I've been spending a lot of time reading about the Reformation in recent weeks. Our curriculum, the Charlotte Mason inspired Ambleside Online, uses history as the organising spine. The resultant curriculum is sequenced and organised, and becomes the natural, built in skeleton for us to clothe in the rich literature for which a Charlotte Mason curriculum is known.
You can read about our Australianised AO history rotation here, but essentially AO3 which we begin in January 2010 - only a matter of a few short weeks, really, is the first year where our history diverges from the AO prescribed plan.
In AO3, students study the years 1400 - 1600. These years are titled: Renaissance to Reformation, but in reality something else very important happened during these years: In 1492 Christopher Columbus discovered America. Now while I am interested in Jemimah understanding what happened in America during these years, I don't plan on teaching American History in the depth that AO has packaged it for its predominantly American audience.
Since Australian history prior to the 1800's is obviously very limited, our solution is to spend Year 3 doing an in depth study of the Reformations of Europe and Scotland, focusing on our Reformed Presbyterian roots. In my history plan I write simply:
We study Luther, Knox and Calvin in depth during this year.
Easy to say, but now I am facing the reality of making AO3 work. I have made considerable progress, and I will explain what our plans are in coming weeks, but right now I have such notable figures as Erasmus, Huss, Luther, Wycliffe, Ursinus and Calvin haunting not only my waking hours but also my dreams!!
This Sunday is Reformation Sunday. Last year on this day I wrote a post about this occasion. I thought it was pretty good, but I doubt whether anyone except my husband ever read it since I had very few readers at that time. I thought I would reproduce much of it here today:
Traditionally the Sunday closest to 31 October, Reformation Sunday takes its date from October 31, 1517 when Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of the Wittenberg Church in Germany, sparking the Protestant Reformation.
Luther rejected the Roman Catholic teaching that sin could be absolved through papal indulgences, since he believed that grace was given by God alone.
Luther's reading of Paul's letter to the church in Rome changed his thinking profoundly:
For in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: The righteous will live by faith. Romans 1:17
He realised that the righteousness of God was not a characteristic of a fearful God - something that made it impossible for man to live up to his demands - but rather, righteousness was an activity of a loving God. God is righteous when he declares that the unrighteous who have faith shall be righteous.
The world changing ideas of Luther and other Reformers - John Calvin, William Tyndale, Thomas Cranmer, along with men who came before him - John Wycliffe and John Hus to name two - resulted in the Protestant Church of today.
The Reformers had 5 main slogans, all using the word sola, the Latin word for alone. It was this word alone that defined the true biblical Gospel and set it apart from other pretenders. Urging a return to the Scriptures as the source of all truth, the cry of these Reformers was was:
Faith alone! Grace alone! Christ alone! Scripture alone! The Glory of God alone!
With Scripture alone as the sure foundation, the Reformers affirmed that justification is by grace alone, received through faith alone because of Christ alone — for the glory of God alone.
This is not just interesting history. This is what makes us Protestants. The essential truths of the 16th Century Reformation are often blurred, ignored, denied or even forgotten in the pulpits of today's churches. This is not the time to dilute or adjust the Gospel message under the pressures of social conformity. To be a friend of the world is to be an enemy of God.
With the Reformers, let us "contend earnestly for the faith which was once for all handed down to the saints." Jude 3
May each of you enjoy a Gospel centered, God exalting Reformation Sunday this year.
I think this YouTube video is terrific. I hope you do too!
We've been having a whole heap of fun playing with Crayola's Digi-Color application since The Book Chook told us about it a week or so ago.
Below you'll see one of Jemimah's creations, followed by one of mine.
You can choose from any of Crayola's pens, markers and crayons in many different colours, and tip sizes from the pop-up palette, and then left click on the page to start drawing. You can even print what you've drawn.
Jemimah says the programme is "great!"
I say that is a little hard for left-handers. Like the rest of the world, Digi-Color is designed for the right-handed majority, and I had to move the mouse to my left hand to put in any fine detail. Even then it is a bit wonky. Oh well, Gen Y will always be better on a computer than I am.
There is lots of good stuff on the Crayola website. We signed up for the monthly e-newsletter, which gives us the heads up on what's new for each season. Of course, being in Oz it is always six months out, but the holiday stuff still works, right! Pop over and have a look around. It's fun!!
We are in crisis mode here in our Peaceful Home. Something really bad has happened, and on the sliding scale of disasters, it is about as bad as it gets.
We have a broken dishwasher.
Now you may look at me smugly at this point and say something along the lines of:-
"Oh I have a dishwasher too. It's my husband/kids/mother."
Well that may be so. It is at my in-laws' home. She cooks, he washes up. Except when we visit. Then she cooks and my beloved washes up. Sanctimoniously, I might add, because he doesn't do it here. Anyway, that's what happens. I usually manage to find something else to do like putting Jemimah to bed or tidying our room or some other chore of great significance. Whatever it is I generally feel guilty for the rest of the day and end up ironing my in-laws' underwear or socks or pyjamas or something equally grovelly.
Anyhow, if this is you then you probably shouldn't be reading this post. Come to think about it, you probably won't find much to read on my blog, because I am not a Supermum and you obviously are. Or your wife is. Whatever.
I need my dishwasher. Did you hear that? I said I NEED my dishwasher.
My husband recognises this need. He looked at me seriously over dinner on Sunday night:
Him - I know that it is unusual for me to ask this, but do you think we can eat out until the dishwasher is fixed?
Me - What? Every meal?
Him - Oh no, not every meal, only the evening ones. You don't make dishes for breakfast and lunch, do you?
He was serious too. Of course we do. Then there are the cups from all the coffees. There is a limit to the number of times that these can be reused. You can go from tea to coffee, for example, but not the other way round. Yuck.
Needless to say, we're not eating out, but I am doing the dishes so that he doesn't need to. I've already washed up today three times, and we haven't even had lunch yet. It is 2:12 pm as I write but I'm procrastinating because then I'll need to wash the plates and the glasses, the coffee cup, the chopping board and the bread knife. Ugh.
The dishwasher doctor came yesterday with his bag and his hat, and he knocked on the door with a rat-a-tat-tat. He looked at the dishwasher and he shook his head. I swear you could see those dollar signs whizzing around in his eyeballs as he looked at me gravely. "It'll be at least a week," he said. "I've never seen a dishwasher do that before."
So in the meantime I'm soaking in Palmolive. Soft hands are about the only silver lining that I can see just now.
While on the subject of Madge, anybody else think her laugh makes her sound like Witchiepoo from H. R. Pufnstuff? Anyone who reckons you should go near Palmolive three times a day just has to be evil anyhow. So there. That's what I think.
Do you ever get the idea that our nature study days are really just excuses for picnics outside?
No!!!!! What ever gives you that idea?
This very important educational excursion to Mt Korong even allowed a discussion about Major Mitchell, so there you are - nature study, history and physical education!
Whether homeschooled or not, most children eventually learn to read.
For some it is painless; without Mummy even noticing it, suddenly little Johnny is reading road signs, the cereal packet and the back of Daddy's newspaper. Before long you can't keep up with him as he devours everthing from The Boxcar Children on to Homer and Virgil.
For others the process is more difficult. Self-doubt rears its ugly head, "Who am I to think I can teach little Sally? Maybe she'd be better off in school." If we don't question ourselves, the judgemental grandparents and neighbours do it for us. There must be something wrong with him. He has bad hearing; bad eyesight; learning difficulties.
If this second group feels familiar then this little story is for you. It is the story of Jeannie Gunn teaching Bett-Bett a seven year old Aboriginal girl how to read.
The Little Black Princess of the Never-Never was written many years ago. Nowadays words like nigger, piccaninny and lubra are considered racially offensive by indigenous Australians, but they weren't back in 1905. I hope you can overlook them and enjoy the story as much as I did when I read it aloud to my family yesterday afternoon.
Yours is not the only child who has trouble learning to read.
"What name, Missus?"
I looked up to see her staring very hard at me, with a puzzled look on her face.
"What name, what?" I said, wondering what she meant.
She did not answer at once, but picked up a book, and held it so close to her face that it almost touched her nose; then staring at it till her eyes nearly jumped out of her hear, she said -
"What name, likee this? likee this? likee this?
I laughed at her and said -
"Bett-Bett, I hope I don't look like that when I read," for she looked a fearful little object. But I saw what was puzzling her;he could not understand why I sat looking so earnestly at little black marks on paper.
I explained that books could talk like 'paper yabbers,' as she called letters - papers that 'yabber,' or talk, you know.
Then I got a little ABC book, and some paper and pencils, and told her I would teach her to read; but it was easier said than done.
We began with the capital letters. Bett-Bett repeated 'A' after me, and made it on paper, then wanted to know what it was. Was it tucker, or an animal, or somebody's name?
I said it was a mark and it was called A. "What did the mark say?" she asked. "What name him yabber, Missus, this one A?" were the exact words she used.
You remember that on Goggle-Eye's letter stick marks were cut, and that every mark had a special meaning; so Bett-Bett was sure that 'A' must be the name of something.
I couldn't explain it, so told her that when she know all the names of the letters, I would tell her what they meant, and we went on to B.
The sound reminded Bett-Bett of bees and honey. "Him sugar-bag," she said, grinning at her cleverness. Then she made it in the dust with her toe, and told Sue - "Him talk sugar-bag, this one B." Sue looked wise and smelt it, and then offered to shake hands all round. And that was our first day's lesson...
...We plodded on day after day, and every day Bett-Bett gave me a hint that she did not think much of lessons.
"Me knock up longa paper yabber, Missus; him silly fellow," she kept saying.
I took no notice of her remarks, but i think the only thing either of us learned was patience.
The capitals were bad enough, but when we began the little letters, things got dreadfully mixed.
"Missus! this one no more 'A,'" said Bett-Bett, worrying over small 'a'.
I told her it was a little 'a'; but she insisted that it wasn't, and to prove it showed me a big 'A', and of course they were not a bit alike. To try and make her understand a little better, I said that capital 'A' was the mother, and little 'a' the baby. This pleased her very much.
"Me savey," she said, pointing from one to the other. "This one mumma; this one piccaninny." Then she wanted to know the baby's name; what its mother called it. She said that piccaninnies always had different names to their mamma's.
Of course, I didn't know the baby's name, and told her so...
...After this we said: "Mumma A and piccaninny belonga mumma A; mumma B and piccaninny belonga mumma B, and so on to the very end of the alphabet, till our tongues ached.
On the page Bett-Bett was learning from, every little letter was next to its mother. Little 'a' next to mumma 'A,' and little 'b' next to mumma 'B'; but in the reading lessons little letters were walking about by themselves. one day she noticed this when she was looking through the book.
"Look, missus!" she cried, excitedly. Piccaninny belong mumma 'A; sit down by meself." Then she scolded the little letter dreadfully. "You go home longa you mumma," she said, in a loud angry voice, shaking her finger at it. But small 'a' never moved; it just sat and looked at her, and Bett-bett told me it was 'cheeky fellow longa me," meaning it was not at all afraid of her. "My word! you badfellow alright," she went on, scolding hard; Debbil-debbil catch you dreckly. As little 'a' took no notice of this awful threat, she turned back to tell 'mimma A' about its naughty piccaninny. There she found that the little letter had slipped home, and was sitting quietly at its mother's lnee. She was so pleased about it.
"Look Missus," she said, coming to show me; "him goodfellow now."
"It's a very good little letter," I said, "and you're a good little lubra, and may go and help water the garden."...
The Little Black Princess of The Never-Never, Jeannie Gunn 1952 pp 47-51
Handel's father was in his mid-60s in 1685 when his son George Fridric was born. He was surgeon-barber to the duke of Saxe-Weissenfels - and he hated music. Legend has it that young George's mother managed to smuggle a clavichord up to the attic where her talented young son was able to learn to play.
By the time he was eight years old the youngster played so well that when the duke heard him playing the organ at one of the Sunday services, he insisted that Handel be allowed to study music properly, and his musical genius was quickly recognised by all. One wonders what Handel's father must have thought when he discovered his wife's actions - was it relief that he had not prevented his son doing what he clearly had such a talent for, or anger at her subterfuge? Regardless, the clavichord that young George played secretly in his own home has quite captured Jemimah's and my imagination during the time that we have been studying the life of this great composer. Imagine an instrument so quiet that you could play it undetected by people under the same roof!
Read what Handel's first biographer, John Mainwaring, had to say as early as 1760:
From his very childhood Handel had discovered such a strong propensity to Music, that his father, who always intended him for the study of the Civil Law, had reason to be alarmed. Perceiving that this inclination still increased, he took every method to oppose it. He strictly forbade him to meddle with any musical instrument; nothing of that kind was suffered to remain in the house, nor was he ever permitted to go to any other, where such kind of furniture was in use. All this caution and art, instead of restraining, did but augment his passion. He had found means to get a little clavichord privately convey’d to a room at the top of the house. To this room he constantly stole when the family was asleep. He had made some progress before Music had been prohibited, and by his assiduous practice at hours of rest, had made such farther advances, as, tho’ not attended to at that time, were no slight prognostications of his future greatness.
Memoirs of the Life of the Late George Frederic Handel, John Mainwaring 1760p 426.
