Pedophilia and Marriage

In Civics we have been discussing some of the influences on the formation of the American Constitution, including classical republicanism (thanks, Dr. Rahe) and the standard Enlightenment thinkers. But in addition to these worthy matters current events also come up, by design as I require a weekly reading response to a recent op-ed in one of the major papers. Though some students dislike the task of browsing the weekend op-ed pages on the weekend and having to find something they are vaguely enough aware of to respond to, several find it an interesting exercise in engagement with current events and good conversation fodder. Our class, which is 4th period immediately before lunch, is always attracted to a good secondary conversation (This is the same class where J. raised his hand in 10th grade during a discussion of slavery and deliberately asked with a his lethal-smirking face "Mr. Fuller, what do you think about the N-word?"). Today the fodder was provided by H., who offered a great deal of concern and outrage at an op-ed noting how pedophilia is now being justified in some states with arguments similar to those used by the gay rights (and several other) movements.

Richard Dawkins recently made headlines asserting that "mild pedophila" is generally harmless, something quite verboten in our Puritanical culture of Miley Cyrus stripper poles and incessant flesh-filled advertisements, movies, books, and magazines. Given his understanding of the world, it is hard to disagree. Anthony Esolen recently noted that America's objection to pedophila "rests on sentiments and not on moral reasoning." We are proper to find it revolting; we are hypocrites to then consume and celebrate both high and pop cultures of sexual liberation and empty sexuality and then find ourselves shocked by the results. Esolen's essay is quite damning.

The moral structure of pedophilia is simply this: the welfare of children is subordinate to the sexual gratification of adults.

Inflamed by the warrior-poet Esolen I took passionate hold of the topic, and proceeded to launch a classic diatribe, (available against almost anything, it seems) that awkwardly ended when I called arguments over the age of consent "pious self-congratulating bulls---" before realizing exactly what I was saying to a classroom full of my students. A slightly stunned and highly amused laugh immediately filled the room, drowning out my quiet apology.

At least that was with the seniors, who tend to view me (for good or ill) as a close ally in the fight towards adulthood than a faculty member to be feared (except my history exam short IDs. Everyone still fears those).

Not one period later, I found myself discussing marriage and the much-disclaimed verse from Ephesians 5:22 "wives, submit to your husbands as to the LORD." I think the path there was the Hebrew's conception of man as in the image of God per Genesis, to woman being made from the Rib of Adam so which image was she, and then why did God make the Woman from out of the Man and how does that in itself justify the ideas that Dad's are suppose to be in charge?! Because if you look at it Mom's run things. I refrain from comment and proceed to construct a short theology of marriage, recalling the next verse as "Husbands, love your wives as Christ loved the Church." Ah, here is a pattern they can begin to recognize, a cosmic order of creation. Christ as the Head of the Church who gave Himself for her; Man as the Head of the Woman, suffering as responsible for her deception due to his place as her head;* and as the head of their family loving her as a foreshadowing of Christ's love for the church. We are now speaking the language of covenant, and the more catechized heads begin to nod. Further explanation; empathetic comment that it strikes me as a pretty terrifying calling from the man's perspective; discussion of the Assyrian Empire waylaid til tomorrow. Class over.

Fifteen minutes later I climb the stairs to sixth grade, plotting how to best teach a new motion for our history memory song.

* Another question raised: would we all be held guilty for Eve's sin if Adam didn't eat the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, but just Eve did? Would the curse still be valid through the mother, or would Adam's (hopeful) righteousness have prevented Adam's fall, in which we all fall? I haven't the faintest clue, my dears, but you have three other teachers with M.Divs so go ask them. Seriously, this is #abovemypaygrade.

Counting Class Periods Like Telegraph Poles from the Central Pacific

Three days of classes left, two weeks til graduation (which is the significant end point, though two days of staff meetings still have to be endured after that). The fourth quarter is always the fastest. That's a blessing in some ways--issues and problems and boring material just get run over and lost in the hubbub of field days and trips and activities. Even more that you would like to pause and savor flies by as you grasp at the last class days.

The last PT conferences of the year completed. I find it odd that we have them with only a month left—very little can be done at that point, beyond perhaps reassuring the few parents who are wavering about whether their kids should stay or go. Those who already decided to go are a lost cause, don't burn the bridge behind you (annnnd too late). The parents of the kids who do well don't really need to hear anything; so you struggle to come up with some sort comment or critique to save that is both helpful and constructive and not the same "he's doing great" comment you wanted to give last PT conference. Hard not to like the kids who leave you grasping at straws for conference material. "So, summer plans?"

