Eruditio diligere latina (Learning to Love Latin)

Upon reading the above title, I’m guessing that you had one of two questions.

1. You questioned my sanity. 

2. You questioned how long it took me to work out that translation on Google Translate. (answer, about 10 minutes).  

That’s right. This guy could cut you in half with his sword AND slice up your ego with some choice Latin grammar.

Even now, I find it amusing that I am expressing the joys of Latin. In high school, I heard the same horror stories that most of us hear about the ‘dead language’ and the endless vocabulary drills. The Latin team (and I use the term ‘team’ loosely, as I’m not certain that was what it was called), was the home of highest form of ‘nerd’ possible – the top of the intellectual totem pole (or bottom, in regards to social status). In the last few years, however, it seems that all things Roman, the culture that inserted Latin into the DNA of so many languages, have now become ubercool. From the looks of glamorized Roman war pics from Gladiator, to 300, to the miniseries Spartacus, it seems these tough guys must have had pretty good handle on all those funny rules for Latin grammatical correctness. (I slice you in half? OR You slice me in half? Pretty important to get that right.)  So perhaps Latin is no longer the language of the intellectual, but more the language of what would be our equivalent of mixed martial arts cage fighters.

Regardless of whether the public perception of Latin has changed, it remains true that I, like most adults, have had no prior experience with Latin other than the movies I mentioned above, my brief glances at money (E pluribus unum) and legal documents (pro se, etc). So it was not without equal amounts of fear and loathing that I first took on my studies when it was introduced in our classical home school program two years ago..

Fast forward to today, and my perception of Latin has changed dramatically. Living in Miami, and being exposed to Spanish constantly, has revealed the wisdom of learning the root of all Romance languages. Rules that seemed boring have allowed my translation skills to flourish even without learning more Spanish vocabulary – and this from a man that barely scratched a “C” in Spanish back in middle school. I find myself breaking down English sentences quickly, and my writing now seems to be more fluid and unhindered. Most of all, the step by step work that Latin requires seems to help my thinking flow more logically in all types of problem solving applications. 

I won’t go so far as to say I’ve seen a revolution in my kids’ learning, but they also no longer fear the native tongue of Caesar and Plato. My daughter made a splash in her online word game by placing a Latin word in a choice spot, earning her enough points to crush her opponent. That in itself was motivation enough for her to continue studying.  Although I do want my children to learn a more familiar foreign language someday, I’m confident that the time they are spending in this language that is used in so many disciplines (science, law, medicine) will serve them in many practical ways as well. I heartily recommend it to any home school family looking to increase their understanding of the workings of language. 

As part of our Classical Conversations curriculum, we use the Henle Latin text, which is a book from the 1950′s and contains quite a bit of Catholic influence, but is very strictly organized and forces us to maintain our allegiance to daily review.  I also have heard of other series such as Wheellock, but I cannot recommend them without having used them. Check with home school review sites and read their feedback before purchasing a Latin primer. 

So to the high IQ scholars in my high school Latin team, that I once thought were akin to the the gods of Jupiter and Juno in a linguistic Mount Olympus, to them I say, “Veni, Vidi, Vici.”. Not that I remember the conjugations of those words – that’s a few lessons from now. Give me time.  

 

Taking Out the Trash

Author’s Note: This was a draft post written two years ago. I came across it quite by accident today while looking through my files, and I felt it resonated on this first day of 2013. Despite the year or so that has passed, (I no longer work at the co-op, and my son is now a junior) it still applies to my current state as well. 

A funny thing happened on the way to the dumpster.

Perhaps it was the slowness of the day that led my mind to wander in the direction of thinking about trash. This Friday found me at our homeschool co-op, which honestly is so well organized that it has all the trappings of a Christian academy. Along with teaching group piano class, I and all parents that are involved in the group agree to volunteer for one hour or class period. So it was no surprise that my masculinity in the midst of a majority of homeschool moms singled me out for the more brawny of tasks – lunchroom clean up.

