Monday, September 20, 2021

A Knight's Tale: One Prospective College Student's Frustration Over Having to Choose a Major


A Knights Tale: 

One Prospective College Student’s Frustration Over Having to Choose a Major 

Written by Norah Boulden

Based on True Story 

 

The sun had not yet crested the horizon when the knight reached the base of the mountain range. His horse, strong and loyal as she was, veered consistently towards a little stream running parallel the gravel path. Every time, the knight kindly and firmly pulled her back to the straight and narrow. 

By the time the sun had painted blue over the pale pink morning, and Dawn had given her seat to bright Day, the knight had left his horse in a quiet mountain pasture to continue alone. He had worried long over the armor he’d left behind, how useful it might have been in long run against a gryphon or a tiger, but now he was thankful he hadn’t worn it. His tunic was soaked through with sweat, clinging to his shoulders and chafing beneath his sword belt. All while he toiled up the steep path, puffing and groaning, the sun shone merrily on from its perch beside Day’s throne, entirely unconcerned with how bothersome it was being. 

His only comfort in the slog was the line of towering trees in the distance. Beneath them would be shade, moss, and, hopefully, a hidden door to the place he had sought for so long. 

His master had left him with few instructions, as he tended to. Follow the path, make no insults to anyone you find. Enter the doors that prove themselves to you. Listen well and make careful choices. Cryptic and confusing, as his master’s wisdom usually was, but at the moment, the knight would have taken a map and a glass of cold water over every vague guideline his master had ever given. 

Finally reaching the tree line, the knight slumped over, exhausted, on the nearest mossy rock. For a moment, all he could hear was his own breathing. Then the breeze hit his face, and his ears cleared a bit, and the sounds of the forest came into focus. Every tree held court about its trunk, sheltering younger trees beneath a tangle of roofbeams melding into the thrushone ceiling. The saplings clustered in lighter patches; little skylights that seemed almost designed to accommodate them. 

There wasn’t a single bird, that was the first thing he noticed. Nor could he hear the insistent buzz of insects that always held the back of one’s mind in the height of summer. He meandered along the patchwork path, picking his way past empty spans of leaves to find the few sections of beaten ground. The earth rose and fell around him in gentle waves, keeping him forever guessing as to what would come around the next corner. As he walked, he brushed his hand against the bark of a tree, smiling as tiny flakes peeled off and stuck to his skin. 

He stopped, his soles digging into the turf. He could hear breathing. He had been hearing it, without realizing. How long had the sound been there? It didn’t seem to be the breath of a creature, or a man. It felt more like the trees themselves. 

A loud hiss, like a torch being doused in a barrel of water, broke his train of thought. He spun to face a steep incline that the path had been swinging around, only to find a stony wall that had not been there previously. In it were set three arches, encrusted with gemstones and glimmering in the beams filtering through the branches. The arches almost seemed to be one great doorway, leading into an open foyer and, as the knight could clearly see, a great open hall covered wall-to-wall in books. 

The knight nearly laughed for joy. His goal, finally! After years of wandering and training, he had found the Great Library. And all he had to do to enter was pass the three-headed hydra snarling at him from an alcove above the archways. 

…. Oh. Right. The hydra, snarling at him from the alcove above the archways. 

The knight drew his sword from his sheath and raised it in challenge. “Who are you, noble Hydra, to attack me so?” He spoke grandly, in the odd manner of pronunciation his master used when speaking to royalty. It would be wise, of course, to be polite to the vicious creature before he slayed it. 

“Weee…. Are the guardiansss…. Of the librarrry…” The heads spoke as one. “Whooo…. Are you?” 

The knight slammed his sword back into its scabbard and knelt. “I apologize, great Guardians. I did not know you had authority in this place. I am merely a knight, humble as a human can be, one who has traveled far and lost much to learn at this Great Library.” He crossed his fingers behind his back. Hopefully, the hydra would not take offence at his brashness. 

“It isss no matterrr…” The heads swept down on sinuous necks, and a great tail snaked from the alcove to catch the knight beneath the ribs and raise him to his feet. He coughed as the tail knocked his breath from him, but he managed to catch himself and bow.

“Whichhh door…. Do you wishhh to chossse?...” The heads pulled back a bit, one hovering above each of the archways. 

