Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Joan of Arc #2: A Basic History

To call this a “basic” history of Joan of Arc is a misnomer as there is nothing basic about her life. I thought about calling it an “objective” history, but that would be misleading as well because my bias in her favor certainly creeps in.

In any event, the point I am trying to get across in this post is that there are some generally accepted ideas about Joan that can serve as the starting point for trying to get to know who she really was. I have composed my own short biography of her, which draws these together. 

I share it with students at the beginning of our study unit. It’s kind of a spoiler, but since Joan is a historical figure as well as a literary character, I prefer to have everyone on the same page about what is going to happen and to point out aspects of her life that remain in question. 

The “Basics”  –  With Some Bias

Joan of Arc (1412-1431) was born in the small French village of Domremy. She was called Jehanne among her people and only later called Jehanette as she became a public figure. Like the other girls from her village, Joan tended sheep, sewed, spun,and was illiterate. She likely would have married and raised a family had her life not taken a dramatic turn at the age of thirteen.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel (Joan of Arc Series: I), c. 1907-early 1909

According to Joan, a voice from God came to her cloaked in a great light. She was terrified at first but opened her heart to its message. The voice, which she learned was that of Saint Michael, instructed Joan in how to govern her life according to God’s will. He told Joan that Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret would guide her through a special mission, a mission to save France from its English enemies in what would later be called the Hundred Years War (1337-1453).

As predicted, Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret appeared to Joan two or three times a week. They instructed her in what was necessary for her mission and urged her to begin.

Joan was reluctant to leave her simple life, but she dutifully obeyed. At the age of sixteen, she set out to meet Robert de Baudricourt, the military leader at nearby Vaucouleurs. Despite his grave misgivings about Joan’s calling, de Baudricourt provided her with military escort to the uncrowned king of France, just as her saintly mentors had foretold.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel, (Joan of Arc Series: II), Her Appeal to the Dauphin, 1906

Joan thus set off for Chinon in February 1429 where she gained an audience with the dubious King Charles VII. After some playful foolery at Joan’s expense, she sufficiently authenticated her divine mission by allegedly revealing knowledge of a secret between the king and God. Charles was captivated.

As a precaution, he then had Joan examined by Church officials who maintained she was of sound mind and soul. With that additional assurance, Charles made Joan the supreme commander of the French military.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel, The Maid in Armor on Horseback (Joan of Arc series: III), c. 1908-late 1909

It is unclear whether Charles truly believed in Joan’s calling or instead hoped to capitalize on it by gaining a type of religious mascot for the war. Moreover,the extent of her true military leadership is also debated, but tradition holds that Joan did in fact gain significant prestige in the royal court and at least some authority in war councils and on the battlefield.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel, The Turmoil of Conflict (Joan of Arc series: IV), c. late 1909-early 1913

In any event, Joan’s military tenure was brief but glorious. She raised the siege of Orleans in just nine days and had several other swift victories against the English that paved the way for the politically important coronation of Charles in Rheims.

With these victories, Joan’s status surpassed that of Charles himself. France was on fire for “the Maid,” and England was beside itself at how to combat her momentum. She was a polarizing figure. On the French side, Joan was viewed as God’s handmaiden. On the English, she was seen as a heretic and a witch.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel, The Crowning at Rheims of the Dauphin (Joan of Arc series: V), 1907

After his coronation, Charles made an unexpected truce with the Duke of Burgundy, an ally of the English, to obtain Paris peacefully. Though Joan cautioned against this truce, Charles moved forward with it anyway believing it more politically expedient than sending Joan to take the city by force. His decision effectively removed Joan’s military power at the height of its strength and momentum, and much of her army disbanded.

Joan was caught in a precarious situation. She was too valuable to be allowed to return home but reduced to little more than a puppet in court. Charles still permitted Joan to fight in small skirmishes, but those lacked any major strategic objective.

With Joan’s army diminished, the Duke of Burgundy slyly built up forces in Paris and betrayed the truce. On May 23, 1430, Joan’s small army was overpowered by his forces at Compiegne. She was captured in battle, taken prisoner, and sold to the English. For reasons that remain unclear, Charles made no effort to pay her ransom.

Louis Maurice Boutet de Monvel, The Trial of Joan of Arc (Joan of Arc series: VI), c. late 1909-early 1910

Joan was put on trial before an English-backed ecclesiastical court at Rouen, Normandy, run by the corrupt Bishop of Beauvais, Pierre Cauchon. There was little chance Joan would have a fair trial. From the beginning, it was obvious the court’s soul intention was to find Joan guilty of heresy. Her trial began on January 9, 1431; she was found guilty of heresy on May 24; and she was burned at the stake on May 30. She was nineteen years old.

Her trial did not end there, however. In 1452, Pope Callixtus III reopened Joan’s trial at the request of her mother in what has become known as Joan’s trial of rehabilitation or nullification. Its goal was to reexamine the authenticity of Joan’s calling. On July 7, 1456, the court reversed the earlier ruling and found Joan was innocent of all charges and had therefore died a martyr. Pierre Cauchon was named a heretic instead for leading a sham trial.

Joan’s spiritual calling was thereby authenticated once and for all, and popular tradition held she was a saint. On May 16, 1920, Joan was formally canonized as such by the Catholic Church.