We removed all the tables and chairs pretty quickly. But despite the calming repetitive motions of lifting, folding, and stacking, for some reason I was feeling very reflective. Our lives have had several new shifts recently, from my wife’s departure from her full time job at our previous church to begin her life as an entrepreneur, to our son’s new push for an apartment (as a college sophomore – such initiative….), to our kids’ push into full-fledged teenager-ism. I’m not sure which part of these new pressures weighed heaviest on my mind – perhaps all of them. Either way, I saw a break in the action as we waited for instructions on how to set up the room. Meanwhile, the two bins of trash from the lunchroom sat overflowing near the door. Normally our high-school volunteer boys take out the trash, but they were not here, so I took the opportunity to finish this one little job myself.

Trash normally would not inspire me to contemplate a season of life, but in this case as I rolled the bins to the receptacle, I realized many times I have headed to a metaphorical trash bin of emotions. I’ve taken feelings, goals, and conceptions and rolled them out to the refuse pile, to be thrown out with the rest of the unwanted pieces of my life.  Sometimes they were pieces that had mistakenly been lumped in with the trash – pieces of my life that simply needed polishing and cleaning up – to be what they were supposed to be. Other times, the trash was really trash – sinful, silly, and selfish scraps that needed to be swept out of my consciousness.

My point of realization was when I tied the bags, shook out the scraps from the bottom of the bin, and threw them in the dumpster. Immediately I thought about where that trash goes. Many people have bemoaned a supposed “trash catastrophe” where we run out of places to take our piles of discards. But every week our trash is picked up, and taken out of sight. There are several places in South Florida where I suppose I could track down my junk and see how it is handled, but I have no desire to do so. And as I walked away from the dumpster, I tried – literally – to remember what was in the trash. A chick-fil-a bag, a couple of jello containers – the memory faded furiously fast. It was like every step away from the dumpster erased the memory of what I had shook out just a second ago.

Yes, a simplistic picture, but a real one. I have often kept my mind on what I have thrown away, and I suspect we all have also sometimes allowed the memory of what was thrown away onto the trash heap of the past to remain, long after the Divine garbage man has picked up the junk and carted it away into nothingness. It’s like we stand at the dumpster waiting for the junk to jump back out and reclaim its place in our lives. But the mantra the dumpster taught me today is this.

Keep walking away.

My issues and what-ifs are always bargaining for a new place in my mind and spirit. But as I walk away from the place of the removal, every step erases some of that memory and, more importantly, the concern about where it went. I don’t need to worry about how my past is being dealt with – I must be content to know that if I’m willing to let it go, it will not remain in the same place. When I return with new things to be removed, there will be no trace of the old trash. It has been removed without any further effort of my own, and the only place it can continue to remain is in the relics of shame and unworthiness that do not deserve any further place in my mind.

Perhaps the next time I’m tempted to complain about taking the trash out in my own home, this little metaphor will come to mind. I’ll swallow my complaints, and I’ll lug the Glad bag of garbage out gladly, knowing that trash has been removed to make room for a more valuable treasure.

 

Seeking a True Image

For those that know my aversion to sitting still for any length of time longer than it takes to stand up, it may come as a surprise that one of my favorite sports is baseball.  Not playing it, or even watching it, though I do at times watch a televised game now and again. My love of baseball centers on listening to radio broadcasts – specifically, the announcers. I find their ability to simultaneously relate the live actions of the game, and yet fill the frequent pauses of action with stats and banter immensely interesting. Our local team is the Marlins, and I often tune in to the broadcast in the car to hear the two team announcers. Their voices are perfectly matched to me; one studious and grandfatherly, the other engaging and kind of guy-next-doorish. Ever the educator, I pointed this out to my kids as we drove home and my son agreed that it must take talent to be able to describe the game for people who have to use their imaginations to picture the action on the diamond.

Recently our homeschool support groups got an email from the Marlins offering us discounted tickets, and wanting to expose my teens to the national pastime, I bought tickets and we went to see the game. During the inning changes, the stadium showed commercials and promotions on the Jumbotron. At one point, the radio announcers came on screen. Both my son and I made the same remark; the announcers looked nothing like the people we imagined them to look like from their voices. I don’t know what image he had, but it was evident that he and I both had conjured up a different image of the men from their ‘radio voices’.

