Impertinent question of the month

When people find out my wife and I have just had a son after three daughters, most of the time we get some form of the same basic reaction: "Oh, so you kept trying until you had a boy, huh?" In a lot of cases, I suspect it's people trying to make sense on their own terms of the fact that yes, we just intentionally had a fourth child—they can't imagine themselves doing such a thing, except perhaps with some particular and significant provocation. In a sense, it's not completely false; as it happens, we picked out a boy's name years and years ago, and we rather felt that it would be sad if we never met the person to whom the name belonged. Aside from that, though, we would have been just as happy with a fourth girl. The gender isn't the point.

I don't want this to come across wrong, because I believe male/female differences are real and important and valuable; I believe the reality of our two sexes, and the deeper and more profound reality of gender of which our biological sexes are a concrete instantiation, matters more than we know. But my children are not abstractions, they are not generalities, they are not case studies—they are themselves. They are particular specific people, and the fact that three of them are girls and one is a boy is very much part of that, but it's only part of who they are as whole people, and I wanted them for themselves.

Yes, they are created in the image of God, male and female, as are their mother and I; but that's not all that defines them. They are creators and destroyers; they are accomplished sinners and saints in training; they are capable of genius and prone to folly; and so am I all of those things as well, and heaven help all of us as I try my best to do my part to raise them to be better and more faithful and more loving disciples and friends of Jesus than I am. Trying for a boy? No, as well say we were trying for a pianist (though judging by his infant fingers, we might have managed that); we were trying to welcome the child God intended to give us in trust, as his stewards, to raise in his name and for his glory, to join the others whom he had already given us in the same way. It's not about us or what we want at all, it's about him.

Though I will say, it's nice to have a baby sleeping on my shoulder again.

Bumper-sticker social work

Actually, technically speaking, it wasn't a bumper sticker—it was a license-plate frame—but it's a distinction without a difference. I followed this car for quite a while yesterday before I noticed the message: "PARENTS: PAY YOUR CHILD SUPPORT"—an injunction that assumes an awful lot. OK, so it's better that people who owe child support pay it, but is that really the message people need to hear? Why assume the divorce and just focus on mitigating the consequences? Wouldn't it be better to say "WORK ON YOUR MARRIAGE" or "BLESS YOUR MARRIAGE" or even (if you want to stick with the original hectoring tone) just "DON'T GET DIVORCED"?

"PAY YOUR CHILD SUPPORT" asks nothing of people but that they write a check once a month. A message suggesting they do what it takes to avoid getting divorced in the first place asks considerably more—things like humility, self-denial, repentance, self-sacrifice, forgiveness, and putting someone else ahead of oneself and one's own desires. The real problem isn't the percentage of people who pay child support, as significant as that is—it's the percentage of people who think divorce is all about them and what they want, and who seek their own desires at the expense of everyone else.

Of course, once you start challenging that mindset, you don't just make other people uncomfortable—you put yourself on the spot, too, because you're challenging the whole cultural system of which you're a part; it makes it a lot harder to get the frisson of superiority that "PAY YOUR CHILD SUPPORT" can give you effortlessly. In asking something meaningful of others, after all, you inevitably require something meaningful of yourself as well.

(To be sure, there are those who would avoid getting divorced if they could, but can't, because the divorce is driven by their spouse's behavior and decisions. They're victims of the problem, not the problem; this reality doesn't make identifying the true problem any less important.)

Parenthood is disciple-making

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise.”

—Deuteronomy 6:4-7 (ESV)

That might sound like a tall order, but think about it: those of us who are parents are always teaching our kids, when we’re at home and when we’re on the road, when we go to bed and when we get up—we’re teaching them by everything we say and don’t say, by what we tell them to do and don’t tell them to do, by what we let them get away with and what we enforce. Everything we do teaches them something, and helps shape them into the kind of people they’re going to be. In biblical terms, by the things we say and the things we do, whether we’re intentional about it or not, we are most assuredly making our children disciples, followers, of something. The only question is, what?

In the end, everybody comes up with their own answer. Some people answer it by not bothering to answer it, or by not even considering the question; that very rarely ends well. Some answer it just by going along with what the world around us thinks; that also often doesn’t end well, since the world is fickle and unstable, not to be trusted. Some answer it by imposing laws and rules and harsh punishment; that may produce good behavior, but it often produces rebellion in the end, and it does not breed love, because it does not know grace. Children need grace. We all need grace, children are just more aware of it; we adults aren’t really any better, just better at faking it.

