HS Comments on the Fly

Physical Education usually means a bit of physical activity of some sort. We’ve done all sorts of stuff and called it P.E.

Let’s see …

• tree climbing
• swimming at the local pool (regrettably we don’t have one in the backyard)
• biking over to soccer (European football) lessons
• soccer (see above)
• having folks over to play a baseball game or just tossing it around w/each other
• Tae kwon do lessons
• shooting hoops out in front of the house
• walking
• jogging
• archery
• badminton
• preparing for a mountain hike by carrying sacks of sugar in backpacks and walking 2 miles daily for a month
• yoga
• sailing
• chopping wood
• free weights
• home weight bench
• stationary bike in living room w/TV turned up loud
• tossing a football around
• skating
• sledding
• snowboarding and skiing

I’m sure there have been other things, but what I actually have a photo of is from one of our canoe trips. And of course, canoeing counts for P.E. class.

On one of the trips, we visited the area known as the White Cliffs area of the Missouri River. It’s located in the part of the country previously owned by both Spain and France. The U.S. government was offered this section of the country by Napoleon. You can read the story of its purchase in Rhoda Blumberg’s book titled What’s the Deal? Jefferson, Napoleon, and the Louisiana Purchase — a fine book, published by National Geographic.

We set in at Coal Banks and got out a few days later at Judith Landing. If you look at this map (http://www.trailadventures.com/images/ta_map-inset_lrg.gif) the portion of the Missouri River I’m referring to is highlighted in yellow on the right of the map. Lewis & Clark, the famous explorers of the Louisiana Purchase, traveled along this same stretch of the Missouri River in the early 1800s, though they were going upstream and we went downstream. We did this with a couple of other families with our own canoes, though you can get a tour company to take you on a guided tour for about $325 per person per day. ::cough, choke:: I imagine that our trip cost us around $325 for all 4 of us for 3 or 4 days (can’t remember how long it took). But we did already have a water purifier and camping gear (tents, sleeping bags, gas cookers, life jackets, etc.) which kept our costs down. Gas was much cheaper then also. I think my husband bought a new, and quite technologically advanced, canoe paddle. Oh, here’s another tour company that provides trips for about $665 per person w/guide for three days.

	Canoers Paradise - White Cliffs of Upper Missouri River

Anyway, the picture is the view from our camp the first night. It looks just like this painting of William Clark found here. I guess the location is Eagle Creek. All I know is that there was no way out except by walking or continuing on in the canoes at this point. Our cell phones didn’t have service, so we were seriously cut off from civilization. As a worry-wart mom, this was not very comforting to me, and I was able to imagine all sorts of medical emergencies that might plague us — rattlesnake bite at the top of the list. I do believe that cell towers have been put up in the area since we went through there.

As I already mentioned, this stretch of the Missouri River is called the White Cliffs. It’s well known, but I didn’t know it at the time. I did know it was protected, though. President Clinton made this area a national monument as one of his last acts in office.

The Upper Missouri River Breaks National Monument contains a spectacular array of biological, geological, and historical objects of interest. From Fort Benton upstream into the Charles M. Russell National Wildlife Refuge, the monument spans 149 miles of the Upper Missouri River, the adjacent Breaks country, and portions of Arrow Creek, Antelope Creek, and the Judith River. The area has remained largely unchanged in the nearly 200 years since Meriwether Lewis and William Clark traveled through it on their epic journey. (source)

I didn’t keep a diary of the trip, but I’ll link to a few at the end of this entry. I remember that it was a little chilly considering it was summer, and I was glad that we took jackets along. We ate lots of Chex Mix, granola bars, and dried fruit (but no dogs, as did some one the L&C expedition — [Clark, October 11, 1805]). We paddled along by moonlight one night. We saw a beaver and heard it do a tail flap. We had a good breeze for a while and a few of the guys tied our canoes together and fashioned a sail out of a tarp, rope, and a few canoes. It kept hitting some of us in the head. Delightful. Once we were out and packed up, we ate a sumptuous dinner at Pizza Hut at the closest town.

Trip Diary in .pdf, best photos most resembling our trip except we took our trip later in the year and the water levels were markedly lower.

