Leap

Learning - the end in itself

 Wisdom shouts in the streets wherever crowds gather.

    She shouts in the marketplaces

   and near the city gates

   as she says to the people,

    "How much longer

   will you enjoy

   being stupid fools?

   Won't you ever stop sneering

   and laughing at knowledge?

   Listen as I correct you

   and tell you what I think.

    You completely ignored me

   and refused to listen;

    you rejected my advice

   and paid no attention

   when I warned you.

    "So when you are struck

   by some terrible disaster,

    or when trouble and distress

   surround you like a whirlwind,

   I will laugh and make fun.

    You will ask for my help,

   but I won't listen;

   you will search,

   but you won't find me.

    No, you would not learn,

   and you refused

   to respect the LORD.

    You rejected my advice

   and paid no attention

   when I warned you.

    "Now you will eat the fruit

   of what you have done,

   until you are stuffed full

   with your own schemes.

    Sin and self-satisfaction

   bring destruction and death

   to stupid fools.

    But if you listen to me,

   you will be safe and secure

   without fear of disaster."

I learned late that education is an end in itself.  The penny dropped during my time at university.  Education is its own value.  It is not a stepping stone to a career.  It is not a stepping stone to become a productive member of society.  It is not a stepping stone to help the economy.  It is greater than any of these.  They are by-products; not ends.

I urged you to choose yourself in a previous assembly.  Learning gives you the tools to become what you are; a particular individual.

The writer of Proverbs personifies wisdom and knowledge as a women to be prized above all else; that she is someone you are to commit to completely.  Through this commitment you will become an individual; It is not through the clothes you wear or how you have your hair or the opinions that you share.  You will begin to understand the world around, question the things that your culture gives you the impression are true.  You will begin to discover the thing that is true for you, the truth for you to live and die for. 

Knowledge wakes you up from stupidity.  Stupidity is the result of the press doing your thinking for you, religion doing your believing for you and your culture and government doing your choosing for you.

This is what the writer means when he says that she (wisdom) cries aloud in the marketplace.  She cuts through the noise that pretends to be the truth, the noise that keeps people stupid.  The noise that makes people mock and laugh at the truth.

And consider this; life is lived forward.  She (wisdom) gives you the ability to make the right choice at the right time and in the right way.  She (wisdom) helps you take that leap ahead into the future.  No one can make those choices for you.  Reason is powerless to give you certainty.  Reason reflects back, but life is lived forward.  Wisdom - she provides you with the courage to leap.

When I look back upon my life, I can join the dots.  It gives me the impression that it could not have happened any other way.  However, when you look into the future, particularly those of you in your final year, you cannot see the join let alone the dot.  You are forced to face the future’s openness.  You are forced to take the leap.  Wisdom gives that courage to choose a direction.

Eduction has its own value.  You undermine it by seeing it as a means to a career.  You undermine yourself if you mock it and don’t commit yourself to it.  Commit to it and it will broaden your horizon, remove limits to your choices and enable you to become what you are.

Musings from the mind of my wonderful husband, for his assembly tomorrow.

Tiny Dancer

I decided long ago that this year Bea would join GB and go dancing.  As she is three, but still not in her preschool year, I was keen for her to do something "organised" but reluctant to put her in for an early nursery year as I have the ominous feeling that she will be forced into formal education soon enough and remain there for some considerable time.  I looked at several dancing places, but "Evie's" was the time that suited me most.

Bea has on many occasions indicated that she would enjoy dancing.  I picked up on her subtle clues like the twirling, tippy toeing around the living room, leaping, wafting arms and positively stating "I am doing ballet".  This was added to by a love of ballerinas in literature (aka her picture books and any book the library possesses which features a creature in a tutu).  Thus, her first foray into the world of dance was, naturally, a bit of an anti-climax.

Beatrice has been fostering a dislike for loud noises.  It was initially noticed at Funworks earlier this year, when the sound of the air guns terrified her.  With absolutely no parental encouragement she has cultured this aversion to include an allergy to hand-dryers, hair-dryers, vacuum cleaners, loud music and balloons popping.  The praise band at CHW could not look in Bea's direction for any encouragement...

Thus, when Gillian the dance instructor turned on the music and in a robust Scottish accent commanded her circle of tiny dancers to begin tapping their toes (encased as they were in tap shoes) the subsequent noise threw Bea off her normally confident keel.  Thankfully her chum Evie was on hand to offer a neck to cling to and a comforting hand to hold.  Bea, stuck limpet like to Evie, regarded the circle of co-ordination around her (including boogy Beth - who on her very first class had the swinging hips sorted) and realised she had inherited her mother's dancing gene.  She came running over to me and announced "But Mummy I can't do it".  My heart broke a little and I began to worry...not that she couldn't master tapping her toe, but that she was afraid to try.  I do not want her never to try things because she isn't yet  perfect.  I want her to understand that most of life requires patience and practice.  When we are naturally gifted at something, when it comes easily...that is a blessing, but not the normal state of play.  She was ushered back and Evie loved her back to confidence.  Holding tightly to Evie's hand, she was able to march, raise her hands and scoop up a big spoonful of sugar.  The comfort of her friend allowed her the boldness to try again and while she still hadn't the flair of all the other red uniformed girls (or Beth) she did it.  And I was SO PROUD!