He paused for a moment. “What do you mean by this test?” 

“The one you chose… will decccide which of us… you speak to, and what you learn…” The heads smiled askance at one another, and immediately, the knight was on his guard. Perhaps two of the choices led to quick deaths, or a useless portal to a faraway land, devoid of a single book. He steadied himself. 

“Well, that seems like an important question. What, may I ask, are you ladies’ names? I must know, before I decide.” 

The heads all made a humming, crooning sound in the pouches beneath their throats, the spiky scales above their eyes flaring with their excitement. They seemed to be laughing. 

“I am Thhhalia.” Said the left head, whose deep blue eyes matched the sapphires that encrusted the archway beneath her. It was the first time any of the heads had spoken alone. “I am writing.” 

“I am Cllleo.” Said the middle head. “I am historic literature.” Her horns were brighter red than the knight’s own standard, perfectly matching the rubies that framed her arch. 

“I am Helllen.” Said the third head, her emerald scales glittering. “I am language.” 

The knight smiled broadly, his shoulders lifting. Of all the Hydra he could have met, these were the most fortunate. From birth, he had loved writing, reading the stories his mother read from an ancient tome, and learning the languages those stories had once been written in. “Well, I am so glad I have met you.” His caution returned at the last instant, only barely preventing him from giving his own name. A most unwise thing to give anywhere, at any time, most certainly so when your conversation partner is unhuman. “I am… the knight. What would happen if I chose one of your doors?” 

“That will decide which of us you speak to.” Said Thalia. 

“That will decide what you learn.” Said Cleo. 

“That will decide which of us will help guide you when you leave the library.” Said Helen. 

The knight laughed, still a bit on edge, but beginning to relax. “I see. Well, I suppose it’s an important decision then. A bit risky though. I’m making a judgement on which one of you ladies seem most fun to talk to.” He chuckled, and the heads made their odd rumbling hum. 

“We will take no offenccce. Which of our disciplines seems most interesting to you?” Thalia asked. 

The knight considered. All the late nights, begging his mother for another story. All the long afternoons, hidden within the depths of his father’s private library, learning story after story by heart. “Well… I suppose historic literature.” He mused. “Though of course, that doesn’t mean I think the rest of you aren’t fascinating to-… um.” He blinked in confusion. 

The left and right heads had drawn back into the alcove above the archways, leaving only Cleo behind, who acted as if nothing had happened. There was a long silence, which Cleo broke with a cheery. “Ssso, you wish to learn about the ancient booksss?” 

The knight blinked again. Having lived for years in the quiet solitude of books and wall mice, he wasn’t inclined to be very obtrusive. “Well… yes.” He shook himself. “Yes! I would love to. I’ve always loved the classics.” 

Cleo seemed fairly bursting with excitement. They spoke for a few minutes, reminiscing on the wonderful stories of the ancient world, but the knight found himself wondering at a few comments the hydra passed. It started when Cleo asked his favorite story. 

“The Iliad, without question. I’d hoped to find an older copy here, in the library” He smiled, leaning back against the tree he’d plopped beside. Cleo’s snout wrinkled, and her scales flared. 

“Well, I don’t particularly like thhhat one.” She said flippantly. “It’sss not one of my books at leassst.” 

The knight considered this for a moment. There were many reasons she might have disliked the story, the least of which not being that it was rather violent, and she seemed a dainty soul. Perhaps she was a pacifist hydra. “Well… do you like the Odyssey? Or the Aeneid? Any of the ancient tragedies, or comedies?” 

Cleo shook her head wildly. “Oh, no. My books are mossstly Arthhhurian. One of my oldest is Beowulf, thhhough.” She smiled proudly. “That’sss originally in old Englishhh, you know, though those copies aren’t mine eithhher. I just have the translations.” 

The knight nodded politely, absolutely baffled. “Well… I’ve always loved those old stories anyways, though I suppose that’s personal preference. I was actually planning on learning Greek, so I might read them as they were written.” 

“OH!” Cleo exclaimed, making the knight jump. “You like languagesss?” She asked, tilting her head to one side. The knight nodded, smiling. 