Monday morning I judged six of the junior-senior theses. They were alright, two weren't very well thought out but did a nice job expanding common school themes (Christianity has been ruined by x). One of my favorite students from last year used David Bentley Hart to pin a lot of blame for secularization of the church on the Peace of Westphalia, which Mr. B and I both had a few issues with. But overall there weren't many issues or real questions, which I think is what bothered me about the entire project. There were some excellent students, but they all presented fairly common topics drawn from the upper school classes. Outside the school they might be very controversial, but inside it was nearly an echo chamber. Mr. B and I both had the most questions, but in some cases there just wasn't much to ask. Yes, welfare has made the church lazy in its responsibilities, yes, mega-churches seem bad for Korea. Now go outside these walls, say it, and see how people respond.

Later one of the board members said he was glad I wasn't questioning him, and I just laughed. Considering I never had to present or defend my own undergraduate thesis thanks to the program changes of Dr. Sundahl (nor would I want to given its content, I'm embarrassed to say), I found it all slightly amusing to be on the other side of the table.

Wednesday through Friday I ran double-periods of ninth and tenth history to keep them busy while another faculty was out of town defending his own Ph.D. dissertation. Due to some miscalculations I needed the time, so it worked out. But prepping two extra lessons a night (some of which I'd never taught before) was a bit stressful. It was nice having the second period though, knowing that I could take the English Civil War a bit slower and come back to something that didn't quite click (a lot with the various factions in the English Civil War, I'm afraid. But Hobbes was worse).

Normally tenth grade has my class 4th period, right before lunch. This means you usually hear something like "I'M SO HUNGRY" as class is starting. During the extra periods they were in my room 2nd period and 4th period, messing up their biological meal clock. "LUNCH....aww, it's just second period." "I know," the teacher replies, pouring his third cup of coffee.

PANIC IN THE MIDDLE SCHOOL: "You are giving us a college-level final! Our school classes aren't cumulative, aren't they?!" -- panicking eighth grade female (the best!*) who didn't quite grasp the meaning of the study guide and choose to have a panic attack instead. Sure, it's a long list of terms but you've done them all before and did just fine. Thankfully her classmates understood this and tried to calm her down, but when that didn't work they just got annoyed and started mutterings, which leads to hurt feelings which leads to emotional emails which lead me to ignore the problem for the weekend. And then direct class to recite our Nicene Creed memory work and start a lecture on the challenges of Christianity in the Late Roman Empire, placing special emphasis on Christianity charity.

Half of  town is inaccessible right now and all of it is crawling with tourists and wandering re-enactors as we celebrate Day in Old Colonial Town. The King and Queen of Sweden were recently here to celebrate the 375th anniversary of Swedish settlement in the region, truly a historic mark, but sorta dinky compared to New York. I suppose this placed turned out better than the Swedish colonies in Central America. Still doesn't explain the Confederate Civil War tent that someone set up...

A colleague is getting married in two weeks and I have been designated an official wedding cake sampler for the last month. It's stretching my critiquing abilities to the limit—I haven't had a sample I didn't like in two weeks, and would be quite happy to have it served at my own wedding or any other time.

"Yes, this chocolate mousse is very good, the other is also very good and somewhat silkier." 

"Which do you prefer?"

"Uh, well..." *takes seconds* "that will depend on the cake texture."

"The third cake you had last week."

"the frozen chocolate or the unfrozen vanilla? Because it will have to be frozen eventually. I imagine the silkier will hold up better."

"And frosting. The butter creme frosting, or the stiffer one that J. made? Or the all-egg one? Which do you like more?"

"All of them. But channeling my whimsy I vote option 2 because I don't even know what we are talking about anymore."

 "Some help you are."

But I keep getting cake! Obviously my career as a food and wine critic is coming along well. I promise feedback on anything you send.

Three class days left and 16 history papers to grade. Hello Saturday.

* the only thing better than a dramatic eighth grade girl is a dramatic middle school mother of a middle school girl. There's gotta be something genetic about it.

The Venerable Bede

The Venerable Saint Bede. Or is it Bedé? Or Beade? Or some sort of half-slurred strange Anglicized form in-between? Truthfully I have never known, and only bothered to look it up after students inquired into my (frequently flawed) pronunciation. Wikipedia seems to suggest something more along the lines of "Beed," which J. (who happens to be studying linguistics, so she should probably be counted as good authority) confirmed this weekend.

The funny thing about starting the school year is that everyone has to adjust. Students, who have been living in the school-summer cycle for most of their lives, don’t remember how to open their lockers, which books go to which class, and that response sheet you assigned Wednesdays. Teachers forget who has lunch duty and the secret to making the copier print double-sided, and which period on Thursday they don’t have due to choir (or they have it earlier and aren’t prepared; and in-service doesn’t help). Parents have to be retrained in the proper procedures of the dismissal pick-up line, hopefully sparing innocent or inattentive pedestrians in the process. And everyone has to remember (likely several times) why again they are here, getting confused and angry and flustered and laughing at all the mistakes—for the sake of learning and growing.

