Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Childhood

Parenthood and Childhood Childhood is something we must concern ourselves with, only if we care to see a tomorrow, and just because you found birth you must live forever in Heaven or Hell.

Monday, June 19, 2006

The Gary Null Show Live

Listen to: * Radio show archives, Voice America Archives, Alternative VA Archives Click here to listen to Gary on The Progressive Radio Network. Weekdays, 9:00 AM (PST) or 12:00 PM (EST)

Saturday, June 17, 2006

No More Looking Over My Shoulder

Travis Tritt

Written by Michael Peterson & Craig Wiseman

As a child I was told that I was destined to be nothing Growing wild as I got older I fulfilled what had been said Hiding ignorance and fear I prayed nobody saw me bluffing But I was laying the foundation for a future I would dread Yeah

Seems like every choice I made would somehow leave me second-guessing 'Bout the green grass I was passing racing toward the other side I thank God for the blessing That I finally learned this lesson: One Step in the right direction's worth a wasted mile behind

No more lookin' over my shoulder No more hangin' on to the past No more filling up my tomorrows With yesterday's sorrows

No more lookin' over my shoulder I could chill a room with reasons why I would not give forgiveness To the people who had selfishly left me a wounded soul I kept dragging 'round those memories Like a ball and chain behind me

Wonderin' why my troubles followed me wherever I would go Oh, but one night, sick and tired of being sick and tired I realized forgiveness was the only open road I swear I heard those shackles snap The moment that I took that path I never have one time looked back since the morning I arose

Sunday, April 02, 2006

ABSOLUTE CONTROL

Absolute control in all respects is nothing but Self-Control to the highest degree and it comes about with the realization that you are alone in a very, very huge Universe that is getting bigger everyday while you are getting smaller, it also manifest itself with the realization that every action will encounter with a corresponding consequence, regardless of being for better or worse, benefit or determent.


Mother; please be aware that you have more influence on the thinking of a child than any other person on this planet earth and it starts at conception, and maybe before, for nine long mouths you have total absolute control of that child and no one will ever have that much control over it ever again. As you will see in the following you must take full advantage of this opportunity it only happens once in a life time, the child learns more by age six than it will learn for the rest of its life. You can teach it the printed word just as easily as the spoken word and at the same time, the printed word has ten times more power than the spoken word and much more staying power. There might be a little to much redundancy here in my wording but it takes a fair amount of redundancy to really get through. They can’t learn to walk on their own much less talk. Learning to read is the greatest gift to anyone and opens the door to Universal understanding. A person that understands the consequences is much easier to deal with than one who dose not. I see to many people that think they have every right to avoid all consequences, they want absolute control but can’t have it. They just can not have it without the understanding. Read More about Progressive Humanism

Sunday, October 09, 2005

Education Quotes and Proverbs:

The best thing for being sad," replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That's the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn." T.H. White, "The Once and Future King" read more »