The exceptional musicologist, conductor and clavichord player, Christopher Hogwood, even sheds light on what young Handel may have played. According to Hogwood, William Coxe in 1799 described a manuscript keyboard book from Handel’s schooling with his first music teacher, Friederich Zachow, the organist at the Lutheran Church in Halle, Handel's birthplace:
...it contains various airs, choruses, capricios, fugues, and other pieces of music, with the names of contemporary musicians, such as Zackau, Alberti, Frobergher, Krieger, Kerl, Ebner, Strunch. They were probably exercises adopted at pleasure, or dictated for him to work upon, by his master. The composition is uncommonly scientific, and contains the seeds of many of his subsequent performances.
Anecdotes of George Frederick Handel and John Christopher Smith William Coxe 1799 p. 6n.
This TouTube video features a replica of a very rare fretted clavichord, the 1726 Ugo Annibale Traeri. The instrument, which today resides in the Maidstone Museum in England, is reputed to have belonged to Handel himself. It is extremely compact, at only 32" wide, and would have been ideal to smuggle up a narrow internal staircase. Have a listen, and imagine young Handel playing his little heart out in his attic with perhaps his mother as his audience.
Ah yes, the man had a 'musical propensity' indeed.
I can see the day rapidly approaching when I shall need to sleep in the garage because children's books will have overwhelmed my entire house not just the study. Anyone who tells you that books are inanimate objects that cannot multiply of their own volition is just plain wrong.
How are you this fine spring morning? I hope you're feeling on top of the world and all that! I am, despite my two oopses.
Firstly, I'm glad that some of you have discovered that I've given you awards. Hurrah - you deserve them too. I totally mean to notify you all but I just haven't. Sorry. Hope Monday will be okay? Please?
Also, on a totally different but similarly important matter, the Tooth Fairy forgot to come last night. Oops. What should I do now? I would really appreciate your scholarly wisdom and advice over this one...
Finally, this is a pic of the Cape Leeuwin Lighthouse on the most South-Westerly tip of Australia, where the Indian and Southern Oceans meet. I put it here for no reason other than I like it and we were there. I hope you like it too.
We're reading Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales as our family read-aloud right now, and I'm not finding it a pleasant experience. In fact, all too often as we approach the end of a story, I find my stomach clenching into ever tightening knots as I come to realise what the outcome of yet another tale will be. Although there is significant humour in much of Andersen's work, the overriding emotion is a deep sadness. The little match girl dies, the little mermaid's prince marries another, little Ida's flowers die and are buried, and even after Karen endures the loss of her feet as punishment for her disobedience and pride and her covetousness for the red shoes - and despite the fact that she repents - she still dies from a broken heart after all. Even stories that end well wrench at our heartstrings on the way - I can barely read The Ugly Duckling without crying; likewise Thumbelina and The Wild Swans. No, Anderson's tales are not modern feel-good-happily-ever-after stories. Not at all.
Despite this we return day after day to our lovely old book with its green cover and beautiful colour plates to immerse ourselves in a book of miserable tales that were written more than 150 years ago. Why is this so? We return because Hans Christian Andersen's stories are amongst the greatest fairy tales ever written. They are as fresh and exciting today as they were to the children of Andersen's own generation. They have an inherent goodness about them - they talk of kindness, goodness, love and hope, but above all they speak about trust in an all faithful, all loving God. The stories are deeply Christian, and yet they never preach. They talk about what is bad in our fallen world, but they also show what is good, and they do it in a way that children understand and that children love. We might feel sad at the end of a story, but we never feel hopeless, and we never feel alone.
Imagine a childhood devoid of such wonderful tales as The Emperor's New Clothes, The Ugly Duckling, Thumbelina, The Snow Queen or The Little Mermaid. On second thoughts, don't. It doesn't bear thinking about.
If you don't think that your children - or in fact, you - can cope with the entire anthology of Andersen's works then at least read them some individual stories. Marcia Brown's version of The Steadfast Tin Soldier is terrific, and I am particularly fond of Virginia Lee Burton's The Emperor's New Clothes.
Reading Hans Christian Andersen aloud is an interesting experience. His works are full of comedy and comment aimed at adult readers rather than their children.
I seize on an idea for grown-ups,and then tell the story to the little ones while always remembering that Father and Mother often listen, and you must also give them something for their minds.
Like me you may not find reading Hans Christian Andersen pleasant. You will be glad however, that you've done so. So will your children.
We read it in AO2.
The Real Princess
There was once a Prince who wished to marry a Princess; but then she must be a real Princess. He travelled all over the world in hopes of finding such a lady; but there was always something wrong. Princesses he found in plenty; but whether they were real Princesses it was impossible for him to decide, for now one thing, now another, seemed to him not quite right about the ladies. At last he returned to his palace quite cast down, because he wished so much to have a real Princess for his wife.
One evening a fearful tempest arose, it thundered and lightened, and the rain poured down from the sky in torrents: besides, it was as dark as pitch.
All at once there was heard a violent knocking at the door, and the old King, the Prince's father, went out himself to open it.
It was a Princess who was standing outside the door. What with the rain and the wind, she was in a sad condition; the water trickled down from her hair, and her clothes clung to her body. She said she was a real Princess.
"Ah! we shall soon see that!" thought the old Queen-mother; however, she said not a word of what she was going to do; but went quietly into the bedroom, took all the bed-clothes off the bed, and put three little peas on the bedstead. She then laid twenty mattresses one upon another over the three peas, and put twenty feather beds over the mattresses.
Upon this bed the Princess was to pass the night.
The next morning she was asked how she had slept. "Oh, very badly indeed!" she replied. "I have scarcely closed my eyes the whole night through. I do not know what was in my bed, but I had something hard under me, and am all over black and blue.It has hurt me so much!"
Now it was plain that the lady must be a real Princess, since she had been able to feel the three little peas through the twenty mattresses and twenty feather beds. None but a real Princess could have had such a delicate sense of feeling.
The Prince accordingly made her his wife; being now convinced that he had found a real Princess. The three peas were however put into the cabinet of curiosities, where they are still to be seen, provided they are not lost.
Sarah has given me an almost impossible task. Read it here:
I have begun a list of 'not to miss children's books' for my children to read. Would you be so kind to list, just off the top of your head 5-10 books that you would place on this list. That would be so cool.
Selecting 10 Aussie books to place on the list was pretty near impossible for me too.
Still, at risk of being totally lambasted, here are my ten:
Dot and the Kangaroo Ethel Pedley Tales of Snugglepot and Cuddlepie May Gibbs Animalia Graeme Base My Place Nadia Wheatley Magic Pudding Norman Lindsay Seven Little Australians Ethel Turner Silver Brumby Elyne Mitchell Storm Boy Colin Thiele Ash Road Ivan Southall Picnic at Hanging Rock Joan Lindsay
It is a hopelessly incomplete list I know. What about Pastures of the Blue Crane? Tangara? Blinky Bill? Stradbroke Dreamtime? Are We There Yet? Where are Mem Fox and Shaun Tan? Australia has some incredibly terrific literature - that's what my blog is all about - telling you about it, and encouraging you to read it to your kids!!