Trip Diary

Trip Diary

Trip Diary

Trip Diary

We are hoping to go to Italy someday. Rome wasn’t initially on the list — c’mon, everyone goes there, so it’s rather passé — but my life partner insisted. So, a while back, we started our homeschool list of what we must experience in Rome.

The Trevi Fountain, is, of course, on the list. It’s pretty much an imperative. You see, according to a legend, if you throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain, then it’s guaranteed that you will return to Rome. So, of course, the Trevi Fountain is on our Roman “to do” list. Here’s a few of the others “must dos” while I’m at it:

• Mouth of Truth (you know, where Gregory Peck “lost” his hand in Roman Holiday) We’re going to go tell lies and half-truths there and giggle like mindless school girls … well, two of us will.
• Spanish Steps
• Forum
• Romulus and Remus w/wolf
• Colosseum
• Arch of Titus
• Appian Way

But back to the Trevi Fountain — here’s a link to a photo. You see that’s Neptune up there in the shell. The shell is being pulled by “seahorses” guided by Tritons. I still haven’t seen what kind of stone is used in the sculpture. (marble)

You may wonder why I’m looking up stuff about the Trevi Fountain today when our trip is such a far-distant pipe dream. It’s because the coin my daughter intends on tossing in is a 1995 Chuck E. Cheese token. It may seem of little value, but besides a bit of sentimentality, you can still play a game of Skee Ball with it. I think behind her idea of throwing a Chuck E. Cheese coin, though, is a certain disdain for silly superstitions — in a way, laughing at the legend while still honoring it.

But still, we must know if that type of coin is allowed. She can’t be like totally tempting the Fates (or whoever is in charge of the legend — maybe Neptune?) by tossing the wrong kind of coin in the fountain. Maybe Chuck E. Cheese is considered anathema or something. That type of faux pas could make a return to Rome impossible. Duh.

So, I’ve rummaged around the internet for an unimpeachable source of the legend. I don’t think I’ve found one, but every source indicates “coin.” It sounds like any ol’ coin will do. None of the sources suggest the need for the coin to be Italian or worth at least 5 cents or be usable … you know, a current coin. Conceivably, I could toss my old coin with Constantine on it from the south Balkan region into the fountain and that would be good enough to ensure my return to the Eternal City. (You, too, can have an ancient coin — see border, bottom right.)

However, I found out that the Trevi Fountain is cleaned every night to the tune of $4000 in change. The money is given to the poor of Rome or rather a charity who helps the poor. You’d think that $4000 a day could easily completely support 30 families a month. Wow. So, that Chuck E. Cheese coin wouldn’t help the poor; and as a result, we are faced with a moral dilemma of sorts.

I learned this from WikiTravel:

According to popular superstition and custom, throwing coins with one’s right hand over one’s left shoulder into the Trevi Fountain is a practice endowed with good luck. Throwing one coin ensures that the thrower will return to Rome; throwing two coins will ensure that the thrower will fall in love with a beautiful Roman girl (or handsome boy); throwing three coins, finally, ensures that the thrower will marry that girl or boy in Rome itself.

Guess which part I’m not mentioning to my daughter? If my grandchildren lived in Rome, I’d have a terrible time getting to see them more than once every couple of years. That would be tragic, though I wouldn’t be abused as a babysitter, would I?

So, we’re to hold the coin in our right hand and toss it over our left shoulder. Another supposed requirement is that we must have our back to the fountain.

One site stated that we could drink the water instead of throwing a coin, but newer web sites say, “No way!” I guess the water is now chemically treated (a type of poisoning, I suppose). Along with the practical drinking advice, there’s plenty of history in this web page.

Look here for lots of comments and photos and more photos.

Watch people throw coins into the Trevi Fountain on YouTube.com. Even that actor guy — John Bongiovi — has thrown a coin into the Trevi Fountain.

Trivia Question: Why might those who are pursuing classical education through their homeschooling be interested in the Trevi Fountain?

Trevi is the corruption of trivium (Latin for “three-way junction”): once three main roads converged in the middle of the district, on a spot now corresponding to piazza dei Crociferi, whose shape is still vaguely reminiscent of the original crossing. (source and another)

Trivial, yes?