Friday, October 07, 2005

THE DAWN OF CRITICAL THINKING

The Egyptians were the first people, so far as we know, to implement a highly symbolic, stand alone, method of communication (writing), about five thousand years ago, (although at present we have ample evidence of man’s attempts at communicating his thoughts into the future, by his drawings and crude paintings, in caves, at various locations on this planet Earth, many years previously), and then so, the Egyptians began to devise new arts beyond those of their barbarous predecessors. They developed very detailed, descriptive drawings and paintings plus architecture, navigation, and various ingenious industries; they worked in glass and enamels and began the use of copper, and so introduced metal into human affairs. But in spite of their extraordinary advance in practical, matter-of-fact knowledge they remained very primitive in their beliefs. The same may be said of the peoples of Mesopotamia and of the western Asiatic nations in general--just as in our own day the practical arts have got a long start compared with the revision of beliefs in regard to man and the gods. The peculiar opinions of the Egyptians do not enter directly into our intellectual heritage, but some of the fundamental religious ideas which developed in western Asia have, through the veneration for the Hebrew Scriptures, become part and parcel of our ways of thinking. To the Greeks, however, we are intellectually under heavy obligation. The literature of the Greeks, in such fragments as escaped destruction, was destined, along with the Hebrew Scriptures, to exercise an incalculable influence in the formation of our modern civilized minds. These two dominating literary heritages originated about the same time--day before yesterday--viewed in the perspective of our race's history. Previous to the Greek civilization books had played no great part in the development, dissemination, and transmission of culture from generation to generation. Now they were to become a cardinal force in advancing and retarding the mind's expansion. It required about a thousand years for the Greek shepherds from the pastures of the Danube to assimilate the culture of the highly civilized regions in which they first appeared as barbarian destroyers. They accepted the industrial arts of the eastern Mediterranean, adopted the Phoenician alphabet, and emulated the Phoenician merchant. By the seventh century before our era they had towns, colonies, and commerce, with much stimulating running hither and thither. We get our first traces of new intellectual enterprise in the Ionian cities, especially Miletus, and in the Italian colonies of the Greeks. Only later did Athens become the unrivaled center in a marvelous out flowering of the human intelligence. It is a delicate task to summarize what we owe to the Greeks. Leaving aside their supreme achievements in literature and art, we can consider only very briefly the general scope and nature of their thinking as it relates most closely to our theme. The chief strength of the Greeks lay in their freedom from hampering intellectual tradition. They had no venerated classics, no holy books, no dead languages to master, no authorities to check their free speculation. As Lord Bacon reminds us, they had no antiquity of knowledge and no knowledge of antiquity. A modern classicist would have been a forlorn outlander in ancient Athens, with no books in a forgotten tongue, no obsolete inflections to impose upon reluctant youth. He would have had to use the everyday speech of the sandal-maker and fuller. For a long time no technical words were invented to give aloofness and seeming precision to philosophic and scientific discussion. Aristotle was the first to use words incomprehensible to the average citizen. It was in these conditions that the possibilities of human criticism first showed themselves. The primitive notions of man, of the gods, and of the workings of natural forces began to be overhauled on an entirely new scale. Intelligence developed rapidly as exceptionally bold individuals came to have their suspicions of simple, spontaneous, and ancient ways of looking at things. Ultimately there came men who professed to doubt everything. As Abelard long after put it, "By doubting we come to question, and by seeking we may come upon the truth." But man is by nature credulous. He is victimized by first impressions, from which he can only escape with great difficulty. He resents criticism of accepted and familiar ideas as he resents any unwelcome disturbance of routine. So criticism is against nature, for it conflicts with the smooth workings of our more primitive minds, those of the child and the savage. It should not be forgotten that the Greek people were no exception in this matter. Anaxagoras and Aristotle were banished for thinking as they did; Euripides was an object of abhorrence to the conservative of his day, and Socrates was actually executed for his godless teachings. The Greek thinkers furnish the first instance of intellectual freedom, of the "self-detachment and self-abnegating vigor of criticism" which is most touchingly illustrated in the honest "know-nothingism" of Socrates. _They discovered skepticism in the higher and proper significance of the word, and this was their supreme contribution to human thought_. One of the finest examples of early Greek skepticism was the discovery of Xenophanes that man created the gods in his own image. He looked about him, observed the current conceptions of the gods, compared those of different peoples, and reached the conclusion that the way in which a tribe pictured its gods was not the outcome of any knowledge of how they really looked and whether they had black eyes or blue, but was a reflection of the familiarly human. If the lions had gods they would have the shape of their worshipers. No more fundamentally shocking revelation was ever made than this, for it shook the very foundations of religious belief. The home life on Olympus as described in Homer was too scandalous to escape the attention of the thoughtful, and no later Christian could have denounced the demoralizing influence of the current religious beliefs in hotter indignation than did Plato. To judge from the reflection of Greek thought which we find in Lucretius and Cicero, none of the primitive religious beliefs escaped mordant criticism. The second great discovery of the Greek thinkers was _metaphysics_. They did not have the name, which originated long after in quite an absurd fashion, but they reveled in the thing. Nowadays metaphysics is revered by some as our noblest effort to reach the highest truth, and scorned by others as the silliest of wild-goose chases. I am inclined to rate it, like smoking, as a highly gratifying indulgence to those who like it, and, as indulgences go, relatively innocent. The Greeks found that the mind could carry on an absorbing game with itself. We all engage in reveries and fantasies of a homely, everyday type, concerned with our desires or resentments, but the fantasy of the metaphysician busies itself with conceptions, abstractions, distinctions, hypotheses, postulates, and logical inferences. Having made certain postulates or hypotheses, he finds new conclusions, which he follows in a seemingly convincing manner. This gives him the delightful emotion of pursuing Truth, something as the simple man pursues a maiden. Only Truth is more elusive than the maiden and may continue to beckon her follower for long years, no matter how gray and doddering he may become. Let me give two examples of metaphysical reasoning. We have an idea of an omnipotent, all-good, and perfect being. We are incapable, knowing as we do only imperfect things, of framing such an idea for ourselves, so it must have been given us by the being himself. And perfection must include existence, so God must exist. This was good enough for Anselm and for Descartes, who went on to build a whole closely concatenated philosophical system on this foundation. To them the logic seemed irrefragable; to the modern student of comparative religion, even to Kant, himself a metaphysician, there was nothing whatsoever in it but an illustration of the native operations of a mind that has made a wholly gratuitous hypothesis and is victimized by an orderly series of spontaneous associations. A second example of metaphysics may be found in the doctrines of the Eleatic philosophers, who early appeared in the Greek colonies on the coast of Italy, and thought hard about space and motion. Empty space seemed as good as nothing, and, as nothing could not be said to exist, space must be an illusion; and as motion implied space in which to take place, there could be no motion. So all things were really perfectly compact and at rest, and all our impressions of change were the illusions of the thoughtless and the simple-minded. Since one of the chief satisfactions of the metaphysicians is to get away from the welter of our mutable world into a realm of assurance, this doctrine exercised a great fascination over many minds. The Eleatic conviction of unchanging stability received a new form in Plato's doctrine of eternal "ideas", and later developed into the comforting conception of the "Absolute", in which logical and world-weary souls have sought refuge from the times of Plotinus to those of Josiah Royce. But there was one group of Greek thinkers whose general notions of natural operations correspond in a striking manner to the conclusions of the most recent science. These were the Epicureans. Democritus was in no way a modern experimental scientist, but he met the Eleatic metaphysics with another set of speculative considerations which happened to be nearer what is now regarded as the truth than theirs. He rejected the Eleatic decisions against the reality of space and motion on the ground that, since motion obviously took place, the void must be a reality, even if the metaphysician could not conceive it. He hit upon the notion that all things were composed of minute, indestructible particles (or atoms) of fixed kinds. Given motion and sufficient time, these might by fortuitous concourse make all possible combinations. And it was one of these combinations which we call the world as we find it. For the atoms of various shapes were inherently capable of making up all material things, even the soul of man and the gods themselves. There was no permanence anywhere; all was no more than the shifting accidental and fleeting combinations of the permanent atoms of which the cosmos was composed. This doctrine was accepted by the noble Epicurus and his school and is delivered to us in the immortal poem of Lucretius "On the Nature of Things". The Epicureans believed the gods to exist because, like Anselm and Descartes, they thought we had an innate idea of them. But the divine beings led a life of elegant ease and took no account of man; neither his supplications, nor his sweet-smelling sacrifices, nor his blasphemies, ever disturbed their calm. Moreover, the human soul was dissipated at death. So the Epicureans flattered themselves that they had delivered man from his two chief apprehensions, the fear of the gods and the fear of death. For, as Lucretius says, he who understands the real nature of things will see that both are the illusions of ignorance. Thus one school of Greek thinkers attained to a complete rejection of religious beliefs in the name of natural science. Roman Tabulation, Measuring and Writing The ability of counting and measuring brings the world into subjection to man; the art of written communication prevents his