Gradually everyone settles into place, and that is well. Two lessons even left me feeling quite pleased and satisfied at the end of the day, which has been a precious rare occurrence of good luck (not planning) in my short career. 

The first lesson was on the Code of Hammurabi in 8th grade, a group I’ve never had before and am struggling to place as new 8th graders and not the 8th graders I promoted to 9th last year. Stealing an idea from the Veritas Omnibus (something I intend to do with great frequency this year), students broke into groups and passed judgment on various hypothetically court cases from Biblical and Babylonian perspectives. Needless to say, the dear souls were delighted to administer absurd punishments to Sam for letting his goring bull Ferdinand roam free, and to Tom for trespassing on Sam’s land. Etc. And then they invented some rather harsh rules they would like to add to the school, including lunchroom lashes for failed exams and dismissal line pillories for repeat behavior offenders. Clearly Christian mercy is something we need to be cultivating this year.

The second lesson was on the Venerable Bede, who I don’t know near enough about. Veritas has students read the entire Ecclesiastical History of the English Speaking Peoples, which is a bit more than I can fit in my schedule, but something to keep in the back of my reading list. Since I assigned Geoffrey of Monmouth’s A History of the Kings of Britain as summer reading, I thought it would be fun to spend more time in the vast amounts of English history. But…I am neither an Anglophile (see the English Dept.) nor an expert in English history, so the unit will not be as successful as hoped. Maybe next year, next week we’ll move on to Byzantium and the glories of Constantinople.

Regardless, I liked the lesson (despite my poor reading selections) and spent a good deal of time discussing why Bede wrote church history rather than national history. Last year, when we studied the Medieval period, students started to complain about how much the church kept popping up. Their conception and awareness of the church as a force in daily living is very vague, something still separated in their minds as church on Sundays and Christians the rest of the week. Bede provides a helpful focus for the beginning of the school year—for him, everything is related to the Incarnation and the resulting history of God’s people. Christ is the center, in the spread of the Gospel and in Bede’s entire conception as history: before the Incarnation and Annus ab incarnatione Domini. Such should be the spirit of the Christian student.

For things are not to be loved for the sake of places, but places for the sake of good things. Choose, therefore, from every church those things that are pious, religious, and upright, and when you have, as it were, made them up into one body, let the minds of the English be accustomed thereto.  – Gregory the Great to Saint Augustine of Canterbury, I.XXVII 

Sophomore Year

Tomorrow I report to school at that ever unreasonable hour of 7:15 A.M. to greet...students.

Needless to say, emotions are mixed. I've had a wonderful summer, traveling and generally enjoying myself with friends and interesting people. For that I am very grateful, for both summer and time to rest. At the same time I thrive in the structure of school, with deadlines and patterns and repetition; without them I falter and piddle, bumble around all day half reading, half doing, half being. A poor excuse for existence, but one I find maddeningly difficult to avoid during four day layovers in Delaware.

Yet I dread the return, for I am not prepared. My principal remarked this week that she has been teaching for twenty years, and every year her friends ("bright conversationalists," she called them) ask "are you ready?" And the answer is always "no." More lessons to write, more children to deal with, new material to incorporate or change, new methods, ideas, rules...and yet always the same. It's a strange paradox.

Every teacher I have ever met says "the first year is always the worse." Doubtless their testimony is true, the confidence of knowing (even vaguely) what the coming year holds is strong medicine, perhaps to the point of overlooking the immediate for more long-term perspectives. Faculty in-service meetings are filled with talk of "change this" or "do that," character development, vision. These are key, especially in a classical Christian school whose membership finds it easy to get off track. All the talk is good; but when I come to teach tomorrow I suspect I shall find myself rather overshot, launching into a discourse of Medievalism or the unique American character well before I have done my first duty: caring for my students.

They are marvelous little people, they push and stretch me and have "ah ha" moments that make all the late nights and red ink justifiable. Some of my favorites have left, some will be problems; they will doubtless leave me scratching my head with awe or confusion. I saw the mother of one of my new 8th graders in the copy room the other day, and she remarked how C. was really looking forward to my Western Civ class. Normally one would be pleased, and reply with some remark about how much they were looking forward to having C. (a student of solid repute, let it be known) in their class. Instead I just stammered something about how glad I was he wasn't dreading it, as if education and learning were negative acts done in the heavy toil of suffering. May it not be so for him, or me. I'll be ready--for something.