Since that revelation, I’ve been surprised to find that my previous image of the men persists when I hear their broadcast, even after seeing the men ‘in person’. It seems my mental image is stronger than the one my eyes beheld and confirmed. Perhaps this has happened to others as well in similar situations.  A voice on the telephone is given a certain ‘look’; then, upon meeting there is a shocking moment when the imagined picture of the person and the visual reality of their appearance turn out to be totally opposed.   And so I began to wonder; is it possible that I have done the same with my image of God? Have I heard His voice, made up an image, and yet completely mis-imagined what that voice revealed of Him?

One may claim to have a certain ‘image’ of God that they hold fast to. But what happens when a fresh revelation of His nature conflicts with the one we created from our first impressions? What happens when we have imagined God to be a loving but ultimately undemanding figure that never chastises us, and then we see through His word that He is both a loving Father and a Righteous Judge? Perhaps we see Him as a kill-joy that wants to keep us from having fun – only to find in Proverbs 16 that He has eternal pleasures at His right hand. Do we change our view of Him based on the true image He has given through His word (which also is the reliable medium of His voice) , or do we return to the image that we feel comfortable with, based on the limited knowledge we had when we first heard of Him?

The answer must lie in the consistency of His identity – the voice and the image must come from the same Being, and God being ever the same and unchanging, it is never the voice or the image that is inconsistent, but our perception of it. We hear what we want to hear, and see what we want to see of Him, and our definition can change based on which perception we feel is more ‘compatible’. My perception of the announcers ‘fit’ better to me than the reality, and I was unwilling mentally to adjust my image. In the same way, it’s an easy mental exercise to ignore the new, more challenging revelation of God’s true nature when we are faced with it, and maintain the perception that matches our own desires, rather than His. However, for those that refuse to seek His true identity on this side of eternity, it will be a temporary illusion. The Bible says that we shall all see Him as He is one day. The choice for us is whether we will alter our image now, based on the uncompromising image of Himself He has given us in His Word, or whether we will await a rude awakening when He is revealed to be everything we tried to ignore.

I must admit my first inclination is always to hold to the image of God that I am comfortable with. But when I am confronted with the verse in 1st Corinthians that eyes have not seen the things that God has prepared for me, I have to admit that my vision of God will always be inadequate compared to who He really is. I must pray that unlike my image of the baseball announcers, I will always make sure that the image of God that appears in my mind is the one He portrays of Himself, and not the one that I want him to have. The revelation of His true image will never be fully complete, because He is more than can be imagined. But if I am steadfast in seeking Him as He truly is, I can then be confident that when I reach Home, the One I will see will be the One I have heard all along.

 

Something “Summer” This Way Comes

 As a musician who equates everything with musical themes and ideas, I would ask you to do me this favor as you read this post. Right now, please begin to hum or sing in your head, the theme from the movie “Jaws.”

(You should now be hearing two notes, a half step apart, played by the low orchestral strings, slowly beginning to speed up. Just in case you weren’t sure).

I begin my post with this musical interpretation to describe what I hear in my head as this week nears. You may feel it must be a foreboding moment I am anticipating – a dentist appointment, perhaps, or a project I’ve been procrastinating on that has an approaching deadline. I do have each of those situations on my horizon, but they are not the source of the scary music playing in my head. Rather, it is tomorrow, or for those reading at a later time, April 30, 2012.  What is this doomsday date signify, you ask?

No, it is not the last day on a South American tribal astrological calendar.

It is the last official day of our current homeschool academic program.

Yes, dear reader, the fear I am facing is the same fear that grips most homeschool parents around this time (and I’m sure grips other public school parents, but with the reprieve of a month or two more of school to shield them); the ever-present question of “What are we going to do this summer?”

It always amazes me that, as homeschoolers, despite the popular portrayal of being sheltered and secluded in our homes, we are very, very connected to our social and academic programs outside of the home. That, of course, is one of the strengths of the homeschool movement – the freedom to move in and out of various educational programs without the hindrance of compulsory school attendance to prevent certain schedule or lifestyle choices. However, there remains the inevitable moment that all these programs break for the summer, and just like our public school counterparts, we stare at these once ‘busy-beaver’ children and swear by our graves that they will not become couch potatoes for 3 months. Even as we speak those words, the fears in our heads swirl like little tornadoes, wrecking havoc on any hope that some program will appear that will keep them busy and out of educational lethargy.