Well, the last of the three-part series by Charles Murray came out yesterday. I’ve only just read it. I grudgingly link to it. I guess I think he’s got a limited view of things. Yeah, who am I to give such an opinion, me with the IQ lower than his, clearly.

“Gifted” — just how is he defining it? It seems, according to Murray, that anyone with an IQ higher than 120 is “intellectually gifted.”

But IQ alone seems like such a pathetic way to gauge “giftedness.” What about common sense? I wish there was a test that would give us a common sense rating. Now, that would be helpful. And please remember that I make no claims of high IQ or CSQ (common sense quotient).

Murray writes:

We live in an age when it is unfashionable to talk about the special responsibility of being gifted, because to do so acknowledges inequality of ability, which is elitist, and inequality of responsibilities, which is also elitist. And so children who know they are smarter than the other kids tend, in a most human reaction, to think of themselves as superior to them. Because giftedness is not to be talked about, no one tells high-IQ children explicitly, forcefully and repeatedly that their intellectual talent is a gift. That they are not superior human beings, but lucky ones. That the gift brings with it obligations to be worthy of it. That among those obligations, the most important and most difficult is to aim not just at academic accomplishment, but at wisdom…. It is not enough that gifted children learn to be nice. They must know what it means to be good.

What’s nice about homeschooling is that we can (if we want to) teach all of our kids, “gifted” or not, that they should be wise and good. Why does Murray believe that the “gifted” need that information more than anyone else?

I don’t know … I guess that I just think that those with what IQ tests claim is “average intelligence” shouldn’t be ignored. I think we should be allowed to join the discussion of wisdom and goodness if it appeals to us.

Look. Doesn’t this apply to all of us?

The gifted must assimilate the details of grammar and syntax and the details of logical fallacies not because they will need them to communicate in daily life, but because these are indispensable for precise thinking at an advanced level.

Why doesn’t Murray include the “average” folk? You’d think that the “average” would need this information more than the “gifted” since we’d be more prone to being duped by the arguments of the “gifted.” Right?

Okay, so I suspect I’m missing the point. That’s usually the case with me. I don’t get the point until it jumps up and bites me on the nose, but I’ll keep blathering on anyway.

Murray states:

I am calling for a revival of the classical definition of a liberal education, serving its classic purpose: to prepare an elite to do its duty.

To go along with this, I will recommend the reading of Norms and Nobility (my review) by Hicks. But I don’t think “duty” is just for the elite. And I’m struggling to figure out why Murray doesn’t think the average should have their share in a liberal education. Does Murray think that only the elite have a duty and that the average don’t need a duty because they will be serving the elite? That’s a scary thought, but probably way off base.

Murray ends with a few directives, which I will take personally. I’ve inserted the enumeration.

1. “The aim here is not to complete an argument but to begin a discussion….” Check, already been discussing this for years here in this homeschool.

2. “Accept that some children will be left behind other children because of intellectual limitations,” No, not “left behind.” They will take other enjoyable and challenging paths.

3. “and think about what kind of education will give them the greatest chance for a fulfilling life nonetheless.” Check.

4. “Stop telling children that they need to go to college to be successful,” Check, started this years ago and continue to this day, though will not rule out university if students request it.

5. “and take advantage of the other, often better ways in which people can develop their talents.” Check.

6. “Acknowledge the existence and importance of high intellectual ability, and think about how best to nurture the children who possess it.” Nope, we’re all average here and don’t plan on taking any tests to prove otherwise.

Thank you, Charles Murray, for your series.

A colorful photo, eh? That’s the festival scene in the second half of The Winter’s Tale. The first half is terribly depressing. But as stories go, it’s a well-crafted one with a happy ending. I bet you’re wondering how I got such a close picture.
Well, it’s because I must sit right up front or all the birds and helicopters and cars and frisbee players, etc., etc., etc., will distract me and I won’t understand the play. It is Shakespeare, you know. He put his words together quite well, but I can’t listen with just half an ear.

My first memory of Shakespeare is the Zeffirelli version of Romeo and Juliet. I managed to sleep through most of it, waking up in time for the suicide at the end. Special. That was the sum total of my Shakespeare knowledge when I started homeschooling.

