The Great Discussion, Junior.

"Words, words, words!"
Hamlet. Act 2. Scene 2. Line 192

The prince of Denmark was right: words can be misleading, confusing, given to error, and yet we need them.

In American literature class, I challenged the professor to better explain the Deconstructionist view of words and literature. Her standard explanation had been a shallow definition at best--half finished sentence at worst.

"It sounds depressing and annoying," I challenged, knowing there must be something missing from her definition.

"If you think that, don't get a master's degree in English," was her oh-so snarky reply.

I knew that was not an answer.

Absolutes are something I believe in.

Eventually the professor broke away from her power point lecture to delve slightly more into Deconstructionism, showing the "lighter" and "darker" sides, and saying that a Christian Deconstructionist take can be quite interesting and enlightening.

For an entire five minutes. She then hurried back to her power-point on the modern period of American literature. She told the class [me] that if we took a modern literature class the next semester, we would fill our minds contentedly with Deconstructionist rhetoric, a pointed reminder to me to not interrupt her lecture.

In the professor's defense, it is a 50 minute class and she teaches a through a loaded schedule that she cannot fall behind in.

I just couldn't deal with a tepid definition of deconstructionist theory.

I spent the majority of lecture thinking about Condoleeza Rice's biography, which I had read over break, and mentally adding to the lecture. I desperately wanted to tell the class that Madeline Albright's (first female secretary of state and a lady with a visage that scared me as a child) father had been a mentor to Condoleeza Rice (who was also a secretary of state) but I bit my tongue. Madeline Albright was just a bullet point in the lecture's overview on Modern Lit and my insight would not be appreciated--especially as I had eaten up the professor's buffer time.

A few days later, a six year old boy faced an issue similar to the one his big sister had faced--scaled down to size of course.

American English phonics and its lack of...sense. Phonics is best memorized, but for an analytical, science-loving six year old, who listens to Tchaikovsky, the rules of phonics have their pitfalls.

"Mom, if one rule says when there is one vowel in a word it says its short sound, then why do we use the long sound for words like me, no, go" the little boy asked of his teacher.

"I know they don't make sense. That's why we memorize them, so we don't forget them, SJ."

"Mom, the rules are crazy!"

No one needs an Anne of Green Gables imagination to guess where that conversation went...

But I do know this: SJ will eventually learn the seemingly endless rows of phonics blends that the ABeka curriculum teaches children, and all the way he and my mom will have countless more conversations just like that one. He'll challenge every phonics rule, beg her to read an Usborn book about kinetic and potential energy, and take a "break" to rush outside to ride his John Deer bike, or chase chickens.
Then, he'll come back inside for another phonics lesson. Day after day this will happen, and soon SJ will know his phonics like any good ABeka child, and his inquiring mind will have gathered dozens of other tidbits.

I would like to take this moment to note that my favorite way of learning phonics was upside down on my head. I've always been a kinetic memorizer. And I still associate "ar" with "dollar". Thanks, first grade ABeka.

SJ is homeschooled and lucky because of it. He gets to run around with chickens and learn about animal life outside. He gets dozens and dozens of books about every facet of science read to him. He gets math worksheets before he plays with his dinosaurs. Language and phonics with lunch in between if he gets tired. He gets to jump on the trampoline while explaining to his big sister what nocturnal means and exactly which animals are nocturnal and why. He was five at the time when we had this discussion.

His mind is encouraged, his questions fostered, his strengths promoted, and his weaknesses (the sheer boredom of learning phonics) are refined into strengths.

Lucky kid. Amazing mama.

The technique my mom uses with SJ isn't limited to homeschooling--isn't even about homeschooling--but is about being a good parent. She knows that as a mother, she is a nuturing figure, a disciplining figure, and a teaching figure. She engages his mind whenever she is with him, encouraging him to think, to grow.
She does the same things with her next son up who goes to a Christian school. She challenges his mind, fields and listens to his questions, and never lets him remain at a comfortable learning stasis.

At 21 years old, I'm capable of discovering what the deconstructionist view of literature is with or without my professor's aid. (I'd like her to help as she's being paid with my tuition money, of course.) However, I can figure it out on my own relatively well. SJ, though, can't figure out why the rules of phonics are so important on his own, yet. He needs his teacher-mother to come along side him and guide him, all while cultivating his burgeoning mind.

Homeschooling is a great catalyst for being involved in a child's life, quickening his mind, and making him love learning. But homeschooling only works when there are teacher-parents and teacher-siblings in the home. The best part about a teacher-parent, teacher-siblings in the home: it doesn't even have to be via homeschooling.

My mom taught me how to read, taught me to love it, then let me run amok in a world filled with books. Because she cultivated a love of knowledge in me in an early age, she raised a daughter who would question a professor in the middle of a lecture on just one of the bullet points. Questions are how people learn... It is how the great scientists made their discoveries. It is how the pioneers forged ahead (what's beyond this rock), it is how progress is made.

John Locke put it most eloquently when he said, "There is frequently more to be learned from the questions of a child than from the discourses of men."

The SJs of the world haven't learned that being curious is often a faux pas. What if we didn't teach them that?