Richelieu

My major achievement on this fine morning (or not so fine as the case may be; come back sunshine!): I happened to know that Richelieu was Louis XIII's adviser. Score. I don't have anything really interesting to say about him except that he was burned into my memory by my history teacher. When I think Richelieu I think France and Centralization. I have long wondered whether my teacher was in favor of Richelieu or against him. He was one of those characters that the teacher goes on about and seems to speak highly of, and yet in the back of my mind there is a seed of doubt as to whether he was truly as great a man as I understood him to be. Perhaps it was the fact that Richelieu sided with Protestant factions in his political struggles for the supremacy of France and that this was in direct conflict with his role as bishop and Cardinal of the Catholic Church. However, that was unclear to me at 14(?)... It may be that I had an innate bias against the Hapsburgs! ;)

There have been several similar things I wondered about throughout my K-12 years; things I misunderstood, or things that were left unexplained. Sometimes I wonder if teachers left us to wonder about these things because they recognized that we did not yet have the sophistication of discernment to understand the small nuances of a subject, and that understanding would come later, with more study. Take Blake's "The Tyger", a poem I learned in middle school. I could not understand how they got the metaphor of the poet out of the poem. Certainly this time they were stretching the whole allusion thing too far. Yet lacking an explanation I just went on about my schooling, only to discover it later. But could not the power of inspiration as represented in the power of the tiger be explained to a young teen? I wonder if it was a failing of the teacher or a failing of the student. We think our teachers gods, and hardly question that they could be wrong or confused themselves. At least I did, and even in my senior year, when I questioned everything, I ultimately believed that they had the answer for me. I wanted to know and I would not accept a sidestepping answer. I think this sort of trust in a teacher is a good thing, even if potentially dangerous. Is it better that a student come out of primary school with a certain set of ideas that will often be challenged in secondary school, than no certain ideas at all? I thinks so.

Perhaps I had too much confidence in my teachers. I see many students who were taught to doubt their teachers almost religiously, and it bothers me that I may have students who come to me with this frame of mind. I want to know the balance between the all knowing teacher and the teacher who can willingly admit ignorance, without compromising authority and respect. I grew to respect those teachers who could admit ignorance of something, but I always trusted that they had the tools to find the answer. But for those teachers who insisted on having no definite opinions I ultimately lost all respect. Perhaps that balance is one which comes with experience. Perhaps it is a certain frame of mind and the way in which one approaches the student teacher relationship. I'm wondering for now.

In the meantime, I knew who Louis XIII's adviser was, and that has to count for something! ha!

Motte's painting of Richelieu is the one which I always remember, reproduced here in LIFE.


embedded photo via Matthias Seifert

Note-taking and Other Things...

Over at The Teacher's View I was rereading a post from a few days ago concerning the taking of notes. I was struck by the story at the beginning of the post about a former student's notebooks being left for trash, because I myself often keep meticulous notes and save my notebooks almost religiously. I was trying to put a name to what I felt about this picture of forced abandonment -- sadness? anger? fear? hopelessness? All these things. "Indeed," says Belloc in his Path To Rome , "it is a bitter thing to have to give up one's sword...". I imagine one day that I too will have to leave my constant companions behind -- is it naive to hope otherwise?

Note-taking, its seems to me, is becoming a lost art, much like penmanship. It seems almost strange that I keep precise notes because I am, for the most part, a rather disorganized person exteriorly, but I think that this is from force of habit (and maybe laziness!). Plus my excuse has always been that I have an organization of mind, and that's what really counts ;) Being a pro at taking notes was an infinite boon at university --

who knows how many times I didn't buy the books because I knew I could rely on my notes. Sometimes Economy demands something that Prudence would not otherwise advise. As far as tests went, I knew that if I took the time to listen in class and take precise notes then I would have less to study because it was already there, organized, in my brain. Thus my theory about laziness. A history teacher of mine once asked the class why we take notes. Answering for the class someone said "So that we can remember what the teacher said...(duh)". He shook his head and then enlightened us saying "Incorrect; you take notes so that you can forget what the teacher said." I determined then that I was not wasting my time so that I could forget.

I remember in seventh and eighth grade I had a history teacher who made it her business to teach us how to take notes. There was a very strict way of going about it, what with all the I. and a. and A. and B, indents in certain places, bullet points, numbers, sometimes an arrow or two, stars, and even the occasional precisely drawn map... etc, all very confusing and seemingly pointless at first. And frustrating! It all seemed like a bunch of busy work. I wanted a reason for all this hullabaloo and "you'll thank me later" didn't cut it. Why couldn't we just write what she said? After all, having been accustomed to dictations in the place of spelling tests, we all happened to be relatively fast as scribbling down, in a neat palmer method writing of course, most of what the teacher was saying.

However, as time went on, we could see that her notes were set up perfectly in the same manner and that one point flowed seamlessly to another. Her lecture was ordered, and so was our understanding of the material. Further, in a class like history, when a side point can take up three pages or more of notes, it helped to know that you were still under point "II." etc.... Those were tough years, but wouldn't you believe it soon became a habit to take concise notes like that in class, and to be able to pick out exactly what was important in the teacher's lecture no matter what the class? Learning how to take notes like that provided a framework within my mind, making the categorizing of information much clearer and more efficient. I suppose that makes the student sound like some kind of machinery, but it is true that our brains work in a mechanistic fashion, even if it is a more powerful mechanism than we can explain. I realize now she was teaching us how to think, not just to copy endless information. How to be logical, organized, make connections and draw conclusions. I realize now.

Oh teachers! What a thankless and misunderstood job it seems to be!

I thank you.