In an instant, Cleo was gone, withdrawing back into the alcove above. The forest was silent, not even the breathing of the trees to fill the void. In another instant, Helen had descended from the alcove and hovered before the knight, grinning broadly. A Hydra grinning broadly is almost never a pleasant sight, so the knight did his best to not squeak in terror. 

“What languagesss are you interesssted in?” She exclaimed. 

The knight took an instant to compose himself. “Well, I’ve studied Latin for many years, and I’ve wished to learn Greek for some time now.” Helen nodded, a quizzical expression crumpling her snout, so the knight continued. “I’m also interested in Old English. A wonderful author I admire, Tolkien, he knew that language well.” 

Helen smiled politely. “Well, thossse are lovely. I don’t believe any of my books contain those. Are you familiar with Ssspanish?” 

The knight leaned forward. “What do you mean by ‘your books’?” 

Helen swayed her head from side to side. “The booksss you read if you chossse to enter my door, of course.” 

The knight considered for a moment. Regardless of which archway he entered, he would end up in the same room. The same books would be accessible from any of the doors, wouldn’t they? “Well, the reason I’d like to learn some of those older languages, is that I’d love to learn to write in them. A good friend of mine and I have been creating a fictional world, with languages and a history, much like Tolkien did, and I came to learn a better craft than I could find on my own.” 

“Ssso, you are a writer then?” Helen seemed excited, joyful even. Finally, the knight was getting somewhere. He nodded graciously, a bit embarrassed, as he’d never found his own work very skillful. 

An instant later, Helen was gone. The knight blinked in shock as Thalia snaked from the alcove above, smiling widely.

“You are a writer, thhhen?!” She asked, her neck frills shivering, and the knight felt his temper rise. 

“Well, I say!” He stood, folding his arms. “I would think I could hold a conversation with all three of my interests at once without being rudely tossed from one to the other. Especially if all three of you ladies are heads on the same Hydra.” 

Thalia blinked at him slowly. “… I am Thhhalia. I am creative writing.” 

“Well… yes,” the knight bowed his head, unsure of whether he was overreacting. Perhaps he had misunderstood. “But you’re one of three heads on the same Hydra. You’re very close to your sister heads, so I don’t see why I can’t speak with all of you at once.”

“But I am Thhhalia,” The head said, as if he hadn’t understood. “They are Cllleo and Helllen, they are not me.” 

“But you share the same body.” It took every chivalrous code in the knight’s body, and the memory of his mentor’s warning against insult, to keep from rolling his eyes. “You are individuals, and lovely ones at that, but one can wish to speak to more than one of you at a time.” 

Thalia narrowed her eyes. “I don’t underssstand. They are them; I am me. We are entirely difffferent.” 

The knight sighed. “I adore writing. I have spent many years writing poems and stories, at first only for myself, but later for my friends and my noble mother. But I also wish to read ancient stories, ones that are challenging and-“

He cut off in utter disbelief. Thalia had pulled back into her alcove, and Cleo had returned. 

“… You like ancccient stories?” She smiled, and the knight threw up his hands in defeat. 

“That is enough.” He cried, brushing past Cleo. “I’m just going to enter the library. I don’t wish to continue with this.” 

He chose the center arch, which was encrusted with sapphires. He couldn’t remember which of the heads it belonged to, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He could see the great expanse of the library before him, a central hall reaching all the way to the top of the mountain, plunging deep into the depths of the earth, concentric rings of balconies looking out over the air and the occasional bridge threading the gap. The sun poured in from what might have been miles above, streaming through glass sculptures and panes set everywhere to catch the light. It was beautiful, all chiseled stone and carved wood, and the knight refused to be kept from it by a tedious conversation. 

As he stepped through, his eyes felt as if they’d had water thrown in them, and he hissed in surprise, blinking wildly. When his vision cleared, books and shelves scattered about the level he was on had been tinted a glowing blue. The rest were slightly grey, and everything seemed just a tad duller. He frowned, but he couldn’t be bothered to care that much. Years of searching had brought him to his goal, and he would not be put off. 

“The ancccient storiesss are mostly to the leffft.” Cleo said helpfully, poking her head through the center archway to smile at the knight. 