knowledge from perishing along with himself; together they make man--what nature has not made him--all-powerful and eternal. It is the privilege and duty of history to trace the course of national progress along these paths also. Italian Measures Measurement necessarily presupposes the development of the several ideas of units of time, of space, and of weight, and of a whole consisting of equal parts, or in other words of number and of a numeral system. The most obvious bases presented by nature for this purpose are, in reference to time, the periodic returns of the sun and moon, or the day and the month; in reference to space, the length of the human foot, which is more easily applied in measuring than the arm; in reference to gravity, the burden which a man is able to poise (-librare-) on his hand while he holds his arm stretched out, or the "weight" (-libra-). As a basis for the notion of a whole made up of equal parts, nothing so readily suggests itself as the hand with its five, or the hands with their ten, fingers; upon this rests the decimal system. We have already observed that these elements of all numeration and measuring reach back not merely beyond the separation of the Greek and Latin stocks, but even to the most remote primeval times. The antiquity in particular of the measurement of time by the moon is demonstrated by language; even the mode of reckoning the days that elapse between the several phases of the moon, not forward from the phase on which it had entered last, but backward from that which was next to be expected, is at least older than the separation of the Greeks and Latins. Decimal System The most definite evidence of the antiquity and original exclusive use of the decimal system among the Indo-Germans is furnished by the well-known agreement of all Indo-Germanic languages in respect to the numerals as far as a hundred inclusive. In the case of Italy the decimal system pervaded all the earliest arrangements: it may be sufficient to recall the number ten so usual in the case of witnesses, securities, envoys, and magistrates, the legal equivalence of one ox and ten sheep, the partition of the canton into ten curies and the pervading application generally of the decurial system, the -limitatio- the tenth in offerings and in agriculture, decimation, and the praenomen -Decimus-. Among the applications of this most ancient decimal system in the sphere of measuring and of writing, the remarkable Italian ciphers claim a primary place. When the Greeks and Italians separated, there were still evidently no conventional signs of number. On the other hand we find the three oldest and most indispensable numerals, one, five, and ten, represented by three signs--I, V or /\, X, manifestly imitations of the outstretched finger, and the open hand single and double--which were not derived either from the Hellenes or the Phoenicians, but were common to the Romans, Sabellians, and Etruscans, (the people of a country a few hundred miles north of Rome about 600BC, now known as Tuscany and part of Umbria.) They were the first steps towards the formation of a national Italian writing, and at the same time evidences of the liveliness of that earlier inland intercourse among the Italians which preceded their transmarine commerce. Which of the Italian stocks invented, and which of them borrowed, these signs, can of course no longer be ascertained. Other traces of the pure decimal system occur but sparingly in this field; among them are the -versus-, the Sabellian measure of surface of 100 square feet, and the Roman year of 10 months. The Duodecimal System Otherwise generally in the case of those Italian measures, which were not connected with Greek standards and were probably developed by the Italians before they came into contact with the Greeks, there prevailed the partition of the "whole" (-as-) into twelve "units" (-unciae-). The very earliest Latin priesthoods, the colleges of the Salii and Arvales, as well as the leagues of the Etruscan cities, were organized on the basis of the number twelve. The same number predominated in the Roman system of weights and in the measures of length, where the pound (-libra-) and the foot (-pes-) were usually subdivided into twelve parts; the unit of the Roman measures of surface was the "driving" (-actus-) of 120 square feet, a combination of the decimal and duodecimal systems. Similar arrangements as to the measures of capacity may have passed into oblivion. If we inquire into the basis of the duodecimal system and consider how it can have happened that, in addition to ten, twelve should have been so early and universally singled out from the equal series of numbers, we shall probably be able to find no other source to which it can be referred than a comparison of the solar and lunar periods. Still more than the double hand of ten fingers did the solar cycle of nearly twelve lunar periods first suggest to man the profound conception of an unit composed of equal units, and thereby originate the idea of a system of numbers, the first step towards mathematical thought. The consistent duodecimal development of this idea appears to have belonged to the Italian nation, and to have preceded the first contact with the Greeks. Hellenic Measures in Italy But when at length the Hellenic trader had opened up the route to the west coast of Italy, the measures of surface remained unaffected, but the measures of length, of weight, and above all of capacity—in other words those definite standards without which barter and traffic are impossible--experienced the effects of the new international intercourse. The oldest Roman foot has disappeared; that which we know, and which was in use at a very early period among the Romans, was borrowed from Greece, and was, in addition to its new Roman subdivision into twelfths, divided after the Greek fashion into four hand-breadths (-palmus-) and sixteen finger-breadths (-digitus-). Further, the Roman weights were brought into a fixed proportional relation to the Attic system, which prevailed throughout Sicily but not in Cumae--another significant proof that the Latin traffic was chiefly directed to the island; four Roman pounds were assumed as equal to three Attic -minae-, or rather the Roman pound was assumed as equal to one and a half of the Sicilian -litrae- or half-minae. But the most singular and chequered aspect is presented by the Roman measures of capacity, as regards both their names and their proportions. Their names have come from the Greek terms either by corruption (-amphora-, -modius- after --medimnos--, -congius- from --choeus--, -hemina-, -cyathus-) or by translation (-acetabulum-from --ozubaphon--); while conversely --zesteis-- is a corruption of -sextarius-. All the measures are not identical, but those in most common use are so; among liquid measures the -congius- or -chus-, the -sextarius-, and the -cyathus-, the two last also for dry goods; the Roman -amphora- was equalized in water-weight to the Attic talent, and at the same time stood to the Greek --metretes--in the fixed ratio of 3:2, and to the Greek --medimnos-- of 2:1. To one who can decipher the significance of such records, these names and numerical proportions fully reveal the activity and importance of the intercourse between the Sicilians and the Latins. The Greek numeral signs were not adopted; but the Roman probably availed himself of the Greek alphabet, when it reached him, to form ciphers for 50 and 1000, perhaps also for 100, out of the signs for the three aspirated letters which he had no use for. In Etruria the sign for 100 at least appears to have been obtained in a similar way. Afterwards, as usually happens, the systems of notation among the two neighbouring nations became assimilated by the adoption in substance of the Roman system in Etruria. The Italian Calendar before the Period of Greek Influence in ItalyIn like manner the Roman calendar--and probably that of the Italians generally--began with an independent development of its own, but subsequently came under the influence of the Greeks. In the division of time the returns of sunrise and sunset, and of the new and full moon, most directly arrest the attention of man; and accordingly the day and the month, determined not by cyclic calculation but by direct observation, were long the exclusive measures of time. Down to a late age sunrise and sunset were proclaimed in the Roman market-place by the public crier, and in like manner it may be presumed that in earlier times, at each of the four phases of the moon, the number of days that would elapse from that phase until the next was proclaimed by the priests. The mode of reckoning therefore in Latium--and the like mode, it may be presumed, was in use not merely among the Sabellians, but also among the Etruscans—was by days, which, as already mentioned, were counted not forward from the phase that had last occurred, but backward from that which was next expected; by lunar weeks, which varied in length between 7 and 8 days, the average length being 7 3/8; and by lunar months which in like manner were sometimes of 29, sometimes of 30 days, the average duration of the synodical month being 29 days 12 hours 44 minutes. For some time the day continued to be among the Italians the smallest, and the month the largest, division of time. It was not until afterwards that they began to distribute day and night respectively into four portions, and it was much later still when they began to employ the division into hours; which explains why even stocks otherwise closely related differed in their mode of fixing the commencement of day, the Romans placing it at midnight, the Sabellians and the Etruscans at noon. No calendar of the year had, at least when the Greeks separated from the Italians, as yet been organized, for the names for the year and its divisions in the two languages have been formed quite independently of each other. Nevertheless the Italians appear to have already in the pre-Hellenic period advanced, if not to the arrangement of a fixed calendar, at any rate to the institution of two larger units of time. The simplifying of the reckoning according to lunar months by the application of the decimal system, which was usual among the Romans, and the designation of a term of ten months as a "ring" (-annus-) or complete year, bear in them all the traces of a high antiquity. Later, but still at a period very early and undoubtedly previous to the operation of Greek influences, the duodecimal system (as we have already stated) was developed in Italy, and, as it derived its very origin from the observation of the fact that the solar period was equal to twelve lunar periods, it was certainly applied in the first instance to the reckoning of time. This view accords with the fact that the individual names of the months--which can only have originated after the month was viewed as part of a solar year--particularly those of March and of May, were similar among the different branches of the Italian stock, while there was no similarity between the Italian names and the Greek. It is not improbable therefore that the problem of laying down a practical calendar which should correspond at once to the moon and the sun—a problem which may be compared in some sense to the quadrature of the circle, and the solution of which was only recognized as impossible and abandoned after the lapse of many centuries--had already employed the minds of men in Italy before the epoch at which their contact with the Greeks began; these purely national attempts to solve it, however, have passed into oblivion. The Oldest Italo-Greek Calendar