Literature: Living Books And Twaddle

Garbage in, garbage out.

Children are like sponges.

You are what you eat.

Feast your eyes.

Practice what you preach.

Monkey see, monkey do.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

As a man thinketh, so is he.

These are the types of statement that I bring with me, and have hopefully instilled in Fifi as we go to the library or local bookstore to select reading material. We read classics. And if the book isn't considered a true classic, it's first publication date will more often than not be from a time when Fifi's Grandma was still a small child. Even then, sometimes because of language,* I'll choose to expose otherwise excellent writing to my girls with my guidance or censorship in the way of read-aloud. It's not that my girls are, or always will be ignorant of bad language, but I'm not going to feed it to them. It's like junk food -- they know it exists, but they also know it's not going to benefit them. In fact, it will likely be a real detriment to their health.

I learned two phrases early in my homeschool career: "twaddle" and "living books." A late-19th century English educator named Charlotte Mason taught me. She never married or raised children herself, but left behind 6 volumes of her 50 years of observations about teaching children, and many contemporary educators have taken up the mantle and summarized her methods and theories in their own, easier reads. I've not read it all, but enough to understand that briefly, "living book" describes a book written by one author who has a passion for the subject; the book will be about the subject matter rather than being a book about the business of teaching the subject matter. Text books are not living books; the books that will make their way onto this blog are.

Twaddle is written material not worthy of my child's brain space. Twaddle has no redeeming value: there is no virtue, no beauty, no real education. It is either really dry and desperately boring, or dumbed-down amusement that steals the time and attention of a student from her calling. Or worst of all -- twaddle might be cleverly disguised unbiblical philosophy.

And it matters. I can tell when my Fifi is not feeding herself a steady diet of good literature; her speech might be peppered with silly slang, or her writing might lose some of it's eloquence. Her imaginative play might dry up and her interactions with siblings and parents might take on a strange and unwelcome tone.

Wonderfully amazing though, is how quickly all those symptoms disapate when the disease is eradicated. Suddenly, our Fifi is waxing dramatic and her everyday language takes on a poetic quality; she's expressive and poised in her communication. Literature does that. And the very best literature for the cure? God's Word, of course. It truly does slice right though all the unholiness of the human condition like a hot knife through butter...or a two-edged sword. It's alive! It's magnificent! And no, I won't be picking apart His book on my blog! Because It's perfect.






*racially insensitive slang or derogatory remarks; taking the Lord's name in vain