Anyhow, I'm going to toss Sarah's question over to you. What would you add to my list? What would you omit? Do share. The only hitch is this. Sarah asked for 10 books max. In order to add something to my list you must remove something else to fit in your choice. Sound fair? One more thing: Sarah said, "off the top of your head". Don't spend too much time researching this - I didn't.
When I was a child it was common to put honey on children's dummies. I don't know why, but my mother, a trained dietitian by profession, chose instead to use Vegemite on mine. Apparently she was not alone. This strange decision probably saved me from botulism poisoning, but is also likely to be a contributing factor in my great love for the smelly black stuff to this day. I have Vegemite spread on multigrain toast for breakfast every day (except when hubby makes pancakes). I even carry a tube with me when I travel. I spread it really, really thickly - almost as thickly as Jemimah spreads Nutella. My family thinks I am very strange.
My father emigrated to Australia from Scotland in his early 20s. My Australian-born mother and he attempted to keep his culture alive as we were growing up. As a consequence I learned Highland Dancing from a young age and can still dance a pretty good Highland Fling. I also earned the bagpipes and played in our school's Pipe Band. We sang Scottish songs. Even now, The Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen transports me instantly back to my childhood and singing during long journeys in the car. Robbie Burns is my favourite poet, only we called him Rabbie, and I can recite To a Mouse without a mistake.
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty Wi bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murdering pattle.
I'm truly sorry man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor, earth born companion An' fellow mortal!
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request; I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, An' never miss't.
Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! An' bleak December's win's ensuin, Baith snell an' keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' weary winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell.
That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An' cranreuch cauld.
But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy!
Still thou are blest, compared wi' me! The present only toucheth thee: But och! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear!
On that same note, I am passionate about the preservation of the Scots language and understand even the broadest Scots with ease, although I am unable to speak it owing primarily to an inability to 'roll my R'. I would have a speech impediment if I lived in Scotland! Geordie's Mingin Medicine, translated by Matthew Fitt from George's Marvellous Medicine by Roald Dahl is my favourite children's book in Scots:
Geordie's Grannie wis a grabbie crabbit auld wumman wi peeliewally broon teeth and a wee snirkit-up mooth like a dug's bahookie. She wis aye compleenin, girnin, greetin, grummlin and mulligrumphin aboot somethin or ither. She wis a meeserable auld grumph.
When my cousin, David Thompson MSP was elected to Scottish Parliament in 2007, he made his swearing in vows in English, Scots and Gaelic.
I collect the antique blue and white pottery known as Asiatic Pheasant. When I first started to collect it I used it on a regular basis, but since that time it has become more collectible and scarcer and the value has risen to such an extent that I rarely use it nowadays. I no longer buy it for myself, but have been given some particularly beautiful pieces by my work colleagues in recent years and so my collection continues to grow. I do not like the modern reproduction pieces at all.
My favourite pieces are a soup tureen complete with plate stand and ladle, and a sugar basin set. I long to find a pink piece, but the only plate I have ever seen was cracked and was not worth the exorbitant asking price. I do have purple and grey examples though. I will post pics of my collection one day.
I dislike the word 'got' immensely. I will rephrase a sentence immediately if I discover I have used it inadvertently. This stems from a teacher of my mother's, who told her - in her impressionable youth - that it was an ugly word . Say it aloud a few times and see if you don't agree - got got got. See?
I still use 'gotta' though. Go figure.
I am a sweet tooth although I rarely eat sweet things. My favourite lollies are 'bananas' and 'strawberries and creams' - both by Allens. I shared this with my maternal grandmother and this was a good thing because she always had a big lolly jar full of them when I visited. I also love caramel butters. This has not altered since my Primary School years.
I am descended from John Knox.
I have climbed to Taktshang Goemba - the Tiger's Nest - 3,120 metres above sea level. If you know how much I dislike climbing hills you would know just how much of an achievement this actually is.
I have eaten horse, dog, frog, grasshoppers and snake, witchety grubs, sea snails, sea cucumbers and sea urchin. I don't much like offal, but love haggis probably due to #2 above.
I find it difficult to give my testimony because I cannot remember a time that I did not know Christ as my Lord and Saviour. I pray daily that my daughter may also come to know him as her Saviour early in life. My husband's testimony, on the other hand, is fascinating - and not only to his wife.
I have a high arched palate, but do not have either Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome nor Marfan Sydrome. The roof of my mouth does, however, excite every dentist I have ever seen, who then seems very disappointed when I tell him/her than I suffer from neither of these hereditary connective tissue disorders.
I have not dyed my hair for about 20 years. During my university years, however, it was a number of interesting colours including bright beetroot pink. My mother encouraged me very much in this interesting experiment, and seemed rather disappointed that I did not continue with the trendsetting styles. I am sad that I do not have a photograph of myself taken during this time, but do still have friends who remember!! I used to pair my beetroot-locks with a pink only wardrobe. My favourite item of clothing was a pink houndtooth coat bought from an Op shop in Lygon Street. My mother was responsible for the coat as well.
This post has taken far too much of my valuable time - and also that of my beloved, without whom the list would have been far shorter, and much less interesting and varied. If you want to know anything new about us I shall have to write about him instead!! I have only completed this monumentally frivolous task in order to receive the two awards that have been so kindly bestowed on me - provided I could come up with this list. Now that the list is done, I'm going to accept the reward with alacrity!!
Okay, this first exciting award is from Ganeida at Ganeida's Knots! Wow, thank you so much!!
These are the rules:
1. Thank the person who gave this to you - done 2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog - done 3. Link the person who nominated you - done. 4. Name 7 things about yourself that no one would really know - done. That'll be 1-7 above. 5. Nominate 7 other bloggers & let them know they are nominated. Ummm not yet done...
Okay, let's see:
Joyfulmum from her eponymously named blog, Joyfulmum, who is one of the mums who most encourages me to keep writing.
Jillian at Homeschooling4Christ who has gifted me with many awards and whose own blog continually inspires me.
Hopewell at Hopewell Takes on Life!, whose kids are older than Jemimah and who always has helpful advice on my curriculum choices. She also makes me laugh with her ascerbic wit.
I follow so many good blogs. In this megalist I've tried to spread the bloggy love around a bit. My close bloggy friends know who they are. if you're name is not here it doesn't mean I don't love you or your blog. It just means that I'd like to introduce you so some other people who write terrific stuff that I like to read.
Thanks Jillian and Ganeida. Your endorsement of A Peaceful Day means a lot to me. To those to whom I pass on these awards, I think your blogs are terrific. To the rest of you I hope you enjoy learning a little bit more about me! It was fun compiling the list!
PS If you've enjoyed learning a little more about me then you may enjoy reading this!
