Vivaldi vs. Ives

You'll have to forgive the lack of posting recently. The start of this school year has been a particularly challenging one where time management is concerned. It's a good thing I have a closet full of time turners and an endless supply of energy, right?! (Ha.)

I've been reading Boyd K. Packer's book on teaching recently in an attempt to refine my personal teaching methods so I can more confidently inspire my students to become better, not just to remember facts. A good portion of the beginning of the book (I haven't finished yet) has been about the usefulness of metaphors and similes in teaching difficult, intangible subjects. One symbol he uses is the piano.

The gospel, he says, is like a large piano. If a person were to play only one key (say, the doctrine of faith) without the help of the other keys (works, for example), then that one key would grow out of tune with overuse and the individual playing the key would not benefit from the range of sounds offered by a piano when more keys are played in harmony.

That was the word that stopped me. Harmony.

Small change of topic: I've grown up listening to classical music in my home, and considered myself decently well versed in who composed what and when until a friend of mine started introducing me to the musicians rarely found on your average compilation CD. I went from a love of Vivaldi's soothing, harmonized seasons into the world of Mahler and Charles Ives, a man influenced by what happened when different marching bands played at the same time - a far cry from the typical use of a stringed instrument. Ives is excited by noise. He wants lots of it. He's interested in experimenting with what happens when two things that don't normally belong together are suddenly forced into the same space, and the results are often incredible and inspiring (and insane in the best sense of the word.) And my Ives education is only beginning.

Going back to the word harmony. If the gospel is like a piano, and people want things to be harmonized pleasantly, is there room in the gospel (or, perhaps more specifically, the culture surrounding the gospel) for the Ives' of the world? We are very comfortable and accepting of those who harmonize in normal ways - the Mozarts and Beethovens and Vivaldis and Strauss' of the world but are we as comfortable with the Mahler's and the Ives' who play the gospel piano, just differently? Should we be?

I know my answer.

Broom Cupboards and Ballrooms

I've been thinking a lot this week about an article by Hugh Nibley called "Goods of First and Second Intent." It was from an address given to a group of retired teachers more than twenty years ago, but it is still true. The article discusses the different desires that we can have - goods of first intent that are what make life worth living and you can never get enough of, and goods of second intent that are good for you, but only if you use them to obtain goods of first intent. If they are not used properly, you can become addicted and harmed by them. (Money, for example, is a good of second intent.)

At one point in the article, Nibley points out that most people spend far too much of their time pursuing goods of second intent and neglect the things of eternity - he refers to Arthur Clarke's description of a man who had inherited a magnificent palace but instead preferred to spend all of his time in a broom cupboard.

I've been thinking about this because of an experience I had this week with a parent who, to save you all the frustrating and ridiculous details, pulled her child from my class because I was being too effective. I hold an optional mentoring/study session once a week for students in this class that her son would not be able to attend because of other commitments. After a very interesting conversation the result was pulling the child from the class entirely because she didn't want the child to miss a single breath of what went on in class. (I believe the phrase "I am having difficulty with this 'students are to be responsible' concept" was used.)

This is such a typical attitude in certain circles of my community. They imagine things they way they think it should be, and then one thing shifts or changes or moves the cheese, and the solution is not to adapt, but to throw out everything. The baby, the bathwater, the bathroom, the whole house or neighborhood if necessary - but it all goes.

It baffled me. It still baffles me. It baffles me that this woman would, presumably, have been happier of the study period was a waste of everyone's time instead of a valuable asset. It baffles me that her solution to missing part is to miss all, when her child - as far as I've been able to tell - would be perfectly capable in this class with or without the extra reminders on assignments. It reminds me of an experience I had last year when a student was pulled from my class in the first few weeks of school because the student was stressed about doing well - but mostly because the parent just wanted the kid at home more often. (The kid wanted to stay in class, and would have done well.)

These examples are of parents - who should be the greatest advocates of their children learning and growing in independence and skill - secluding their children away into broom cupboards by force. That makes me feel sick enough as it is. But how often do the rest of us voluntarily turn away from new opportunities or places for growth and stay in symbolic broom cupboards for the rest of our lives? Seems downright claustrophobic to me. There is a world of truth and light out there just waiting to be explored, and I, for one, look better and feel better in a ball gown than I do in rags.

Shameless Self Promotion

Several of you have asked me lately about what I've been keeping myself busy with all summer. I've spent a decent amount of time this summer mourning the loss of the arts in my life and alluding to the fact that I'm busy working on other important things, but have not actually expanded on what that means. For those of you who are interested: Here's the break down.

Teaching:

I am still teaching. I will be teaching live classes next year at a new school which I am very excited about. (New school to me, not to the world.) I will be teaching Shakespeare and Literature and Film for fun, but will also be taking the seminar program as well. The seminar is a class I started teaching with a friend of mine (Greg Duffin) last year. It is a combined English/History class with emphasis on developing culture and personal responsibility for education. It's a wonderful class that is an absolute honor to teach. Our emphasis this year is on Modern US History and the theme "Who Are You?". All of our literature this year will focus on developing your individuality and then making a difference to the community. (Books like The Scarlet Pimpernel, Anthem and Warriors Don't Cry, plays like The Glass Menagerie and Pygmalion.)