He looked in the direction she indicated and found several blue-tinted shelves. He could see several volumes of Beowulf front and center. He then looked to the right and caught sight of a massive leather-bound tome. The word ‘Iliad’ was drawn across the spine in gold filigree. It didn’t have a hint of blue about it, and the knight didn’t give two rats. He pulled it off the shelf, waving away the cloud of dust that came with it. 

A chorus of hissing came from the arches behind him, and the knight spun on his heel to see the three hydra heads snaking through their respective archways, absolutely livid. Taking an instant to carefully place the book on a side table, he drew his sword and charged.  

The heads roared and snapped at his legs, but the knight was skilled, and with a slice, Thalia and Helen fell with twin thunks to the floor. Cleo screeched in rage, and the two headless necks pulled back and began to bubble. The knight took a quiet moment to curse, and then another one to chide himself for using foul language. He’d forgotten about the ‘hydra’ thing. 

The necks split lengthwise, heads blooming from the ends like flower buds. The knight crept backwards, watching Cleo closely, glancing about for a torch he might use to keep the heads from multiplying. 

“Sisssters.” Cleo nudged each of the four new heads. She shot a side glance at the knight, who tried to keep himself from feeling guilty. Perhaps… he might have overreacted a tad. 

“Why did you attack me?” He snapped. 

“You were taking booksss that were not yoursss.” Cleo hissed. The knight felt his temper flare but tamped it down.

“Well, who are your new sisters?” He asked, lowering his sword. “Surely, I must now be allowed to take different books, considering there are more of you?” 

The two heads that had split from Helen moved forward. “I am modern languages.” Said one. “I am dead languages.” Said the other. The two from Thalia introduced themselves as “Fiction writing.” And “Non-fiction writing” respectively. They hadn’t grown but cut themselves into even smaller pieces. Great. 

The knight sighed. There wasn’t a fire source in sight. He couldn’t afford to fight off an increasingly specific hoard of hydra heads every time he picked up a book tinted grey. He bowed, sheathed his sword, and took a deep breath. 

“Great hydra, esteemed ladies, I apologize for what I have done in defense of my own wellbeing. I had not yet realized the rules of this library. In penance, I will of course leave, and return only when I feel I can make this up to you.” 

The five heads took a long moment to consider, then nodded as one and withdrew. 

The knight gasped in relief. He glanced for a moment at the copy of the Iliad, but he knew he couldn’t afford to take the risk. 

He wasted no time in leaving. The path led onward around the mountain that the library was carved into. Perhaps if he walked far enough, he could find a place where the walls of the library showed through the stone, and he could carve a passage though. Maybe there was a secret entrance, or another door, one that didn’t have a guardian. 

As he followed the path, one side gradually dropped away and the other rose, until he was picking his way along a narrow mountain path. The quiet breathing of the trees had returned, filling the air the moment he’d left the hydra’s presence. 

“Psst!” The knight stopped, glancing around wildly. All he could see was bramble and briar on his left and a steep drop on his right.

“Pssst! You there, knight.” The voice was coming from the bushes beside the path. The knight leaned closer, scanning the leaves, and nearly had a heart attack when a tiny dragon head popped up from the twigs before his face. The knight shouted and flailed backwards, landing against a tree that had grown from the side of the cliff. 

“Hello!” Smoke puffed from its nostrils in excitement. “I saw you left the hydra’s doors a little while ago. Are you alright?” 

The knight nodded, still pale from the shock and nauseous at how close he had come to toppling off the edge of the cliff. 

“Well, I also saw that the lady has a few more heads now. Did you have something to do with that?” 

The knight nodded again. The dragon pushed his way out of the bramble, puffing profusely. His scales were worn and wrinkled, and he had the largest pair of glasses the knight had ever seen perched precariously at the end of his snout. Those were what had frightened him so; they were nearly an inch thick, and they magnified his eyes to a comical size. 

“I hope I didn’t frighten you too much, but I couldn’t let the ladies see me, you know.” The knight found himself being briskly bustled along the path, his swordhand sleeve caught tight in the wrinkled paw of the little fellow. The knight wasn’t sure if he ought to laugh or draw his sword or refuse to walk on, so he didn’t do anything of the sort, and let the tiny dragon guide him. 