Conclusion

The Church’s opinion is what prevails in my classroom, but it is not necessarily what prevails in the world. There are many conflicting views of who Joan was, and I am very upfront with my students that they are free to come to their own conclusions. To advance that objective, we begin with a very in-depth study of Mark Twain’s Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc, which is the focus of the next two posts.

Images Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art, Washington

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Joan of Arc #1: Introduction

My grandmother gave my brothers and sisters and I many saints books when we were little. I loved to flip through them. I would read the stories and gaze at the pictures, always wondering how much was true. Did Saint Francis really talk to animals? Did God really give Saint Lucy a new pair of eyes when hers were plucked out?

Now as a teacher, I find my students asking the same questions, and the truth is that I really don’t know any better today than I did when I was little girl. It is extremely hard to draw the line between fact and fiction, legend and history when it comes to the saints. To deny a single aspect of their story can feel tantamount to a loss of faith. Likewise, to accept it all can feel absurdly naïve.

So, how does one reconcile these extremes? The short answer is—we can’t. We have to accept our own limitations and make room for any apparent contradictions in reality. After all, that’s what faith is all about. 

The trouble is, that answer is terribly unsatisfactory, especially for a child. For that reason, I have tried to develop a framework for students to decide for themselves what they can and want to legitimately believe.

In this series, I am going to show how I use that framework for my class’s study of Saint Joan of Arc, a peasant-turned-soldier who played a critical role in the French victory over the English during the Hundred Years War and ultimately died a brutal martyr’s death at the fiery stake.

Like so many saints, questions abound as to who Joan really was: a devout Catholic, a crazed lunatic, or something else entirely. Perhaps the world will never know, but we can certainly try to find out by comparing and questioning the myriad of stories about her.

Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington
Luc Olivier Merson, Joan of Arc Hearing the Voices (1895)

My class does this by drawing together the history of the Hundred Years War, Mark Twain’s Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc, along with several other great literary works and spiritual reflections. Thus, this study cuts across Religion, History, and Literature.

As pointed out in the last post, saints like Joan of Arc make for illuminating case studies across disciplines. Joan, fascinating in her own right, reveals so much more than the life of a single individual. She is also a model of the time in which she lived as well as a leader for countless future generations. 

In subsequent posts, I will present a basic summary of the life of Joan of Arc, followed by a breakdown of Mark Twain’s depiction both as an author and a narrator. Then, I will summarize several other popular stories about Joan that have arisen over the years. Finally, I will share the methods I use to help students make sense of these various characterizations of her.

By the end, I hope you will feel like you really know Joan of Arc and the world she lived in, even if aspects of her life remain a mystery.

Image courtesy of the National Gallery of Art, Washington.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Studying Our Saints: The All-Star Team

The lives of the saints offer some of my favorite teaching material, and not just for Religion class. They also figure prominently in History, and we read their biographies in Literature. As my good friend and former colleague, Mary Pat Donoghue explains below, the saints are integral to Catholic education and should be studied across the curriculum. What follows are her words.

If it is true to its tradition and nature, Catholic education is marked by a natural integration across all disciplines. This is not a trendy approach but one that finds its roots in Him whom John’s Gospel calls the Logos—all things were created through Him; all things were created for Him; in Him all things cohere.

This integration demands that our approach to knowledge include a broad array of elements from a diverse set of sources. When we seek to form our children in their Catholic faith, we wish to immerse them in a fullness of tradition, encompassed by the Communion of Saints. There are a few reasons why this is so.

Historical Witness

The lives of the saints offer us a window into historical events and the time and culture in which they took place. One cannot fully understand, say, the split from the Catholic Church caused by King Henry VIII’s refusal to submit to Church doctrine without the brave example of St. Thomas More who went to his death “The King’s good servant, but God’s first.”

In the New World, the lives and experiences of St. Juan Diego in Mexico and St. Kateri Tekakwitha in the Canadian wilderness shed light on the brutal conditions at the time and the courageous witness of those whose faith pointed to a deeper reality.

Guiding Lights

Children understand this better as they are instinctively drawn to people, characters, and figures that populate their favorite worlds. Kids don’t just love baseball; they have favorite players whose stats they memorize and whose cards they collect. Their love will transcend time, including today’s stars like Bryce Harper, Mike Trout, and Miguel Cabrera, but also the legends like Jackie Robinson, Babe Ruth, and Mickey Mantle.

Unlike baseball legends whose talents most of us will never match, the saints reveal a path through this world to the next—a way that we call “holiness.” As there are myriad saints, there are myriad ways to sojourn through this world.

Cultivators of the Moral Imagination

It’s important to encourage children to become friends with the saints. Perhaps their imagination will be captured by St. Sebastian’s brave martyrdom, St. Clare’s radical flight from a life of comfort to holy poverty, or the simple faith of St. Bernadette Soubirous. Some will find comfort in the mental struggles of St. Benedict Labre and the physical weakness that marked the life of St. Therese of Lisieux.

The lives of the saints—including their failures and successes—can be a critical component in forming the moral imagination of our children. This, in turn, is a critical step in forming our children for lives structured around moral and ethical principles.

The lives of the saints are part of the treasure box that is the Catholic tradition. We must share these treasures with our students, not just because they are innately good, but because they are the birthright of our children.

