The opinions in this article are the author’s and do not necessarily represent the views or opinions of Classical Conversations and its leadership, staff, or communities. We are glad to provide a platform for discussion of ideas about classical Christian education in K-12 education and beyond, but publication is not an endorsement from Classical Conversations.
For those of you who know me, you know that my journey through Classical Conversations is a different one from most. I started working with Classical Conversations in 2006. It was small then; I remember once someone saying something about corporate and someone else saying that corporate was just Leigh Bortins and one other person.
The opinions in this article are the author’s and do not necessarily represent the views or opinions of Classical Conversations and its leadership, staff, or communities. We are glad to provide a platform for discussion of ideas about classical Christian education in K-12 education and beyond, but publication is not an endorsement from Classical Conversations.
The opinions in this article are the author’s and do not necessarily represent the views or opinions of Classical Conversations and its leadership, staff, or communities. We are glad to provide a platform for discussion of ideas about classical Christian education in K-12 education and beyond, but publication is not an endorsement from Classical Conversations.
Our two-year-old boy old loves his bath. Many well-meaning relatives wanted to get him some bath toys for his birthday and for Christmas. For some reason, I balked at the idea. It took me a while, but with God’s help, I was able to figure out why I had such a violent reaction to that idea. Two reasons: we do not need more stuff and the bath itself is a toy.
A long time ago I ran a marathon. In Alaska. At the base of Mt. McKinley.
Seriously, in my current fitness state that idea feels ridiculous now. It sounded like a good idea at the time. My husband to be and I were newly engaged and it felt like the perfect way to prepare for a lifetime together. What better metaphor for marriage could there be than training for the long haul of a marathon? Or something like that. I’ll blame it on my head-over-heels-in-love state.
One of the best things our parents ever did for me and my sister, Sarah, was let us get bored.
