Reverend Dr. Frank Prescott, founder and recently retired rector of the venerable all-boys school Justin Martyr, has been taking a walk with his young protege, the convalescent Brian Aspinwall. They were walking along the river, near the home of Dr. Prescott’s daughter, where, at Dr. Prescott’s insistence, Brian is residing while he returns to health. Dr. Prescott is not merely presiding over a younger man’s recovery from pneumonia; he is successfully speaking new life into Brian’s troubled soul and weakened faith.
Nautae caelum et terram vident is a humble Latin sentence. It means, “The sailors see the sky and the land.”
It’s simple, yet it involves interconnecting thoughts and the ability to organize them in a systematic, coherent manner.
This sentence is relatively complex in the knowledge and skills it requires. To translate it, you must identify the syntactical attributes of each word, define each accordingly, and assemble them in English.
In the first portion of our excursion through the sticky saying that we discover in Homer’s Achilles I explored the idea that we’re not as different from Achilles as we think. Hearkening back to Bespaloff (On the Iliad), we might at this point be able to recognize that while in spirit we admire Hektor, more often than not in action we emulate Achilles. For confirmation, we only need to survey our society in which appearances, wealth, fame, brash self-assertion, and power are our golden calves.
Parables, somewhat open-endedly defined as “any saying or narration in which something is expressed in terms of something else” (Oxford English Dictionary, 1987), are sticky.
I’m certainly not the first to notice this nor, I’m sure, am I the first to use that word to describe them. But there’s no doubt in my mind: such “sayings” are sticky.
After twenty-plus years of establishing a school that was inspired by David Hicks’ Norms and Nobility, I still find hope in his work. During that time, I've watched some of our graduates crash into the culture and succumb to it, and I've had others return years later with that sparkle in their eye—that true love of learning and of Christ that was caught during their time at a classical Christian school. So, ”Is Classical Education Still Possible?” as Hicks asks in the 5th issue of CiRCE's magazine?
A response to an article about the "grit narrative" by an Independent School leader:
If I were to write a book about student motivation and teaching approaches, I would call it The Pharisee and the Prodigal. This is why.
I am deeply concerned, and have had this concern renewed while reading chapter 7 in Norms and Nobility for the Apprenticeship, with the need in our self-identified democracy that "the masses" - those despised and used children of the poor especially - need a classical education. Here's Hicks:
When the course of my life is run and I am tied to a stake or lying beneath my final shroud, it will be among my sweetest consolations to be able to say that I knew the man who wrote these words: