Every January, I begin re-reading King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table in order to teach it in fourth grade English. I have always loved the world of medieval Britain. But every year around this time, I also find myself thinking: “This is hard! Why do we expect nine- and ten-year-olds to comprehend the rise and fall of Camelot and the intricate rules of chivalry? What are we expecting them to get out of this reading? Will this be the year that every student gives up after three chapters? Can they do this?”

Roger Lancelyn Green’s prose, while beautiful, is significantly more difficult in terms of vocabulary and syntax than the books our fourth graders read in the fall semester. For struggling readers, it can be a shock. The material is more complex as well: it has a relation to history, but is not history. It draws on the assumptions and rules of an unfamiliar culture. It uses a narrative style that can jar modern readers, with allegorical set pieces and sudden unexpected magic changes. It includes a large cast of characters with several layers of familial, political, and legal relationships. The Matter of Britain is not even a story by a single author, but a legendarium full of related—and sometimes contradictory—stories from many sources and many time periods.

The students do struggle. Every year, I wonder if they will make it through the first few weeks. We provide extra support in class and read aloud together. Concerned parents tell us about homework tears, and ask how they can work with their students at home (thank you, parents!). But every year, three or four weeks into the spring semester, I start to feel a difference.

Those questions about what ten-year-olds should get out of the Arthurian stories? The students are the ones who answer. Their observations range from the hilarious to the thoughtful to the profound as they begin to connect with the stories and draw their own connections and conclusions.

I am learning to trust the students to let me know what they will take away from this reading. At the end of the quarter, they each write a Grail quest narrative. This is unquestionably one of my favorite writing projects of the year. I love seeing what stands out to individual students. Some students focus on the spirit of high adventure, and some on tests of virtue and worth. Some love the spirit of close camaraderie among knights. Some look toward the hidden wisdom of the monks and hermits. Some are drawn toward the numinous awe of the Vision of the Grail.

Reading a really hard book in the second half of fourth grade gives our students a new lens on virtue, desire, friendship, vision, conflict, death: not replacing the ways they see, but adding to their imaginative tools for approaching the world. I can trust that of the many good things they could draw from Arthur, Guinevere, Launcelot, Gawain, Gareth, Linnet, and the rest—they will receive what they are ready to receive, and learn what they are ready to learn. Their own innate desire for goodness, the moral law written on their hearts, is the motive power behind what real learning they take away from the Matter of Britain. They are qualified to read these good stories because they are human – and these stories help them take a fuller grasp on their humanity.

A few years ago, one student (unprompted) said, “I think the Holy Grail helps the knights see each other more like Jesus sees them.” May that be true of all good stories our students read!