Mary Pat Donoghue currently serves as the Executive Director of the Secretariat of Catholic Education at the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. Previously, Mary Pat was the Director of School Programs for the Institute for Catholic Liberal Education, where she traveled the country consulting with schools, parishes, and dioceses on deepening the Catholic tradition in their programs. Her years in Catholic education began at St. Jerome Academy in Hyattsville, MD, where she served as teacher, vice principal, and then principal, leading the school from near-closure to stability and growth through the implementation of Catholic liberal arts curriculum.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Chaucer on Marriage #4: Discourse through Time

The picture of an ideal marriage that emerges from The Canterbury Tales is one based on mutual love and respect between husband and wife. My students are initially inclined to think that view the most progressive. After all, it was heralded by the Franklin, who stands out as a “modern” man. Likewise, it seems to correspond with contemporary views of equality between men and women.

But, a careful reading of Biblical marriage stories reveals this view to be ageless. Of course that does not mean it has always been practiced, but that is a different matter.

Adam and Eve

Our first Bible story about marriage comes from Adam and Eve. In Genesis 2:18-25, we learn that a husband and wife become “one flesh” when they get married, meaning they are united in a common purpose, and that purpose is to know, love, and obey God.

Herein lies a central point, God is the third Person in a marriage. This might make more sense if we conceptualize marriage as a triangle with God on the top and the husband and wife on the protruding angles. As the husband and wife grow closer to God, so too do they grow closer to one another. Likewise, the husband and wife are bound to one another as they are bound to God. If a husband must obey God, then he also must obey his wife. If a wife must obey God, then she must also obey her husband.

Adam and Eve, like so many of us, struggle on this front. As soon as they disobey God and eat of the forbidden fruit, they experience separation not only from God but from one another. Sure, their marriage union continues, but it is no longer perfect. In a sense, we have them to thank for the Wife of Bath’s tale and the Clerk’s tale, which depict such unequal marriage partnerships.

Mary and Joseph

Thank goodness for Mary and Joseph! They renew the meaning of marriage and reveal what it and, by extension, a model family should look like. In a word, it is all about obedience. Mary shows complete obedience to God’s will by accepting Christ as her Son. Likewise, Joseph shows complete obedience to God’s will by accepting Christ as his foster-son.

In their unique family, we can picture God Incarnate, who is Christ, at the top of the triangle with Mary and Joseph on either side. Here, husband and wife grow closer to Him and to one another in perfect harmony. Yet amazingly, Christ humbles Himself and shows obedience to his mother and foster-father. Certainly, if a child ever lived who did not need to obey his parents, it would be Jesus. After all, He is omnipotent and omniscient and thus not bound to obey anyone. Nevertheless, Christ made Himself a model of obedience to show us how to behave. This is one of the key take-aways for my students.

Thanks to the pure union of Mary and Joseph, we also have a model family with Christ as its Master and Servant. Thus, we learn that God wants marriages and family life to be based on serving one another, which comes from obedience first and foremost to God. Only in that way can any family member exercise authority.

Wedding at Cana

The Wedding at Cana (John 2:1-12) is perhaps the most famous wedding in the world. Its storyline is well known. Mary and Jesus attend a wedding together. Mary notices the wine is running low and does not want the host to suffer embarrassment. She asks Jesus to do something.

He hesitates, not because He is unsure of His power or contemplating disobeying his Mother. Rather, He wants to make sure Mary knows that she is asking Him to begin His public ministry which will result in His crucifixion. Mary knows, and out of love for all Humanity consents once again to the suffering tied to being the Mother of God. Jesus then turns water into wine and thereby performs His first miracle.

Hence we see Mary and Jesus serving the wedding party and its guests, even at great cost to themselves. Why do they do this? Of course it is out of love, but it is also out of obedience to God’s will. God asks them to take up the Cross, and they willingly obey.

Comparative Views

So while the “Marriage Set” focuses on the idea of who should rule, the Bible stories emphasize who should obey. In many regards, these ideas are two sides of the same coin, which we will look at more closely in the next post. For now, the quick answer is that husband and wife should rule together in obedience to one another. Maybe that sounds modern; maybe that sounds archaic. By the end of our study, the class generally agrees it sounds eternal.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Chaucer on Marriage #3: Characters and Caricatures

Imagine going on a long journey with complete strangers. If you’re lucky, you’ll make a few friends along the way and manage to put up with everyone else. It’s likely that some number of your companions would get under your skin and perhaps even try to goad you into talking about sensitive subjects like religion and politics. Perhaps your self-control and courtesy would prevail, and you would manage to avoid getting drawn into anything too contentious.

Or, you might be like the Wife of Bath, the Clerk, and the Franklin from The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer. On their pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thomas Becket, they end up needling one another about what a good marriage looks like, and they simply can’t drop the subject. They end up telling stories to “prove” why their view is correct and the others’ are wrong. Put differently, their stories become a proxy for their argument, which ends up being pretty comical when one thinks about the characters as caricatures.

So what is a caricature in a literary sense? Much like the boardwalk picture version, it’s an exaggerated depiction of someone. But instead of making a pronounced nose downright humungous, Chaucer takes a notable character trait like bossiness and makes it tyrannical or patience and makes it pathetic. As such, his pilgrims are extreme versions of different “types” of people.