This is the quandary I find myself in every summer. This, despite the fact that most summers my children find their way out of my now-non-existent hair and into their grandparents’ home, where they can both vegetate and receive plenty of allowance – ready work around the house to earn money for their church camp and other summer necessities. Every year I preach the same message to my kids about “lifelong learning” and try to fight their insistent plea that they must have total separation from anything even remotely educational. You would think after 8 years of homeschooling that I would be fully prepared for this season every year. You would, however, be disappointed in your optimistic thoughts of my preparedness. I find myself so consumed with finishing the “year” strong that I usually neglect to remember that our academic “year” is barely more than one-half of the calendar year. 22 of the 52 weeks of our year are non-scheduled, non-programmed – dare I say it – “unschooled” weeks.

And so, my emotions and intellect convene on that first of the 22 weeks to remind me that I have two choices. Either I can surrender to the panicky thoughts of lackadaisical children filling their heads with Playstation 3 and iCarly for hours on end, or I can be intentional about keeping the “R”s in my kid’s summer. Not the colloquial “Reading, ‘Ritin’ an ‘Rithmatic’”, but instead, Rest and Retention.

The key of this seasonal schedule is to keep both rest and retention in focus. Too much or not enough of either can lead to stressful summers. No matter how far behind a student is, rest is important, despite worries about ‘time off’. Without rest, the children would become totally unwilling to focus on their studies when they are necessary, and totally unable to prioritize their ‘downtime’ appropriately.  Therefore, to use the analogy of our homeschool ‘program’ being a car driven 8 months out of the year, we as a family have to take our foot of the accelerator of our homeschool vehicle, park it, cover it neatly, and let the academic engine sit in the garage for a bit. However, I’m not so quick to settle into relax mode without remembering to take the car out for a spin to make sure the wheels are still turning properly. So a math course for my daughter, or an online study in business for my son will find its way into the garage for proper maintenance. This retention strategy is not just about keeping information in their heads, but more importantly, it is about retaining their learning lifestyle. I want to foster and encourage an attitude that does not shut off their desire to learn based on the current month of the year. Keeping a healthy balance of rest from academic studies, and a plan to retain our learning lifestyle is my ultimate summer goal.

So after the last tutoring session is done, the testing complete, and the portfolios reviewed, I’ll wistfully wave goodbye to this academic year like a familiar face on a ship bound for places unknown and never to be seen again – well at least until August. Then I will square my shoulders, march back into the family room where my kids will likely have either a YouTube video about a hyperactive chipmunk-sounding teenager on their iPods, or yet another insanely ridiculous cartoon on the TV that I cannot find funny for the life of me.  I’ll then look them in the eyes and say the words that they hate to hear.

“Pass me the remote.”

 

Words to Live By

I’ve always been a fan of self-improvement and leadership books. From age 16, when my dad promised me $100 if I would read Stephen Covey’s “The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People”, I’ve found my reading material always includes something that would inspire me to be more proactive, or to set goals, or any other flavor of motivation I could get my hands on. Of course the distance between theory and action is the space we live in daily, so I can attest that I haven’t followed through with much that I have read. But the wisdom of those words is always only a look away, and when I view those words habitually, I start to form my habits around those words.

While listening to a motivational audio program, I thought about all the times as a teen and young adult that I found myself at critical decision points, and when I should have followed a wisdom point. That led to ruminations about my kids and all the words they are surrounded by. I am blessed that they have many wonderful influences and people to speak into their lives, including our beautiful church family and the wonderful homeschooling support groups we are a part of. But there are always times that those words of life and empowerment are needed, and there may not be a kind soul nearby to speak them. They must be hidden in the heart for their power to be applied when necessary.

We live in a time that we have access to all kinds of apps and games, but do we access the words that we need to make wise decisions? I know many times I haven’t. To combat this,  I’ve recommitted myself to memorizing verses of Scripture. My new goal is to memorize all of Romans. I’ve only made it to verse 7, chapter 1, but the exercise is reminding me how every word matters when you study and apply it to your life. The book of Phillipians speaks of meditating on whatever is pure, lovely, or has any good report. Proverbs, the ultimate wisdom book of the Bible, mentions a word fitly spoken being like a apple of gold. Even my church has a new “Words with Friends” evening dedicated to sharing God’s word in small groups. If my heavenly Father knows the power of words, I must be sure as a earthly father that I’m accessing the same ‘word power’ and implanting it in my family.

