The Law of the Table

The Law of the Table

I spent a week as a camp counselor last summer. Spending a week with a group of seven to nine-year-olds can be challenging, but is also great fun. Before camp begins counselors receive training. Much of this training deals with sensitive issues, such as dealing with children who have troubles at home, children who may be homesick or campers who may be, shall we say, a bit too enthusiastic. But one area of training was a bit surprising; helping children learn to eat at a table.

When I was growing up, my family spent a good hour every evening eating dinner. We conversed, argued, and enjoyed one another’s company. My father often recited epic poems he had memorized long ago in school. He said, “I had to learn them and I sure am going to use them.” So we listened and learned. We also learned good table manners so that our meals would be more pleasant. 

         

Today’s children live in a much different world. Which family can afford to spend an entire hour sharing a meal? It’s more likely that Johnny is running out the door to soccer practice, Jenny is still at band, Mom has rushed in with some ready-to-eat meal and Dad is emptying the dishwasher so that everyone will have a clean fork. We live in a rush-rush world and we eat rush-rush meals.

Dr. Frank Crane, the essayist who has been inspiring my columns this year, wrote what he called, the Ten Commandments of the Table. These were not “for the feast when guests are present, nor the formal dinner, but more especially for the family.” Here are some of them.

1.    Bring with you a cheerful mind. Grumpy faces and angry voices do not belong at the family table. A daily dose of humor and good spirits keeps you healthy. As Dr. Crane says, “A serene soul is the best aid to digestion.”

2.    Don’t read. Or text or read your email. Focus on your family. Electronic devices are a lot better at waiting than a child with a great story to tell or a spouse who needs a sympathetic ear. “Mealtimes ought to be a sacrament of love.”

3.    Converse: Mealtimes are a great time to practice the art of conversation. A friend of mine keeps a deck of topic cards at the table. Dr. Crane’s commandments: Don’t criticize. Don’t argue. Be light and agreeable.

4.    Don’t hurry: Enjoy the process of eating. Savor the flavors. Enjoy the company. 

5.    Neglect no one at the table: “Encourage everyone to share in the conversation.” Imagine the insights you may be missing when a shy soul is afraid to join the conversation. “Aim to increase every one’s self-respect.”

6.    Laugh: “One good laugh is worth many medicines.” Tell jokes. Share funny stories. Sing an old song. Ben Franklin said, “Trouble knocked at the door, but hearing laughter, hurried away.”

7.    Avoid Satiety: This is a great reminder that we should eat to live, not live to eat. Don’t eat or drink too much. Savor each bite. Eat for health.

8.    Be thankful: Remember those who supplied the meal. A thankful heart is a happy heart, and probably a healthy one too.

We enjoyed our campers at meals -- once we got them to sit down and learn that mealtimes could be as much fun as fishing or hiking. Dr. Crane says that courteous meals, “sweeten the day, improve the atmosphere, and [are] points of spiritual as well as physical refreshment.” Meals provide refreshment in many ways. Take the time to enjoy them all.

         

Smiles

My husband and I stand sheepishly beside the head teacher as the school assembles in the sandy courtyard for morning announcements. More than seven hundred students wait in the early morning sun staring at the strange Americans.  Some clutch bottles of what looks like muddy water. Many wear blue uniforms while others sport ragged T-shirts and dirty shorts. A few hug tattered sweaters close to ward off the morning chill.

Behind them, the classroom buildings line up in rows. Bare walls studded with holes enclose broken desks and chairs. Faded posters advise safe practices against HIV/AIDS. Sand and paper litter the floors. Here and there an alphabet or number line hand-painted by a diligent teacher brightens a room. 

The school is located in the rural Namibia, reached only after an eight-hour journey, (driving on the left at 120 kilometers per hour on a tarred road), bumping another hour over a dirt road, and finally, after switching on the four-wheel drive on our rented truck, sliding along on sand tracks through the brush another eight kilometers. Cattle, goats, chickens and dogs scatter as we rumble along. Folks smile and wave.

Students, called learners here, walk from as far as ten kilometers to get to the school each way every day. School begins at 7:30, long after the students have risen at dawn to pound grain, work the fields, fetch water and firewood, or tend the livestock.  Breakfast was served last night. Many students only get one meal a day, after dark, a bowl of porridge called oshifima made from mahangu (millet) the staple crop. The “muddy water” is oshikundu, a drink made from sorghum. A lucky few carry a coin to buy “fat cakes” sold by enterprising local women at recess. These are also made from millet flour

Fifty percent of these students have been orphaned by HIV/AIDS. They live on the homesteads of relatives, many headed by widows, without water, electricity or telephones. Studying must be done at school, after hours, while the sun shines.

As we stand squinting in the sun, the head teacher introduces us, the honored guests, all the way from America who have helped to build the library building and brought books. In English and Oshikwanyama, he exhorts them to welcome us with politeness and good behavior. The older learners and teachers speak English, official language of Namibia since 1998. The younger students speak and are taught in the local language.

We are afraid that they might ask us to speak. We know a few greetings, which we nervously tried out earlier on the teachers when we arrived. The teachers smiled, shook our hands, and responded in kind. Greetings are very important here. How do you greet seven hundred curious kids?

The head teacher turns to the students and asks them to greet us. An older student starts them off.  “Welcome, welcome, welcome visitors!” They sing in English, huge smiles on their faces. We smile back. Tears sting our eyes.

The sun rises and the air warms. The learners scuttle off to class. 

School begins.  

Caught in the Web

Caught in the Web

Where’s Papa going with that ax?  So begins one of the most beloved books of children’s literature, Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White. An essayist for the New Yorker magazine, White enjoyed writing about farm life and personalities. While successful, he worried that he would never be a great writer. After he married and moved to a farm in Maine, White was carrying a bucket of slops to the pigs when he was inspired. He said, "I had been watching a large spider in the backhouse, and what with one thing and another, the idea came to me." This story idea would become his masterpiece. 

 

Charlotte’s Web has often been adapted many times for the big screen. Parents and kids flock to theaters or buy DVDs to enjoy Hollywood’s version of this famous story. The special effects awe them. The music swells their emotions. The actors move them to laughter and tears.  Wilbur the pig is adorable.

Wilbur’s story will be shown in the movie, but many of the words that make this book so magical may be lost.  E. B. White weaves his story with words. He pulls the reader into the world of the barn just as Charlotte pulls a fly into her web.

The barn was very large. It was very old.  It smelled of hay and it smelled of manure.  It smelled of the perspiration of tired horses and the wonderful sweet breath of patient cows.  It has sort of peaceful smell—as though nothing bad could ever happen again in the world.

For Fern and her brother Avery, summer is a time of wonder, when there are plenty of things for a child to eat and drink and suck and chew.  Dandelion stems are full of milk, clover heads are loaded with nectar, the Frigidaire is full of ice-cold drinks.  Everywhere you look is life, even the little ball of spit on the weed stalk, if you poke it apart, has a green worm in it. 

Each animal in the barn cellar has a distinct personality. The gander is brave and strong, but he worries about the rat: [Templeton] had no morals, no conscience, no scruples, no consideration, no decency, no milk of rodent kindness, no compunctions, no higher feeling, no friendliness, no anything.  

The music of White’s words echo. Even the description of Wilbur’s dinner is like a melody: skim milk, wheat middlings, leftover pancakes, half a doughnut, the rind of a summer squash, two pieces of stale toast, a third of a gingersnap, a fish tail, one orange peel, several noodles from a noodle soup, the scum off a cup of cocoa, an ancient jelly roll, a strip of paper from the lining of the garbage pail, and a spoonful of raspberry jello.   

Charlotte wove words into her web in order to save Wilbur’s life. She wrote that Wilbur was Terrific  and Radiant. But the word that saved his life was “Humble.” E. B. White wrote, "All I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world.”  

Before you take your children see a film version of Charlotte’s Web, spend some time sharing the quiet wonder of the book. Let them hear the words that convey the magic. Let them enjoy the sights and smells that Wilbur knows, this lovely world, these precious days… Help them to be caught in the web of reading and come to know the glory of everything.

          (All words in italics are quotes from Charlotte’s Web. Quotes from E.B. White are in quotation marks.)

Opportunity Knocks -- Who Will Answer?

  

 When I was growing up, my family moved just about every ten minutes.  Maybe it wasn’t quite that often, but I did attend nine schools by fourth grade. We moved all over the country. Sometimes my brother Joseph and I were sent ahead to make sure we didn’t miss one minute of school, living with relatives, while my parents packed up the old house and got settled in the new. 

All this moving could have shattered a little kid’s psyche, but somehow my parents managed to make it seem a grand adventure. It wasn’t a new house; it was a new world to explore. It wasn’t a new school; it was new friends to be made. Joe and I took it all in our stride and did have those grand adventures. 

In Mississippi, we witnessed the growing struggle for civil rights. We toured the very first nuclear submarines in Connecticut. We ran the stony beaches of Maine bundled up against the wind and huddling around a dancing fire. We surveyed the world from the top of the Space Needle in Seattle. We rowed a clam boat on the Great South Bay.

We had adventures. We had opportunities. We had fun. Perhaps without planning or meaning to, our parents provided us with an eye-opening view into the greater world. Not only did we see places, we met people. We met the hardy lobstermen in Maine. We played with the children of the brave navy crew who went down on the ill-fated submarine Thresher, and the children of the maids in Biloxi who marched to gain their promised but long-delayed rights. We lived with an uncle who was an inventor and a grandmother who told us stories of even more wonderful worlds than the one we lived in.  




Malcolm Gladwell’s book, Outliers, tells the stories of many amazing men and women who succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. You’ll recognize their names -- Bill Gates, the Beatles, Michael Jordan, Cleopatra and many more. Super-talented folks, you might think.  

These people are gifted, but Gladwell, after studying statistics, history, and trends, found that it wasn’t just talent or brains which helped this group prosper. It was opportunity. Every one of them had an unusual opportunity which afforded them the time, funding, or education they needed to succeed. Most importantly, they all had someone who helped them --sometimes a parent, sometimes a mentor, sometimes a coach. They seized the opportunity offered them and thrived.  

Parents can give opportunities to their own children, and the children of others. Show your children the world. Be open and excited about what they might find. Volunteer as a camp counselor, a scout leader, a coach, a storyteller, or a Sunday school teacher. Offer opportunities. Make being alive a grand adventure.  Opportunity is always knocking. Let’s help our children open the door.