The Wife of Bath

The Wife of Bath is one of the most famous characters from the story, not least because Chaucer makes her so loud and dominating. Once we meet her, we simply can’t ignore her. She is an older lady of means and leisure, notably traveling without a male escort. Her independence of mind and spirit matches her financial independence, which was gained from having outlived five husbands. She touts her marriages as a sign of her experience and knowledge on the subject, no doubt upsetting some of the other pilgrims who feel she is really a shallow gold-digger.

Taking their sideways looks as envy rather than criticism, the Wife of Bath brazenly launches into a story entitled, “The Unknown Bride,” which unfolds as a critique of husbands and commendation of wives. We can only imagine how annoyed the other pilgrims are as she tells an absurd tale about a shameful Knight of King Arthur’s court who, in order to save himself from the death sentence, must find out what women want most in the world.

Just as the term of his search is about to expire, he meets an Old Hag who promises to tell him the answer if he will promise to grant her the first thing she asks when he is released from the death sentence. Desperate, the Knight agrees, and he learns the secret wish of all woman is to rule over their husbands. Queen Guinevere, who presides over the Knight’s case, acknowledges this to be true and therefore sets the Knight free.

But wait—the Old Hag marshals her claim on his life and demands that he marry her!

Utterly disgusted at the thought, the Knight nonetheless agrees, presumably both to keep his word and to save his life. On their wedding night, the Old Hag turns to her distraught husband and asks, “Would you rather have me old and poor and homely and come of common folk, but a faithful, loving wife; or, perchance, young and rich and handsome and of high birth, but careless of your love and maybe false to you?”

The Knight reluctantly accepts the wisdom of her words, contents himself in the match, and suddenly finds the Old Hag transformed into a fair damsel. Thus, they live happily ever after—albeit with the wife ruling over the husband.

The Wife of Bath emerges from the tale a complex caricature of many negative wifely traits that persist today. She’s a boss, a know-it-all, and a nag all in one. Though she thinks she is superior to men—even in wisdom and virtue—she is quite obviously self-centered and worldly.

The Clerk

The Clerk is among those pilgrims disgusted with the Wife of Bath. Much younger, not to mention poorer and inexperienced in love, he nonetheless feels himself her intellectual superior. After all, he is an Oxford student who would rather fill his mind with books than fill his tummy with food. Alas, he appears “as shy as a young wife” when asked to tell the next story. Really, however, he can’t wait to set the Wife of Bath straight by telling a better marriage story, one that he learned from no less than Francis Petrarch.

The Clerk’s tale is called, “The Patient Griselda,” and it directly contrasts the Wife of Bath’s tale. His leading lady, Griselda, is a humble woman who marries a powerful Marquis beloved by his people. Out of his intense devotion to their marriage, he deems it necessary to “test” Griselda’s commitment. Incidentally, the irony here is never lost on my students, and they immediately feel a healthy dose of righteous indignation.

“If he loves her, why doesn’t he trust her already?” they steam.

That feeling escalates as the cruelty of each test is revealed. In the first, he makes Griselda “prove” her love of him by handing over their newborn baby to be killed. He does the same with their second child. Next, he asks her to agree to a divorce. Finally, he invites her to prepare his castle for a new wife.

Griselda, a “true” and “devoted” wife consents to every wish of her husband and thereby “proves” her love for him. Overjoyed that he can really “trust” his wife, he reveals that he had merely been testing her all the time. Their children are really alive; there is no other woman; and they can now live happily ever after together—albeit with the wife totally submissive to the husband.

No doubt, the Clerk feels thoroughly satisfied with his story, and we can picture him smugly stealing glances at the Wife of Bath as if to say, “Griselda is an ideal wife; not the Old Hag! Women can’t be trusted! They need a man to rule over them!”

Much like the Wife of Bath, the Clerk believes himself full of wisdom and virtue. Ironically, he (and the Marquis) emerge as a caricature of a controlling and even an abusive husband. Conversely, Griselda appears a pathetic, down-trodden wife. Notably, my students are equally frustrated with her for being so complicit in her suffering. This story, though full of satire, is virtually devoid of humor when put in these stark terms.

The Franklin

Another name for the Franklin is the Country Gentleman. The former implies his freedom in society, meaning that he is self-made and no one can lay claim to his wealth. The latter connotes his social status. Though he is not a nobleman by birth, he has risen up through the ranks to gain respect. This makes him a “modern” man, so to speak. If follows, then, that his ideas are a little more progressive than the Wife of Bath’s or the Clerk’s, and he can’t resist “politely” pointing out their errors.

The Franklin’s story, “The Promise of Dorigen,” ends up being the most appealing of the three.  At the outset, we learn of a knight named Arviragus who falls in love with a lady named Dorigen. They promise to love and serve one another, which means their relationship will be built on equality. Sadly, Arviragus is called away to war, and Dorigen is left to pine away until he returns.

Enter Aurelius, a love-sick philanderer who makes open advances at Dorigen despite her steadfast loyalty to her husband. Frustrated that he won’t leave her alone, she finally says, “Go and gaze upon those black and jagged rocks that have sent so many a good ship to her destruction and that threaten the safety of my dear husband, and know that when every one of those rocks has vanished, I will leave my Arviragus for you, and never before.”

Rather than realizing he has been soundly rejected yet again, Aurelius takes Dorigen’s words as a literal promise. He then seeks out and finds a Magician who makes the rocks disappear. Having succeeded in this venture, he expects Dorigen’s hand.