People come up with a lot of answers, but the Bible’s answer is consistent: if you want children who honor you, raise them to honor God—and not as a harsh taskmaster, but as the one who is love, and as the giver of grace; yes, he disciplines us, but he does so because he loves us, so that we will grow. Raise them in the gospel, to understand the gift they’ve been given, that they may learn to love the giver more than the gift. Point them to Jesus, and the rest will follow.

(Adapted from “The Ministry of Parenthood”)

Worry?

These are fretful days—an unprecedented ecological disaster in the Gulf of Mexico, the situation in Afghanistan is coming apart, Turkey appears to be turning from ally to enemy right before our eyes, the economy's in the tank and shows no real signs of climbing out, Iran continues to loom, and the Seattle Mariners are 19-31. (OK, so that last is nowhere near as serious as the others, but it still depresses me.) And of course, the list goes on and on, including such things as our government voting to abandon the Democratic Republic of the Congo (the former Zaire) to government by rape. These are not the salad days for most folks.

Which is why it was apropos, when I gathered the younger ones up to tuck them in (our eldest having uncharacteristically fallen asleep on her floor before 8pm) and pulled out the Jesus Storybook Bible to read to them before bed, to find ourselves here, at the Sermon on the Mount:

Wherever Jesus went, lots of people went, too. They loved being near him. Old people. Young people. All kinds of people came to see Jesus. Sick people. Well people. Happy people. Sad people. And worried people. Lots of them. Worrying about lots of things.

What if we don't have enough food? Or clothes? Or suppose we run out of money? What if there isn't enough? And everything goes wrong? And we won't be all right? What then?

When Jesus saw all the people, his heart was filled with love for them. They were like a little flock of sheep that didn't have a shepherd to take care of them. So Jesus sat them all down and he talked to them. . . .

"See those birds over there?" Jesus said.

Everyone looked. Little sparrows were pecking at seeds along the stony path.

"Where do they get their food? Perhaps they have pantries all stocked up? Cabinets full of food?

Everyone laughed—who's ever seen a bird with a bag of groceries?

"No," Jesus said. "They don't need to worry about that. Because God knows what they need and he feeds them."

"And what about those wild flowers?"

Everyone looked. All around them flowers were growing. Anemones, daisies, pure white lilies.

"Where do they get their lovely clothes? Do they make them? Or do they go to work every day so they can buy them? Do they have closets full of clothes?"

Everyone laughed again—who's ever seen a flower putting on a dress?

"No," Jesus said. "They don't need to worry about that because God clothes them in royal robes of splendor! Not even a king is that well dressed!" . . .

"Little flock," Jesus said, "you are more important than birds! More important than flowers! The birds and the flowers don't sit and worry about things. And God doesn't want his children to worry either. God loves to look after the birds and the flowers. And he loves to look after you, too."

Thank you, Father. That's just what I needed to hear.

Case study in educational reform

This comes from the NYT article I posted immediately below; it’s of particular interest because if you wanted to design a scientific experiment in educational reform, you’d have a hard time beating this real-world example.

A building on 118th Street [in Harlem] is one reason that the parents who are Perkins’s constituents know that charters can work. On one side there’s the Harlem Success Academy, a kindergarten-through-fourth-grade charter with 508 students. On the other side, there’s a regular public school, P.S. 149, with 438 pre-K to 8th-grade students. They are separated only by a fire door in the middle; they share a gym and cafeteria. School reformers would argue that the difference between the two demonstrates what happens when you remove three ingredients from public education—the union, big-system bureaucracy and low expectations for disadvantaged children.

On the charter side, the children are quiet, dressed in uniforms, hard at work—and typically performing at or above grade level. Their progress in a variety of areas is tracked every six weeks, and teachers are held accountable for it. They are paid about 5 to 10 percent more than union teachers with their levels of experience. The teachers work longer than those represented by the union: school starts at 7:45 a.m., ends at 4:30 to 5:30 and begins in August. The teachers have three periods for lesson preparation, and they must be available by cellphone (supplied by the school) for parent consultations, as must the principal. They are reimbursed for taking a car service home if they stay late into the evening to work with students. There are special instruction sessions on Saturday mornings. The assumption that every child will succeed is so ingrained that (in a flourish borrowed from the Knowledge Is Power Program, or KIPP, a national charter network) each classroom is labeled with the college name of its teacher and the year these children are expected to graduate (as in “Yale 2026” for one kindergarten class I recently visited). The charter side of the building spends $18,378 per student per year. This includes actual cash outlays for everything from salaries to the car service, plus what the city says (and the charter disputes) are the value of services that the city contributes to the charter for utilities, building maintenance and even “debt service” for its share of the building.