And in our homeschool we never did any Shakespeare until we could “watch” it because someone, years ago, like in the ‘94 or ‘95, wrote on a home-ed email list that Shakespeare was written to be acted out and watched, that the Bard never meant for his plays to be read. That made sense to me! So, Shakespeare was not a part of our homeschool curriculum.

Well, it was also because of that bad reputation that Shakespeare has earned over the years due to teachers making students read his stuff for English Literature class. I managed to avoid any teachers like that by always choosing Greek and Latin literature classes in high school and at university. Whew! I avoided any possibility of a chance encounter with boring, snoring Shakespeare like the plague. Or maybe the pox.

But one day, in desperation, when we were on a TV fast and I was starving, I picked up Much Ado About Nothing at the library to watch on video. The cover looked the prettiest of the eight video choices available. I guess that was about 7 or 8 years ago. Much to my surprise, Kenneth Branagh can make Shakespeare quite palatable. Having Michael Keaton, Denzel Washington, Emma Thompson, and Keanu Reeves as cast members also helps. (Now, Robert Sean Leonard and Kate Beckinsale are biggish stars, too.) So, I was all amazed that Shakespeare could be funny. You know, with those “How could I have been such an idiot all these years?” thoughts running through my mind.

So, I made it a point to get to a Shakespeare in the Park event after that. Our first was R&J — a good one for the kids to start with since most kids are already familiar with that. But familiarity or not, we loved it. It wasn’t so much the play as the players that made it good. Or maybe it’s the director who gives those actors their instructions that makes the play so good.

Anyway, so the other day we watched Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet. I had avoided it because I thought I didn’t like Hamlet after watching the one with Mel Gibson playing Hamlet. My students didn’t mind that one, which we watched so that we could play The Play’s the Thing game, but it lacked something, I thought. I think Branagh just has the Midas touch when it comes to Shakespeare.

Anyway, Branagh’s Hamlet was really good, as in entertaining. We came into it a little after the beginning and so I was a little lost. I grabbed one of our Shakespeare comic books to catch me up on who was who. Then it was smooth sailing, and I worked on that quilt I mentioned a while back. (No, I never did find my sewing box. I gave up.)

Yeah, so now, what’s my point? I forget. I think I just wanted to share the picture since I ran across it earlier and thought it was so summery-looking. Or maybe it was something like, “I’m glad we homeschool so that we can do Shakespeare any way we want or even not at all.”

I don’t mind so much that our library is working hard to tempt us to take more books home with us by placing books right near the check-out line. It makes me feel like I’m at the grocery store. No problem.

At the library the other day, I grabbed The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory. I didn’t look at it until I got home.

Guess what? Philippa Gregory is not Kristiana Gregory, author of those Royal Diaries and Dear America books. Yeah, there’s a big difference. Both authors write historical romances, but Philippa is not writing for a young audience.

However, I am enjoying finding out about Anne Boleyn’s sister, albeit in a fictional manner, which is why I snatched the book. I always wondered what happened to her and her child (she actually had two) fathered by HRH Henry VIII. She had a small part in that movie Anne of a Thousand Days with Genevieve Bujold.

My student is busy reading The Scarlet Pimpernel, her choice, so she has shown no interest in my Boleyn book. We also watched that History Channel International show on the French Revolution last night. It was pretty in depth.

Anyway, I have more to say on libraries, but it’ll wait.

Yes, another young driver has been loosed on an unsuspecting public.

She passed her driving test!

I can now stop desperately trying to figure out if we had covered everything. I was obsessing.

Here’s the big secret of our success: Do a lot of practice driving in the neighborhood where the driving tests are usually given. Being familiar with the streets you’ll be driving on during the test is a real advantage. We even practiced driving in and out of the DMV parking lot, etc.

My daughter is trying to pick out her recital song for this year. So we’ve bought two different books (book 1, book 2) in hopes of finding one she’s dying to play in public. So now I’ve got two books to cover with clear contact paper. One of them we’ll be taking to Office Depot over the next couple of days to get the binding cut off and then spiral bound so that it will lie flat. Ah, the thrills, the chills.

