Telling It Slant

Last week, as often happens using a Mason way of teaching, the stars aligned and we "happened" to read Emily Dickinson's poem "Hope" at the very moment Pandora opened the beautiful box tied with an intricate knot made of a golden cold. In Nathaniel Hawthorne's telling of this myth, trouble came in the form of a black cloud blotting out the sun, a sudden swarm of black winged creatures resembling bats. Pandora shut the lid so quickly that she trapped Hope in the box. We finally reached the appearance of Hope as a sunny and smiling fairy who makes sunshine dance into dark corners. We are going to read the poem again today.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all

People with autism tend to take things literally and have difficulty seeing gray. Interpreting poetry can be anathema to them. But, I have hope for Pamela. She has already noticed that Pandora and Epimetheus seem so much like Eve and Adam and that their box let loose trouble in their world much like the apple did for our world. I would love to tell you that a miracle happened today, and Pamela made all sorts of lovely connections between Pandora and the poem, but she did not. And, that is okay. If she did everything perfectly the first time, then we would have no longing for Hope. I draw hope from what Hope said about her rainbow-colored wings, "They are like the rainbow because, glad as my nature is, I am partly made of tears as well as smiles." That is the journey of autism, tears and smiles.

Autistic people often wonder why not tell it straight. Why not just come out and say the black-and-white of the thing so that others know exactly what you mean? Struggling through the interpretation of poetry in high school, I often asked the same question! Thirty years later, a wonderful article at DoggieHeadTilt about Dickinson's "Tell All the Truth But Tell It Slant" answered my question:

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightening to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind—

Last month, I sang at the funeral of a dear friend last, and I could not look directly at his widow because the truth of her loss would have undone me in the middle of the song. I could not find the right words to tell her face-to-face. Everything that came to mind was too harsh, too painful, too searing until I came across Emily's "The Lost Jewel." The only thing I could do was tell it slant in a card with one of Pamela's watercolors and these sweet words about a sweet man:

I held a jewel in my fingers
And went to sleep.
The day was warm, and winds were prosy;
I said: "'T'will keep."

I woke and chid my honest fingers,
The gem was gone;
And now an amethyst remembrance
Is all I own.

Why didn't C.S. Lewis tell Narnia straight?

In his youth, Lewis had turned his back on God for many reasons. God used imagination, not reason, to win him back. Lewis said of George MacDonald's Phantastes, "What it actually did to me was to convert, even to baptise... my imagination. It did nothing to my intellect nor (at that time) to my conscience... the quality which had enchanted me in his imaginative works turned out to be the quality of the real universe, the divine, magical, terrifying and ecstatic reality in which we all live."

Poetry gave Lewis the desire to know a dying god in Norse mythology. "The third glimpse [of Joy] came through poetry.... I idly turned the pages of the book and found the unrhymed translation of Tegner's Drapa and read, 'I heard a voice that cried, Balder the beautiful is dead, is dead—' I knew nothing about Balder, but instantly I was uplifted into huge regions of northern sky, I desired with almost sickening intensity something never to be described." And, when Lewis finally met the dying God, desire overcame reason and he accepted Christ.

Christ himself told it slant! How many times did people wonder who He was and He never gave them a straight answer? Even when He described himself in slant ways (the Bread of life, the Living Water, the Son of Man, the Son of God, the Way, Truth, and Life, the Light), some accused Him of blasphemy and tried to kill Him. What would they have done had Jesus said, "I am God in the flesh"? The Truth was so dazzling they were blind to it, even when Jesus veiled it in slant references.

Jesus often explained big ideas about God to the people in slant ways. The psalmist wrote, "O my people, hear my teaching; listen to the words of my mouth. I will open my mouth in parables, I will utter hidden things, things from of old" (Psalm 78). Jesus did more than fulfill prophecy by speaking in parables. In Matthew 13, Jesus explained how He gave those who were ready for meat firsthand knowledge for they were able to digest it. To others, He gave milk because they could hear but not understand for a variety of reasons.

