-18 Years of This Stuff. And It's Been Grand-

     Well, I’m done folks. Done with high-school, homeschool, and that whole phase of life. Which is incredibly weird, scary, and exciting. And I don’t really know how I feel about it.

     When you finish a phase of life, it necessarily calls for some reminiscing and reflection. And I’ve been doing a lot of that as of late. Thinking of leaving home, and how wonderful a home it’s been. But also thinking about my education thus far, and how thankful I am for it.

     Why, exactly, have I loved my education so much? I don’t think I ever realized just how much I loved it until this year, as I began to think about it being over. Besides the perks of doing school in pajamas, the freedom of not being restricted by hard and fast schedules, drinking vast amounts of tea and coffee, sitting on the couch instead of at a desk, listening to music, roasting marshmallows over the fireplace in the winter, and reading on a blanket in the backyard in the spring, there’s been something about my education that is somewhat inexplicable, but I’m extremely thankful for.

     I’m not a hard-core homeschool advocate. I don’t think homeschooling is the only way to go or that if you’re not homeschooling, you’re wrong. Different things work for different people. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I can say this: my education has been one of the biggest blessings of my life thus far.

     There are homeschool families who are big into this, or big into that. There are the moms whose children practically know the alphabet before they can roll over. (Though it’s usually only the first child, right?) The over-achieving preschoolers who are already reading chapter books by the age of 4. The kindergarteners who can name every U.S. President. The first-grader who can name every state capitol. The second-graders who have memorized the entire periodic table. The third-graders who speak Latin like a native Roman and have probably translated the entire New Testament. Then there are the families who jump in an RV and road-trip across America. The schoolrooms that look like an art studio. (Seriously. How can one mama be that crafty?) Everybody’s got something. And I don’t know… my education just wasn’t all that glamorous. We went through phases, sure. There was the time we put on the Egyptian play and made paddle-dolls and Paper Mache Pharaoh hat things (what are those called, anyway?) But what I feel like my parents have really tried to do this entire time is present me the truth. And I don’t feel like the truth really needs dressing up that much. Other things haven’t mattered a whole lot. We’ve done some of the crafts. We did a few of the science experiments. (Let’s face it. I don’t care what the homeschool mom at the book fair trying to sell you the curriculum says. Those “What you will need for this experiment” items are not common household items. Oh, a Bunsen burner? Sure, let me just go grab one of those. We keep it right next to the potato peeler.) We went on a few field-trips here and there. We’ve tried to do a Classical model, but I’m not one of those Latin-speaking, Bible-translating kids. And we’ve switched curriculum dozens of times. But the one thing that’s remained constant is the focus on truth. And I think it’s that that makes me so thankful for my education.

     Because when you’re focused on truth, education becomes more than school, it’s a life-style.

     When thinking about all of this, I got curious and looked up the definition of education.
Here’s what I found:

Education. n.

     1. The process of receiving or giving systematic instruction, especially at a school or university.

     Then I looked around a little more and found this definition from The Noah Webster 1828 Dictionary:

Education. n.

     1. The bringing up, as of a child, instruction; formation of manners. Education comprehends all that series of instruction and discipline which is intended to enlighten the understanding, correct the temper, and form the manners and habits of youth, and fit them for usefulness in their future stations. To give children a good education in manners, arts and science, is important, to give them a religious education is indispensable; and an immense responsibility rests on parents and guardians who neglect these duties.

     Um. Yeah. That in and of itself says a lot.

     But really, let’s look at the difference.

     Besides how imposing the 1828 definition is, [I mean, they are telling you that you have a responsibility to give your children a religious education. How dare they. Where's the tolerance? This is America after all. We don't have responsibilities, we have rights. (<---That was sarcasm. Just so we're clear.)] there’s some major differences between the two definitions that, I think, get to the heart of some of the issues we have in the educational world today.

     First off, the modern definition says, “receiving or giving systematic instruction.” While the 1828 definition uses words like, “instruction”, “formation”, “enlighten”, and “understanding”. 186 years ago, education meant learning, today, it means memorizing. The modern definition almost seems like a vending machine. I’ll put a few quarters in, you give me a bag of potato chips back, and we’re good to go. Just as long as you can circle the right answers on a test, you’re getting an education.

     I’m not criticizing only the public school system. You don’t have to look far to see this kind of thing in any style of school—homeschool, private school, and public alike. The problem isn't necessarily an institutional one. It is a society that looks at education as the programming of information as if children were robots.

     Over four years ago, I started a Literature course with the infamous Dr. McMenomy. Both of my older brothers had taken classes from him, and I’d heard a lot about him and his courses. Things like, a heavy (like, really heavy) amount of reading. (I remember waking up in the wee hours of the morning and seeing the light still on in my brothers room, and him trying to finish the reading for Dr. McMenomy’s class.) And his harsh grading. Sometimes the papers would come back so marked up with red you thought he’d graded it in the hospital after he got in a fight with a chainsaw. And the worst: the finals. He gives you a passage from something you have never read before and you've got to tell him as much as you can about it: 1. What type of literature is it? (If it's a poem, what kind? If it's a sonnet, Shakespearean or Petrarchan?) 2. What time period was it written in? 3. Who wrote it?

But I’d heard good things too. They talked of benefits they had gained from his classes that I couldn’t understand, but hoped that I might come to.