She is now caught between the promise to her husband, who has newly returned from war, and the “promise” to Aurelius. It goes without saying that one promise is true and the other is empty, but the Franklin puts them on equal terms to reveal the stupidity of the situation. What’s more, he has Arviragus release Dorigen from her marriage vows so that she can stay true to her word to Aurelius and thus retain her purity. This act is so respected by Aurelius that he in turn releases Dorigen as well. She is therefore free to return to her husband, her true love. Man and wife then live happily ever after.

What, then, of Aurelius?

He owes a large sum of money to the Magician who made the rocks disappear and is unable to pay it. The Magician, being a gentleman himself, releases Aurelius from his debt. Here the Franklin makes a subtle dig at the Clerk by referring to the Magician in his story by the synonymous name of “Clerk.” His message is clear: the Clerk pilgrim needs to pipe down, even if the Wife of Bath owes him an apology.

The Franklin’s caricature is much more likeable than the other pilgrims. He is a peacemaker in the feud between the Wife of Bath and the Clerk. Likewise, he is the level-headed representative of true love, forged on mutual love and respect between husband and wife.

Please note: My summaries are primarily based on The Chaucer Story Book by Eva March Tappan. I draw from various translations of the original text as well, but Tappan’s is what I read with my students.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Chaucer on Marriage #2: Literary Background

The Canterbury Tales is considered the most important poem written in the Middle Ages. That is not only because of its historical significance and literary genius, but also because of its timeless depiction of human nature. His characters, which we will meet in the next post, are both medieval and modern at the same time, making them profoundly human even if apparently ridiculous. Through them, Chaucer reveals countless universal Truths that apply as much today as they did back then.

Story Framework

The premise of the book—and explanation of the title—revolves around a group of travelers on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thomas Becket in Canterbury. At the suggestion of an amiable, profit-seeking inn-keeper they meet along the way, each traveler agrees to compete in a story-telling contest. Whoever tells the best story will win a free meal on Harry on the return trip, which is a pretty good business strategy on his part!

A “Quiet Traveler” who is already at the inn oversees and takes interest in Harry’s proposition. Though not a pilgrim, he decides to join the group and record everyone’s stories. Hence, he becomes the narrator and thereby represents Chaucer’s alter-ego.

This type of structure is called a framed narrative, which is a story within a story. On one level, The Canterbury Tales is all about the Quiet Traveler observing, critiquing, and recording everything that happens. We might call this the outside story. On another more obvious level, The Canterbury Tales is all about what the pilgrims have to say in their stories. Collectively, we might call their tales the inside story.

Through this interplay of narrative perspectives, Chaucer weaves a colorful tapestry of social dynamics. “Clicks” form among the pilgrims; arguments ensue between them; and their stories serve as the battleground for their ideas.

The “Marriage Set” reflects the divergent views of the Wife of Bath, the Clerk, and the Franklin. We’ll look at them in detail in the next post. Suffice it to say for now that each of these pilgrims is very opinionated about what constitutes an ideal marriage, and Chaucer pokes fun at each of them in turn to show the weaknesses in their respective positions.

Motifs

Another way to conceptualize the story structure is to think about the framed narrative in terms of motifs or themes.

The motif of the outside story is pilgrimage. This common purpose is what “holds” the travelers together because it’s the reason for their interaction in the first place. After all, the Wife of Bath, a wealthy older woman, would normally have nothing to do with the Clerk, a poor scholar. She may, however, begrudgingly condescend to socialize with the Franklin, a wealthy, self-made country gentleman, out of “respect” for his money.

Nonetheless, their social stations are too disparate to come together under ordinary circumstances. In the context of a religious pilgrimage, with all its “sacredness” and “brotherly love” and “humility” (note the irony), these three pilgrims are obliged to put up with each other.

The motif of the inside story varies depending on which pilgrim is being represented, but for our focus it’s marriage. Each of the aforementioned pilgrims tells stories that revolve around the question of who should “rule” in a marriage: the husband or the wife. Their stories are so full of absurdities they hardly resemble real life. To use the modern vernacular, the marriages they showcase are completely “dysfunctional.”

Chaucer contrives them not only to entertain with silliness, but also to warn against common pitfalls and push readers toward a true understanding of what marriage is all about. We’ll get to Chaucer’s views in the final post. As the “framer” of everything, it’s his view that will prevail in the end.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Chaucer on Marriage #1

Looking to Geoffrey Chaucer, a 14th century satirical writer, for marriage advice sounds about as ridiculous as picking up the comic section of the Sunday newspaper to gain insight into true love. Laden with jokes and humor as they are, how could they possibly reveal wisdom about anything?

Yet, when we stop to think about the likes of Charles Shultz, the cartoonist of the beloved Peanuts comic strip, it becomes clear that wisdom does in fact speak through playfulness and even foolishness at times. Consider, for example, Linus’s famous testimony on the meaning of Christmas in A Charlie Brown Christmas. Likewise, pick up just about any Calvin and Hobbes comic strip by Bill Waterson and you’ll find his cartoon characters engaged in rather profound dialogue.

Sometimes, we need to hear something a little differently, perhaps with childlike simplicity or humor, to really get it.

