Mathnawi VI: 3667-3671

If there are a hundred religious books, they are but one chapter:
a hundred different religions seek but one place of worship.
All these roads end in one House:
all these thousand ears of corn are from one Seed.
All the hundred thousand sorts of food and drink
are but one thing if one looks to their final cause.
When you are entirely satiated with one kind of food,
fifty other kinds of food become displeasing to your heart.
In hunger, then, you are seeing double,
for you have regarded as more than a hundred thousand
that which is but One.


translated by Camille and Kabir Helminski

Me, today.

Not literally. But German mid-termally.

I hate to say it, but... Lapkins.

Okay, this was our first "official" school day since the craziness with moving to Virginia started in mid-October. Just as we were getting into our rhythm (yes, it took us that long) I had to stop everything and use our homeschool days to pack up boxes and run errands. All you unschoolers out there---yes, I know running errands can include learning. Trust me: these didn't.

Now we're ensconced until December at our temporary lodgings, and today I began implementing the slightly ramped-up lesson plan for Ezra's reading (as compared to normal Waldorf learning). The three of us recited our fall verse three times, then I wrote the first line for Ezra on this itty bitty chalkboard for him to copy in his main lesson book, with accompanying illustration. In case you missed it before, this is the verse:

"Come little leaves," said the wind one day,
"Come over the hills with me and play.
Put on your dresses of red and gold;
Summer is gone, and days grow cold."

After that, I read a made-up story about a nomad girl named Tarak from The Story of the World Volume 1 and we talked about what archaeologists do and how they discover things about the past. Although I'm pretty much dead-set against introducing such abstract concepts to children at such a young age, Ezra continues to defy my every expectation for what he can absorb, comprehend, and make his own. After that lesson, we went outside for a nice long play session. While Isis filled her watering can over and over and went around watering everything from dead plants to Jeep tires, I sat in the shade and read from School as a Journey by Torin M. Finser. Meanwhile, Ezra collected some tools: a shaving cream brush, a stick, a tiny shovel. He disappeared for a while an came back with quite a collection, which he decided to show me just as I began to type this entry.

"See the one... it's breakable. Very old wood probably (sagaciously said). That's breakable too. You can look at my rocks, and this wood is crumbly mumbly wood. I found all this under the dirt!"

Anyway, I started this entry to talk about teaching children. This may seem obvious, but everyone has to figure these things out for herself and I' finally understand a piece of it. The first thing is, how you say something is just as important as what you say. I might repeat, "Ask a question, don't make a whine" or "Be reasonable and respectful" until I'll blue in the face, but the same sibling squabbling keeps cropping up time and time again--- this morning was a perfect example. I try to stick to a single phrase, so that I don't have to wrack my brain to think of some new defense against juvenile arguments. It's boring to say, so I figure it's boring to hear and hopefully behavior will adjust accordingly.

My father did this with us. Every night at dinner he would say the most vile, despicable, unimaginative, horrible, atrocious phrase: the most disgusting words to ever be strung together, bar none, to date. "Napkins on your lapkins." I shudder now to think of having to hear that--- how it would just put you off your food, no matter what mom had cooked. To outsmart him, we learned to slap those napkins on top of our thighs before he even got a chance to open his mouth and announce the dreaded words.

I'm not a big fan of the vast majority of my father's parenting ideals, but this one actually does seem to be worth emulating. Only, I've noticed that my robotic, half-concentrating repetition of my own stock phrases seems to be having little effect on my own small band of rogue anti-napkinists. Probably because the words are robotic and issue from a distracted, hands-full mother who has thirteen other things on her to-do list that top "solve war of who gets the blue crayon first" in priority.

So I tried a new tack today, one that I've read about countless times in Waldorf-related journals, books, and curricula. For young children, the rhythmic stability of a song has more impact than a reasonable request given in a rational voice. I know this works in other areas--- take math, for example. Ezra is learning his times tables through songs that I make up: "2, 4, 6, 8, who do we appreciate? 10, 12, 14, knights, fairies, kings and queens. 16, 18, 20, share your toys and we'll have plenty." These verses really stick with them--- even Isis can rattle off "4, 8, 12, here I see some little elves."

When I sensed that their natural competition was about to develop into something nasty, I called them over in a conspiratorial tone and chanted, "I need two scouts to help me out. In the mailbox lives a letter--- working together makes it better." I sang it two more times, and then they both got the idea and raced outside to get the mail. After lunch, I needed two scouts to help me out with cleaning up. "I need two scouts to help me out. Each boy and girl has a task; working together makes work go fast."

Okay, so maybe these aren't Shakespeare-worthy rhymes, but I'm keeping the tune the same. I'm addressing them directly, at eye-level, and speaking as if I'm imparting the secret of a great mystery. I'm also begging myself not to forget how well this is working--- the next time I'm presented with a Kid Problem, I need to flip on my cheerful rhyming switch instead of delivering a stern mandate.

Which brings me to the fact that teachers have a "teaching persona." It's easy to keep up that level of energy, that focus on appropriate tones, kind looks, and gestures worthy of imitation, when you're with your army of carpet sharks for six hours a day. Homeschooling parents don't have that luxury. Even when there is no main lesson learning going on, we have to maintain a grip on the family rhythm, keep everything mild and co-operative, watch our words, be worthy.

This is something that I could definitely use help on. I know that when I first started teaching Latin at the Waldorf homeschool co-op, I was amazed at how much parental "education" went into the learning experience. The moms and dads felt that they also had a personal duty to learn and grow in order to be better humans and therefore more suited to be better teachers.