On the other side of the fire door, I encounter about a hundred children at 9:00 a.m. watching a video in an auditorium, having begun their school day at about 8:30. Others wander the halls. Instead of the matching pension contributions paid to the charter teachers that cost the school $193 per student on the public-school side, the union contract provides a pension plan that is now costing the city $2,605 per year per pupil. All fringe benefits, including pensions and health insurance, cost $1,341 per student on the charter side, but $5,316 on this side. For the public-school teachers to attend a group meeting after hours with the principal (as happens at least once a week on the charter side) would cost $41.98 extra per hour for each attendee, and attendance would still be voluntary. Teachers are not obligated to receive phone calls from students or parents at home. Although the city’s records on spending per student generally and in any particular school are difficult to pin down because of all of the accounting intricacies, the best estimate is that it costs at least $19,358 per year to educate each student on the public side of the building, or $980 more than on the charter side.

But while the public side spends more, it produces less. P.S. 149 is rated by the city as doing comparatively well in terms of student achievement and has improved since Mayor Michael Bloomberg took over the city’s schools in 2002 and appointed Joel Klein as chancellor. Nonetheless, its students are performing significantly behind the charter kids on the other side of the wall. To take one representative example, 51 percent of the third-grade students in the public school last year were reading at grade level, 49 percent were reading below grade level and none were reading above. In the charter, 72 percent were at grade level, 5 percent were reading below level and 23 percent were reading above level. In math, the charter third graders tied for top performing school in the state, surpassing such high-end public school districts as Scarsdale.

Same building. Same community. Sometimes even the same parents. And the classrooms have almost exactly the same number of students. In fact, the charter school averages a student or two more per class. This calculus challenges the teachers unions’ and Perkins’s “resources” argument—that hiring more teachers so that classrooms will be smaller makes the most difference. (That’s also the bedrock of the union refrain that what’s good for teachers—hiring more of them—is always what’s good for the children.) Indeed, the core of the reformers’ argument, and the essence of the Obama approach to the Race to the Top, is that a slew of research over the last decade has discovered that what makes the most difference is the quality of the teachers and the principals who supervise them. Dan Goldhaber, an education researcher at the University of Washington, reported, “The effect of increases in teacher quality swamps the impact of any other educational investment, such as reductions in class size.”

That depends—how big a safe is it?

Picking up my oldest from school today, I saw a girl walking along carrying a sign that read

KEEP PANDA'S SAFE

If you've ever read Eats, Shoots & Leaves, you'll understand why I smiled.

The parent-teacher dynamic, Gen-X style

I'd never heard of the site Edutopia before today, but one of my Facebook friends posted a link to an interesting piece: "A Teacher's Guide to Generation X Parents." It's ostensibly addressed to teachers (as you can see from the title), but it feels more like a piece of self-analysis as the author reflects on her own experience. The key to the article, I think, is this:

If you want to know what's unhealed from your own childhood, have children. Key to decoding our parental behavior is understanding that we are, albeit often unconsciously, doing for our children what no one did for us.

I don't disagree with that, but I'm still mulling the piece as a whole; the comments are quite interesting as well. If you're a parent or a teacher, check it out—I don't know if you'll agree, but it will give you something to think about.

The hardest part of parenting

is the vulnerability; as one of the commentators over at The Thinklings, BlestWithSons, put it some time ago,

The "what-ifs?" increase exponentially when your heart is walking around outside of your body wearing Buzz Lightyear light up shoes.

I very nearly fell down the stairs carrying my youngest last week; it's the absolute mercy and grace of God that I caught myself and only broke off a toenail. I've been thinking about the what-ifs a lot lately.

What do you mean, "no"?

A colleague of mine recently made the observation that kids pass through two phases of egocentrism, once around 4-5 and once at the beginning of adolescence. He defined egocentrism as the belief that when it comes to something they want, if they can just make you understand how much they want it and how important they feel it is to them to get it, you will give it to them. If you as their parent (or other authority figure) refuse them, then, their assumption is that they must not have communicated their desire clearly enough, and so they'll repeat it—believing that if they just repeat it enough times, you will understand and accept that you have to give them what they want because it's that important to them. As he noted, the challenge of parenting a child in this phase is recognizing the reason behind their refusal to take "no" for an answer and not treating it as pure willful rebellion, while at the same time remaining firm in your answer.

Though this was a lesson in parenting, I have to admit, it set off political echoes in my brain as well.

So what went wrong? According to Barack Obama, the problem is he overestimated you dumb rubes' ability to appreciate what he's been doing for you.