     So I came to my first class nervous and excited. I think it was that very first class that he asked us, “What is poetry.” Ah, good. He’s starting out with an easy one, I thought. But however confident I was in my knowledge of poetry at the age of 14, to this day, I’m still trying to figure it out. He questioned my perception of a term I’d always thought I knew really well. He pushed the bounds of my understanding and made me think—really think—about things. I can’t tell you how glad I am that he didn’t try to make things fit into a little box—that “What is poetry?” wasn’t a multiple choice question on a test. He didn’t give me his definition of poetry to accept as my own. He made me question my understanding and think about what I think poetry means. Not because he believed that truth is subjective, but because he was so confident in the objectiveness of truth that he was willing to let me think for myself. He didn’t need to control the answers I came to as long as I was seeking truth. I think it’s interesting that the professors who teach that truth is subjective are usually the ones who are extremely confident that their opinions are right. They are the ones that want you to circle their answer on the multiple choice test. But when you believe that truth is objective, you are more concerned with your students finding truth than that they agree with you. That’s what I experienced with Dr. McMenomy.

     And after four years, I can say that I do understand the benefits my brothers talked of. There were late nights getting papers in. Late nights pacing the floor to keep from falling asleep while I read. I got papers back that were so red I thought maybe I should send him a get well card (remember the chain-saw.) The finals were tough. But all in all, it was more than worth it. And that kind of pushing--the constant challenging of my thinking--has impacted my person, and the way I see the world, in really significant ways.

     Second, the modern definition of education says, “…especially at a school or university.” The 1828 definition doesn’t mention school at all. While the first seems concerned with 8:00-3:30, the second extends outside the classroom into every aspect of life. Education includes not just the “arts and science” but the formation of temper, manners, habits, and religion. (Heh, imagine that appearing in a dictionary today.) It is the shaping of every aspect of a child’s life. In fact, I’d even say that the mentality has completely reversed. Now, we think of taking education beyond school—that’s going the extra mile, so to speak. 186 years ago, I think the mindset would have been that school was the cherry on the top. Because school wasn’t readily available to everyone, they had to find other outlets for learning, thus education necessarily happened outside of school. School was a means for education, not the other way around.

     Notice that the Webster definition doesn’t mention teachers at all. It says the responsibility is on the parents. Again, I’m not a hard-core homeschool advocate, and I doubt whoever constructed this Webster dictionary was either, but it just shows how vastly different the mindset was then than it is now.

     Education then, ought to be concerned with the complete and total formation of the child. Its purpose is to shape the child in every aspect of life.

     Another influential class I have taken is Gileskirk (Although I think it’s called King’s Meadow now). It’s a history course by Dr. George Grant. We weren’t the best at doing all we were supposed to. We were always real good about doing the Opportunities (Dr. Grant’s clever name for tests.), and starting the 40-hour project, and all that stuff during the first 4 to 6 weeks of school, but after that initial beginning-of-the-school-year-steam wore off, we were doing good if we listened to the lectures on time.

     But anyway…Dr. Grant is remarkable at taking a historical event and then letting it shape your worldview. He shows you how a philosophy of a certain time shaped the events of that time; how thinking and acting are not independent. You can’t help but let the things you learn from his lectures bleed out into every aspect of your life. He has taught me that the things I surround myself with will have an affect on me. I can’t just listen to music because it sounds good. Because whether I’m conscious of it or not, the lyrics are having some kind of affect on me. One small step at a time they are shaping my ideas and my worldview and, well, “Ideas do have consequences. Worldviews do matter.”

     I wrote in a previous post about rainy days at the Lunsford house. And how mom would let us pop some popcorn and watch a Roy Rogers movie. That’s because she knew education was not just about multiplication tables and diagramming sentences. She saw the value of the lessons learned beyond the worksheets.

     The ideas and the truths I learn from one of Dr. Grant’s lectures, or a novel I’m reading in Dr. McMenomy’s class, come up around the dinner table or in the car on the way to church. I did my fair share of worksheets, sure, but it's when those concepts learned inside the classroom extend beyond it that real learning happens.

     I’ve been home schooled educated not for the past 12 years, but for the past 18 and a half.
     It hasn’t been perfect. It’s probably not even been as good as it could have been. There are others out there who have probably had better, others worse. There's things I wish I would have done, and things I wish I wouldn't have, but I'd just like to say thanks. Thanks to Dr. McMenomy, Dr. Grant, many other wonderful teachers I’ve had along the way, and an especially big thanks to my dad and mom.

     Dad first suggested homeschooling to Mom, and she thought he was crazy. Well, I’m glad she changed her mind. Not that you can only get this kind of thing from homeschooling, but that’s where I got it, and so I’m thankful the two of them decided to try it out. And kept trying it out. Like I said in the beginning of this post, it’s one of the biggest blessings in my life.

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     (Isn't God amazing? Looking back on 18 years of living, you just see a glimpse of that big picture He has in mind all the time, and it kind of takes your breath away with an overwhelming feeling of thankfulness as you're reminded of His goodness.) 

     And now I think I’m gunna go cry.

     Dr. Seuss said, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." And as happy as I am that it happened, I am sad because it's over too. Are feelings really so separable as all that, Dr. Seuss?

     (Actually, I’m going to proof-read this a few dozen times first. Because when you’re writing about education you really don’t want it to be full of grammatical errors and/or typos. :-) Then I’ll go have my cry.)