Chaucer understood this, too. In The Canterbury Tales, he uses satire, which is a type of ridiculously exaggerated humor, to reveal Truth. Ironically, it can be easier to see Truth when intentionally and skillfully “openly-hidden” in falsehood. It becomes a game of sorts to unpack. We know something is off. Once we pinpoint what it is, we instinctively try to figure out the way it really should be.

Chaucer challenges readers to play his “satire game” over and over again, forcing them to look deeply at a wide range of enduring topics from income inequality, to education, to Church authority, and more. The unit I teach my middle school students revolves around Chaucer’s “Marriage Set.”

Yes, that does seem like somewhat of a distant topic for my age group, but it is nonetheless very enjoyable, formative, and even applicable. Students end up reflecting on the marriages of their parents and other adult models, but we take the topic much further to look at family life in general. After all, the bond between a husband and wife mirrors many relationships, most importantly that of us between God.

In this series, I am going to share my classical approach to teaching the “Marriage Set.” Here is the outline I will follow.

I. Literary Background

II. Characters and Caricatures

III. Discourse through Time

IV. The Role of Obedience

I hope it will be enjoyable, informative, and inspiring from a literary as well as a theological standpoint.

 

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Literacy, Wisdom, and Virtue #4: Focused Practice

All of the strategies presented in this series so far have offered support for developing reading virtues alongside opening a child up to the wisdom in Great Books. This final post does that also, but with a more deliberate emphasis on the virtue side of the equation. Just as athletes use drills to master the fundamental skills of their sport, readers benefit from deliberately isolating reading virtues in order to improve them.

My two favorite exercises are repeated readings and cloze readings, both of which are research-based and complement classical education very nicely.

Repeated Readings

Classical educators have long held up the importance of reading the same material over and over again to develop a deeper understanding of the text. Many of us do that for pleasure when we enjoy a book or out of necessity when we don’t fully understand something we read. Inevitably, we gain more the second and third time around.

The same is true for repeated readings. The catch, though, is that it seems at first like students are just mindlessly working through a text.

Here is why.

Repeated readings consist of students speed-reading aloud a small selection of text, usually about 100 words, as quickly and as many times as they can in one minute. Once they’re done, students record how many words they read. Then, the teacher resets the timer and has the student do it again some number of times.

Almost always, students read more words with each reading because they become more comfortable with the text. This builds confidence, reading fluency, and—perhaps surprisingly—reading comprehension at the same time. I like having students write something at the end, such as a moral if we read one of Aesop’s fables.

Here is a repeated reading example. Notice that each word is numbered to make it easier for students to track their progress. It’s just as easy to pencil in the numbers, which is what I normally do.

There could be many different versions of managing repeated readings. Some teachers might complete this one-on-one with a student, but I find it works very well to have students do this in pairs. I manage the clock for the entire class, and pairs of students take turns reading. It gets very noisy when half the class is reading at the same time, but students enjoy the competitive spirit it elicits. Best of all, the “competition” is always against oneself as the student is trying to beat his own score.

Another variation I like is pairing students up from different grade levels. Older students take on a mentor-role, helping younger students pronounce words and break down meaning, while developing their own reading virtues in the process. Everyone benefits!

Match this exercise with a significant passage from a Great Book, and students are primed for a critical discussion or writing assignment.

Cloze Reading

Another research-based strategy for improving reading virtues is cloze reading, which sharpens critical reading by explicitly drawing on the faculties of logic.

It consists of a teacher selecting a passage of text. I find it most valuable when chosen from a Great Book that students are already reading. Then, the teacher “blanks out” key words. Students must read the passage and figure out what words are missing. The goal is not necessarily to find the precise word the author uses in the original text, but to figure out a word that would make sense in context. After an appropriate amount of time, the teacher reads the original passage to students, and the class collectively compares answers and assesses how well they did.

Cloze reading is like a puzzle in that it challenges our brains to piece words together in a logical way. Though the exercise does not explicitly require a student to re-read the passage, he will have to do so in order to figure out the missing words. It’s a more restful exercise than repeated readings, not least because it is completed silently. Nonetheless, it can be more stimulating because it is all about finding meaning. When I look around the classroom during a cloze reading, I feel like I can see students’ brains firing away.

Here is cloze reading example from The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White.

On a final note, repeated readings and cloze readings take very little time to complete, so they are relatively easy to work into the school week, and they have tremendous benefit. The key to serving the twin goals of wisdom and virtue is not only making sure the selections come from a Great Book, or perhaps a Classic Story, but also requiring students to articulate something valuable at the end.

And, I find it best when it feels fun for students. They know they’re developing reading virtues, but the exercises don’t feel tiresome. Instead, they feel energizing and empowering, and that is an essential prerequisite for building a love of reading.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Literacy, Wisdom, and Virtue #3: Silent Reading

If given the choice, most children would prefer to be read to indefinitely. It seems easier, especially for early and struggling readers, and it’s engaging and restful. But the time comes for every child to really learn to read independently. I’m not just talking about decoding either. I’m talking about trying to read the likes of Shakespeare and the other Great Authors in one’s own head.

That requires a child to practice the virtue of silent reading. Put differently, he must learn to turn off the noises around him and listen to his own internal voice in conversation with an author.

Silent reading develops the habits of discipline and attention in a very different way than reading aloud. Whereas the latter grabs students in a more sensory, interactive, and energizing way, the former calls on students to be still within themselves.

That can be very hard, even for adults!