"That I do think is a mistake of mine," the president told ABC's George Stephanopoulos. "I think the assumption was if I just focus on policy, if I just focus on this provision or that law or if we're making a good rational decision here, then people will get it."

But you schlubs aren't that smart. You didn't get it. And Barack Obama is determined to see that you do. So the president has decided that he needs to start "speaking directly to the American people".

Wait, wait! Come back! Don't all stampede for the hills! He gave only 158 interviews and 411 speeches in his first year (according to CBS News' Mark Knoller). That's more than any previous president—and maybe more than all of them put together.

What that says, exactly, I'm not sure; but it seems to me to be a parallel worth considering.

Exploring The Westing Game

My eldest daughter's class is doing a unit on mysteries, and one of the books the class is reading is Ellen Raskin's novel The Westing Game. My daughter's reading a different one, because she's already read that one—I suggested it to her, because it's one of those books I loved as a child and still love now. On a whim, I looked her up on Wikipedia, and was interested to find that she had donated the manuscript of The Westing Game to her alma mater, the University of Wisconsin; they have made portions of it available online, accompanied by audio of Raskin talking through the manuscript. I haven't had time to fully explore this yet, but I'm looking forward to it.

On the blessed inconvenience of children

The quote atop The Thinklings' front page today is one of my favorites, from Gary Thomas:

Kids' needs are rarely "convenient." What they require in order to succeed rarely comes cheaply. To raise them well will require daily sacrifice of many kinds, which has the wonderful spiritual effect of helping mold us into the character of Jesus Christ himself. God invites us to grow beyond ourselves and to stop acting as though our dreams begin and end with us. Once we have children, we cannot act and dream as though we had remained childless.

We've been thinking about that here this week, since our older girls' parent-teacher conferences were last night. It's interesting talking with their teachers (and listening between the lines a bit) and realizing how many of the parents they have to deal with who really don't get this, or perhaps refuse to get this. I wonder if perhaps we're seeing a spillover effect of the abortion regime—after all, if it's legally acceptable to kill an unborn child because letting that child live would be too inconvenient, that deals a heavy, heavy blow to the idea that we have a responsibility to put the needs of our children ahead of our own. The sad irony is, this means that many adults never learn how much better life can be once we "stop acting as though our dreams begin and end with us"; it's the children who have the most to lose, but their parents' lives are impoverished as well.

Embracing the wildness of faith

Bill over at The Thinklings put up a post yesterday quoting Chesterton at length (something almost always well worth doing) on the value of fairy tales for children, and concluding with some additional thoughts of his own:

This really resonates with me, because from a young age I rode like a squire through the Arthurian legends, crouched quietly in the belly of the horse with Odysseus, galloped alongside Centaurs in Lewis' Narnia, and went into the dreadful dark of Moria with Frodo and Sam. These led me one day to open up a Bible and begin reading what Lewis would call the "true myth" of the ultimate, and fully historical, defeat of the dragon.

As parents we should, of course, protect our kids. But I think Chesterton makes a compelling case here for not limiting them with politically correct, neutered fiction that contains no dragons. How will they ever know that the dragon can be killed?

I think Bill's absolutely right about that. As Chesterton says in the essay he quotes,

Fairy tales, then, are not responsible for producing in children fear, or any of the shapes of fear; fairy tales do not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey. The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon.

This is much the same point Russell Moore makes in the post I quoted Monday, and so it's no surprise that Bill follows up today by quoting Moore as well. He also adds an extended quote from Danielle at Count the Days on the absurdity that passes for "Christian education" in so many places. It's a great post:

The other day, in my Religious Education class, this question was posed to us:

"What do you want to teach a child by the time they are 12?"

During class we were supposed to get in groups and discuss what we thought kids need to know by that stage in their lives, and honestly, I was kind of appalled by the answers I heard. . . .

One girl had the audacity to call me "harsh" because I said that they need to know that they are sinners. How can anyone have an appreciation or understanding of salvation without first knowing what sin is and that they are a sinner? I understand that the average child cannot comprehend the intricacies of theology, but what Jesus-loving Children's Minister can look at the kids in their ministry and knowingly keep the whole Truth from them? Bible stories are great and important in building a foundation for these kids, but knowing who Zaccheus was, or being able to sing the books of the Bible in order isn't going to get anyone any closer to Heaven. Just sayin'.

I guess the reason it frustrated me so much was because I was thinking of my own (future/potential) children. I don't want my ten/eleven/twelve year old thinking that "being a good person" or being "obedient" means anything without having a personal, intimate relationship with Christ. I mean sure, I want obedient children ;), but in the grand scheme of things that would not be on the top of my list.