Online Classes:

Greg and I also own a company called Vigilance Media. We produce the online equivalent of our live class for homeschool families. Our model is something of a mix between an exercise video, Sesame Street and Facebook: Our classes are meant to be accessible to the entire family (there are separate classes for elementary, junior high and high school - but all cover the same basic material just at different levels so that families can learn together). The upper classes (that we actually teach), are based on short lessons and communication between students - we don't want anything push button or lazy - we want students engaged with the world around them. Last year we produced a class focusing on the Ancient World (Egypt-Greece) and applying ancient values to a modern world. This year we're doing Early American History (through the Civil War) and the Hero's Journey. It involves lots of short instructional videos, discussion boards, and interaction between student and teacher. You can find out more about those classes here.

Website:

One of the last projects I've been working on this summer is a website to house information about all the things I've been working on. Vigilance Media, then, is also a website with suggestions (primarily for teenagers, but for everyone as well), on articles, movies, books and other things that people should see if they want to build a culture of refinement around themselves. This website is still a work in progress but will be updated approximately once a week with new suggestions.

So there you go. That's what's been cooking up in the bat-cave all summer. It's been a lot of work. I'm excited to see real live people again when school starts. But I am also very much excited about these projects. Hope to see you around the website - we'd love suggestions on things to showcase that have influenced you.

Or there's always damnation. . .

I would not necessarily consider myself a feminist. Not in the traditional/stereotypical sense, at least. I don't think that women need to take on all male jobs to be worthwhile, I don't think all men are chauvinists, I'd love to have a family some day and a little girly part of my soul likes it when couples get together in books and movies. I also, erm, would rather wear all my clothing (seen or unseen) than not.

But every so often, there's a part of my soul that rears its feminist head that cannot be stopped.

A good friend of mine posted something on Facebook as a status that looked something like this:

"I want to become something or do something great. I don't know what it is yet, but I'm looking!"

There followed a handful of responses that all looked something like this (including spelling errors):

"Ur the mother of a great baby! You can't do better than that!"

Or

"But your a mother and a wife and a really great friend. Your already great."

(That low rumbling that sounds like thunder? That would be my feminist monster head waking up from a nap before its had enough sleep.)

Now, you might look at me and say, "Hold the phone. Those are nice responses. It is after all, good to be a wife and a mother. What's wrong with being great already?"

My response?

This friend of mine is already certifiably great. I won't argue that even a little. She's been gifted in many different areas of her life and I've always admired her for her grace, generosity, and charity. She's legitimately great already. These responders aren't wrong.

Those responses may have been meant to comfort my friend into acceptance of her life as it is, but it didn't look to me like she was looking for comfort. It looked to me like she was looking for progress. Like she was looking for something beyond what she already had. Wanting to find a way to influence more of the world for good. Being a mother and a wife are wonderful, but the process of buying a ring and producing children and earning the titles "wife" and "mother" do not give women a "get out of progression free" pass. These responses may have been intended for comfort, but the culture around such attitudes reeks strongly of: "Don't worry about getting better, God loves you just as you are right now and you don't need to work or try to be like Him." (Which, last I checked my Bible Dictionary, shimmies rather close to the definition of "damnation." Lack of progression? Check.)

What is it about our culture that wants to treat the act of getting married and becoming a mother as the peak of achievement a woman can make? That once those things are done, we cannot possibly do anything else with our lives that would influence the world for good? Why do we, as women and as a culture, feel the need to patronize ourselves into boxes so that we can justify who we are?

Next you might say, "Well, this is all fine and great. But 'no success can compensate for failure in the home.' Right?"

I'm not arguing. What I would like to suggest, though, is that our definitions of "failure" and "home" might be a little different. It is, I suppose, a certain kind of success for a family to be well fed and decently fond of each other at the end of the day. But the real triumph of a family is when they are then able to, as individuals and groups, go into the world and make a difference. If they were fond of each other at home forever and never went into the world, that wouldn't be a very successful situation. That seems obvious. But shouldn't that apply to every member of the family, not just the children and the father? For the mother/wife to be fully successful in the home, doesn't she need to be the greatest person she can be outside of it as well?

(The petty part of me would also like to suggest that the above quote was not directed only to women, but to men as well, and I don't remember anyone telling men recently not to enhance their talents and abilities. In fact, I remember a specific instance where they were commanded to expect more and do more. But I digress.)

I think that monster is starting to feel slightly better about the world. Maybe it's just a touchy subject for me and I'm overreacting a bit. I am, after all, a successful, happy single adult woman in a culture that sometimes sees those traits as incongruent. But I took no shame whatsoever in posting my own response to my friend in which I said something to the effect of: "______ - I think it's wonderful that you want to learn new things and be great. Go for it!"