It seems my wife was on the same wavelength as me without even us discussing it. Around the same time that I was considering this ‘word’ emphasis, she came home with stencils for placing quotes on the walls, and I came home to find them already adorning our living room and kitchen. Needless to say, I’m grateful that she understands the power of positive words.

Each time I look at these words, I remember what’s most important about our family – that we are together, that we dream, love, and pray together, and that we support one another. These concepts are simple, yes, but never are they more precious and sacred than when the pressures of life try to steal the power of making them a priority.

One of the pastors at my church’s recent men’s conference stated this quote: “The choices you make make you.”  When talking with my son on the ride home, he said that those words impacted him the most. So in effect, the words he has chosen to believe and maintain in his heart will then make his choices, and then those choices will make him. All the more reason for me to make sure that the words that he hears, that he sees, and that he will live by are always words of life, of meaning, and of eternal value.

 

Blimp or Helicopter?

I’ve been noticing a disturbing pattern in my habits as a homeschool parent.

My wife and I have always emphasized independence in our children’s learning styles. From the beginning, it was their responsibility to own their own education. By allowing them to determine their own schedule, giving them the choice type of projects they would present, and keeping  a “hands off” approach unless it was clear our kids needed direct assistance, our children became aware of the fact that our role as parents was to facilitate, not to dictate their learning.  Over the last 8 years, this strategy seems to have fostered the correct attitude in them. They study, they research, and they write for themselves, not for us.  This independence has given them a sense of confidence when approaching challenges, one I would not trade for any amount of personal satisfaction in solving their problems for them. 

However, at times I’ve used this independent streak as a crutch to excuse my own lackadaisical approach in keeping my kids accountable. It becomes very easy to allow their self-directed mentalities to cloud my judgement about when I should, in fact, step in and make adjustments. Examples include when assignments mysteriously have not been completed for a month, or a test unexpectedly is barely passed. The “why didn’t you ask for help” response rings hollow when I know for a fact that I was not pro-active in checking on their studies. I realize this may seem a good problem to have for parents that have less than motivated learners, but it has become a systematic issue in our learning journey, and one I can only attribute to my ‘big picture’ view of education becoming too big. 

I call this “blimp” schooling as opposed to the oft-mentioned “helicopter parenting”, the latter phrase referring to parents that hover too close to the child, not allowing them freedom to fail or to express their own abilities without interference. My problem is that I tend to look at the big picture (“they all learn at their own pace”…) to the point that I lose sight of the day-to-day quandaries that they may face educationally.  My blimp soars too high when all I can see are specks of activity on the educational roads my kids travel, when in fact there may be a pile-up on the expressway that needs an immediate infusion of intense interaction. It doesn’t help that they are, in fact, fiercely independent and resist when I bring the blimp closer in to observe their work in a more detailed fashion. Whether they resist or not, I know my role has to encompass both a long range and a short range view so they can reach their goals.

I’m sure there is a happy medium between the helicopter and the blimp mindset. I want to be able to keep a view from the long range of my children’s development, while having the ability to look close at any time and zoom in on the particular problem or skill that they need to develop.  Whatever that ‘aircraft’ looks like, I am making a new effort to become an expert pilot as I guide my children to their destination as learners and leaders. 

 

 

2011: Some Things I’m Thankful For

As 2012 approaches, it motivates many to look back at the previous year and produce lists and memorials of what they learned. I am no exception. In brief, here are a few things I can say I am thankful for in the past year. 

• That my marriage is stronger than it was at the start of the year, despite challenges and obstacles, and that my wife and I have now been celebrating our love for 15 years. 
• That our leap into the Classical model of education has been successful, and that my kids are continuing to grow and mature in their faith and self-awareness. 
• That our long battle with selling the house came to an end, and we found a new place to call home. 
• That my church family continued to provide real relationships, inspire new levels of faith, and challenge me to live up to the potential I was imbued with from my Father. 
• That despite all that could have gone wrong, we are more inspired, more prepared, and more empowered to handle the challenges of 2012 because of the lessons of 2011.

I pray that you can look back on the past year and see more blessings than burdens, and look ahead to 2012 and see more possibilities than problems. 2011 was a tough year for many of us, and yet, we are still here, and He is still able. 

Happy New Year!