Poetic Knowledge as Curriculum
If you’ve ever thought your kids learn more on the family camping trip than they do from formal lessons, you might be more classical than you think. They very well may learn more on the camping trip, after all, and it’s high time that we realize the best learning is often caught, not taught.
There is a certain kind of knowing that even the most skilled educators cannot teach.
Though classroom teachers must work very hard to facilitate it, we homeschoolers live it every single day.
It’s poetic knowledge, which St. Thomas Aquinas describes as that which “begins in sense and is completed in the intellect.”
- It’s feeding and brushing the horse, rather than reading about one in a science book.
- It’s building a fire, rather than hearing a lesson about the chemical reaction between oxygen and fuel.
- It’s splitting a slice of pie equally among friends, rather than working a division problem on paper.
- It’s having a conversation while washing dishes, rather than listening to a lecture in a classroom.
- It’s watching a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis, holding a baby’s hand as he first learns to toddle, using a whisk to whip sugar and cream for dessert.
It is life, sprung before you with a shock; a profound sense of knowing deep in your bones that you can’t quite place.
There is quite a difference, after all, between hearing someone explain how a body properly performs the breaststroke and actually doing it, water gliding around your limbs as you navigate the icy lake.
Your homeschool is probably already chock full of poetic knowledge, because quite frankly, it’s what we mothers do.
Classroom teachers have to work very hard to bring real life into their lessons, so they plan field trips, put sofas or futons in the reading corner, and invite the local firefighter to come talk to an assembly.
Some might call it delight-directed, others may say it’s project-based or hands-on. We’re homeschoolers, though, so we can just call it Monday.
The act of philosophizing, genuine poetry, any aesthetic encounter, in fact, as well as prayer, springs from some shock. And when such a shock is experienced, man senses the non-finality of this world of daily care; he transcends it, takes a step beyond it.
– Josef Pieper in Leisure, The Basis of Culture
Perhaps you’ve experienced a moment where it seems the curtain has been drawn back- that moment when you haven’t just learned something intellectually, but… well, poetically.
This can’t be taught
We can’t fit this into a lesson any more than the mysteries of the universe can be captured in a box.
When our student experiences learning as diving in, talking about great ideas, and getting lost in the beauty and Truth of a classic or an algebra problem that works out just perfectly (as it always does)- when learning is more a liturgy of love than a daily slog – only then will he realize his full potential as a student.
Real learning happens when a child encounters an idea for himself.
We are responsible for presenting the feast, but we can’t always predict when or how that encounter will happen. It likely won’t be as tidy and quantifiable as we think it should be.
Here’s a hard truth we might as well get used to: much of the best learning cannot be proven, documented, or demonstrated.
The kind of encounters that form our children’s hearts, minds, and souls occur as they come in contact with great books, learn to ask hard questions, and their minds are trained to think logically and well.
The Gift of Time
You are probably already living this out quite a bit in your home. In order to really bring this principle to fruition, however, we’re going to have to make sure there is time free on the schedule for it to happen.
Poetic knowledge does not leap out on demand. We can’t will it or wish it or roll up our sleeves and force it into being.
Instead, we must go about living our lives, taking care to recognize that everyday moments are packed with meaning.
We take our time, and talk about everything. We do this both in front of and with our kids, and by so doing, we realize that our family camping trip is ripe with learning opportunities. We come to value that week in August as much as we value a productive academic week in January.
We can’t plan for poetic knowledge or schedule it in, but we can unplan for it.
We can allow enough white space in our day to allow connections to form and the act of contemplation to have its due.
It takes a spirit of silence for ideas to wrestle themselves out in our minds, and when they surface, according to James Taylor, we “see with delight or terror the significance of what is really there.”
Our everyday moments are ripe with poetic knowledge as we go about our daily tasks, relish experiences, and wrestle with ideas.
