Back to school

I don't know if you remember, but way back last August, I enrolled to do a Masters in Christian Ministry. I've just completed the first year. It's the big casualty of our move back to the UK. I would love to finish it, not only for the content per se, but also for the sense of achievement that would be. I have occasionally fantasised about graduating - gown, hat, certificate, that kind of thing - and it's always felt good.

People here ask if I can transfer the credits and finish in a university in Britain, but I don't think British universities are open to that kind of credit trading (I may be wrong here). They then look at me with a "wot?" expression on their faces, because that is so very standard over here. But credit transfer or no credit transfer, I am hoping to continue in some shape or form. The city we will be living in has a university known for its theology department, and I'm hoping they will have me. The only question is whether to try and sneak in this autumn (which feels rather overwhelming), or to take a year to settle, focus on the family, and apply for next year, giving myself time to think more carefully about what area of theology I want to engage with, and to do lots of preparatory reading. I think I've just answered that question for myself.

Husband is enjoying having a nascent theologian in the family. I use words like 'theodicy' and 'post-modern' quite a bit, and have opinions on the way the Enlightment has affected the church. I no longer say things like "I suppose God might be a Trinity, but who knows? and why would it be important anyway?" (though hmmm... my old self did have a good point, come to think of it...).

I started the course (you may remember) with the attitude of "well, this might be fun, and you never know where something may lead, and I can always drop out if I don't like it". I was wondering if I should get a job instead. I'm so glad I tried the Masters, though. It's been like a door opening into an intriguing new world. I have struggled with some things. It hasn't been an easy ride at all. I have found some of the ideas difficult to grasp, I have discovered strong and uncomfortable opinions I didn't know I held, I've not always found my classmates easy to be alongside. But... I have loved it. I have loved going out on a Monday evening and leaving everything else behind (bad timing, though, Monday evening). I have loved the intellectual challenge. I have loved the confidence that comes with having to give class presentations. I have loved rediscovering rusty academic abilities. All those skills developed of old, which have laid dormant for 25 years - they're all still there. It was like meeting old friends. For example, I couldn't think of a conclusion for one essay I was doing, so I simply typed the sub-title "Conclusion" above the last paragraph I'd written, and ta-da, job was done. I found I'd said all I wanted to say, and had already summed it up adequately. Then I thought to myself "oh yes, I remember that old trick now". See? An old friend.

I could write at length about the topics I've covered, but you might be tempted to insert "Conclusion" before long, so I'll keep it brief. One of the really great things about the course is that it gives students a lot of freedom to pursue our individual interests - you'll see that in each of the four classes I've taken.

Church History
I thought this would be dull and boring, but, as I wrote on the course evaluation, "I have discovered my inner church historian". It makes so much sense of present day situations, if you have even a very scant knowledge of the history of the faith. For my paper on the topic of my choice, I wrote about the Crusades and Modern Day Guilt. Correct me if I'm wrong, but Christian/Muslim relations are going to be increasingly important in the century we've just begun, and I feel that the Christian church in Europe has a deep sense of guilt over the Crusades that somehow stands as an invisible block. So I looked at the whole topic of whether you can apologise for wrongs carried out in past generations. I discovered that there have been attempts by groups of Christians to do just that, and plenty of historians who say that the Crusades were such a mess, over so long a period of time, that it's impossible to say who should apologise to whom. I also discovered a rather fascinating 13th century theologian, called Ramon Llull, who wins the prize for having the most L's in a 5-letter surname, and who would be an excellent PhD subject, because he lived in Majorca, and of course any serious research into his life and writings would necessitate several lengthy trips.

Leadership 
I'm not in any position of church leadership, so I didn't think this would be terribly relevant to me, but a lot of it was about the development of personal spirituality, and so it was. Terribly relevant. I did a rather zappy presentation (though I say it myself), with photos and youtube clips, on Women and Body Image. I based it on two texts which had nothing to do with church or religion, but tried to think about how good theology could, and should, enable women to feel better about their bodies. We do not HAVE bodies; we ARE bodies. Why do we all fall victim to the idea that there is a perfect standard to which we should attain? What can we do about the fact that most women feel their bodies are so un-perfect? I can't remember how I tied that into "leadership", but as I said, the course is pretty flexible in that way.

Basic Theology
Yes, well, in my opinion there is nothing basic about theology, so that's an oxymoron right there before we've even started. My special topic was the Problem of Evil (Guilt and the Crusades, Women and Body Image, the Problem of Evil... I am nothing if not ambitious in my choice of topics). I didn't reach any conclusion on that thorny old problem of why an omnipotent, all-good God would allow evil and suffering in the world, but I had a pretty good canter round the course. I still think that if I was God, I'd have done things a bit differently, but, well, I'm not. And I guess God knows what he's doing. I sat in on one of Husband's undergrad classes, which was fun.