And then perhaps the most important point she makes is this:

Children can be taught all kinds of things as long as they are taught in love and kindness. Give kids the opportunity to understand, instead of withholding Truth from them. Offer them the whole Gospel, not just cartoons or cut-and-dry facts. I know I probably sound like some hardcore beat-truth-into-them type of lady, but I hate the thought of kids wasting what can be the most influential years of growth on pointless trivia or partial Truth.

Amen. This is something of a soapbox of my own, and has been for a while—I don't post on it a great deal, just on occasion, but it's something I care quite a bit about in my congregation, and with my own kids—that so much of what we call "Christian education" in the church is just awful, trivial, milk-and-water stuff aimed at teaching kids to be nice, dutiful little serfs rather than at raising them up as followers of Jesus Christ.

The problem is, I think, that too many adults—and not just adults in the church, either—have lost touch with the wildness of the world, and the wildness of their own hearts. Part of it, as N. D. Wilson says, is that our rationalistic and rationalized, scientific and scientistic, we-are-civilized-and-we-can-control-everything culture tends to teach us to see all things wild and perilous as evil; we have tamed immense swaths of our world, made it comfortable and predictable, orderly and obedient, and so we see these as good things, and anything that threatens them as bad.

This logically leads us to lose sight of the wildness of evil, both within us and outside us. Hannah Arendt had an important insight when she wrote of "the banality of evil" (an insight which I believe is much less understood than quoted), but it's equally important for us to understand that while evil is indeed dreary and banal, uncreative and far less attractive than it likes to pretend, it is not thereby tame and predictable and contained. We get reminders of this when things like 9/11 happen, but if we can convince ourselves that such things are outside our own experience—that their lesson doesn't apply to us—then we do so as quickly as possible, convincing ourselves that our own lives are still safe and tame and under our control.

The consequence of this domesticated worldview for the church is that too often, we've tamed our faith. We have trimmed it to fit what this world calls reality instead of letting our faith expand our souls to fit God's view of reality, and we have ended up with a domesticated faith in a domesticated God. After all, if we don't see our world as a big, wild, uncontrollable world that threatens us and makes us uncomfortable, we don't need a big, wild, uncontrollable God who makes us uncomfortable and calls us to fear him as well as love him; a god sized to fit the tame little problems we'll admit to having will do nicely.

There are various antidotes to that, but one of them is, to bring this back around to Bill's post, to Chesterton, and also to Tolkien, a keen acquaintance with the world of faerie. We need stories that do not only show us the wildness of evil somewhere else (for many of our movies and books do that much), but that show us the wildness of evil in our own hearts, and also the wildness of good. We need stories that powerfully communicate, not only rationally but also viscerally, the truth that (to borrow a line from Michael Card) there is a wonder and wildness to life, that true goodness is a high and perilous thing, and that the life of goodness is an adventure. We need to learn to hear the call to faith as the call expressed so well by Andrew Peterson in his song "Little Boy Heart Alive":

Feel the beat of a distant thunder—
It’s the sound of an ancient song.
This is the Kingdom calling;
Come now and tread the dawn.

Come to the Father;
Come to the deeper well.
Drink of the water
And come to live a tale to tell . . .

Take a ride on the mighty Lion;
Take a hold of the golden mane.
This is the love of Jesus—
So good but it is not tame.

Where are the wild things?

The first I heard that Spike Jonze was making a movie of Where the Wild Things Are was when David Kavanaugh (whose work I’ve posted on a bit here) raved to me about how great the trailer was, calling it the best thing he’d seen on film all year. It was a pretty good piece of work, though I didn't think it quite merited the praise he gave it, but it didn’t do what a trailer is supposed to do: make me want to see the movie. Rather the opposite, actually, as it gave me significant misgivings about what Jonze, Dave Eggers et al. were doing with the book; it really didn’t look like a movie I wanted to see.

From the reviews and early reactions, it appears to me that—to steal a line from my brother-in-law (on the Lord of the Rings movies)—the movie is almost but not quite completely unlike Sendak, even if Maurice Sendak himself disagrees. Indeed, it sounds like the movie falls short in ways I didn't even see coming; I would hardly have thought to find a reviewer writing,

Where the Wild Things Are ultimately is not wild enough. Despite their extraordinary costumes, these ordinary characters fail to transform Max’s journey into something approaching magic.