Truly nothing. Which is surprising, because generally I have plenty. Today I have no Aussie book reviews, no funny stories, no homeschooling tips, and nothing to show you from our recent holidays. I guess you're all sick of reading about our time away by now anyhow.
I have plenty of posts half written, and dozens in my head, but today I can't get myself inspired do the research to get them to the 'publish' stage.
So anyhow, I thought I would hand the baton to you. Are you a lurker? If you are then there are lots like you. Who are you? Why do you visit? Introduce yourself and start a conversation. Ask me a question. Tell me what you wish I was writing on. What do you hope you'll find here when you type A Peaceful Day into your browser?
If you can't be bothered doing all that, then I guess I'll be back tomorrow. A Jeanne with nothing to say can't last more than a day or so...can it?
I'm busy today. I started making our my booklist for AO3 last night, and because I need to 'invent' an Australianised year, this is taking a lot longer than it has taken in past years. Also, the curriculum in Year 3 gives many alternative choices, and I'm having a hard time making decisions. Decision making is always difficult when you're a procrastinator like me.
What do you reckon - should we study Da Vinci or Michelangelo? Shakespeare or Queen Elizabeth I? Should we do Squanto in addition to biographies of Burke and Wills and Ned Kelly or just study the Aussies alone? What about American Tall Tales? Worth it because of their literary usage or substitute for something Australian? We'll probably read Storm Boy, Seven Little Australians and the first Billabong book, A Little Bush Maid for Aussie lit. I'll finalise what else later. I'd like to fit in The Flyaway Highway by Norman Lindsay if we can, to capitalise on the success we've had with The Magic Pudding this year, but we'll need to check the schedule first. I have decided on Animals of Australia in Colour by Lyla Stevens for Aussie Natural History along with one or possibly two C K Thompson books, one on a mammal and one on a bird.
We're studying the Reformers next year because Australia hasn't been discovered yet - well, the Dutch will make a bit of an investigation but this will hardly fill a whole year of history, so it seems to be the ideal time to study the history of our church in depth since the timeline is right. I've already decided what we'll use for this - I'll post it shortly.
In addition to all this, it is a beautiful day. Far too beautiful to be blogging - or curriculum planning for that matter. I'm off for a walk.
I subscribe to the Department of Education and Early Childhood Development's email newsletter for parents of Victorian school children, Parent Update. I am always interested to hear what is going on in our local State schools, and generally find at least one article of interest. The October 16th edition was no exception and contained information on Victoria's performance in the NAPLAN tests.
Standing for National Assessment Program Literacy and Numeracy, the NAPLAN tests were (as the name implies) implemented Australia-wide last year for school children in Year 3, 5, 7 and 9. They test students in Reading, Writing, Language Conventions (Spelling, Grammar and Punctuation) and Numeracy. NAPLAN test results allow schools and systems to compare their students’ achievements against national standards and with student achievement in other states and territories. It also allows the monitoring over time. The National Summary Report: Achievement in Reading, Writing, Language Conventions and Numeracy 2009is available online on the NAPLAN website. On the website you'll also find pdf downloads of the the Literacy and Numeracy tests for 2008 and 2009.
Now this gave me an idea.
Many of you, I know, use homeschooling curricula that regularly test your children's progress in major subject areas. Those of you who like me choose the Charlotte Mason method of educating and testing will be less sure where their children fit in relation to their State educated peers. Now this is not an issue per se. One of the main advantages of homeschooling to me is the opportunity it provides for me to tailor Jemimah's education to her academic needs, interests and, in particular, temperament, rather than having to accommodate the varying standards displayed by a class of 20 Grade 1 school students of varying abilities. Still, I was curious.
I administered the Year 3 numeracy test last Friday. You may recall that 7yo Jemimah is in Year 1, but is currently midway through MEP maths Year 3. I hoped that the standards would be similar. They were. Despite never having sat a test of any type before, Jemimah scored 29/35, or 82.85%. Her results placed her within the range of Level 5 or 6 (it is difficult to gauge precisely without the assessment tool), considerably above the majority of Victorian Year 3 students. I was very excited; her Daddy was very relieved. This was a concrete way for me to demonstrate her abilities.
This result gave me the confidence to administer the Year 3 reading test today. Well, my clever Grade 1er achieved 100%. Wow!! Imagine what Daddy is going to say about this one!!
Now before you dismiss this post as that of a proud and boasting mummy (which I'll admit I am, rather), please note that I won't be asking Jemimah to complete the Language Conventions or Writing tests any time soon. Don't forget, we're Charlotte Masoners. These things absolutely mustn't be attempted before year 4. That gives me a few years, doesn't it? Jemimah's spelling is appalling, dreadful, horrifying, dire, dismaying, terrible, ghastly and grim. I won't be showing you these results for quite some time.
Miss Mason assures me that good spelling comes with exposure to living books. I will be patient.
If you, like me are vaguely interested in where your child rates, hope over to the NAPLAN website and have a look around. You, like me, may be pleasantly surprised.
It has been raining, and the Avoca River is flowing. Hurrah!
While on the subject of water, on the 14th October our water restrictions went from the highest Stage 4 back to the lowest Stage 1. Over night. Without warning.
While I am exceedingly excited about the possibilities this presents for our drought stricken garden, I am also rather bemused. Last week I couldn't water anything; this week I can water my lawn, and even wash my car. Has anything really changed, or is Grampians Water concerned because less water use means less revenue?
On a significantly less political note, here's a particularly delicious pic of my beloved taken yesterday at the river.
I complained about having to go away on the weekend, after all we'd only been home from WA a week. I haven't even told you all about Margaret River yet!
Anyhow, go we must - hubby had a conference - one of those non-negotiable types - and so I begrudgingly organised another weekend's accommodation for Audrey, our beloved family hound, and we piled into the car on Friday to travel to Lancefield, a wine growing region between Melbourne and Bendigo. I wasn't expecting to have a good time.
Of course, we did.
It helped that we were staying here:
There were beautiful ducks on the lake...
...alpacas and long haired cows in the paddocks...
...along with my favourite highland cattle. Jemimah fell in love with the pet rabbits...
...she investigated the humongous fungi...
...and enjoyed the tingle of the electric fence.
Now all this was good - great even, but wait - there's more...
As Ruby so kindly pointed out last week, I am a 'Book Tragic'. there is nothing that makes me as happy as an independent bookshop. I found four on the weekend. Yes, four. This area of Victoria is a bibliophile's dream!! (Bibliophile is a much nicer term for Book Tragic!)
Woodend Bookshop was best. At this marvellous secondhand bookstore I discovered:
Pastures of the Blue Crane by Hesba Brinsmead
A lovely illustrated version of Little Lord Fauntleroy by F H Burnett published in 1909
The Little Girl at Capernaum by Enid Blyton
Sun on the Stubble by Colin Thiele
Bush Ballads and Galloping Rhymes - Poetical works of Adam Lindsay Gordon
Around the Boree Log by 'John O'Brien'
The Adventurous Four and The Adventurous Four Again, both by Enid Blyton
Van Loon's Lives by H W Van Loon.
