seem short on specific practical advice, because it's a lifestyle, not a curriculum.  Here, however, is a brief timeline of their approach:

• Around age four we start to teach reading.
• By age six we start teaching borrowing, multiplying, writing short essays, and encouraging independent reading.
• By age eight we start algebra, reading real chapter books, and having the children do more writing on their own.
• By age ten they are figuring out what they really believe and why.  They continue along in math as they add in reviewing for the SAT/ACT.
• Somewhere around age eleven, they have mastered the five-paragraph essay and can produce a decent research paper.
• By age twelve (sometimes sooner) they have finished lots of high school-level books on many general subjects to fill in their transcripts.  With that and enough emotional intelligence, they should be ready for a college class or two.

Sixty-three sticky notes festoon the book, marking places I thought I might quote in this review, but I'll content myself with a few observations.  Okay, several observations.

• I've read the complaint that the book is not well written. I see the point, but I've read a lot of popular books that are much worse, trust me. I would say it's not so much that it's poorly written as that the writing reminds me of blog-writing. It's not polished. But it's not bad; rather it's like the difference between folk music and a Bach fugue. Read it for what it is, and enjoy it.
• Most people's first reaction to this idea is, "Why not let your kids be kids?"  It's a legitimate question, but as the Hardings point out, in many ways their children are allowed to be kids longer than most, since they are immersed in a loving family and don't have to face the pressures to "grow up" prematurely that are present in school.
• They make sure their children learn about creationism, but also about evolution.  They encourage independent thinking.
• They are careful that their children read good books, and partake of quality television.  They realize that the Internet can be a dangerous place, but liken it to a hot stove:  it's a powerful tool that must be used wisely.  ("The Internet wants to reveal all of Victoria's Secrets to your child.  Teach them the real secret to success in life is to overcome temptation.")  Once a child can use the Internet, the sky's the limit for learning, and parents can respond to questions with, "Go look it up and share with us what you learn."
• The book never mentions Project-Based Homeschooling, but there is a similarity in their methods.  With the Hardings, however, it appears to be much less organized and purposeful.
• Conversations, especially at the dinner table, play a key role in the children's general education, and in sparking their interests.  It reminds me of Richard Feynman's early education, given informally by his father in the form of questions and discussions on frequent, casual occasions.  It also reminds me of a family we know; although they were never homeschoolers, they were always challenging their children with questions, and encouraging the children to do the same to their parents.  Written like that it sounds unpleasant, but I observed it, and it was delightful, not at all like a test or a drill session.
• The Hardings were good at finding "back doors" when faced with locked front doors.  When they lived in California, their children could obtain high school diplomas by taking a comprehensive test.  They were nowhere near the age minimum to take the test, but there was a loophole: high school sophomores could take the test no matter what their age.  Since the children were homeschooled and doing work on that level, the parents had no trouble classifying them as sophomores.  That didn't work in Alabama, but they discovered that community college transfer credit made up for the lack of a diploma.  They used lesser schools as stepping stones.  Why not?  At that age, they had plenty of time.
• The idea of sending a child to college at middle school age doesn't seem to jibe with their emphasis on family togetherness, but again this is the advantage of not aiming for the perfect college.  The young students went to school close to home, in most cases living at home, and at first accompanied by one of their parents.  When family needs forced them to be in different states, the children stayed with siblings or other relatives.  As I recall, one child stayed in a dorm—at a somewhat older age—but the parents still managed to have plenty of contact and presence.
• Reading the descriptions of their efforts to keep their college kids close to family at all times rang a bell with me, and that's when it struck me:  Mona Lisa Harding is a Hispanic mother.  This would not have meant anything to me had our own children not attended a high school with a significant Hispanic population.  Two characteristics marked Hispanic families, as far as I could tell:  the importance of the Quinceañera celebration, and very tight parental reins kept on the girls, such as mothers accompanying their children on band trips, and a girl staying in the mother's hotel room rather than with the other students.  Suddenly I recognized the Hardings' practices as typically cultural on the one hand, and extremely liberal on the other.
• They never say it in so many words, but I think the Hardings would agree with the idea that the middle and high school years are usually the most wasted time in a child's life.  At that age they can and should be doing college-level work.  Not MIT-level, but a lot more than is generally offered in middle school and high school.  So they considered what it takes to get into college, and geared the children's early education to meet those requirements.  The kids take none of the usual standardized tests, but begin preparing for the ACT and SAT instead.  As soon as possible they begin taking classes for which they can get college credit.
• High priority is given to character education; there's no point in being academically advanced if your character development and social awareness are lacking.
• Since much emphasis is placed on the children's following their own interests, a big question is, How do you (or they) know what that is?  By doing a lot of listening, and working together, for one thing.  It's also important to note that the kids aren't deciding at age six what they want to do with the rest of their lives.  Interests are never set in stone, but are allowed to change, going one way, then another.  As long as learning is happening, the parents are happy.
• There's a lot of flexibility in the Hardings' program ("We follow more of a checklist than a timed schedule"), but here's a sample day:

  • Get dressed
  • Eat breakfast
  • Chores
  • Bible study
  • ACT review (a section a day)
  • Writing
  • Lunch
  • Reading (history and science)
  • Math (if not covered in the ACT review)
  • Spanish
  • Violin or piano (they alternate)
  • 2:30, ready or not, PLAY OUTSIDE!
  • no homework "allowed" in the evenings—just reading for fun.

One of the reasons I read The Brainy Bunch was to know whether or not to recommend it to our children.  I would say, most definitely.  Would I buy the book?  Not if I could get it out of the library.  It's definitely worth reading, but I'd read it once before committing shelf space to it.  Then I'd wait for the paperback to come out rather than paying over $16 for the hardcover.  (Hint:  it's available Interlibrary Loan in New Hampshire.)  If I couldn't borrow it?  It's under $10 for the Kindle version; I'd go for that.

We missed a lot of choir this summer (all for good reasons), and I've missed even more keeping track of what we've sung when I have been there.  As in not since May 18, after which I took off for Switzerland and other wild adventures with grandchildren.  I'm not going to try to remember what I might have missed documenting, but will start with the past two weeks, since the new choir season began.  Because these music posts are mostly for my own record-keeping, I won't be including YouTube videos most of the time now.  Each title below links to an excerpt, however, and many of our anthems can be found in their entirety (though not with us singing) via a YouTube search, should anyone be interested in more.

Sunday, August 30, 2014

Look at the World (Hinshaw Music, NMC1527)

Sunday, September 6, 2014

Be Unto Your Name (Word Music, O80689124273)).