And this sort of thing is why we homeschool. I have no idea if our local schools give out homework that only parents can do very well, but every time I read about it (and remember arts and crafts in my language classes), the less inclined I am to find out.
I hated irrelevant homework when I was in school; I think I would hate it a good deal more, now. If my son came home with an art assignment for an academic class, he might go back the next day with a polite but firm note explaining why the homework would not be done, and questioning the academic integrity of the curriculum. I might include some propaganda to encourage the proletariat faculty to resist the bourgeoisie administrators…
Or at least the digital kind? Well, maybe not exactly, but he still thinks a classroom is best, if it’s a good classroom.
Myself, I’m inclined to think that classroom education is the sort of thing you should break into gently, and not really experience full-bore until college, which college should start around fourteen.
|Latina mortua lingua est,
Ut mortua potest esse:
Necavit omnes Romanos,
Atque necat me!
|(Latin is a dead language,
Dead as it can be:
It killed off all the Romans,
And now it’s killing me!)
The rumors of my death, unfortunately, have not been so greatly exaggerated as one could have wished. As you may recall, I was offered a job about a year ago to teach Latin at a classical school in Concord, North Carolina. This was very odd because, well, several reasons:
- Though I love teaching, I had never taught in a classroom setting, nor had I been trained in any way to do so.
- Though I had decided I wanted to try teaching, Latin was the furthest thing from my mind. I had applied to teach English.
- Of all the positions to offer me, Latin was the least likely. I like languages, but I had never studied any with the diligence that produces proficiency. In other words, I didn’t know what I was talking about.
Nevertheless, the school and I endeavored upon a noble experiment, based in necessity: I needed a job, and I was interested in teaching. They needed a Latin teacher, and they were willing to try me, apparently because I sounded pretty good on paper.
About a month ago, I learned with the finality that the experiment was to be considered a failure. Contracts at our school are offered on an annual basis with no guarantee as to future years. I was not to be offered a new one. Continue reading “In which I tell you everything”