“They don’t like me much, but I simply had to get your attention.  If you’ve been through one of their doors, they can keep an eye on you while inside the library, you know. That is, if you don’t break the spell.” 

The knight gulped. He hadn’t even considered that the archway spell might be binding. “Well… thank you for telling me. You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a spell-breaker?” 

The dragon chuckled, his few pieces of intricate copper armor rattling as smoke puffed from his nose in even larger clouds. “I am one myself! And I have an automatic one on my door too, so if you come in for tea, we can consider the matter settled.” He stopped yanking the knight along just then and grabbed a large swathe of briar, heaving it aside to reveal a worn little door in the side of the rock. 

“Does this lead into the library?” The knight asked, poking suspiciously at the rusted hinges. The domed door was carved of worn oak, the splintered grain running up and down. A metal frame held the wood to the stone, glistening like oil in the stray sunbeams. There weren’t any gemstones across the top of the frame, which the knight took as a good sign. The dragon paused in his picking through a stuffed keyring. 

“Oh, yes… yes it does.” His enlarged eyes were distant, almost sad. “And it used to be so much bigger, too. Doors here grow when they’re used, you know, and everyone used to come in by this way. I had so much company… but no matter!” He snapped to upon finding the key he needed, and swung the door open with a loud screech. “Welcome to the library, young man.” 

The knight frowned. The hall was inviting enough, though he couldn’t see the library from the entrance. The passage sloped gently downward, it’s rounded walls broken at regular intervals by quaint little doors, leading eventually to a bend in the tunnel. “If I enter here, will I have to avoid any books?” 

The dragon blinked at him, uncomprehending. The effect of the blink was enlarged by the glasses, and the knight barely fought off the urge to snort. “I mean when I entered through their archways…. Will it put a spell on me? What kind of dragon are you? What’s your name?” 

“Oh, that’s what you mean!” the dragon’s smile was back, full force, revealing a large gold tooth. “Well, I’m an arts dragon. Liberal arts, things nearly as old and crusty as I am. And my name’s Septimus.” He bustled past the knight into the passage, and the knight poked his head in afterwards. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to enter yet, but he didn’t want to be impolite. The moment his head entered the shade of the door, however, his eyesight blurred. That must be the counterspell, he thought, blinking. 

“Well, are there any books I can’t read, if I go in this way?” He asked after the dragon. It stopped halfway down the wood-paneled hall, giving him an odd look. 

“Not at all. That would be ridiculous. I’ve read every book in the place, though it’s taken me quite a while. You can come right on in, read whatever you’d like, and we can have a chat about it over coffee. And if anything gives you a whirl, physics or astronomy or the more confusing philosophers, then you feel free to ask me, and I’ll help you set it right. Sound good?” 

The knight grinned, crouching to fit into the doorway. “That sounds amazing.” 

As he stepped through, the ceiling of the hall rose, stretching to accommodate him. He still had to stoop, but he could walk instead of crawling. The dragon peered around, filling the newly expanded hall with joyful puffs of smoke. “Well, look at that! It’s already looking a little more lived in. What’s your name, young man?” 

The knight ducked past a lantern hung at his eye level. “My name’s Ben.” 

Sunday, September 19, 2021

Over Twenty Hours in Three Days


My oldest daughter and I drove over twenty hours in the past three days in order to visit two of her top four college choices. Interestingly, we ended up visiting two other colleges that were not on her list as well. When we asked the GPS to take us to Chickfila, and it lead us right to Chickfilas inside two different university student centers. So my sheltered daughter had the opportunity to gawk at a virtual city of college students and buildings at two massive secular universities. All the colleges on her list are small and private. So we actually saw a total of four colleges, two up close for hours, and two we saw for the amount of time it took for us to figure out it wasn't a freestanding Chickfila, turn around, and get back on the interstate. We saw enough of those big universities to serve for comparison all weekend, especially by way of stark contrast. 

For instance, as we were driving back towards the highway at one of the big universities, we passed a frat row. She knows what "frater, fratris" means, since she's done six years of Latin, but she had no idea what fraternities actually are. So I gave her a quick explanation as I was driving by at twenty miles an hour, and I told her, "This is as close as I hope you ever get to a frat row." 

It'll be a trip we both remember forever. It was an ideal road trip in almost every detail right down to an odd experience with a gas station attendant somewhere in rural America.  