Perhaps, their hearts were hard. Or, they covered their ears because they feared the truth. Maybe, they blocked the light coming into their eyes the way we pull down the visor when driving into direct sun. Jesus fed those closed to the Truth by telling it slant. Isn't it easier to tolerate the sun at its rising and setting when the rays slant the most? And, when the disciples themselves could not handle it straight such as at the beginning of Luke 18, he fell back on telling it slant through parables like that of the persistent widow.

The Truth in these parables is not as obvious as it may appear. Two years ago, my church's Wednesday Bible study group read Tim Keller's The Prodigal God, which revolutionized how we read parables and how we understand events in the Bible. Since you may not be familiar with this take on a well-known parable, I don't won't spoil the joy you will find in uncovering the surprising truths embedded in the parable typically called "The Prodigal Son"—I wince at even typing that title because it is only one-third of the message. When I read Cain and Abel, I think of the two brothers in Jesus' parable. At the reunion of two other estranged brothers Jacob and Esau, I wonder if Jacob's comment is a foreshadowing of the True Elder Brother to come, " For I have seen your face, which is like seeing the face of God, and you have accepted me." (Genesis 33:10).

A few weeks ago, the sermon made me gasp when it hit me that Jesus was living out the role of the True Elder Brother when the woman was caught in adultery. When the duty-driven Pharisees questioned Jesus, he wrote on the ground. He could have hit them with the direct, unadulterated truth that their sins were just as grievous hers from the perspective of our holy and righteous God. Instead, He bent down to write on the ground until they were ready to hear it slant. He simply said, "If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." They figured it out and left. Then, he dealt with the woman who knew she deserved what was coming. But, he did not condemn her. He accepted her and told her to leave her life of sin.

A Full Life in the Real World

Charlotte Mason warned against creating an atmosphere so sweet that children crumpled in the face of adversity. She believed children must face life as it is through household ways with the family and relationships with people from all walks of life. In her analogy of a hot-house plant, she quoted a scientist from India, Professor Jagadris Chandra Bose.

A plant carefully protected under glass from outside shocks looks sleek and flourishing but its higher nervous function is then found to be atrophied. But when a succession of blows [electric shocks] is rained on this effete and bloated specimen, the shocks themselves create nervous channels and arouse anew the deteriorated nature. (Pages 95-96)

Bringing her recommendations to fruition is quite difficult when raising a person with autism. They are born with highly sensitive sensory systems that react to the smallest change, minor sounds, and even the softest touch—princess and the pea on steroids. We create environments that prevent them from melting down, or face tantrums. Setting up slightly challenging situations in public sometimes lead to ugly scenes at WalMart, and disapproving looks (and bad advice) from anybody and everybody. If we protect our children too much, their world becomes more narrow and their lives become more atrophied.

Throughout the years, we have found ways to encourage Pamela to experience new things and different people. The other day we read about the first candy widely embraced by Americans in 19th century: mint candy. I bought some mint leaves. Pamela whipped egg whites, dredged a leaf in the egg white, rolled it into sugar, and placed it on waxed paper (in this case, the recycled liner of a cereal box) to dry. This activity was worked on our relationship skills by taking turns coordinating our actions with each other. It also challenged her ability to integrate her senses. Foamy, sticky stuff puts anyone with tactile defensiveness into red alert. When the ickiness grew too much for Pamela, she headed to the sink to wash her hands.

After the candy dried, we had our taste test. Steve said the candy tasted like tic-tac's (minus the unreadable chemicals). Before she took a bite, I asked Pamela what she expected. She beamed and said, "Junior Mints." Then, she chewed on the candy (well the leaf because the sugary stuff melts in your mouth). The expression on her face reminded me of a baby eating spinach for the first time! I asked her what she thought of the candy. Pamela answered "Great!" but I don't think she meant it. Yet, another opportunity to let her senses experience something outside daily life.