Depending on our mood, level of interest in a subject, or the things going on around us, it can be difficult to get into a silent reading rhythm. Here are several strategies that can help.

Classroom Culture

Classrooms should be the ideal place for students to get lost in a book, but that can be hard to facilitate. Not surprisingly, silent reading needs silence of mind and body, and just one restless student can upset the rhythm for an entire class. For that reason, it may be tempting to assign silent reading as homework and use class time for discussions.

I do that plenty of the time, but I still work silent reading into the school day. After all, there is no guaranteeing silent reading is even possible in a child’s home. I moderate it in small chunks at first—ten, fifteen minutes or so—and work up to longer sessions as the year progresses. With time and deliberate oversight, students become stakeholders in a silent reading culture, not least because it means less homework!

Teacher Prompted

Sometimes I want to say, “Okay, turn to chapter six and begin reading in silence.”

But that is not a good way to get a class going. It’s kind of like pushing a beginning swimmer into the deep end. He is so focused on not drowning that he can’t even think about how to use his arms and legs, let alone control his breath. Likewise, the reader pulls and grasps in his head, often drowning in the text before him.

Instead, I generally set up silent reading with some kind of prompt. Perhaps it’s a discussion about the previous chapter and how it positions the next.

Before having students read Act III of William Shakespeare’s King Lear, I might ask, ”Why do you think King Lear believed Regan and Goneril when they said they loved him?…Should their insincerity have been obvious?…Then why didn’t he pick up on it?”

In just a few minutes, students realize that King Lear’s mental state is in a bad way, and it’s about to get much worse. Then when they read Act III on their own, they are primed to recognize King Lear’s final descent into madness.

Other times, I assign a writing exercise that draws out important themes that a story will cover.

Before reading “The Marriage Set” from Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales I like to ask, “Who knows more about marriage, a person who has been married and divorced multiple times or someone who has studied about it in books?” The abstract people from the prompt take on form when students meet the Wife of Bath and the Clerk, two characters who sharply disagree in their views on marriage. Students must then “test” their preconceived notions against the story line.

Another favorite approach is to read the first several paragraphs aloud to the class with them reading along. This draws students into the story and prepares them to successfully finish it on their own. For more on this, return to my previous post on reading aloud.

Directed Reading

One way to aid student comprehension and prompt critical thinking is to give students writing assignments in conjunction with reading. I favor narration exercises, reading guides, and journal entries, though there are many ways teachers can accomplish this.

Reading Guides

Reading guides are teacher-generated questions about the text. If my class is reading a novel, I have a reading guide for each chapter. If we are reading a play, then I might have one for each act or scene. In either case, I write my questions in chronological order, so students can read and answer questions more or less simultaneously. I like this model the best for middle school students because it keys them in to the important details and ideas in the reading.

Here is an example of a reading guide I designed in conjunction with Saint Benedict: The Story of the Father of Western Monks by Mary Fabian Windeatt. Although it’s not considered a Great Book, it is beautifully written and enriches my classical curriculum as a whole. Students read this book entirely on their own. My reading objective in this case is to help students improve their reading comprehension while learning about a great medieval saint. For that reason, a reading guide is ideal.

Narration Exercises

The Latin root narr means “tell,” which is not surprising when one thinks about words like narrator and narrative. Likewise, narration exercises are designed to teach students how to re-tell a story, which is a wonderful way to check their comprehension after reading something. Narrations can be done verbally, but I prefer having students complete them in writing as the end product tends to be more thoughtful and well-planned.

Narrations are somewhat similar to summaries, but they have more of a story voice. Instead of just stringing together sentences that present details from the original story in chronological order, students are encouraged to make the narration exciting and suspenseful. Students may stick with the narrative perspective, but they may also choose to tell the story differently, which can be very fun to read aloud to classmates.

This narration example was completed by a small group of students in connection with reading the story of Genseric the Vandal in Heroes of the Middle Ages by Eva March Tappan. Though also not a Great Book, the stories Tappan tells are beautifully written and historical by design.

Journal Entries

For journal entries, I write deeper, more analytically focused questions that address a central Truth or major theme at play. In response, students end up writing mini-theses about each chapter.

This is a more challenging assignment for students than reading guides and narrations because it requires higher level thinking in addition to basic comprehension and creative writing. Students must synthesize a number of details in the text and develop their own ideas. Moreover, journal entries are open-ended in the sense that students write as much or as little as necessary to answer the questions in a logical, evidence-based, persuasive way.

Here is an example of a journal entry based on questions I designed for Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc by Mark Twain. Unlike the two aforementioned examples, Mark Twain’s book falls squarely in the Great Book genre and demands a higher level of reading.

Informal Assessment

Silent reading provides invaluable insight into students’ reading habits. I may sit at my desk and discreetly “watch” students, or I may walk around and openly “monitor” them. In either case, I am constantly assessing how students read. While I may not be able to hear the mental process going on in a child’s head during silent reading, I can determine much from his body language or just tracking how quickly he turns the page.

“No wonder so-and-so’s journal entries are sparse. He’s reading too fast to absorb much,” I might observe. Or, “I wonder why so-and-so is having so much trouble reading today. He keeps looking around. Better have a chat with him.”