To be sure, as io9’s reviewer notes, “Spike Jonze is known for making uncomfortable films”; that was part of the reason for my misgivings (on an abstract level, I admire Being John Malkovich and Adaptation as conceptual exercises, but I can’t say I enjoyed either of them or have any desire whatsoever to rewatch them), but it's not necessarily a bad thing. Some might think that a movie based on a children’s book ought to be a comfortable film, but I’m not among them, especially when it comes to this particular book. That same reviewer writes,

Wild Things is not a movie about a little boy who wants to be wild, traveling (in his fantasy, or via magic) to a strange land full of monsters who make him their king and let him be as wild as he wants, until he gets homesick. Rather, Wild Things is a movie about the terrors and insecurities of childhood, and the monsters we all have inside of us. It presents an unnerving portrait of childhood as a stormy, exhilarating time, in which play is intensely serious and important, and loneliness is the biggest nightmare of them all.

Insofar as that’s true, that’s a good thing, because that’s very much in line with what the book is about. The problem seems to be, though, that Jonze made a movie that’s adult in all the wrong ways; the io9 review perhaps has the best statement of the common complaint:

At times during the main body of the story, I felt like I was sitting on a particularly long therapy session in a group home, or a Seinfeld episode with fewer jokes.

What seems to be missing is an actual childlike perspective. I was struck by Russell Moore’s post on the movie, and particularly his analysis of why so many children love the book:

Children, it turns out, aren’t as naive about evil as we assume they are. Children of every culture, and in every place, seem to have a built-in craving for monsters and dragons and “wild things.” The Maurice Sendak book appeals to kids because it tells them something about what they intuitively know is true. The world around them is scary. There’s a wildness out there. The Sendak book shows the terror of a little boy who is frightened by his own lack of self-control, and who conquers it through self-control, by becoming king of all the wild things.

The problem, I think, is that too many adults “grow out” of that awareness of the wildness of the world—perhaps it fades as the common illusion of control, over our own lives and over the world around us, grows. Only adults can wax philosophical about how evil is an illusion and people are really basically good; children aren’t yet capable of that sort of folly. Perhaps that’s why Jonze seems to have take a children’s book and turned it into a movie about adult issues and problems.

Can you say "personality cult," boys and girls?

One of the things I missed last week was the creepy little story of New Jersey elementary-school kids being taught songs in praise of Barack Obama. I'm sorry, that's just un-American; in this country, we don't venerate our leaders until they're safely off the stage, and usually dead. This sort of engineered adulation belongs in places like North Korea, not here. I'm with Tyler Dawn—I'd find this just as creepy and just as nauseating if it had been for President Bush, or President Reagan, or anybody else.

Incidentally, for all the folks who were having hysterics and mocking conservatives for their reaction to the President's school speech—granted that that reaction was in many instances excessive—stuff like this is the reason for it. It wasn't that the President was speaking to our kids, it was the suspicion that he wanted to politicize them and turn them into Obamabots—and that the public-school system would, in large part, gladly go along with that agenda—that sent so many people up in flames; and garbage like this only reinforces and aggravates those concerns.

Now, obviously, it's not likely that this was directly orchestrated by the White House; but it's all of a piece with the politics-by-personality-cult approach Barack Obama and his campaign have taken all along. It's the sort of thing that prompted even a liberal like Doug Hagler to complain about the messianic tone of the Obama campaign, which went along with the candidate's apparent messianic view of his own leadership. This isn't even the first creepy video this has produced—not by a long shot.

Barack Obama opposes education funding for poor students

Jennifer Rubin comments on the story from the Washington Times:

School-voucher proponents confronted police Tuesday morning outside the U.S. Department of Education, where the protesters demanded that federal officials restore scholarships taken away from 216 D.C. students. . . .

“You may not lock us up, but we’ll be back,” Mr. Chavous said. “We will make sure that we do everything in our power to give our children the education they deserve. I am disgusted by the fact that they can go to great lengths to stop or muzzle the voice of freedom.

“It is fundamentally wrong for this administration not to listen to the voices of citizens in this city.”

The protest against President Obama’s refusal to reauthorize the D.C. Opportunity Scholarship program came the same day that Mr. Obama addressed the nation’s classrooms in a televised speech about the importance of taking personal responsibility for one’s education.

There is, of course, legislation with bipartisan sponsorship to restore the funding. In late July, Sens. Joe Lieberman, Susan Collins, Diane Feinstein, George Voinovich, Robert Byrd, and John Ensign introduced the Scholarships for Opportunity and Results (SOAR) Act, which would provide reauthorization for the program for five years. So it seems that the only thing standing in the way of giving D.C. parents what they want—funding for a successful program for kids trapped in one of the worst school districts in the country—is the Obama administration. And the teachers’ union, of course.