Dimensions of Worship
Ooh, this was fun. We had to go to worship service in two churches outside our own tradition, and then reflect and write on the experience. I went to the Eastern Orthodox Cathedral in town, which was beautiful, and an Episcopal service, beautiful in a different way. If I'd had more time (wasn't getting the house ready to sell, dealing with the prospect of an international move, single-parenting while Husband was away), I would have made the effort to venture further outside my comfort zone. I wanted to go to the church of the African American pastor who came to speak to the class, and respond with a vigorous "Ay-men" after each and every one of his sentences (can't you just see me?). Maybe I'll have time over the summer to do that, before we leave. There was a section on the Arts in Worship, and (for all the aforementioned reasons), I cheated, by digging out an old blog post - one which I'm very fond of, actually - imagining Jesus paying a visit to the toy shop where I work, and trying to recast it as a drama skit. I'm embarrassed even just writing that, and it didn't work very well at all, but it achieved my main objective which was to do with being brave, and speed rather than quality. Oh, and I also did a presentation on Food and Worship, in which I looked at the totally dysfunctional relationship our culture has with food. And gave everyone Ghiradelli dark chocolate to eat.


So there we are. Doing the MA was one of the best decisions that I've made. As I said in an email to the Prof in charge of the course, "It has been fun and exciting, opened new windows for me, challenged me, nurtured me, given me confidence, and enriched my life". It also taught me that sometimes the best decisions are ones that don't seem to make a huge amount of sense, and you're not sure why you're making them. Hurrah for randomness in life. And maybe it isn't randomness. 

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Finest parenting moments

The other day, at dinner, 11-yo stood up, in order better to access his trouser pocket, and grinning, fished a many-times-folded piece of paper out. He handed it to me, and it took a while to unpeel the layers. When I did so, I recognised the homework I'd helped him type out the night before. 


Fifth Grade had been set the task of writing a poem, titled Springtime. He'd done that, and then a couple of evenings later, they'd been given back their texts, and asked to type them out - for display purposes. When he sat down at the computer, it was late, he was tired, and I thought the point of the assignment was creative writing rather than typing practice, so I said I'd type it for him. It took me no time at all (I'm a touch typer).


Ladies and Gentleman, for your delectation and delight, here is the poem that he submitted to his teacher, (which describes his memories of his grandmother's garden).

Springtime

By 11-yo

When I look outside my window, I see lush green grass and tall trees. I see purple flowers with yellow and red. There are pink blossoms in the trees and thorns on the branches. There is a vine of colourful flowers climbing down the brick wall of the house.

Sometimes there are rabbits, birds, squirrels, and deer. I can see the farm next door, and hear the cows mooing. There are young sparrows chirping in the tall trees.

The sky is blue and speckled with puffy shit clouds, and birds flying high in the air. The sun is shining with puffs of wind swaying the tree branches.

One word had been circled by the teacher, with the comment "oops" written above. Have you spotted it? Luckily, she has a good sense of humour, and thought it was very funny. She made it into a joke between herself and 11-yo, not to be shared with the rest of the class, and she and he had a good laugh privately about it (you have to remember that Americans are much more offended by this kind of bad language than Brits, so this is a much bigger deal here). When she and I emailed about it, she said that actually, what had amused her most was that when she first pointed it out to 11-yo, he told her I'd "helped him" type it, rather than saying I'd typed it. Which only goes to show that as an exercise in choosing words carefully, the poetry homework had served its purpose.

And here's a little secret addendum to the story, between you, and me, and 11-yo, which I didn't confess to his teacher. I originally typed it as puffy shite clouds, noticed, had a laugh with 11-yo, and then corrected it. But I wasn't paying attention, and my subconscious obviously spotted an opportunity for a bit of a joke at the expense of my conscious. Damn you, Subconscious, though I like your style.

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More second grade homework

I wrote recently about 7-yo’s homework, and how I hate the way she is being taught ‘correct’ and ‘incorrect’ ways to interpret passages of English. It’s getting worse. Could you bear it if I whinged on about it again? Given that you, my readers, are among some of the finest writers I've ever come across (and I sincerely mean that), let's see how you'd fare in second grade English homework.

Sam swims quickly.
Sam swims well.

Question : What is the best way to combine these two sentences?
Answer (choice of 4):

1. Sam swims quickly and Sam swims well.
2. Sam swims quickly, well.
3. Sam swims quickly, well too.
4. Sam swims quickly and well.

The right answer is number 4. But 7-yo had chosen number 1. I have to say I agree with her. That sentence has a lovely rhythm. It’s almost like a nursery rhyme or chant. It echoes the movement of someone swimming front crawl. It has a symmetry. It swings along. I actually quite like numbers 2 and 3 as well.

Of course it depends on your definition of “what is the best way…”. I note that it doesn’t say “what is the correct way…” (thank goodness). I would prefer to see it rephrased “what do you think you’re meant to think is the best way…”. At least that would be good early training in exam technique.

I’m sure you’re going to say that it’s important for second graders to learn grammar, and that these are just grammar exercises, and won’t quash her literary creativity. And you’re probably right. But the words “dumbing down” spring inexorably to mind. (Perhaps I wouldn’t mind so much if the letters that have come home from the three primary schools my children have attended weren’t sprinkled with typos and grammatical mistakes.)

