Known best for his odes, Quintus Horatius Flaccus cuts one of the best odd-luck stories for the son of a former slave in first century Rome (B.C.E.). Though he was likely of mixed heritage, Horace met surprising fortune. His father worked as an auction agent and had bettered himself, so well in fact that he owned his own farm. With steady income, he wisely had Horace educated in Rome rather than in his native village with the sons of centurions.
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The strain of a classical Christian education can be arduous. It is not the easy route. It cannot be faked. Classical Christian education when done well is not Pollyanna; it’s not as “19th century English” as we sometimes imagine it to be.
This is one of the concerns I receive from prospective parents, and it’s one of the ongoing concerns on the tips of parents’ tongues: “How hard will this be? What if it’s too hard for my student?” But these are often the wrong questions to ask.
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As the school year begins, many high school students will soon encounter To Kill a Mockingbird in their English classes. Those who have read the book will remember that a good bit of the action takes place in and around the Finch children’s school–their walks past Boo Radley’s house, the fight Scout gets into over the work Atticus does for Tom Robinson, the school play with Scout dressed as a ham.
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Most people don’t enjoy poetry. In my Ancient to Medieval Literature class, my students celebrate when they get to the last book of the semester, an anthology of Arthurian legends, because it’s the first prose reading of the year. But it’s not just students who don’t enjoy poetry—few adults find themselves craving an evening with Shelley or Tennyson, much less Homer or Virgil. Most people complain that poetry is too difficult to understand or not accessible enough. But I think it’s deeper than that.
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It is jolly good fun to always be talking about truth, goodness, and beauty. In fact, the more we talk about it--the more metaphors we use--the more romantic it becomes. Warm blackberries, babies' breath, raindrops on roses, and all that. This is fine and dandy on the Internet, but when you sit down with young moms in your own home you begin to blush.
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Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have been a Safe Teacher.
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A lot has been written in recent days regarding Christian worldview analysis as relates to Christian classical education, and obviously, the thing to do in the midst of a cacophony is to chime in with another voice.
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When I remember childhood summer afternoons, I remember sun and water. Wet grass squelching between my toes as I skipped through sprinklers in the yard. Chalky sunblock on my shoulders, making water bead like pearls on my skin. Wrinkled fingers and waterlogged ears from countless hours in the pool. Barefoot galumphing through mountain streams, listening to the chatter of songbirds, gazing at golden sunlight streaming through leaves.
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It’s not often that I pick up a non-fiction book and cannot put it down. But that’s exactly what happened when I started reading The Fellowship: The Literary Lives of the Inklings by Philip Zaleski and Carol Zaleski.
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Which is more important: teaching classically or teaching in accordance with reality?
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