We’re still reading Marrin’s General Lee book aloud. I can’t remember the title; it’s out in the living room on the end table, and I’m too lazy to go get it. I’ll look it up and link it for you. Surprisingly, North & South, you know that old 80s TV mini-series, actually has some educational value. I haven’t watched N&S, however, a friend lent my daughter the DVD set, which she watched. Apparently, the writers hit many of the War Between the States highlights in the movie because my daughter kept surprising me, while we were reading the book, by knowing … oh, I don’t know, stuff like whether Gettysburg happened before or after Bull Run.

Mila 18 is also a read aloud we’re doing. I think I made an error when I selected it, though, since it’s not half as good as when I read it about 20 years ago. Sure, we’re getting a lot of WWII Polish info, but something is not clicking. I’m tempted to switch to a historical novel set in Florence or Venice since that would tie in well with our (pipe-dream-inspired-pie-in-the-sky) trip. However, if the dollar keeps falling, then maybe Poland will be where we end up going. I could live with that. I’d like to visit eastern Europe.

So, what else has my daughter been doing for school? Oh, yoga - not in a class, but with DVDs and also with just her little white-wired device stuck in her ears.

Hey, we got some third-hand Oregonian pumpkins from some friends. One of them is white. That seems weird to me, but what do I know? That makes me think that they might be from heirloom seeds. They are ultimately (third-hand) from some people who fed us purple potatoes. I am not kidding. Purple potatoes. I think they’re called “blue,” but they were purple on my plate. I suppose I’m the last person to hear of purple potatoes, but they were a new thing for me. They were beautiful on my plate and tasted delicious. So, we’re going to freeze up the pumpkin for pies here pretty soon.

Okay, there. I managed not to complain once about teaching my daughter to drive. I’m positive that I never want to help another person as they learn to drive. She’s a fine driver, but if I were to do it over again, I’d send her to public school for driver education like we did my son. I’m not sure why I dislike it so much; I can’t put my finger on it.

I found John Taylor Gatto’s discussion of driver training as it applies to education in general rather timely. This bit demonstrates Gatto’s unswerving (good pun, eh?) clarity:

Notice how quickly people learn to drive well. Early failure is efficiently corrected, usually self-corrected, because the terrific motivation of staying alive and in one piece steers driving improvement.

Yes, I feel like my life has become overrun with driver training. Actually I think that being gone from the home for 4-5 hours every day is too unnerving. I’m not getting my usual work and play done, and I’m all off kilter. I miss my walk with the dogs, our read alouds, and our lunchtime movie. Plus I’m not getting any time in on my update of my Latin/Greek roots book or a few other projects that I should be making headway on.

Our textbook for driver training: Drive Right. Recommended.

My daughter is still working on learning to drive. We spent about three hours yesterday out on the road and working on parallel parking.

Parallel parking. Is it even necessary these days? My husband says that he parallel parks fairly often, but I don’t. I couldn’t tell you the last time I parallel parked. (Well, except for yesterday while demonstrating my great parking talent to my daughter.) I avoid parallel parking. It’s an anachronism. No. It’s worse than that because it’s never been truly necessary, not even a long time ago. So, yeah, I guess I have been boycotting parallel parking for some time. I will continue to do so. I call on you to join me.

Hey, I do have some hair left. I’ve not torn it all out. My daughter is driving well. However, traffic is a nightmare. If we had a decent bus system, we might be able to put this whole thing off until later. We’ve tried using it, but the buses are too infrequent, running at one hour intervals. But back to the traffic. Turning left out onto the boulevard in front of the driver testing facility is nearly impossible. There needs to be a light there.

My daughter has called all her friends, who have already taken their driving tests, and has learned these valuable tips:

• breathe in and out at a stop sign before continuing on
• put the car in park when you finish parallel parking
• don’t drive 25 in a 35 mph zone
• don’t pull out into a regulated intersection and wait while turning left

She’s a fine driver. I’m only worried about her passing the driving part of the test. Rumor has it that those who administer the driving test can be capricious. My son passed easily and with enough errors that you’d think he should have been flunked. To me, that makes no sense because we’ve heard stories of terrifyingly picky testers. So my daughter is preparing for the worst.