I also bought a new book. It is called 1001 Children's Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up. At $65.00 it cost more than all of my secondhand book purchases added together and then some, but it is truly marvellous. I am so excited! Oh, I am such a Book Tragic! To buy books about buying books is truly sick.
We travelled home last night, detouring through Kyneton and visiting the Boggy Creek Mineral Springs on the way, and I couldn't help reflecting on what a wonderful weekend it had been. I may still have suitcases to unpack from WA, but who cares in the long term? It will happen eventually, and that is probably soon enough.
How many of you enjoy the Children's Address during the Sunday church service not only for what it can teach your children but for what you learn from it yourself? If you look this way you'll see my hand waving high. I do. The simple explanations and practical demonstrations seem to help to cement even difficult theological concepts in my aged brain in a way that not even the best adult books and sermons can. Don't know what that says about me - that I'm simple perhaps? That I'm not a deep thinker? That I'm childish? Probably all three...
I've recently been reading Discovering Jesus in Genesisby Susan Hunt and her son Richie Hunt with Jemimah during our morning devotions, and I was particularly struck by this simple example of what it means to reflect God's glory.
The story takes place when young Cassie and Caleb and their mum and dad are having evening devotions after dinner:
So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. 1 Corinthians 10:31
"Hey, you two," laughed their dad, "let's talk about this. Do you know what it means to glorify God?"
"Sort of," said Cassie. "But I don't know how to explain it."
"Let me see if I can help you," Dad offered. "God's glory is the beauty and goodness of His character. We glorify Him when we reflect His character. Do you know what reflect means?"
Caleb scratched his head. "We've been studying about the moon reflecting the light from the sun. Is that the same thing?"
"Bingo!" said his dad. "That's the perfect example. How much light does the moon have?"
"None," said Caleb. "The light we see is the reflection of the sun's light bouncing off the moon."
"Exactly. Now, my young astronomer, why do we sometimes see a full moon and sometimes just a little sliver of the moon?"
Caleb could hardly wait to answer. He loved books about the solar system, and he loved to talk about it. "It all depends on the position of the moon as it travels around the earth," he explained. "The position of the moon determines how much of it reflects sunlight to earth."
"So," asked his dad, "what does all of this teach us about reflecting the light of God's glory?"
"I think I understand," Caleb said, intrigued. "We are like the moon. We have no light of our own. And I guess we have to be in the right position to reflect God's glory."
Cassie stared at her brother in wonder. "That's so cool," she said.
Their dad wanted to be sure they understood. "You see," he explained, "when we are in a right relationship with the Lord Jesus, we will reflect His glory. We will be more and more like Him. We will show His goodness. What do you think moves us away from the right position to reflect His glory?"
"I'm not sure," answered Cassie, "but I'll bet it's sin."
"Bingo again!" said their dad. "So when we sin, we must quickly ask God to forgive us so that we get back in the right position to reflect His glory. And remember, 1 Corinthians 10:31 says that we are to glorify God in everything we do. In our work and in our play, in how we worship God and in how we treat others, in what we think and what we say--in all of life we are to glorify God."
Discovering Jesus in Genesis, by Susan Hunt and Richie Hunt Chapter 10, page 55-56.
A little bit of Tudor England in the heart of Perth, London Court is gorgeously kitch retail walkway built as a combination of residential and commercial premises for wealthy gold miner and financier, Claude de Bernales, in 1937. It's a must see tourist attraction right in the middle of the city.
Nowadays, it is Perth's old rag-trade district, the 'West End' that is the place to see and be seen. King Street contains the 'labels', both international and local with Gucci on the corner and the recently opened Tiffany and Co. further along. Sadly the budget didn't lend itself to a three carat diamond pendant on this trip though...
Zekka has great coffee that we can afford, and intriguing menswear that we probably don't want to. Not quite the kind of stuff I can imagine my beloved wearing anytime soon - click the link for their blog to see what I mean. Love in Tokyo, on the other hand is just my style. Sheree Dornan's funky store contains lovely kimono prints and super Japanese East-West fusion style. Loved it. Loved the Sheree Dornan signature label silks too.
We headed around the corner to Shafto Lane for a 'burger as it should be' from Burger Bistro before wandering back to our hotel for an afternoon nap to allow our food to digest before dinner. We were staying at The Richardson, and their beautiful restaurant Opus at The Richardson is one of Perth's most glamorous dining experiences. They're child friendly too, with a kids' menu containing more than nuggets and chips, and understanding waiters.
You certainly need more than a day to properly explore Perth's city, but we saw enough to know that we'll be back.
If you don't have fish 'n' chips on the waterfront it's just not a holiday at the beach.
The quiet seaside town of Rockingham, some 47 km south of Perth is home to Betty Blue. Never in my life have I had better fish 'n' chips than the ones we ate here last week.
You can click on the mosaic to see it in large size if you like!
Rosamund and the Purple Jar, 1900, Henry Tonks 1862-1937
Rosamond, a little girl about seven years old, was walking with her mother in the streets of London. As she passed along she looked in at the windows of several shops, and saw a great variety of different sorts of things, of which she did not know the use, or even the names. She wished to stop to look at them, but there was a great number of people in the streets, and a great many carts, carriages, and wheelbarrows, and she was afraid to let go her mother's hand.
"Oh, mother, how happy I should be," she said, as she passed a toy-shop, "if I had all these pretty things!"
"What, all! Do you wish for them all, Rosamond?"
"Yes, mamma, all."
As she spoke they came to a milliner's shop, the windows of which were decorated with ribbons and lace, and festoons of artificial flowers.
"Oh, mamma, what beautiful roses! Won't you buy some of them?"
"No, my dear."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want them, my dear."
They went a little farther, and came to another shop, which caught Rosamond's eye. It was a jeweler's shop, and in it were a great many pretty baubles, ranged in drawers behind glass.
"Mamma, will you buy some of these?"
"Which of them, Rosamond?"
"Which? I don't know which; any of them will do, for they are all pretty."
"Yes, they are all pretty; but of what use would they be to me?"
"Use! Oh, I am sure you could find some use or other for them if you would only buy them first." "But I would rather find out the use first."
"Well, then, mamma, there are buckles; you know that buckles are useful things, very useful things."
"I have a pair of buckles; I don't want another pair," said her mother, and walked on.
Rosamond was very sorry that her mother wanted nothing. Presently, however, they came to a shop, which appeared to her far more beautiful than the rest. It was a chemist's shop, but she did not know that.
"Oh, mother, oh!" cried she, pulling her mother's hand, "look, look! blue, green, red, yellow, and purple! Oh, mamma, what beautiful things! Won't you buy some of these?"
