Memories of Learning

Cristina at Home Spun Juggling has a questionnaire going:

• What is a memory you have of learning with your mother?
• What is a memory you have of learning with your father?
• What kind of education do you think you gave yourself? (Arts, science, history, writing, etc.)
• Do you see ways you’ve used that education as an adult?

My Mother was initially surprised a few weeks ago when I started listing things she had taught me, because she had always avoided teaching me directly in Sunday school or nursery school  (she used to bring me with her to work to Raggedy Ann Nursery School in Muncy, NY).  Her own mother had declared that mothers should not teach their own children, and after one year of Calvert school, did not teach my mom, even when she begged her for more piano chords so that she could play out of the hymnal better.  Perhaps my grandma meant teaching in a group with other people’s children, because of the pressure you put on your own, she did organize my mom’s Sunday schools, and Pioneer girls clubs (Grandpa was a pastor and evangelist, Grandma was his administrator).

But Mom did agree with me that she had taught me a lot (after I convinced her with this list) whenever I was given a kit, she read me the instructions and helped me figure it out.  She worked through the first 16 pages of “teach yourself recorder in one week,” she showed me how to read a recipe, to sew clothes, to make a white sauce, to prepare a Sunday-school lesson, she quizzed me on flash cards for math facts or spelling words (that didn’t take, but my heart wasn’t in it),  brainstormed with me what my essays should be about in High School and read the Bible with me every single night until I left for college.

Once in 1st grade, I asked her what would happen if you subtracted a larger number from a smaller one.  I felt very daring and naughty, I think my teacher was emphasizing memorizing math facts at that point, although she was a very good teacher who included plenty of strategy and games in math instruction as well as procedures.  Mom drew me a Cartesian plan (all four quadrants) and showed me how to plot points on it.  Her point was that negative numbers were not surprising or secret.

Dad used to say I got my brains from him, but my mother made me use them. He made this joke a lot after I was named a National Merit Scholar and told the newspaper reporter that my Mother was my most influential teacher.  I did mention Dad also, but Mom was first, and Dad teased me ever after, but he was really every bit as influential and he knew it, at least I hope he does now if I didn’t say so then.

Dad taught me to shoot, discussed every conceivable topic, demonstrated various tidbits of physics and geometry, and showed me how to die with grace and courage (he picked his own hymns for his funeral, and agreed with the pastor that unless the gospel was preached, the funeral would be a waste of time), but mostly Dad modeled to me how to manage obsessions. Dad probably knew enough military history to have earned a master’s degree (though that takes paper work and money).  Mom’s house to this day is full of his books, my boys are just beginning to explore them on Sunday afternoons.

Together, my parents were always taking me to interesting places, concerts (usually free ones) picking up books they thought I could benefit from, scheduling a time to watch PBS shows they’d read about, and gifts were often educational too.  My extended family is also pretty much like like that, not that they are looking for educational opportunities, but that stuff is fun.

Back when I was in high school, my parents and I visited the Slater Mill in Pawtucket RI, and were drifting through the museum shop.  I had nothing more on my mind than those striped hard candy sticks all history museums carry, when Dad bought me a copy of Taunton Press’s Thread’s magazine. He later bought me all the back issues as a graduation present.

When we got home and I marveled at the articles about hand spinning, African goat wool, Fair Isle knitting and tailoring in 16th century India, Dad waved his hand towards his several hundred book collection of civil war…stuff.  “First you read accessible books, then you read the books in those bibliographies.  Then you read the books in those bibliographies.  You find out more when you visit sites, and get the journals on the topic.  Eventually you recognize the schools of thought, and which writer influenced which, then you can ask good questions of living experts, and before you know it, you are one yourself with your own point of view.  The good stuff is always in the journals, and they have advertisements for other magazines, and businesses.”

Dad emphasized going to the source.  This usually meant the Bible, but sometimes the dictionary or other reference.   I once asked him what the f-word meant (I probably had heard it from him).  In typical fashion, he calmly pulled out the large dictionary, and gave me the German agricultural derivation, then warned me that my mother would definitely not ever want me to use it.  I don’t think I ever have.

Dad used to say about himself, “I am a veritable fountain of useless information.”

When Dad died, and Mom sold some of his stuff (at his request, he wanted her to buy a new commuting car that would be safe, not live in a museum of his interests) she ran an add in the paper about holding a man’s interest garage sale.  She sold hundreds of war games, books on deer nutriyion, bicycle touring equipment, weight lifting equipment, and military miniatures.  The hunting rifles and reloading stuff she sold through a friend who
had arranged it with Dad before he died, Massachusetts has rather strict gun laws.  Dad had many serial obsessions.  But Mom, God and I were constants, even if Dad found the volunteer fire department more manly than the church and didn’t get regular church going down until his last decade.

Dad’s procedure worked for me for knitting, gardening, scrapbooking, Irish Crocheted lace, teaching Sunday School, interior decoration, how to be a college student (I’d love to take Physics again though, I really botched that project) how to travel to China with my friend to pick up her daughter, how to fit sewing patterns, how to organize a homeschool co-op, how to become a homeschooler, how to write a VBS curriculum, how to blog, how to program Visual Basic, and how to nurse a baby.  It didn’t completely work for how to learn chemistry, I needed my proffesors and labs for that.

I taught myself to knit, because I didn’t want to be someone who could only crochet.  I don’t do much of either anymore due to carpal tunnel syndrome (and children who throw themselves on my lap without looking for sharp things) though I have recently put a toe into Ravelry, and put some of my old knitting finding on this blog.  To learn to knit, I kept getting books out of the library until I found a how-to that really meshed with my mind.  Then I followed Dad’s procedures.  Eventually I knit 50 sweaters in college, I had a goal of knitting a sweater for each of my cousins and DH’s siblings as they graduated High School.  My wrists, budget and time wore out right about when B was born, so I didn’t make it through all of them.  One funny thing about my serial obsessions is that they usually start out as things I think I’d never want to do, but that are inspiring publishers to create beautifully illustrated books about.  Am I lead by eye candy, or duty/guilt?  I’m not quite sure.

So, as an adult, I sometimes learn in a disciplined way the details a master gives me, and sometimes I wander through the interlibrary loan system and then make myself a map.  Sometimes the trick is to figure out if I should try to learn like my Dad showed me, or like my Mom did, but I’m always learning.

I’d better be: I have to put together a geography class for co-op, add logic to B’s homeschool, and singing to M’s, our budget might get severely contracted so I’d better learn more frugality, and who knows what veggies will turn up in the CSA box that I’ll need to learn how to cook.  I’ve Lots to learn.