This! I am finally beginning to be more comfortable in my unplanning and living, and having more of this poetic learning in our home. I keep reminding myself to let it happen naturally and stop over-planning. I still end up crossing out items on my schedule and planner and re-planning them for later times…because most days end up with me letting the plans unravel. One would think I would have learned my lesson by now and plan less. ;)
Sarah,
You made excellent points. In so many ways, this is why I want to homeschool. I think there is so much value in poetic knowledge. I loved working as a nanny because I discovered that life is chuck full of opportunities for learning. It is truly delightful! Though I am working on developing some homeschool units for my use in the future and for my blog, I do feel that it is this poetic learning that kids really remember and internalize.
This post, this whole idea of teaching from rest terrifies me. I am intrigued, I desire it, but it fills me with fear. As a Type A, perfectionist, slightly OCD person, reading about this makes my heart race and I almost want to scream a little. Oh dear sisters! I will stick around though (thanks, Pam), and learn. Slowly, slowly, slowly.
:)
So, my real life camping example…..this past Spring when we were camping during what turned out to be the worst weekend of mosquitoes EVER….we were hurriedly breaking camp early to flee from the plague proportions of skeeters. BUT…as we quickly packed, my older boys and I had a terrific talk about The Great Gatsby. Oh my…it was terrific. I had never read it before, my oldest had just finished it for a class in college. My other college boy was also interested in it. I had just finished it on the way up to the campground. What a great talk we had as we folded up tents and packed stuff away. I will always remember that discussion…..and those dang mosquitoes, worth every minute!
My sister (in real life) and I were talking about this just before you posted this. We were homeschooled from jr high through high school and our parents somewhat inadvertantly gave us the gift of unstructured time, in addition to math and science , etc, in which we discovered HOW to learn. It manifested in various musical talents and handicrafts, but the poetic knowlege we gained through it has served us well into our adulthood in every area. We’ll sometimes get questions like, “How did you learn how to do that?” regarding one of our areas of interest, and our answer is something like, “I don’t know. I just know .”
I sure did need this. Have been contemplating going to work at a private school where my dear daughter in HS takes Math/Science. Just wanted something more for my little 2nd grader. This article encouraged me to keep on going and realize he’s really not missing out on anything but gaining so much by learning at home and learning from the natural atmosphere of everyday life.
Mahalo (Hawaiian for thank you)
Jennifer
I’m getting so much encouragement from reading everything you’re sending my way. Thank you!
“Learning is more a liturgy of love than a daily slog” – this I needed today.
Love James Taylor’s writing. As you say, the struggle is leaving room in the day for the poetic to occur naturally, to draw in to our home and allow the in and out breathing of the every day to happen. When my first ones were little, I was always seeking a way to be on the go, active and out of the house, I suppose seeking an escape occasionally from being an adult all alone in a house full of little ones. Now, as they get older, and life pulls us in many directions, I seek out the days when we are simply home and can experience the joys of simplicity, quiet and peace (well, as much peace as you can have with a house full of kids!)
“Some might call it delight-directed, others may say it’s project-based or hands-on. We’re homeschoolers, though, so we can just call it Monday.”
This. Yes. Too much emphasis placed on defining things, when so much of what we do, why, and how is just LIFE!
Beautiful post. Sharing this one for sure…
Thank you for such an inspiring article. I’ve been pulling away from the world’s ideas of education more and more and this article describes the type of education I am striving to give my children. It helped calm my mind, as I am often full of doubts. Thanks again!
I didn’t realize that I was craving poetic knowledge for my children! How happy it makes me to see you used camping as an example. Last year my DH and I decided to purchase a small camper for the family. We try to camp every other weekend throughout the summer and fall. Last weekend we discovered tadpoles in the small pond at our campsite. We have field guides for butterflies and birds. Your post gives me some validation – I knew the kids were /are learning!
Sarah, I’m your newest groupie. :) I discovered your work through your book which I’m leading a discussion on next week. I have been so inspired by everything I’ve read by you and your work has had a profound impact on my planning for next year. I love that I discovered you just at the launch of Schole Sisters so that I don’t have to miss a word!
Posts like this one help me to see that I *am* more classical than I think. I’ve always struggled how to fit a classical education with my more unschool-y leanings and my love of Charlotte Mason’s teachings. You’re helping me weave it all together. Thank you!
Thanks for defining poetic knowledge. I’ve heard it referenced often without really understanding what it looks like practically.