Still her mother answered, as before, "Of what use would they be to me, Rosamond?"
"You might put flowers in them, mamma, and they would look so pretty on the chimney-piece. I wish I had one of them."
"You have a flower-pot," said her mother, "and that is not a flower-pot."
"But I could use it for a flower-pot, mamma, you know."
"Perhaps if you were to see it nearer, if you were to examine it you might be disappointed."
"No, indeed, I'm sure I should not; I should like it exceedingly."
Rosamond kept her head turned to look at the purple vase, till she could see it no longer.
"Then, mother," said she, after a pause, "perhaps you have no money."
"Yes, I have."
"Dear me, if I had money I would buy roses, and boxes, and buckles, and purple flower-pots, and everything." Rosamond was obliged to pause in the midst of her speech.
"Oh, mamma, would you stop a minute for me? I have got a stone in my shoe; it hurts me very much."
"How came there to be a stone in your shoe?"
"Because of this great hole, mamma,—it comes in there; my shoes are quite worn out. I wish you would be so very good as to give me another pair."
"Nay, Rosamond, but I have not money enough to buy shoes, and flower-pots, and buckles, and boxes, and everything."
Rosamond thought that was a great pity. But now her foot, which had been hurt by the stone, began to give her so much pain that she was obliged to hop every other step, and she could think of nothing else. They came to a shoemaker's shop soon afterwards.
"There, there! mamma, there are shoes; there are little shoes that would just fit me, and you know shoes would be really of use to me."
"Yes, so they would, Rosamond. Come in."
She followed her mother into the shop.
Mr Sole the shoemaker, had a great many customers, and his shop was full, so they were obliged to wait.
"Well, Rosamond," said her mother, "you don't think this shop so pretty as the rest?"
"No, not nearly; it is black and dark, and there are nothing but shoes all round; and, besides, there's a very disagreeable smell."
"That smell is the smell of new leather."
"Is it? Oh!" said Rosamond, looking round, "there is a pair of little shoes; they'll just fit me, I'm sure."
"Perhaps they might; but you cannot be sure till you have tried them on, any more than you can be quite sure that you should like the purple vase exceedingly, till you have examined it more attentively."
"Why, I don't know about the shoes, certainly, till I have tried; but, mamma, I am quite sure that I should like the flower-pot."
"Well, which would you rather have, a jar or a pair of shoes? I will buy either for you."
"Dear mamma, thank you—but if you could buy both?"
"No, not both."
"Then the jar, if you please."
"But I should tell you, that in that case I shall not give you another pair of shoes this month."
"This month! that's a very long time, indeed! You can't think how these hurt me; I believe I'd better have the new shoes. Yet, that purple flower-pot. Oh, indeed, mamma, these shoes are not so very, very bad! I think I might wear them a little longer, and the month will soon be over. I can make them last till the end of the month, can't I? Don't you think so, mamma?"
"Nay, my dear, I want you to think for yourself; you will have time enough to consider the matter, while I speak to Mr Sole about my clogs."
Mr. Sole was by this time at leisure, and while her mother was speaking to him, Rosamond stood in profound meditation, with one shoe on, and the other in her hand.
"Well, my dear, have you decided?"
"Mamma!—yes,—I believe I have. If you please, I should like to have the flower-pot; that is, if you won't think me very silly, mamma."
"Why, as to that, I can't promise you, Rosamond; but when you have to judge for yourself you should choose what would make you happy, and then it would not signify who thought you silly."
"Then, mamma, if that's all, I'm sure the flower-pot would make me happy," said she, putting on her old shoe again; "so I choose the flower-pot."
"Very well, you shall have it; clasp your shoe and come home."
Rosamond clasped her shoe and ran after her mother. It was not long before the shoe came down at the heel, and many times she was obliged to stop to take the stones out of it, and she often limped with pain; but still the thoughts of the purple flower-pot prevailed, and she persisted in her choice.
When they came to the shop with the large window, Rosamond felt much pleasure upon hearing her mother desire the servant, who was with them, to buy the purple jar, and bring it home. He had other commissions, so he did not return with them. Rosamond, as soon as she got in, ran to gather all her own flowers, which she kept in a corner of her mother's garden.
"I am afraid they'll be dead before the flower-pot comes, Rosamond," said her mother to her, as she came in with the flowers in her lap.
"No, indeed, mamma, it will come home very soon, I dare say. I shall be very happy putting them into the purple flower-pot."
"I hope so, my dear."
The servant was much longer returning home than Rosamond had expected; but at length he came, and brought with him the long-wished-for jar. The moment it was set down upon the table, Rosamond ran up to it with an exclamation of joy: "I may have it now, mamma?"
"Yes, my dear, it is yours."
Rosamond poured the flowers from her lap upon the carpet, and seized the purple flower-pot.
"Oh, dear, mother!" cried she, as soon as she had taken off the top, "but there's something dark in it which smells very disagreeably. What is it? I didn't want this black stuff."
"Nor I, my dear."
"But what shall I do with it, mamma?"
"That I cannot tell."
"It will be of no use to me, mamma."
"That I cannot help."
"But I must pour it out, and fill the flower-pot with water."
"As you please, my dear."
"Will you lend me a bowl to pour it into, mamma?"
"That was more than I promised you, my dear; but I will lend you a bowl."
The bowl was produced, and Rosamond proceeded to empty the purple vase. But she experienced much surprise and disappointment, on finding, when it was entirely empty, that it was no longer a purple vase. It was a plain white glass jar, which had appeared to have that beautiful color merely from the liquor with which it had been filled.
Little Rosamond burst into tears.
"Why should you cry, my dear?" said her mother; "it will be of as much use to you now as ever, for a flower-pot."
"But it won't look so pretty on the chimney-piece. I am sure, if I had known that it was not really purple, I should not have wished to have it so much."
"But didn't I tell you that you had not examined it; and that perhaps you would be disappointed?"
"And so I am disappointed, indeed. I wish I had believed you at once. Now I had much rather have the shoes, for I shall not be able to walk all this month; even walking home that little way hurt me exceedingly. Mamma, I will give you the flower-pot back again, and that purple stuff and all, if you'll only give me the shoes."
"No, Rosamond; you must abide by your own choice; and now the best thing you can possibly do is to bear your disappointment with good humor."
"I will bear it as well as I can," said Rosamond, wiping her eyes; and she began slowly and sorrowfully to fill the vase with flowers.
But Rosamond's disappointment did not end here. Many were the difficulties and distresses into which her imprudent choice brought her, before the end of the month.
Every day her shoes grew worse and worse, till as last she could neither run, dance, jump, nor walk in them.
Whenever Rosamond was called to see anything, she was detained pulling her shoes up at the heels, and was sure to be too late.