Although I don't subscribe to every article of Steiner's Anthroposophy, I do feel that this one idea is vital to being a successful parent and homeschooler. We as adults have so far to go before we can assume the responsibility of teaching a child--- for myself, I should probably start by learning from them first.

“Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking.” Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

Snippets

A recipe for Spiced Apple Tea from Bianca of Organic Learning Homeschool:

*Brew camomile tea with one stick of cinnamon and one or two cloves (camomile means earth-apple in Greek)

*Add apple juice and simmer.

Pour into a mug and enjoy!

Also, a William Butler Yeats poem, The Song of Wandering Aengus, shared by Jesse of Spiral Pathways:

I went out in the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to the thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire aflame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And some on called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old and wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will found out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

and pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

Before I forget

This picture of Ezra has nothing to do with autumn, but it's just so him to jump in the ocean with his clothes still on that I felt I had to include it somewhere.

When I woke Ezra up on Monday, I said, "It's the first day of Fall! Wake up, we have pumpkin muffins to bake!" And he opened his sleepy eyes, snaked his arms around my neck with a dry kiss and said, "Happy Golden Leaf!" 

Isis took a deep breath outside today and said, "I wub da fell (smell) of da sun. You just breed it in and fell the fell of it. When you breed it, da sweetness comes down."

Fall plans: poll

This picture was taken near Townsend, Tennessee, about forty-five minutes from where we are. I look at this and I feel so lucky to live here. I've vowed to enjoy the beauty of Nature more while we're so close the mountains.

I was wondering what the plans were to celebrate the upcoming season: short term, long term, fantasy, reality. Autumn Equinox, harvest, Rosh HaShannah, whatever it may be. I'll start.

Autumn technically begins this year on Monday September 22nd, so we'll have apple cider and make pumpkin bread that morning for breakfast. I'll be off to school until 3:00, but I'm planning to do a gnome/squash hunt at the apartment playground when I get back. If we're really lucky, it will be nice and crisp outside and we can all bust out our sweaters.

Michaelmas is September 29th, and I have a beautiful version of St. George and the Dragon illustrated by Trina Schart Hyman. I was given the idea of a Michaelmas Dragon Puppet by the ever-inspiring Kristie Karima Burns of Earthschooling and the Waldorf Channel fame, and I think we'll do that. If we have time in the afternoon, I'd like to do some painting. Maybe we'll paint what courage looks like. We'll see. However, since Tuesday the 29th is moving day for me (our stuff is going to live in Virginia until I finish my degree in December) we'll be celebrating Michaelmas on Monday. Shhhh. Don't tell Ezra that the date is wrong, it'll spoil the whole thing for him. 

Of course, the month of Ramadan will be ending around that time as well. Since I will probably be out of town and miss Eid parties, I'm going to try to include the children in some thankful harvest-time giving of dry goods. I've set some aside already, but we'll likely go the store and let them pick out something that they would like to donate. (No Isis, we don't need to give Tofutti Cuties to Second Harvest.) This is more likely to happen in mid-October than in the next two weeks, given how busy we will be.

There is a nebulous plan for us to visit my sister and nieces on the 25-27, providing that the apartment is packed up, and I would love to throw a visit to a corn maze or something like that in the plans.

And of course, one of my favorite times of the year is October 28th, Ezra's birthday. I'm working on surprising him with a scenic ride over the Smokey Mountains to see the fall foliage for the occasion. He can take a friend, and that will be that. I hate to rain on the kid parade, but I'm really over gift-giving in general. He'll be receiving plenty from other family members, so I'd rather just make a memory.

Okay, that about sums it up. Wish me luck on getting 20% of it actually accomplished. Now let's hear from you!

Morning

A six-legged friend appeared this morning on the window of the foyer of our apartment and occupied everyone's interest while the muffins were baking. (Which reminds me--- we are definitely unschooling. On a morning when the moving men hauling our upstairs neighbor's belongings right past our front door was far more interesting than anything the Brothers Grimm might have to tell us, it pays to just chuck the whole lesson plan and look at a praying mantis for an hour.)

Mantis abandoned,  Isis and Ezra enjoy oatmeal-peach muffins. Okay, peaches are not very autumn-y, but they looked so sad sitting on my counter. The last vestiges of summer fruit, begging to be be-muffined. Ezra gives us a look that expresses his lack of enthusiasm for Mom's new camera. I have to promise that I'll post this on my blog where the world can see it. His ego was appeased. 

The brother and sister gnomes of Autumn hath emerged! Work on the Nature Table (okay, we actually have a Nature Shelf) began shortly after breakfast.

They got so into it that another shelf had to be cleared off so that the Gnome of the Lava Mountain (Ezra's idea) had a "secret lair" among the pumpkins. I love how eccentric and evil these gnomes can be.

The finished product, which is of course constantly changing. Our nature table is a play area, so they'll be moving the acorns and inhabitants around periodically. Look closely, and you can see teal-colored derriere of the "Gnome Of To Grow The Stuff" under the ground on the lower right. On the left is the mountain (NOT a Lava Mountain, Ezra wishes to remind you) made out of a green scarf that my husband turned gray in the washing machine and some big glass containers of tea leaves that he brought over from Sardinia. Despite what he says, those tea leaves which will never, ever be consumed. I'm actually quite proud of finding a use for them (three years after the move from Italy).