The following week "the mummies" were not allowed to stay, so Bea was cast adrift with only her friends to steer her.  They obviously did a pretty good job because when Mummy returned, filled with tea and toasted tea cake, Gillian confided "Yes she was much better this week, she only had a little strop".  I suggest that it was when Bea wanted to freestyle and teach the class "her ballet" and Gillian laughed with an "that is exactly it".  I was, once again, so proud.  There was little Bea "try, try, trying again" AND learning to follow instructions (a much more essential skill than simply learning to tap her toe).  Fuelled by this pride and resolved to keep her at it, particularly as she had bounced out of the door with delight at the end of the class, I decided to invest in her uniform.

It was waiting for us on Friday evening when we arrived to class.  I tied the tap shoes on Bea, gave her a kiss, stashed the uniform in the car and set off for an ice cream (it is so hard being a Mummy).  Bea was content to tap away, safe in the knowledge that she had a uniform, and remain in her ordinary clothes.  Until, of course we returned home.  Then the uniform had to be thoroughly tested for twirl ability.  Other mummies have managed to get pictures of their tiny dancers standing sweetly in their uniforms.  Not me.  The uniform threw Bea into all sorts of twirling and toe pointing shapes.  But she is so proud of it!  Almost as proud as I am of her.

This morning her first question was "can I wear my dance uniform Mummy?".  When the response was negative, she searched for numerous reasons and conditions why she "just needed to".  We managed to progress through the day when I hid the tap shoes.

Heaven help us when the GB uniform arrives!

Visiting an old acquaintance

By virtue of many Saturday morning visits, the "Unknown Market" has become a bit of an old aquaintance.  We both know that the adventure begins with the fish and Beatrice cautiously holds back her fingers as we peer into the boxes of crabs who reward our inspection with a bubble, a leg wiggle and occasionally the stretch of a leg and the squeezing of a claw.  We also initiate conversations with the prawns, much to the merriment of the fishmonger.  Then we count them, almost like calling the school roll.  Our counting is somewhat haphazard between 12 and 20, but the prawns don't notice.

The next fish who must be saluted, it the big one in the clock.

But on Saturday we had a mission.  I wanted to buy buns for my birthday, so we spent a lot of time researching all the cake stalls and then returning to our favourite.  On our way we discovered a lovely Willy Wonka-esque forest of sweetie trees.

We paused there to  buy cake pops.  These are balls of cake, dipped in chocolate.  Bea selected a white chocolate dipped one, decorated with a black beard, grumpy eyes and a red & black spotted pirate scarf.  He was nibbled faster than I could photograph.

I couldn't resist buying some more to join my birthday bun collection.

Of course the market is not only useful for bun shopping, and Bea was happy to pap Mummy buying Sigrid's birthday present.

So while the rain fell outside, we bumbled around the stalls inside, enjoying the atmosphere and feeling very eco-chic as we hauled our paper bags of buns about.  As for our "Bun Mission", well, in the words of Dora the Explorer...."we did it!"

We are off to the Johnston's for brunch today...we very well may pop into the market on our way there...we are becoming so well acquainted, it would be rude not to.

It's been one of those days

...not one of those days, but one of THOSE days.  The kind you only ever really dream about.  Let me explain.  

Most days, lets call them "normal days" pass where you have a mental checklist of all the things you have to get accomplished.  When you flop down late in the evening with a cup of tea you can only check off two or three of the things on your list, but you've had a giggle...you've played with your girl and you know that all of the cleaning will wait.  Then there are the other kind of days when you stupefy your girl with tv and growl "in a wee minute" as you storm through the to do list.  Today was neither of those days.


We accomplished a great deal.

• Into school to do the cover (Bea saw the bunnies, so joy ensued)
• Pop into Andys to buy GB pumps (again...great joy)
• Visit Granny and Granda 
• Got car washed
• Bank
• Post Office and emergency chocolate shop (Bea LOVES to stick on the stamps and post the letters)
• Dance at home
• Make spag bol (enough to freeze for GB dinner on Monday)
• Dishes / wash floor (Bea watches 2 episodes of Wombles)
• Josie and Phoebe visit (while their poor mummy visits the dentist :( )
• Lunchtime with Auntie Heather
• Elepfun, talking for Rapunzel, jigsaws
• Bea plays on computer while I clean the bathroom and dust upstairs (while doing TWO loads of washing)
• Painting of the certificate earned on the Cbeebies website.  Finger painting
• Bea makes Angel delight with real strawberries
• Kitchen gets cleaned (See previous)
• Floors washed.
• Car cleaned inside and hoovered
• Carpets hoovered
• Cuddles on sofa with bag of Malteasers (see point 6)
• Daddy comes home...off to exchange a birthday top of Bea's and buy new book for Book Club
• Make dinner
• Sort out freezer (who knew frozen food had use by dates!)
• Wash dishes
• Clean cooker

If it all sounds too good to be true...unfortunately it was.  After tea, I discovered that due to my expired driving licence and passport I do not officially exist.

Perhaps this is the secret formula.  Those days when you get LOADS done and STILL manage to have great fun with your girl only happen when you don't really exist.