Whenever her mother was going out to walk, she could not take Rosamond with her, for Rosamond had no soles to her shoes; and at length, on the very last day of the month, it happened that her father proposed to take her with her brother to a glass-house, which she had long wished to see. She was very happy; but, when she was quite ready, had her hat and gloves on, and was making haste downstairs to her brother and father, who were waiting for her at the hall door, the shoe dropped off. She put it on again in a great hurry, but, as she was going across the hall, her father turned round.
"Why are you walking slipshod? no one must walk slipshod with me. Why, Rosamond," said he, looking at her shoes with disgust, "I thought that you were always neat; no, I cannot take you with me."
Rosamond colored and retired.
"Oh, mamma," said she as she took off her hat, "how I wish that I had chosen the shoes! They would have been of so much more use to me than that jar: however, I am sure, no, not quite sure, but I hope I shall be wiser another time."
The Parents Assistant by Maria Edgeworth 1796
Natural consequences are the 'masterly activity' of discipline. Employing them means that our kids learn from the natural consequence of their behaviour, rather than Mummy and Daddy explaining what could have happened. Best of all, Mummy is not the punishing ogre with natural consequences - they involve little or no involvement from me - other than the strength to carry the natural result through. This is a lesson that teaches itself.
Natural consequences are not always easy for Mummy and Daddy. I'm sure Rosamond's mother found it especially difficult to see her daughter's distress right through to the end of the month, and I'm sure I should not have shown the fortitude of character she did. Nevertheless, I find this method of discipline particularly useful with Jemimah, and so I fight my natural urge to take charge and 'fix' the problem which would have undermined the instructional value of the natural lesson. Jemimah's Daddy on the other hand is more liable to limit the value of the lesson by using the incident as an 'I told you so' moment, adding a lecture to the natural consequence. He also needs to practice masterly activity, no matter how unnatural this feels.
Charlotte Mason refers twice to the story of The Purple Jar in her Homeschooling Series. In this first quote she uses the tale to illustrate exactly what I have been discussing above:
Rewards and Punishments should be relative Consequences of Conduct
In considering the means of securing attention, it has been necessary to refer to discipline - the dealing out of rewards and punishments, - a subject which every tyro of a nursery maid or nursery governess feels herself very competent to handle. But this, too, has its scientific aspect: there is a law by which all rewards and punishments should be regulated: they should be natural, or, at any rate, the relative consequences of conduct; should imitate, as nearly as may be without injury to the child, the treatment which such and such conduct deserves and receives in after life. Miss Edgeworth, in her story of Rosamond and the Purple Jar, hits the right principle, though the incident is rather extravagant. Little girls do not often pine for purple jars in chemists' windows; but that we should suffer for our willfulness in getting what is unnecessary by going without what is necessary, is precisely one of the lessons of life we all have to learn, and therefore is the right sort of lesson to teach a child.
Natural and Elective Consequences
It is evident that to administer rewards and punishments on this principle requires patient consideration and steady determination on the mother's part. She must consider with herself what fault of disposition the child's misbehaviour springs from; she must aim her punishment at that fault, and must brace herself to see her child suffer present loss for his lasting gain. Indeed, exceedingly little actual punishment is necessary where children are brought up with care. But this happens continually - the child who has done well gains some natural reward (like that ten minutes in the garden), which the child forfeits who has done less well; and the mother must brace herself and her child to bear this loss; if she equalise the two children she commits a serious wrong, not against the child who has done well, but against the defaulter, whom she deliberately encourages to repeat his shortcoming. In placing her child under the discipline of consequences, the mother must use much tact and discretion. In many cases, the natural consequence of the child's fault is precisely that which it is her business to avert, while, at the same time, she looks about for some consequence related to the fault which shall have an educative bearing on the child: for instance, if a boy neglects his studies, the natural consequences is that he remains ignorant; but to allow him to do so would be criminal neglect on the part of the parent.
Charlotte Mason Home Education pp148-149
I must say, I smiled when I read her thought that the incident in The Purple Jar is rather extravagant because little girls do not often pine for purple jars in chemists' windows. She clearly does not know my little girl!!
We had the opportunity to put lesson of the purple jar into practice in our home recently. In Jemimah's case it was not a purple jar but a box of Aqua Sand:
Looks great in the promo, doesn't it? Only it's not going to work quite the way they describe it, is it? How are you going to sort the sand colours? How do you get the sand out and back into the right bottles? How are you going to instantly learn the sand sculpting skills - are they magically included in the box? Nope - I don't think so.
Jemimah had earned a reward. She had finally stopped biting her nails. Anybody who has battled with this problem knows just how hard she had worked to beat this terrible habit, and how much she deserved this reward. She was given several choices - a manicure with Mummy - at a real salon; a picnic with Mummy and Daddy (one of her very favourite treats); and an outfit for her Bessy Bear were amongst them. No, her mind was made up. She wanted the Aqua Sand.
A conversation much like the one Rosamund had with her mother ensued, albeit with slightly less eloquent and flowery language, but like Rosamund's, Jemimah's mind was set. She had made her decision.
She got the Aqua Sand.
She played with it once.
She cleaned it up once.
It has remained untouched on the table ever since.
"You know Mummy," she said wistfully yesterday, "my fingernails would look so pretty with real nail polish on them. I wish I'd chosen our manicure..."
I think the lesson was learned and the Aqua Sand can be removed from view.
Anybody want to buy some once used Aqua Sand?
Going cheap...
For completion, Miss Mason also refers to The Purple Jar in relation to pocket money:
In the spending of pocket-money is another opportunity for initiative on the children's part and for self-restraint on that of the parents. No doubt the father who doles out the weekly pocket money and has never given his children any large thoughts about money - as to how the smallest income is divisible into the share that we give, and the share that we keep, and the share that we save for some object worth possessing, to be had, perhaps, after weeks or months of saving; as to the futility of buying that we may eat, an indulgence, that we should rarely allow ourselves, and never except for the pleasure of sharing with others; as to how it is worth while to think twice before making a purchase, with the lesson before us of Rosamund and the Purple Jar - such a father cannot expect his children to think of money in any light but as a means to self-indulgence. But talks like these should have no obvious and immediate bearing on the weekly pocket money; that should be spent as the children like, they having been instructed as to how they should like to spend it. By degrees pocket-money should include the cost of gloves, handkerchiefs, etc, until, finally, the girl whois well on in her teens should be fit to be trusted with her own allowance for dress and personal expenses. The parents who do not trust their young people in this matter, after having trained them, are hardly qualifying them to take their place in a world in which the wise, just, and generous spending of money is a great test of character.
Charlotte Mason School Education pp41-42
We haven't attempted pockey money here yet, but we are discussing how to spend it. Maybe next year we'll open an account - with the lesson of The Purple Jar before us.
We'd love the benefit of your experience before we do though...