"She is God-like, " he said, gesturing to his face and then pointing to Norah's face. 

"Thank you," I said uncertain that I was actually thankful. 

"Thank you," Norah also said. 

Note: The gas station attendant was elderly with bright orange hair and a thick accent. 

That's right: orange hair. I kid you not.

"If God is in front of you," he said, "nothing can keep the things from going forward as they should."

The words poured out his mouth so fast they seemed a demonstration of the idea he was conveying.

It was incredibly strange. 

Norah and I both said something like, "Yes. That's true. Thank you," which I realized later practically amounted to an "Amen" to all he spoke. 

We shuffled out of there and wondered aloud about who he was, what he perceived, and whether God would use such a messenger. 

Did he somehow know we were traveling to see colleges and we are seeking God's will for Norah's future? I'll ponder that experience in my heart. The encounter may take on mythical proportions as it gets told and retold through the years. 

I sensed the presence of God with us and His joy over our fellowship throughout the trip. We talked for hours and hours and hours about all manner of topics. We had only one big, blow-out argument in all those hours cooped up in the car. It was about art. Norah says I don't value film enough, and apparently, that's a trigger for me, because the remark/ accusation set me off. Some ten minutes into this heated exchange, a recognition came over me. I was basically taking the part of Plato (ie: Art is dangerous).  And she was basically taking the part of Aristotle (ie: Art can be used for good). At that point, I determined that if a Classical Christian homeschooling mom and her almost grown student/daughter find themselves arguing over something Plato and Aristotle disagreed about, we're probably won't resolve the conflict and we are simply asking the right questions about life in general. So I took heart, and so did Norah. We certainly agreed that art is powerful and we decided to let each other live. She understands that I have far too many books to read to watch any films right now and she can respect that. 

We have two more colleges to visit next month. She still thinks she knows exactly where she wants to go, and her dad and I agree with her first choice, but wisdom dictates that we don't allow her (or ourselves) to put all the proverbial eggs into one metaphorical basket. What if she doesn't get accepted into the college of her choice?  We grown-ups think it wise to force her (and ourselves) to faithfully consider more than one college. The exercise has been very fruitful in ways we did not foresee. 

The types of colleges we have seen plus the hours of uninterrupted conversation are prompting some great dialogues over fundamental questions like: 

What is education? 

What is the purpose of college?

How should a Christian college function? 

What all do you want to make sure you can study in college?

What forms should Christian learning, life, faith, and worship take? 

The ongoing dialectic we are in right now is so clarifying, interesting, challenging, edifying, even fun! 

And it's true, what the convenience store clerk said, basically, is that "If God is for us, who can be against us?" We know it will all work out as God means for it to work out. 

Tuesday, September 14, 2021

Birthday Party at the Bookstore


For the last several years, we have been taking the girls wherever they want to go for their birthday dinners, and that's always Cheesecake Factory. And since Cheesecake Factory is right next to Barnes and Noble... It's become a tradition to buy books, too. The girls think a trip to the bookstore is the best form of birthday party ever, and I think they're on to something. Forget goody bags. This way, everyone goes home with what they really want- books! 

Monday, September 13, 2021

9-11 Memorial Ride


The CT United Ride, an annual 9/11 tribute of motorcycles, makes a turn right near our house. So we piled the girls in the back of the truck, embracing the mutual America ideals of freedom and risk-taking, and we drove up the road to Putnam and parked under a shade tree.  



While it was still quiet, we read George W's speech from that fateful day. The girls ran around on the park grounds. We had snacks and drinks from the cooler. It might have been the perfect late summer day in Connecticut. 



 We must have seen a thousand bikes. It was a very impressive display of patriotism and goodwill. 

Friday, September 10, 2021

It's All There


Adele approached me, "Mom, I need a presentation for Foundations next week. What should it be about?" 

I told her, "You can base it off your history memory work." 

In Classical Conversations, the Foundations kids are learning ancient history this year, and they are memorizing The Ten Commandments right now.

So I grabbed The Children's Bible off the shelf and told Adele to read it for ideas. 

The Hobbits got a snack, another snack, I should say. 

Adele read aloud to her big sister, Avril, stories of Moses, while Avril took a break from her Challenge A work. 