Volunteering to deliver meals on wheels has enabled Pamela to get used to seeing elderly people from all walks of life. She meets all sorts of people with all sorts of special needs. Some take forever to reach the door, and Pamela has learned to wait patiently. The last time we delivered a meal a man who seemed to have autism and cerebral palsy waved to her and called out, "Hey, girl! Hi!!!!" And she waved right back and greeted him in the same way. On the Sunday before Valentines, I joined the kids in the afterschool program for a Valentine's Day Party at the nursing home. The kids had made a bunch of cards to share with people. I gave Pamela a choice to stay home, but she chose to come with us and even gave a card to a lady in a wheel chair.
In January, some dear friends invited us to a Twelfth Night costume party. The day before we hit the thrift store to find clothing that barely passed for clothing in the era of Dickens. We drove three hours and arrived just as the party was getting started. Pamela had never seen most of the families in attendance. Yet, she chose to participate in several things. She tried to learn all the steps in Jacob's ladder, which was well beyond her level of competence for fine motor skills. Pamela went outside in the dark with the large group to a nearby cul-de-sac, where we played a game none of us had ever played: bad egg. After she sat still long enough to have her silhouette made, Pamela retired to the family library and quietly browsed through books.

We continue to see signs of Pamela's ability to thrive in the real world. The other day, McDonald's made a mistake in her unusual order (a hamburger happy meal with no bun and no cheese, coke with no ice, and an extra order of small fries). We drove off before grabbing the soda. Instead of freaking out and making me drive back around, Pamela calmly, yes, I really mean calmly said, "Oma has coke." We were on the way to my mother's house and she tries to keep soda in stock for Pamela. Not only that, Pamela is more and more able to have conversations with my parents without me interpreting for her. The other day, Mom was talking on the phone with a friend. Right after Mom said, "We will be out of town then," Pamela flew into the room and demanded, "Where are you going??????" She has become quite the dropper of eaves.

And, when we travel, we find all sorts of interesting things to do. We have made two trips to Kansas and have made two trips to the art museum: one focused on Impressionists and the other on Ancient Egypt. She also tried Thai food and visited the American Jazz Museum, the St. Louis Arch, the Cosmosphere, and the Combat Air Museum. On several walks on brisk, chilly days that whipped our hair, we heard the wind whistling through prairie grass, the water trickling down Independence Creek where Lewis and Clark picnicked, and hundreds of Canada geese resting at a lake. Pamela even touched a scrap of metal from the USS Arizona and walked inside an earth lodge, quickly spotting the anachronistic fan on the wall!

Nature Study in a Ginormous Room

Once the intimate relation, the relation of Teacher and taught in all things of the mind and spirit, be fully recognised, our feet are set in a large room; there is space for free development in all directions, and this free and joyous development, whether of intellect or heart, is recognised as a Godward movement. ~ Charlotte Mason (Page 275)

The Great Teacher has created a ginormous room in which to place our feet and explore freely. When we head outdoors, we learn about both the creation and the Creator. Nature study builds the foundation of upper level science. Getting to know what is around us outdoors builds deep, personal knowledge that lives in our hearts and inspires us to wonder. It creates a longing to know more, which leads to a more intimate relationship with the One who created all.

Pamela knows the joy of reading the signs of the season. Unlike the snowy winter last year, we have enjoyed unusually mild weather. In early January, Pamela said wistfully, "I can't wait for the wisterias" (which we studied last year). Last week, while driving around town, she spotted some saucer magnolias in bloom and she cried out, "Look at the blossoms! It's almost spring!" She wondered when we would see the Carolina jessamine bloom at our mailbox. When we walked into church last Sunday, Pamela stopped in her tracks, pointed, and said, "Look at the daffodils! Signs of spring!" However, she hasn't said much about the camellias in bloom (which we studied in 2010) because she knows they bloom all fall and winter. On Thursday, we brought our nature notebooks to church and drew the daffodils with arms uplifted, praising the Glory of the season. Pamela's watercolor teacher started the students on painting impressions of daffodils she had picked (the watercolor is a work in progress with finishing touches on tap for next week's class). On Saturday, the Creator granted Pamela's wish for she spotted the season's first Carolina jessamine!