Then I stopped to think. Do I care so much about how her brain is being trained in maths? Or any other subject? Do I have a strong opinion on what she should or shouldn’t be doing in PE? Do I react so strongly, either positively or negatively, when she talks about what she’s done in Art or Music? The answer to all these is no, not really. Opinions here and there, varying from mild to strong, but nothing gets under my skin to the same degree as her English homework. This says more about me, than about the education system (though I think my opinions stand, none the less).

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about being a parent, it’s that you learn such a lot about yourself in the process. I knew all along that I love words, and that how we put them together is important to me. I didn’t need the reminder of 7-yo’s homework really. But it’s interesting to see what things push our own personal buttons.

What I wrote... What I wanted to write...

What I wrote

Dear Teacher of 7-yo

I wanted to write to tell you how sorry I am to hear you are leaving. I understand you have personal reasons for relocating with your family to another state. I do wish you well. 7-yo will miss you. She has made a really great start to Second Grade. Thank you so much for the way you have encouraged her. She is happy in the classroom and eager to learn. Thank you for that.

What I wanted to write

Dear Teacher of 7-yo

Nooooo.... You can't go. You can't. 7-yo loves you. She cried yesterday when you told the class you were going. You're a brilliant teacher. Softly-spoken, serene, fair, kind, an encourager, a piquer of children's curiosity. You teach them to love learning and have fun. Don't go... There should be a rule that says good Second Grade teachers can't leave mid-year. A law. I'm going to write to President Obama. Waaaah...

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Things that aren't right with education

Oh, don't get me started. Truly. This is the stuff of many a conversation in our household. Kind of goes with the territory if you're married to a Philosophy Professor. I tell you, "evaluation" is a more-than-four-letter word in this house. (Come to think of it, it probably is in your house too.)

So I'm not going to get all ranty about the education system. The school year has been underway a couple of weeks here, so we are almost in full swing, ahead of you, my fellow compatriots-by-birth-not-current-location.

However, I do just want to share with you something that happened with 7-yo, which was one of those moments where she discovered that sometimes you do your best, and it's not right, or not good enough. I hate that. What mother doesn't hate that for her small child?

She was showing me a couple of passages that she'd had to read and answer questions on. I think we used to call them 'comprehension exercises' - I don't know if they still do. The first one was about a girl named Frida, going off to camp to learn to play tennis. On the bus, Frida looks for her best friend, named Gina (not Saturda or Sunda, which would have been more logical), who wasn't there. So she sat next to another girl, Elaine. When she got to camp, she found out that Gina wasn't coming as she was ill. "Frida was sad" the passage tells us. "She wanted to play tennis with Gina". But she played with Elaine instead. The passage goes on "The girls learned how to hit the ball." Oh yes. That would be useful for playing tennis. It concludes by saying that Frida missed Gina, but still enjoyed herself. The next day, she told Gina about camp and about Elaine, and couldn't wait to share her new friend with her best friend.

Most of the questions on the passage were multiple choice, but one of them asked

Why is Gina's illness important to the story? Include details from the story in your answer.

7-yo wrote:

Frida and Gina are Best friends. Frida missed Gina very much.

an answer which was deemed inadequate. Wah. Honestly, I think 7-yo had just missed the ending of the story, which was on the back of the page, and maybe there's a lesson there about remembering to turn the page over. But I also think that even if she'd read to the end, her answer stands. I'm guessing the correct answer would be something like "Because Gina was ill, Frida made a new friend, Elaine. Frida would not have played with Elaine if Gina had not been ill." But I like 7-yo's response. She's bringing of herself to the story. To her, the most important thing was that Frida missed Gina very much. (And, between you and me, I think she did well to skip that bit about introducing a new friend to a best friend, because we all know what a recipe for upset that can be.)

I comprehend that the exercise was all about comprehension of the passage, and not designed to encourage personal response to literature, but I think that's sad. The idea that there's a right and wrong answer when you're talking about plot and character seems very limiting. I know I'm over-thinking this, but you would too, if you'd seen 7-yo's big blue sad eyes, as she asked "why did I only get 11 out of 13?", and I had to tell her that she's not always going to get full marks for everything and that that's ok. And adding that sometimes the questions are a bit silly, or open to misinterpretation, and then you just have to know that it's the question that's wrong and not you. Was that the right answer? I don't know.

Then there was the second passage, all about Mr Garcia, who brought a guinea pig into his classroom, and how excited the children all were. One of the children, Paula, held the guinea pig, and whispered to it "Welcome to our class". Aw. Anyway, 7-yo had to say what "whisper" meant from the following four options: shout, soft voice, loud voice, friendly tone. She picked "friendly tone", which wasn't the correct answer. But she explained to me that in the story, Paula knew the guinea pig would be frightened by all the people, so she whispered to it because she wanted to help it not to be frightened, and so that was being friendly to it, wasn't it? So "whisper" DID mean "friendly tone" in this story, didn't it?

All this over-thinking. Can't imagine where she gets it from.

One more thing. Can schools puh-lease stop giving our children stories to read about cute dogs and sweet little guinea pigs? At least until after Christmas. If they insist on stories about dogs, the narrative should be full of details about vet bills, boarding kennel bills, unpleasant poop-scooping, and walking out in the wind and rain when you'd rather be inside watching television.

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