What we know of the oldest calendar of Rome and of some other Latin cities--as to the Sabellian and Etruscan measurement of time we have no traditional information--is decidedly based on the oldest Greek arrangement of the year, which was intended to answer both to the phases of the moon and to the seasons of the solar year, constructed on the assumption of a lunar period of 29 1/2 days and a solar period of 12 1/2 lunar months or 368 3/4 days, and on the regular alternation of a full month or month of thirty days with a hollow month or month of twenty-nine days and of a year of twelve with a year of thirteen months, but at the same time maintained in some sort of harmony with the actual celestial phenomena by arbitrary curtailments and intercalations. It is possible that this Greek arrangement of the year in the first instance came into use among the Latins without undergoing any alteration; but the oldest form of the Roman year which can be historically recognized varied from its model, not indeed in the cyclical result nor yet in the alternation of years of twelve with years of thirteen months, but materially in the designation and in the measuring off of the individual months. The Roman year began with the beginning of spring; the first month in it and the only one which bears the name of a god, was named from Mars (-Martius-), the three following from sprouting (-aprilis-) growing (-maius-), and thriving (-iunius-),the fifth onward to the tenth from their ordinal numbers (-quinctilis-,-sextilis-, -september-, -october-, -november-, -december), the eleventh from commencing (-ianuarius-), with reference presumably to the renewal of agricultural operations that followed midwinter and the season of rest, the twelfth, and in an ordinary year the last, from cleansing (-februarius-). To this series recurring in regular succession there was added in the intercalary year a nameless "labour-month" (-mercedonius-) at the close of the year, viz. after February. And, as the Roman calendar was independent as respected the names of the months which were probably taken from the old national ones, it was also independent as regarded their duration. Instead of the four years of the Greek cycle, each composed of six months of 30 and six of 29 days and an intercalary month inserted every second year alternately of 29 and 30 days (354 + 384 + 354 + 383 = 1475 days), the Roman calendar substituted four years, each containing four months--the first, third, fifth, and eighth--of 31 days and seven of 29 days, with a February of 28 days during three years and of 29 in the fourth, and an intercalary month of 27 days inserted every second year (355 + 383 + 355 + 382 = 1475 days). In like manner this calendar departed from the original division of the month into four weeks, sometimes of 7, sometimes of 8 days; it made the eight-day-week run on through the years without regard to the other relations of the calendar, as our Sundays do, and placed the weekly market on the day with which it began (-noundinae-). Along with this it once for all fixed the first quarter in the months of 31 days on the seventh, in those of 29 on the fifth day, and the full moon in the former on the fifteenth, in the latter on the thirteenth day. As the course of the months was thus permanently arranged, it was henceforth necessary to proclaim only the number of days lying between the new moon and the first quarter; thence the day of the newmoon received the name of "proclamation-day" (-kalendae-). The first day of the second section of the month, uniformly of 8 days, was--in conformity with the Roman custom of reckoning, which included the -terminus ad quem- --designated as "nine-day" (-nonae-). The day of the full moon retained the old name of -idus- (perhaps "dividing-day"). The motive lying at the bottom of this strange remodelling of the calendar seems chiefly to have been a belief in the salutary virtue of odd numbers; and while in general it is based on the oldest form of the Greek year, its variations from that form distinctly exhibit the influence of the doctrines of Pythagoras, which were then paramount in Lower Italy, and which especially turned upon a mystic view of numbers. But the consequence was that this Roman calendar, clearly as it bears traces of the desire that it should harmonize with the course both of sun and moon, in reality by no means so corresponded with the lunar course as did at least on the whole its Greek model, while, like the oldest Greek cycle, it could only follow the solar seasons by means of frequent arbitrary excisions, and did in all probability follow them but very imperfectly, for it is scarcely likely that the calendar would be handled with greater skill than was manifested in its original arrangement. The retention moreover of the reckoning by months or--which is the same thing--by years of ten months implies a tacit, but not to be misunderstood, confession of the irregularity and untrustworthiness of the oldest Roman solar year. This Roman calendar may be regarded, at least in its essential features, as that generally current among the Latins. When we consider how generally the beginning of the year and the names of the months are liable to change, minor variations in the numbering and designations are quite compatible with the hypothesis of a common basis; and with such a calendar-system, which practically was irrespective of the lunar course, the Latins might easily come to have their months of arbitrary length, possibly marked off by annual festivals--as in the case of the Alban months, which varied between 16 and 36 days. It would appear probable therefore that the Greek --trieteris-- had early been introduced from Lower Italy at least into Latium and perhaps also among the other Italian stocks, and had thereafter been subjected in the calendars of the several cities to further subordinate alterations. For the measuring of periods of more than one year the regnal years of the kings might have been employed: but it is doubtful whether that method of dating, which was in use in the East, occurred in Greece or Italy during earlier times. On the other hand the intercalary period recurring every four years, and the census and lustration of the community connected with it, appear to have suggested a reckoning by -lustra- similar in plan to the Greek reckoning by Olympiads--a method, however, which early lost its chronological significance in consequence of the irregularity that now prevailed as to the due holding of the census at the right time. Introduction of Hellenic Alphabets into Italy The art of expressing sounds by written signs was of later origin than the art of measurement. The Italians did not any more than the Hellenes develop such an art of themselves, although we may discover attempts at such a development in the Italian numeral signs, and possibly also in the primitive Italian custom—formed independently of Hellenic influence--of drawing lots by means of wooden tablets. The difficulty which must have attended the first individualizing of sounds--occurring as they do in so great a variety of combinations--is best demonstrated by the fact that a single alphabet propagated from people to people and from generation to generation has sufficed, and still suffices, for the whole of Aramaic, Indian, Graeco-Roman, and modern civilization; and this most important product of the human intellect was the joint creation of the Aramaeans and the Indo-Germans. The Semitic family of languages, in which the vowel has a subordinate character and never can begin a word, facilitates on that very account the individualizing of the consonants; and it was among the Semites accordingly that the first alphabet--in which the vowels were still wanting—was invented. It was the Indians and Greeks who first independently of each other and by very divergent methods created, out of the Aramaean consonantal writing brought to them by commerce, a complete alphabet by the addition of the vowels--which was effected by the application of four letters, which the Greeks did not use as consonantal signs, for the four vowels -a -e -i -o, and by the formation of a new sign for -u --in other words by the introduction of the syllable into writing instead of the mere consonant, or, as Palamedes says in Euripides, --Ta teis ge leitheis pharmak orthosas monos Aphona kai phonounta, sullabas te theis, Ezeupon anthropoisi grammat eidenai.-- This Aramaeo-Hellenic alphabet was accordingly brought to the Italians through the medium, doubtless, of the Italian Hellenes; not, however, through the agricultural colonies of Magna Graecia, but through the merchants possibly of Cumae or Tarentum, by whom it would be brought in the first instance to the very ancient emporia of international traffic in Latium and Etruria--to Rome and Caere. The alphabet received by the Italians was by no means the oldest Hellenic one; it had already experienced several modifications, particularly the addition of the three letters --"id:xi", --"id:phi", --"id:chi" and the alteration of the signs for --"id:iota", --"id:gamma", --"id:lambda". We have already observed that the Etruscan and Latin alphabets were not derived the one from the other, but both directly from the Greek; in fact the Greek alphabet came to Etruria in a form materially different from that which reached Latium. The Etruscan alphabet has a double sign -s (sigma -"id:s" and san -"id:sh") and only a single -k, and of the -r only the older form -"id:P"; the Latin has, so far as we know, only a single -s, but a double sign for -k (kappa -"id:k" and koppa -"id:q") and of the -r almost solely the more recent form -"id:R". The oldest Etruscan writing shows no knowledge of lines, and winds like the coiling of a snake; the more recent employs parallel broken-off lines from right to left: the Latin writing, as far as our monuments reach back, exhibits only the latter form of parallel lines, which originally perhaps may have run at pleasure from left to right or from right to left, but subsequently ran among the Romans in the former, and among the Faliscans in the latter direction. The model alphabet brought to Etruria must notwithstanding its comparatively remodelled character reach back to an epoch very ancient, though not positively to be determined; for, as the two sibilants sigma and san were always used by the Etruscans as different sounds side by side, the Greek alphabet which came to Etruria must doubtless still have possessed both of them in this way as living signs of sound; but among all the monuments of the Greek language known to us not one presents sigma and san in simultaneous use. The Latin alphabet certainly, as we know it, bears on the whole a more recent character; and it is not improbable that the Latins did not simply receive the alphabet once for all, as was the case in Etruria, but in consequence of their lively intercourse with their Greek neighbours kept pace for a considerable period with the alphabet in use among these, and followed its variations. We find, for instance, that the forms -"id:/\/\/", -"id:P", and -"id:SIGMA" were not unknown to the Romans, but were superseded in common use by the later forms -"id:/\/\", -"id:R", and -"id:S" --a circumstance which can only be explained by supposing that the Latins employed for a considerable period the Greek alphabet as such in writing either their mother-tongue or Greek. It is dangerous therefore to draw from the more recent character of the Greek alphabet which we meet with in Rome, as compared with the older character of that brought to Etruria, the inference that writing was practised earlier