Master teacher Q—Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, mentor to Lewis and Tolkien and Sayers, editor of the Oxford Book of English Verse—gives a very Charlotte Mason-like example of how to read a classic poem with a child.

Patrick Henry's stirring "Give Me Liberty" speech is worth reading, memorizing or even (especially!) reciting aloud. Henry's reference to the "song of the sirens" in this excerpt offers yet another glimpse of the familiarity with the classics that our nation's founders possessed.

Helene Hanff shows how reading one good book can lead to an entire course of self-education — provided one is perseveringly curious. “Q (Quiller-Couch) was all by himself my college education.”

Our Lord Jesus Christ stood at the tomb of Lazarus and snorted with anger. Though it comes to us as groaned (KJV) and was deeply moved (ESV), the Greek word is the same word used of the snorting of a war horse. I have wondered if John Donne had this Scripture in mind as he penned his masterwork.

Now that my youngest has graduated, what does a Reading Mother's "retirement" after more than a quarter-century of home education look like? From where I stand today, it looks more like a second career . . . or two . . . or more.

It's a beautiful thing to hear an older, wiser person—perhaps a pastor or a grandparent—explaining truth in a way that is perfectly crafted for little minds. When you hear it, you want your children to listen because you feel so sure it will connect with their hearts.

This past summer, our family spent a good bit of time reading and discussing the stories of Wendell Berry. There were our Friday nights spent lingering over That Distant Land with a few young folks from our church and community.

It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow . . ..

Our high school Humanities studies at Providence Prep are anchored by Dr. George Grant's unforgettable moral philosophy course. We are often reminded, and we have seen for ourselves, that education as a form of repentance.

I took this picture last spring as my youngest son and I were moving towards the end of the school year – and the end of my homeschooling career. We decided to indulge in a final read-aloud of the Narnia books.

When my children were young, we enjoyed many a ramble around our yard and down our country lane, delighting in both the changes and the constants that we observed in the flora and fauna through the seasons. Over time, as I studied Charlotte Mason’s principles, I learned that those rambles had an official instructional name: nature walks.

Earlier this summer, my eighteen-year-old was reading Wendell Berry's A Distant Place as I was working nearby. He looked up, and said, "Listen, Mom, this describes you."

When we read aloud to young children, we give them access to ideas they could not comprehend on their own and expose them to vocabulary and sentence structure way beyond their abilities to employ in their own writing.

My prayer for my students and for myself as we plan for the coming school year:

Here’s an interesting article on commonplace books that details a bit of their history. “One of the original methods to keep, share, and remix ideas was the florilegium, which was a compilation of excerpts . . .”

Hard Times, by Charles Dickens, a favorite read of classical educators everywhere – how NOT to do it! – is full of brilliant and biting commentary on an educational system that ignores the soul-building stuff of the poetic imagination in favor of facts and figures.

Spending a bit of time reviewing my commonplace books, I came across these timely words from the Prince of Preachers, rich with the figures of biblical allusion, metaphor, simile, personification and more. So grateful for the comfort and encouragement this lifetime habit affords.

I had the honor of writing a guest post for Scholé Groups on my own self-education journey.

My grandmother was a passionate birdwatcher. Her daily routine included an afternoon cup of tea at the old clawfoot kitchen table next to the window where myriad birds chattered and preened in exchange for her care to provide their provision.

"Children who play the violin or study piano could be learning more than just Mozart."...This article popped up in my newsfeed today. Just minutes before, I had read in Plato