Avril helped Adele pronounce "Canaan" and other words that gave her trouble. 

Adele got the idea of using an old Moses puppet to make a skit. 

"This is way more complicated than it needs to be," I think, but I hold my tongue and say, "Okay. That sounds fun." 

I don't want to discourage a good idea she's excited about. 

I'd put my foot down and force her to think of something easier if it were the night before.

But we've got a few days before community, so...

Now Adele is writing a script. 

Avril's finished her work for the day, so she wants to help. 

I hear laughter coming from their room as I prepare dinner. 

I wonder to myself did that end up being a lesson in public speaking, ancient history, Bible, reading, comprehension, creative writing, performance, or loving your neighbor? 

Or are they just having a great time doing something truly entertaining? 

It's all there.

Sunday, September 5, 2021

Volunteering at the Book Fair


Our family loves the library's annual book fair. This year, my oldest daughter and I volunteered. On the first day we volunteered, before the sale began, they asked us, "Do you mind setting up the Classics section?" I think my mouth may have dropped open and I blinked a few times. My daughter thought fast enough to say, "Sure, that's fine. We'll do the Classics." We made eye contact and I think I played it cool enough. Did they know that we're a Classical Christian homeschool family? Volunteers get to shop early, which we knew about before we volunteered. We bought home two boxes that day. I went back the first day of the sale and purchased another two boxes. We volunteered again a few days later, and my husband brought our little girls. They filled a box together. Each box at full price was somewhere between 20-30 dollars. Then, the last day, I filled one final box for the low price of $10. I total, we may have spent $150 and we got many worthy books worth keeping for a lifetime. Many books that were only $1 would have been approx. $10 on Amazon or Kindle. Many were old, but still in great shape, nevertheless. I guess one good thing about having outdated tastes is that other people aren't buying the books you want (and apparently, they aren't reading them either.) I bought more books than I'll be able to read before next year's sale, but I'm still going try. 

Thursday, September 2, 2021

Reading Scripture in Latin


When I was a teenager, someone I knew committed suicide, and like many people naturally do when that happens, I started asking questions about eternity.  

None of the adults in my life would give me straight answers, or maybe they could not give me answers, because they didn't have answers. 

At that point, I grew frustrated and I went looking for answers myself. 

From going to Sunday school and VBS randomly, I had learned that the Bible was the book of answers for that sort of thing. 

So I started reading the only Bible we had in my house- the KJV.  

It was like reading another language, because the English in the KJV was so much more complicated than what I was reading in school text books at the time. 

But I persevered by the grace of God. 

Really, there is no other explanation than the grace of God. 

I grew better at reading and understanding the Scriptures and from then on, I was able to start reading more and more difficult English literature including Shakespeare.

Eventually, I grew to love literature and Scripture (and the God of Scripture, too). 

I studied English literature and the Bible in college.  

Having homeschooled my daughters, I have now done several years of Latin grammar and translation, too. 

I am still very slow. 

But I am finally capable enough to slowly, slowly interpret difficult Latin sentences. 

I have been tutoring students in the upper Challenge levels and we do translating together. 

Last year, we translated Cicero and Caesar in Challenge 3. 

Note: Most of my Challenge students are much better at translating than I am, but I do my best. 

That's the wonder of homeschooling. 

We can lead our kids to somewhere that far exceeds where we are ourselves. 

This year, right now, my class is translating passage from the Vulgate in Challenge 4. 

So to improve in reading Latin, I have decided to start again reading the Bible in Latin all the time now.

It is like it was for me back when I was a teenager.  

Only, instead of reading the King's English, now I am reading Jerome's Vulgate. 

I do all my devotional readings in Latin. 

It is slow for now. 

But that slowness allows me to think deeper about what the Words are saying. 

And my familiarity with Scripture helps with translations immensely.  

Perhaps it will proceed for me like it did before. 

That's the plan and the hope- that I'll force myself to get better and better at reading, only it will be in Latin this time, and who knows? 

I may be able to read other Latin texts with more and more ease in time.  


Be Serious Then Watch the Fun Begin

Last night, our Advent readings began again!  Each night of December for over twenty years of Decembers, we have read from The Advent Book a...