Had the Bush administration killed a program like this, the OSM would have been howling about "racism" and "not caring about our children" and whatever else they could think of. But in fact, this was a Bush-era program killed by the Obama administration in partial repayment of the debt they owe the teachers' union, and so Big Media says nothing. It doesn't change the fact that a number of poor minority students are now getting a much worse education because the Obama administration cares more about political payback than it does about them.

Parents, children, and sin

Heidelberg Catechism
Q & A 7
Q. Then where does this corrupt human nature come from?

A. From the fall and disobedience of our first parents,
      Adam and Eve, in Paradise.¹
This fall has so poisoned our nature²
      that we are born sinners—
      corrupt from conception on.³

Note: mouseover footnote for Scripture references.

Our first ancestors fouled the well, and poisoned our inheritance. Kuyvenhoven puts it well, I think, when he says (27),

[The catechism] intentionally calls Adam and Eve our "parents," thereby teaching that, just as black parents get black children and white parents get white children, so sinful parents get sinful children, whether they are yellow, red, black, or white. None of us can escape this poison, for all of us have parents. That's the teaching.

And none of us can avoid passing it on, for all of us are sinners. As the father of three, I can testify that I am far more aware of my own depravity now than I ever was before they came along.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord! O Lord, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy!

If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared.

—Psalm 130:1-4 (ESV)

I found myself, upon reading this psalm (along with Psalms 131 and 134) to my older girls this evening, explaining to them the whole concept of the fear of the Lord. It's rather a difficult one, especially for an eight-year-old and a five-year-old, since obviously I don't want them to go around terrified of God—and yet, they need to understand this. I need to understand this. I'm sure there are many who could do a much better job than I did, but here (more or less) is what I told them.

• Awe. A couple years ago at Thanksgiving, we took a trip through Arches, Canyonlands, Bryce Canyon, and the Grand Canyon. The kids absolutely loved it. I reminded them of how they'd felt looking out across those great canyons—including the element of fear of what would happen if they fell in. In the same way, only far, far more so, God is great and glorious and beautiful—and not safe.

• Holiness. Our God is a consuming fire, as Deuteronomy and Hebrews tell us; if we as we are, unholy, impure, and frail, were to enter his presence, we would burn like moths in a flame. There's a reason Isaiah was terrified at even just a vision of the holiness of God: it's more than we can bear.

• Wrath. Along with this goes the wrath of God against sin, which is the mainspring of his judgment on sin, which we have richly earned for the waywardness of our hearts—even the best of us. God is the one who cannot and will not tolerate sin, and the judge of all the earth; we should feel in our bones the truth that we deserve only his judgment.

• Discipline. To be sure, you might well say that those who are in Christ have been given instead his grace, and that is true; and yet, our sin still deserves his wrath, and just because we have received grace does not mean we've been given a "get out of punishment free" card. Rather the contrary: "The Lord disciplines the one he loves." As Hebrews notes, discipline is painful rather than pleasant, even though it brings good fruit.

• The untamed God. We cannot control God; we cannot make him do what we want, or keep him from doing what we do not want, and we cannot ensure that he will only ask us to do what we want to do and feel comfortable doing. As Mr. Beaver says of Aslan, God is good, but he isn't safe—and there is nothing less safe than surrendering control to him that he may call us and lead us where and as he will. (Not that our control is ever anything more than an illusion anyway, but it's an illusion to which we cling desperately for all that.) We fear what he may do to us, and where he may take us; we fear the loss of all we've ever known and wanted—and quite reasonably so, for God may indeed require all that of us and more, even to the point of asking us to lay down our lives in his service. Of course, he promises to give us a far better life in exchange, but that's an unknown quantity, and we fear the unknown.

As we are, we could not bear the full presence of God; we could not even survive a glimpse of his face. In Jesus Christ, he has made a way for us to enter his presence, he has opened a way for us through the veil—but he is still the Lord of the Universe and the Creator of all that is, his glory is still a light to blast our eyes out the backs of our skulls and his holiness is still a fire that would burn us beyond even the memory of ash; if he has made it safe for us to come to him, it's not because he himself is safe or because we are somehow worthy to stand in his presence, but rather because he paid the price in himself for us to do so.

Even with all that Christ has done for us, it remains true that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom—because the beginning of wisdom is not to take God lightly, or to take his grace for granted.