Several years ago, we eased our way into bird watching through citizen science programs online. Four years ago, I scaffolded Pamela into being able to do the Great Backyard Bird Count from our kitchen and the post about our baby steps may help beginners. Every year (2008, 2009, 2010—no time to blog, and 2011) we have joined the count and plan to join in the fun this year. Last Fall, we decided to up our game and try Project Feeder Watch, a flexible bird count that starts in the fall and ends in the spring. We ordered the kit, scrubbed our feeders, and set up our watch station. Once the material arrived, we recorded information about our station online and have made regular observations. Over the weekend, we noted nine different species of seventeen birds at our feeding area! The number of sites reporting in South Carolina is between forty and fifty, so we feel pretty special.





In the past two years, we have sharpened our focus on bugs. We try to either photograph or catch our creatures so that we can study them more carefully. Last school year, the wasps in our old cookhouse captured our attention, and we studied their nest and the declining population as the weather grew colder. We kicked off the school year with a garden spider and her egg sac, which we are now watching for signs of life. Since the fall, we have taken custody of a walnut sphinx moth, praying mantis, black swallowtail, and two unblogged insects, sad underwing moth and Eastern tiger swallowtail (which my mother gave us). We have made the first recording of some species in our very rural county at Butterflies and Moths of North America: we submit a photograph with our best guess for identification and they either confirm it or point out where we went wrong. What a joyful thing it was to release the sphinx moth and see for ourselves why it has earned the nickname of hummingbird moth. Last fall, we were sitting on the back porch making a nature notebook entry when a monarch butterfly fluttered by. We didn't want to stop it on its journey south, so I chased it around the yard to snap a picture. A church friend loaned us some amazing, gigantic Peruvian insects carefully preserved in display cases, yielding several lovely nature notebook entries.



Last week, we studied a cloudless sulphur butterfly that we kept in the butterfly cage until it died. First, we drew pictures of it and carefully pulled out its curled tongue with a pin (a trick we picked up from the Comstock book). Then, we pulled off the wings and studied the body. We noticed how furry the body was and, after Pamela touched it, she said, "It's feathery." Being able to see things up close and smell and touch them provides a rich context hard to glean in a book! To extend our understanding of critters, we have ordered insect kits: painted butterfly caterpillars and ladybug larvae (which are not at all what you would expect). Last week we prepared the home for some Western harvester ants and are awaiting their arrival when weather permits.


A new interest this year is raising redworms that make compost of our food and paper scraps. At the beginning of the school year, we started gathering and shedding things needed for bedding. We made a cheap bin because I didn't want to invest a bunch of money only to find out that raising worms wasn't worth for the hassle. In October, we ordered our worms and got the bin going! We are finding them to be pretty easy to maintain. Even when I didn't do a thing to them for a little over two weeks when we headed out to Kansas, they were fine when we returned home. There is a limit to how long you should leave them unattended, but two weeks is not it! Last week, we took our first steps in harvesting compost using the Red Worm Compost Guy's garbage bag method. We removed the top bin and, to my delight, we only found one dead worm that had escaped. Then, we took the top layer of bedding (thick to prevent fruit flies and gnats) and put it in a temporary storage bin. Working together—and it was a four-hand job—we scooped the bottom layer into a trash bag punched with holes at the bottom. We washed the bin that holds the bedding, scraps, and worms. Then we put the garbage bag on top the old bedding and new food sitting at the bottom of the bin. The idea is that the worms will migrate through the holes in the trash bag to the new bedding. Once that happens, we can store what is left.




Finally, we have been studying weather too. Right now we are studying humid conditions and made our own hygrometer to measure humidity. We are making indoor readings this week, and Pamela is recording them in her science journal. Next week, we will try outdoor readings. I am curious myself to see how accurate the thing is on a rainy day when the humidity ought to be 100%. Last week, I brought my camera along for our walk and saw haze in the sky, which we happened to study that day. The point of our reading was that fires release particles into the air that causes light to scatter and sometimes changes the color of the sky. You can see the smoke just above the line of pink clouds, and we noticed how particularly pink that sunset was.





P.S. If you aren't already inspired to get off the couch and head outdoors, enjoy our sequel to Jean Craighead George's The Tarantula in My Purse: "The Raptor in My Prius."