Collectively, these strategies help students develop the virtue of silent reading. I always remind students they will be working on this virtue their entire life, and I make sure to let them know my first reading of each of the works we study together was difficult, too. It’s only through continued work on the same texts that I have learned what I know, and I get more out the books each time I read them. They will, too.

Posted on by Stephanie McGann

Literacy, Wisdom, and Virtue #2: Reading Aloud

Words are meant to be spoken. Yes, we write them and read them, but that is really a secondary function. A writer says the words in his head as he composes, just as a reader hears the words in his head as he reads. Thus, even the written word is a type of long-distance conversation.

What’s more, there is something about the sound of writing that either attracts us or repels us.

Just watch the face of a little child when he hears a well-read story. His eyes light up with understanding. His face smiles along with excitement or drops with sadness. He nods to show agreement or frowns to show objection. He feels like he is in the story, like the author wrote it just for him. He thinks about every word and asks questions whenever the reader pauses to take a breath. He is quite literally trying to speak to the author.

Clearly, reading aloud is as instinctual as it is meaningful. All of us want to hear words so we can really listen to them. For that reason, classical educators rely heavily on various types of reading aloud.

Teacher-led

One of the most obvious strategies is teacher-led read-alouds. There are many variations of this depending on the age group. For middle school students, I find it best to have them read along in their books while I read to them. I make a point of modeling critical thinking by pausing frequently and asking questions about the text. My goal is for students to learn how to engage the story deeply by showing them what an internal dialogue with a story looks like.

When reading “The Lady of Shalott” by Alfred Lord Tennyson, I might say something like, “I wonder why he uses bridle in this verse…Can you think of a homonym that we might substitute…Yes, bridal, as in getting married!…What message is Tennyson trying to convey about how the Lady of Shalott feels?…Yes, she wants to find love!”

Another good thing about reading aloud to students is that it establishes a proper pace for them. It slows down the reading process for those who are inclined to speed ahead and pushes others forward who might generally lag behind. As the adage goes, it keeps everyone on the same page, which is very important for generating insightful discussion.

But that does not mean it forces an artificial equilibrium in the classroom. Rather, it scaffolds the learning process in a wonderful way. “Developing” readers get a keener understanding of the text and increase their comprehension. Meanwhile, “advanced” readers are able to more critically analyze the underlying meaning and extract its wisdom.

Likewise, everyone benefits from hearing the appropriate pronunciation of words, use of pauses, and tonal inflections. It shows students what the words are supposed to sound like, which can be difficult when reading is done only in one’s own head. Teacher-led read-alouds model what students should be aspiring toward.

Student-led

But exclusively reading aloud to students is not productive in the long-run. They must also read-aloud themselves. This helps students develop their reading fluency and hear what their own voice sounds like. To this end, it allows them to “check” their own reading in a much more accurate way than simply hearing their voice in their head.

As we all know from experience, something might sound better in our heads than when spoken. So, if we want students to develop to their best potential, they need the most accurate measure of their progress, which comes from reading aloud. They need to hear their own voice, not an idealized internal version of it.

Paired with this, of course, is the teacher’s ability to assess the student. Only by hearing a student can the teacher know where he is struggling, help him master tough words, and point out the right places to pause and inflect.

I once heard an educator say that students should never be forced to read aloud since some are so uncomfortable doing so. I strongly disagree with this view. Well-intentioned as it may be, I think it is a tremendous disservice to students because it denies them a premium opportunity to improve their reading.

What’s more, I think it’s fairly easy to establish a respectful, loving reading culture in a classroom where students feel encouraged and supported. At the outset of the school year, I let my students know that everyone will read throughout the day (and not in a “popcorn” fashion). When called upon, the student stands, and everyone else reads along silently. No one but me is allowed to correct a student.

Some students will always be more comfortable than others, but the inability to “opt-out” and the insistence on a respectful reading culture helps everyone feel “safe.” As the school year progresses, struggling readers improve, gain confidence, and realize that everyone mispronounces words and needs help.

Choral Reading

A variation of student-led read-alouds is choral reading, which consists of the teacher reading aloud along with the whole class in one voice. This is one of my favorites. It lets everyone practice reading at the same time, which is very efficient. Additionally, it provides “cover” for struggling students by letting their mistakes blend into the chorus of voices. Plus, since the teacher is reading, too, the students have a good model to follow along with. Although the teacher cannot as easily hone in on individual mistakes, students automatically self-correct.

Blended Read-Aloud

Another variation is to employ a little bit of each strategy, kind of like the “I read; we read; you read” approach taught in conventional teacher education classes. For example, the teacher might start off reading aloud a chapter in King Arthur and Knights of the Round Table. Then, once the setting and tone are established, turn it over to students for individual read-alouds or choral reading.

Assessment

It is helpful to remember that reading aloud to and with students does not ensure comprehension. Many times have I read and discussed passages with students and felt they understood it only to realize that some number were still grasping with concepts and ideas.

That is where assessments come in handy. They can be in various formal and informal formats, but they should definitely be completed independently. For example, a student might check in verbally with a teacher through a simple conversation, narrate a story in verbal or written form, answer a reading guide, complete a journal entry, or something similar. I like using a combination of all of these with the various Great Books my students read. More on assessments, including examples, in the next post!

Not only does the assessment give the teacher much needed insight into a student’s progress, but it also compels the student to articulate his ideas. After all, that’s the goal—helping students to understand and form their own ideas in the process.