Listen to the dream

My children are in school today; our school district is using holidays as snow days, which doesn't exactly seem kosher to me. So, as a tribute but also as a bit of a protest, I thought I'd post Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech this morning; this is the whole thing, not just the famous peroration, and if you've never heard it, it's more than worth the time to listen. For that matter, even if you have heard it, it's still more than worth the time.

Not a holiday for introverts

Halloween isn't, that is. For all that, I'm pretty sure I enjoyed it as a kid, if only for the candy; but when the candy lost its charm (I have a sweet tooth, but for pastries), so did the holiday, for it's a rather exhausting process. In recent years, I've discovered that it's all the more so for parents. This year was easier; living someplace where we actually get trick-or-treaters, and with our daughters going around together with their friend from the neighborhood and her mother as well as their own, I got to sit on the front porch, read Dorothy Sayers, and hand out candy.

Now, to a lot of folks, the idea that that might be preferable to going around extorting candy from neighbors probably sounds strange; those folks are, with (possibly) a few exceptions, extroverts. To extroverts, who are the loud majority of the human race, they are normal, and those of us who are introverts are "moody loners" who should be treated with some care because "some of them are serial killers." My thanks for that phrasing goes to New Reflections Counseling, Inc., of western Ohio, for their "Introvert's Lexicon," which they describe as "a humorous look at the world from an Introvert's point of view"; if you're an extrovert and there's an introvert in your life, I suggest you read it (and the material which follows it on that page), as it could be helpful to you. (If you want further information, you might also check out Jonathan Rauch's 2003 piece in The Atlantic titled "Caring for Your Introvert," as well as the sidebar materials.)

HT: cranekid

The Ayers/Obama campaign to radicalize education

Maybe this is why the Obama campaign tried to stop Stanley Kurtz from delving into the records of the Chicago Annenberg Challenge—they didn't want him telling people what the CAC was all about:

The CAC's agenda flowed from Mr. Ayers's educational philosophy, which called for infusing students and their parents with a radical political commitment, and which downplayed achievement tests in favor of activism. In the mid-1960s, Mr. Ayers taught at a radical alternative school, and served as a community organizer in Cleveland's ghetto.

In works like "City Kids, City Teachers" and "Teaching the Personal and the Political," Mr. Ayers wrote that teachers should be community organizers dedicated to provoking resistance to American racism and oppression. His preferred alternative? "I'm a radical, Leftist, small 'c' communist," Mr. Ayers said in an interview in Ron Chepesiuk's, "Sixties Radicals," at about the same time Mr. Ayers was forming CAC.

CAC translated Mr. Ayers's radicalism into practice. Instead of funding schools directly, it required schools to affiliate with "external partners," which actually got the money. Proposals from groups focused on math/science achievement were turned down. Instead CAC disbursed money through various far-left community organizers, such as the Association of Community Organizations for Reform Now (or Acorn). . . .

The Daley documents show that Mr. Ayers sat as an ex-officio member of the board Mr. Obama chaired through CAC's first year. He also served on the board's governance committee with Mr. Obama, and worked with him to craft CAC bylaws. Mr. Ayers made presentations to board meetings chaired by Mr. Obama. Mr. Ayers spoke for the Collaborative before the board. Likewise, Mr. Obama periodically spoke for the board at meetings of the Collaborative. . . .

Mr. Ayers's defenders claim that he has redeemed himself with public-spirited education work. That claim is hard to swallow if you understand that he views his education work as an effort to stoke resistance to an oppressive American system. He likes to stress that he learned of his first teaching job while in jail for a draft-board sit-in. For Mr. Ayers, teaching and his 1960s radicalism are two sides of the same coin.

Mr. Ayers is the founder of the "small schools" movement (heavily funded by CAC), in which individual schools built around specific political themes push students to "confront issues of inequity, war, and violence." He believes teacher education programs should serve as "sites of resistance" to an oppressive system. (His teacher-training programs were also CAC funded.) The point, says Mr. Ayers in his "Teaching Toward Freedom," is to "teach against oppression," against America's history of evil and racism, thereby forcing social transformation.

The Obama campaign has cried foul when Bill Ayers comes up, claiming "guilt by association." Yet the issue here isn't guilt by association; it's guilt by participation. As CAC chairman, Mr. Obama was lending moral and financial support to Mr. Ayers and his radical circle. That is a story even if Mr. Ayers had never planted a single bomb 40 years ago.

The fact that Ayers did plant bombs, and remains unrepentant about doing so, only makes it more of a story; this is why, before a national audience, Sen. Obama and his media subsidiary have done their best to keep it out of sight. It's worth noting, however, that when he was just running in Chicago, Barack Obama offered his work running CAC as a major qualification for office: