As I browsed through what happened today in history – that’s my tweet style (follow me on Twitter if you’re interested) I noticed that today in 1940 Winston Churchill gave the first of his epic and inspiring speeches in the House of Commons.  Even reading it now, when we can’t imagine what the threat of standing alone against the Nazi tyranny felt like, his words dig up all kinds of noble and valiant feelings.  So how powerfully they must have come over, via the crackly wireless of 1940, to families up and down the country. And it makes you value the great power of words, of speechmaking, of oratory as a wonderfully powerful tool to encourage and hearten people.

Some great speakers have etched their words into our minds for ever – Jefferson’s Declaration of Human Rights still sounds magnificent: “we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” And think of Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream”, JFK’s “Ask not what your country can do for you…”, Margaret Thatcher’s “The lady’s not for turning” – these great speeches hit their message right into your solar plexus.

So, when your kids sweat and swear their way through English Lit and curse the endless essays they have to write, be encouraged that this is all good stuff to stretch their powers of expression and find new ways to say important things.

They may not end up being wartime prime ministers, but it’s a skill that’ll stay with them their whole life long.

Am I imagining it?  Or are tiger mothers multiplying rapidly? (We know they are reproducing, obviously.)  My parents hardly knew the name of my school and definitely had NO IDEA WHATSOEVER what subjects I did at A-Level.  No interest, I think.  Far too busy doing their own thing.  So how on earth has the landscape changed so drastically?  I’ve got friends who will not tolerate low marks, even if their child is not gifted and not clever.  In with the tutors or ship in the holiday homework and the poor little things spend their free time, noses pressed to the books.  So what happens if you choose not to take the tiger mother route (3 hours piano practice, lots of pushing and tons of extra work)?  Are you letting your children down?  But hang on…if you glance around at your successful friends – and here i mean the traditional concept of success ie good job, big salary.  They weren’t all high flyers at school.  Some of them dropped out of university.  Some of them took ages to find their path.  What’s hard as a parent is having the nerve to let them grow up as the individuals they are.  I’m trying to keep the faith and opt for benign neglect.  But it’s hard not to wobble when you see what the tiger mothers are achieving with their methods.

How to combine two wonderful activities: dog-walking and learning?  If you don’t already, I recommend loading up your iPod with BBC Radio 4 ‘In Our Time’ podcasts. These turn a 45-minute dogwalk into a sparklingly intellectual exercise (both for the body and the mind) as you trudge through the snow/leaves/puddles while mentally sitting at the table with the ultrabig boffins of the academic scene. 

So I come back this morning after the daily walk and now I have at least heard of Foxe’s Book of Martyrs and am aware of what a bumper big seller it was back in 1563.  And it’s obvious that you don’t even need a dog for this – although you can’t do it without an iPod.  Long bus journeys, trips in the car, waiting to see the doctor, stuck at the airport – it all becomes far more useful and stimulating this way.

Half-term coming up. 

A good moment for lounging around which is important, however unpleasant and pointless it seems to us mothers intent on achieving, achieving achieving. 

What about just slobbing out?  Most schools pack a lot of stuff into a day and the prospect of not having to get up and do anything must be wonderful to a child.

BUT….how about a good and simple idea for passive learning that will work by osmosis?  Here’s how:

Think of your 5 most favourite paintings of all time, the ones you’d buy if money were no object.

Find them online, download them and print them out.  (A5 size is good)

Stick them on the kitchen wall, right by the table.  Or stick them with sellotape ON the table.

At least 3 times a day, your children will have to sit down and look at these.  And when they don’t notice them anymore, it means they’ve sunk in.

Your job is to make each one into a memorable story.  ‘D’you know who Vincent painted those sunflowers for?  His mate, Gauguin.  He was coming to stay in Vincent’s yellow house and it was like a home-made welcome present. Nice thought, eh?’

My faves are:

The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci

The Kiss by Gustav Kilmt

The Birth of Venus by Botticelli (boys will like this one)

The Fighting Temeraire by JMW Turner

The Supper at Emmaus by Caravaggio

The Toilet of Venus by Velasquez

My 8-year old  son got muddled and now calls Caravaggio’s great painting of Jesus ‘The Toilet at Emmaus’ – which sounds like a service station on an Italian motorway.

I’ll keep trying.

I went to a Supertramp concert last night,  Yup, that shows my age, I know.  But seeing a group that has actually written and performed songs that mean something to all of us makes a nice change in the age of The X Factor – ie people performing karaoke versions of famous hits.  

Afterwards I read up on the group and,  sure enough, the key people – Rick Davies and Roger Hodgson -  showed  their musical interest and talent early on in life.  Davies was given an old record player and a couple of records as a young boy and then a friend made him a drum kit out of some old biscuit tins and soon he was drumming for a British Rail band in Swindon. 

 Hodgson got a guitar aged 12 when his dad left home and, having learnt three chords, started composing songs.

What does that say?  To me, it’s about exposing children to lots of influences from the start.  I bought a flute and an old violin for peanuts on Ebay and left them in my son’s room and soon sounds (weird ones, ok) were coming from his room. 

Now I’m thinking of buying a drum kit.

Other ingredients in the Davies/Hodgson story are:

 lack of anything else to do  -  no Nintendo or X-Box to distract them (aka boredom)

talent

interest

energy

Find out if there’s a seedling there, and if there is, water it.

Did you see this?  In the news this week was a report about the results of the survey about the state of children’s general knowledge?  

1 in 5 children aged 6 – 12 years thought Buzz Lightyear was the first man on the moon (Neil Armstrong must be weeping) and one third didn’t know who invented the telephone. 

If yours don’t either,  you could at least start by listening to this, the song sung by the mad professors in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.  A nifty way to remember the big inventors and a great inspiration to pick yourself up again after some mega-flop.

The bit about the survey that depressed (and didn’t surprise) me was that, of course,  two thirds knew that the disease Cheryl Cole had was malaria and more than half could name the winner of The X Factor, Joe McElderry.  Although there’s nothing desperately wrong with knowing that, it’s still a pity these kids don’t also know about the people who’ve really stamped their mark on our history.

Of course, I’m writing this because we make films that are easy to watch and that teach you something of lasting value.  Joe McElderry is probably going to disappear without trace pretty soon, whereas Louis Pasteur….well, enough said.