in Etruria than in Rome. The powerful impression produced by the acquisition of the treasure of letters on those who received them, and the vividness with which they realized the power that slumbered in those humble signs, are illustrated by a remarkable vase from a sepulchral chamber of Caere built before the invention of the arch, which exhibits the old Greek model alphabet as it came to Etruria, and also an Etruscan syllabarium formed from it, which may be compared to that of Palamedes--evidently a sacred relic of the introduction and acclimatization of alphabetic writing in Etruria. Development of Alphabets in Italy Not less important for history than the derivation of the alphabet is the further course of its development on Italian soil: perhaps it is even of more importance; for by means of it a gleam of light is thrown upon the inland commerce of Italy, which is involved in far greater darkness than the commerce with foreigners on its coasts. In the earliest epoch of Etruscan writing, when the alphabet was used without material alteration as it had been introduced, its use appears to have been restricted to the Etruscans on the Po and in what is now Tuscany. In course of time this alphabet, manifestly diffusing itself from Atria and Spina, reached southward along the east coast as far as the Abruzzi, northward to the Veneti and subsequently even to the Celts at the foot of, among, and indeed beyond the Alps, so that its last offshoots reached as far as the Tyrol and Styria. The more recent epoch starts with a reform of the alphabet, the chief features of which were the introduction of writing in broken-off lines, the suppression of the -"id:o", which was no longer distinguished in pronunciation from the -"id:u", and the introduction of a new letter -"id:f" for which the alphabet as received by them had no corresponding sign. This reform evidently arose among the western Etruscans, and while it did not find reception beyond the Apennines, became naturalized among all the Sabellian tribes, and especially among the Umbrians. In its further course the alphabet experienced various fortunes in connection with the several stocks, the Etruscans on the Arno and around Capua, the Umbrians and the Samnites; frequently the mediae were entirely or partially lost, while elsewhere again new vowels and consonants were developed. But that West-Etruscan reform of the alphabet was not merely as old as the oldest tombs found in Etruria; it was considerably older, for the syllabarium just mentioned as found probably in one of these tombs already presents the reformed alphabet in an essentially modified and modernized shape; and, as the reformed alphabet itself is relatively recent as compared with the primitive one, the mind almost fails in the effort to reach back to the time when that alphabet came to Italy. While the Etruscans thus appear as the instruments in diffusing the alphabet in the north, east, and south of the peninsula, the Latin alphabet on the other hand was confined to Latium, and maintained its ground, upon the whole, there with but few alterations; only the letters -"id:gamma" -"id:kappa" and -"id:zeta" -"id:sigma" gradually became coincident in sound, the consequence of which was, that in each case one of the homophonous signs (-"id:kappa" -"id:zeta") disappeared from writing. In Rome it can be shown that these were already laid aside before the end of the fourth century of the city, and the whole monumental and literary tradition that has reached us knows nothing of them, with a single exception. Now when we consider that in the oldest abbreviations the distinction between -"id:gamma" -"id:c" and -"id:kappa" -"id:k" is still regularly maintained; that the period, accordingly, when the sounds became in pronunciation coincident, and before that again the period during which the abbreviations became fixed, lies beyond the beginning of the Samnite wars; and lastly, that a considerable interval must necessarily have elapsed between the introduction of writing and the establishment of a conventional system of abbreviation; we must, both as regards Etruria and Latium, carry back the commencement of the art of writing to an epoch which more closely approximates to the first incidence of the Egyptian Sirius-period within historical times, the year 1321 B.C., than to the year 776, with which the chronology of the Olympiads began in Greece. The high antiquity of the art of writing in Rome is evinced otherwise by numerous and plain indications. The existence of documents of the regal period is sufficiently attested; such was the special treaty between Rome and Gabii, which was concluded by a king Tarquinius and probably not by the last of that name, and which, written on the skin of the bullock sacrificed on the occasion, was preserved in the temple of Sancus on the Quirinal, which was rich in antiquities and probably escaped the conflagration of the Gauls; and such was the alliance which king Servius Tullius concluded with Latium, and which Dionysius saw on a copper tablet in the temple of Diana on the Aventine. What he saw, however, was probably a copy restored after the fire with the help of a Latin exemplar, for it was not likely that engraving on metal was practiced as early as the time of the kings. The charters of foundation of the imperial period still refer to the charter founding this temple as the oldest document of the kind in Rome and the common model for all. But even then they scratched (-exarare-, -scribere-, akin to -scrobes-) or painted (-linere-, thence -littera-) on leaves (-folium-), inner bark (-liber-), or wooden tablets (-tabula--album-), afterwards also on leather and linen. The sacred records of the Samnites as well as of the priesthood of Anagnia were inscribed on linen rolls, and so were the oldest lists of the Roman magistrates preserved in the temple of the goddess of recollection(-Iuno moneta-) on the Capitol. It is scarcely necessary to recall further proofs in the primitive marking of the pastured cattle (-scriptura-), in the mode of addressing the senate, "fathers and enrolled" (-patres conscripti-), and in the great antiquity of the books of oracles, the clan-registers, and the Alban and Roman calendars. When Roman tradition speaks of halls in the Forum, where the boys and girls of quality were taught to read and write, already in the earliest times of the republic, the statement may be, but is not necessarily to be deemed, an invention. We have been deprived of information as to the early Roman history, not in consequence of the want of a knowledge of writing, or even perhaps of the lack of documents, but in consequence of the incapacity of the historians of the succeeding age, which was called to investigate the history, to work out the materials furnished by the archives, and of the perversity which led them to desire for the earliest epoch a delineation of motives and of characters, accounts of battles and narratives of revolutions, and while engaged in inventing these, to neglect what the extant written tradition would not have refused to yield to the serious and self-denying inquirer. Results The history of Italian writing thus furnishes in the first place a confirmation of the weak and indirect influence exercised by the Hellenic character over the Sabellians as compared with the more western peoples. The fact that the former received their alphabet from the Etruscans and not from the Romans is probably to be explained by supposing that they already possessed it before they entered upon their migration along the ridge of the Apennines, and that therefore the Sabines as well as Samnites carried it along with them from the mother-land to their new abodes. On the other hand this history of writing contains a salutary warning against the adoption of the hypothesis, originated by the later Roman culture in its devotedness to Etruscan mysticism and antiquarian trifling, and patiently repeated by modern and even very recent inquirers, that Roman civilization derived its germ and its pith from Etruria. If this were the truth, some trace of it ought to be more especially apparent in this field; but on the contrary the germ of the Latin art of writing was Greek, and its development was so national, that it did not even adopt the very desirable Etruscan sign for -"id:f". Indeed, where there is an appearance of borrowing, as in the numeral signs, it is on the part of the Etruscans, who took over from the Romans at least the sign for 50. Corruption of Language and Writing Lastly it is a significant fact, that among all the Italian stocks the development of the Greek alphabet primarily consisted in a process of corruption. Thus the -mediae- disappeared in the whole of the Etruscan dialects, while the Umbrians lost -"id:gamma" and -"id:d", the Samnites -"id:d", and the Romans -"id:gamma"; and among the latter -"id:d" also threatened to amalgamate with -"id:r". In like manner among the Etruscans -"id:o" and -"id:u" early coalesced, and even among the Latins we meet with a tendency to the same corruption. Nearly the converse occurred in the case of the sibilants; for while the Etruscan retained the three signs -"id:z", -"id:s", -"id:sh", and the Umbrian rejected the last but developed two new sibilants in its room, the Samnite and the Faliscan confined themselves like the Greek to -"id:s" and -"id:z", and the Roman of later times even to -"id:s" alone. It is plain that the more delicate distinctions of sound were duly felt by the introducers of the alphabet, men of culture and masters of two languages; but after the national writing became wholly detached from the Hellenic mother-alphabet, the -mediae- and their -tenues- gradually came to coincide, and the sibilants and vowels were thrown into disorder--transpositions or rather destructions of sound, of which the first in particular is entirely foreign to the Greek. The destruction of the forms of flexion and derivation went hand in hand with this corruption of sounds. The cause of this barbarization was thus, upon the whole, simply the necessary process of corruption which is continuously eating away every language, where its progress is not stemmed by literature and reason; only in this case indications of what has elsewhere passed away without leaving a trace have been preserved in the writing of sounds. The circumstance that this barbarizing process affected the Etruscans more strongly than any other of the Italian stocks adds to the numerous proofs of their inferior capacity for culture. The fact on the other hand that, among the Italians, the Umbrians apparently were the most affected by a similar corruption of language, the Romans less so, the southern Sabellians least of all, probably finds its explanation, at least in part, in the more lively intercourse maintained by the former with the Etruscans, and by the latter with the Greeks. Back to the reckoning with numbers, the Romans used a counting frame of beads, that helped them do great commerce, similar to that of the Chinese, we’re not sure who was first to develop that device (Abacus). In grave error, here of late, we have assigned the counting frame (Abacus) to the baby’s nursery to play with on it’s own with little or no instruction as to the proper function of this amazingly simple little device. We expend so much effort in teaching the child to walk and talk and almost fully neglect showing it the printed word and the number system, it can and should be done at the same time with phenomenal results. With a lots of help from Dr. William James I will show you how as we go along. Dr. James could do it we can too.

Friday, September 23, 2005

MAGICIANS KINGS AND

MAGICIANS, KINGS AND GODS

THE DAWN OF RELIGION

It is perhaps necessary, at the commencement of this chapter, to say a, few more words about the nature and origin of the belief in Magic. Magic represented on one side, and clearly enough, the beginnings of Religion--i.e. the instinctive sense of Man's inner continuity with the world around him, TAKING SHAPE: a fanciful shape it is true, but with very real reaction on his practical life and feelings. On the other side it represented the beginnings of Science. It was his first attempt not merely to FEEL but to UNDERSTAND the mystery of things.

Inevitably these first efforts to understand were very puerile, very superficial. As E. B. Tylor says of primitive folk in general, "they mistook an imaginary for a real connection." And he instances the case of the inhabitants of the City of Ephesus, who laid down a rope, seven furlongs in length, from the City to the temple of Artemis, in order to place the former under the protection of the latter! WE should lay down a telephone wire, and consider that we established a much more efficient connection; but in the beginning, and quite naturally, men, like children, rely on surface associations. Among the Dyaks of Borneo when the men are away fighting, the WOMEN must use a sort of telepathic magic in order to safeguard them--that is, they must themselves rise early and keep awake all day (lest darkness and sleep should give advantage to the enemy); they must not OIL their hair (lest their husbands should make any SLIPS); they must eat sparingly and put aside rice at every meal (so that the men may not want for food). And so on. Similar superstitions are common. But they gradually lead to a little thought, and then to a little more, and so to the discovery of actual and provable influences. Perhaps one day the cord connecting the temple with Ephesus was drawn TIGHT and it was found that messages could be, by tapping, transmitted along it. That way lay the discovery of a fact. In an age which worshiped fertility, whether in mankind or animals, TWINS were ever counted especially blest, and were credited with a magic power. (The Constellation of the Twins was thought peculiarly lucky.) Perhaps after a time it was discovered that twins sometimes run in families, and in such cases really do bring fertility with them. In cattle it is known nowadays that there are more twins of the female sex than of the male sex.

Observations of this kind were naturally made by the ablest members of the tribe--who were in all probability the medicine-men and wizards--and brought in consequence power into their hands. The road to power in fact—and especially was this the case in societies which had not yet developed wealth and property--lay through Magic. As far as magic represented early superstition and religion it laid hold of the HEARTS of men--their hopes and fears; as far as it represented science and the beginnings of actual knowledge, it inspired their minds with a sense of power, and gave form to their lives and customs. We have no reason to suppose that the early magicians and medicine-men were peculiarly wicked or bent on mere self-aggrandizement--any more than we have to think the same of the average country vicar or country doctor of to-day. They were merely men a trifle wiser or more instructed than their flocks. But though probably in most cases their original intentions were decent enough, they were not proof against the temptations which the possession of power always brings, and as time went on they became liable to trade more and more upon this power for their own advancement. In the matter of Religion the history of the Christian priesthood through the centuries shows sufficiently to what misuse such power can be put; and in the matter of Science it is a warning to us of the dangers attending the formation of a scientific priesthood, such as we see growing up around us to-day. In both cases--whether Science or Religion--vanity, personal ambition, lust of domination and a hundred other vices, unless corrected by a real devotion to the public good, may easily bring as many evils in their train as those they profess to cure.

The Medicine-man, or Wizard, or Magician, or Priest, slowly but necessarily gathered power into his hands, and there is much evidence to show that in the case of many tribes at any rate, it was HE who became ultimate chief and leader and laid the foundations of Kingship. The Basileus was always a sacred personality, and often united in himself as head of the clan the offices of chief in warfare and leader in priestly rites--like Agamemnon in Homer, or Saul or David in the Bible. As a magician he had influence over the fertility of the earth and, like the blameless king in the Odyssey, under his sway "the dark earth beareth in season Barley and wheat, and the trees are laden with fruitage, and always Yean unfailing the flocks, and the sea gives fish in abundance."

As a magician too he was trusted for success in warfare; and Schoolcraft, in a passage quoted by Andrew Lang, says of the Dacotah Indians "the war-chief who leads the party to war is always one of these medicine-men." This connection, however, by which the magician is transformed into the king has been abundantly studied, and need not be further dwelt upon here.

And what of the transformation of the king into a god--or of the Magician or Priest directly into the same? Perhaps in order to appreciate this, one must make a further digression.

For the early peoples there were, as it would appear, two main objects in life: (1) to promote fertility in cattle and crops, for food; and (2) to placate or ward off Death; and it seemed very obvious--even before any distinct figures of gods, or any idea of prayer, had arisen—to attain these objects by magic ritual. The rites of Baptism, of Initiation (or Confirmation) and the many ceremonies of a Second Birth, which we associate with fully-formed religions, did belong also to the age of Magic; and they all implied a belief in some kind of re-incarnation--in a life going forward continually and being renewed in birth again and again. It is curious that we find such a belief among the lowest savages even to-day. Dr. Frazer, speaking of the Central Australian tribes, says the belief is firmly rooted among them "that the human soul undergoes an endless series of re-incarnations--the living men and women of one generation being nothing but the spirits of their ancestors come to life again, and destined themselves to be reborn in the persons of their descendants. During the interval between two re-incarnations the souls live in their nanja spots, or local totem-centres, which are always natural objects such as trees or rocks. Each totem-clan has a number of such totem-centres scattered over the country. There the souls of the dead men and women of the totem, but no others, congregate, and are born again in human form when a favorable opportunity presents itself."

And what the early people believed of the human spirit, they believed of the corn-spirits and the tree and vegetation spirits also. At the great Spring-ritual among the primitive Greeks "the tribe and the growing earth were renovated together: the earth arises afresh from her dead seeds, the tribe from its dead ancestors." And the whole process projects itself in the idea of a spirit of the year, who "in the first stage is living, then dies with each year, and thirdly rises again from the dead, raising the whole dead world with him. The Greeks called him in this stage 'The Third One' [Tritos Soter] or 'the Saviour'; and the renovation ceremonies were accompanied by a casting-off of the old year, the old garments, and everything that is polluted by the infection of death." Thus the multiplication of the crops and the renovation of the tribe, and at the same time the evasion and placation of death, were all assured by similar rites and befitting ceremonial magic.

It is interesting to find, with regard to the renovation of the tribe, that among the Central Australians the foreskins or male members of those who died were deposited in the above-mentioned nanja spots--the idea evidently being that like the seeds of the corn the seeds of the human crop must be carefully and ceremonially preserved for their re-incarnation.

In all these cases, and many others that I have not mentioned--of the magical worship of Bulls and Bears and Rams and Cats and Emus and Kangaroos, of Trees and Snakes, of Sun and Moon and Stars, and the spirit of the Corn in its yearly and miraculous resurrection out of the ground--there is still the same idea or moving inspiration, the sense mentioned in the foregoing chapter, the feeling (hardly yet conscious of its own meaning) of intimate relationship and unity with all this outer world, the instinctive conviction that the world can be swayed by the spirit of Man, if the man can only find the right ritual, the right word, the right spell, wherewith to move it. An aura of emotion surrounded everything--of terror, of tabu, of fascination, of desire. The world, to these people, was transparent with presences related to themselves; and though hunger and sex may have been the dominant and overwhelmingly practical needs of their life, yet their outlook on the world was essentially poetic and imaginative.

Moreover it will be seen that in this age of magic and the belief in spirits, though there was an intense sense of every thing being alive, the gods, in the more modern sense of the world, hardly existed--that is, there was no very clear vision, to these people, of supra-mundane beings, sitting apart and ordaining the affairs of earth, as it were from a distance. Doubtless this conception was slowly evolving, but it was only incipient. For the time being--though there might be orders and degrees of spirits (and of gods)--every such being was only conceived of, and could only be conceived of, as actually a part of Nature, dwelling in and interlaced with some phenomenon of Earth and Sky, and having no separate existence.

How was it then, it will be asked, that the belief in separate and separable gods and goddesses--each with his or her well-marked outline and character and function, like the divinities of Greece, or of India, or of the Egyptian or Christian religions, ultimately arose? To this question Jane Harrison (in her Themis and other books) gives an ingenious answer, which as it chimes in with my own speculations (in the Art of Creation and elsewhere) I am inclined to adopt. It is that the figures of the supranatural gods arose from a process in the human mind similar to that which the photographer adopts when by photographing a number of faces on the same plate, and so superposing their images on one another, he produces a so-called "composite" photograph or image. Thus, in the photographic sphere, the portraits of a lot of members of the same family superposed upon one another may produce a composite image or ideal of that family type, or the portraits of a number of Aztecs or of a number of Apache Indians the ideals respectively of the Aztec or of the Apache types. And so in the mental sphere of each member of a tribe the many images of the well-known Warriors or Priests or wise and gracious Women of that tribe did inevitably combine at last to composite figures of gods and goddesses--on whom the enthusiasm and adoration of the tribe was concentrated.

Miss Harrison has ingeniously suggested how the leading figures in the magic rituals of the past--being the figures on which all eyes would be concentrated; and whose importance would be imprinted on every mind--lent themselves to this process. The suffering Victim, bound and scourged and crucified, recurring year after year as the centre-figure of a thousand ritual processions, would at last be dramatized and idealized in the great race-consciousness into the form of a Suffering God--a Jesus Christ or a Dionysus or Osiris--dismembered or crucified for the salvation of mankind. The Priest or Medicine-Man--or rather the
succession of Priests or Medicine-Men--whose figures would recur again and again as leaders and ordainers of the ceremonies, would be glorified at last into the composite-image of a God in whom were concentrated all magic powers. "Recent researches," says Gilbert Murray, "have shown us in abundance the early Greek medicine-chiefs
making thunder and lightning and rain." Here is the germ of a Zeus or a Jupiter. The particular medicine-man may fail; that does not so much matter; he is only the individual representative of the glorified and composite being who exists in the mind of the tribe (just as a present-day King may be unworthy, but is surrounded all the same by the age long glamour of Royalty). "The real <gr qeos>, tremendous, infallible, is somewhere far away, hidden in clouds perhaps, on the summit of some inaccessible mountain. If the mountain is once climbed the god will move to the upper sky. The medicine-chief meanwhile stays on earth, still influential. He has some connection with the great god more intimate than that of other men . . . he knows the rules for approaching him and making prayers to him." Thus did the Medicine-man, or Priest, or Magician (for these are but three names for one figure) represent one step in the evolution of the god.

And farther back still in the evolutionary process we may trace (as in chapter iv above) the divinization or deification of four-footed animals and birds and snakes and trees and the like, from the personification of the collective emotion of the tribe towards these creatures. For people whose chief food was bear-meat, for instance, whose totem was a bear, and who believed themselves descended from an ursine ancestor, there would grow up in the tribal mind an image surrounded by a halo of emotions--emotions of hungry desire, of reverence, fear, gratitude and so forth--an image of a divine Bear in whom they lived and moved and had their being. For another tribe or group in whose yearly ritual a Bull or a Lamb or a Kangaroo played a leading part there would in the same way spring tip the image of a holy bull, a divine lamb, or a sacred kangaroo. Another group again might come to worship a Serpent as its presiding genius, or a particular kind of Tree, simply because these objects were and had been for centuries prominent factors in its yearly and seasonal Magic. As Reinach and others suggest, it was the Taboo (bred by Fear) which by first forbidding contact with the totem-animal or priest or magician-chief gradually invested him with Awe and Divinity.

According to this theory the god--the full-grown god in human shape, dwelling apart and beyond the earth—did not come first, but was a late and more finished product of evolution. He grew up by degrees and out of the preceding animal-worships and totem-systems. And this theory is much supported and corroborated by the fact that in a vast number of early cults the gods are represented by human figures with animal heads. The Egyptian religion was full of such divinities--the jackal-headed Anubis, the ram-headed Ammon, the bull-fronted Osiris, or Muth, queen of darkness, clad in a vulture's skin; Minos and the Minotaur in Crete; in Greece, Athena with an owl's head, or Herakles masked in the hide and jaws of a monstrous lion. What could be more obvious than that, following on the tribal worship of any totem-animal, the priest or medicine-man or actual king in leading the magic ritual should don the skin and head of that animal, and wear the same as a kind of mask--this partly in order to appear to the people as the true representative of the totem, and partly also in order to obtain from the skin the magic virtues and mana of the beast, which he could then duly impart to the crowd? Zeus, it must be remembered, wears the aegis, or goat-skin--said to be the hide of the goat Amaltheia who suckled him in his infancy; there are a number of legends which connected the Arcadian Artemis with the worship of the bear, Apollo with the wolf, and so forth. And, most curious as showing similarity of rites between the Old and New Worlds, there are found plenty of examples of the wearing of beast-masks in religious processions among the native tribes of both North and South America. In the Atlas of Spix and Martius (who travelled together in the Amazonian forests about 1820) there is an understanding and characteristic picture of the men (and some women) of the tribe of the Tecunas moving in procession through the woods mostly
naked, except for wearing animal heads and masks--the masks representing Cranes of various kinds, Ducks, the Opossum, the Jaguar, the Parrot, etc., probably symbolic of their respective clans.

By some such process as this, it may fairly be supposed, the forms of the Gods were slowly exhaled from the actual figures of men and women, of youths and girls, who year after year took part in the ancient rituals. Just as the Queen of the May or Father Christmas with us are idealized forms derived from the many happy maidens or white-bearded old men who took leading parts in the May or December mummings and thus gained their apotheosis in our literature and tradition--so doubtless Zeus with his thunderbolts and arrows of lightning is the idealization into Haven of the Priestly rain-maker and storm-controller; Ares the god of War, the similar idealization of the leading warrior in the ritual war-dance preceding an attack on a neighboring tribe; and Mercury of the foot-running Messenger whose swiftness in those days (devoid of steam or electricity) was so precious a tribal possession.

And here it must be remembered that this explanation of the genesis of the gods only applies to the SHAPES and FIGURES of the various deities. It does not apply to the genesis of the widespread belief in spirits or a Great Spirit generally; that, as I think will become clear, has quite another source. Some people have jeered at the 'animistic' or 'anthropomorphic' tendency of primitive man in his contemplation of the forces of Nature or his imaginations of religion and the gods. With a kind of superior pity they speak of "the poor Indian whose untutored mind sees God in clouds and hears him in the wind." But I must confess that to me the "poor Indian" seems on the whole to show more good sense than his critics, and to have aimed his rude arrows at the philosophic mark more successfully than a vast number of his learned and scientific
successors. A consideration of what we have said above would show that early people felt their unity with Nature so deeply and intimately that--like the animals themselves--they did not think consciously or theorize about it. It was just their life to be--like the beasts of the field and the trees of the forest--a part of the whole flux of things, non-differentiated so to speak. What more natural or indeed more logically correct than for them to assume (when they first began to think or differentiate themselves) that these other creatures, these birds, beasts and plants, and even the sun and moon, were of the same blood as themselves, their first cousins, so to speak, and having the same interior nature? What more reasonable (if indeed they credited THEMSELVES with having some kind of soul or spirit) than to credit these other creatures with a similar soul or spirit? Im Thurn, speaking of the Guiana Indians, says that for them "the whole world swarms with beings." Surely this could not be taken to indicate an untutored mind--unless indeed a mind untutored in the nonsense of the Schools--but rather a very directly perceptive mind. And again what more reasonable (seeing that these people themselves were in the animal stage of evolution) than that they should pay great reverence to some ideal animal--first cousin or ancestor--who played an important part in their tribal existence, and make of this animal a totem emblem and a symbol of their common life?

And, further still, what more natural than that when the tribe passed to some degree beyond the animal stage and began to realize a life more intelligent and emotional—more specially human in fact--than that of the beasts of the field, that it should then in its rituals and ceremonies throw off the beast-mask and pay reverence to the interior and more human spirit. Rising to a more enlightened consciousness of its own intimate quality, and still deeply penetrated with the sense of its kinship to external nature, it would inevitably and perfectly logically credit the latter with an inner life and intelligence, more distinctly human than before. Its religion in fact would become MORE 'anthropomorphic' instead of less so; and one sees that this is a process that is inevitable; and inevitable notwithstanding a certain parenthesis in the process, due to obvious elements in our 'Civilization' and to the temporary and fallacious domination of a leaden-eyed so-called 'Science.' According to this view the true evolution of Religion and Man's outlook on the world has proceeded not by the denial by man of his unity with the world, but by his seeing and understanding that unity more deeply. And the more deeply he understands himself the more certainly he will recognize in the external world a Being or beings resembling himself.

W. H. Hudson--whose mind is certainly not of a quality to be jeered at--speaks of Animism as "the projection of ourselves into nature: the sense and apprehension of an intelligence like our own, but more powerful, in all visible things"; and continues, "old as I am this same primitive faculty which manifested itself in my early boyhood, still persists, and in those early years was so powerful that I am almost afraid to say how deeply I was moved by it." Nor will it be quite forgotten that Shelley once said:--

The moveless pillar of a mountain's weight
Is active living spirit. Every grain
Is sentient both in unity and part,
And the minutest atom comprehends
A world of loves and hatreds.

The tendency to animism and later to anthropomorphism is I say inevitable, and perfectly logical. But the great value of the work done by some of those investigators whom I have quoted has been to show that among quite primitive people (whose interior life and 'soul-sense' was only very feeble) their projections of intelligence into Nature were correspondingly feeble. The reflections of themselves projected into the world beyond could not reach the stature of eternal 'gods,' but were rather of the quality of ephemeral phantoms and ghosts; and the ceremonials and creeds of that period are consequently more properly described as, Magic than as Religion. There have indeed been great controversies as to whether there has or has not been, in the course of religious evolution, a PRE-animistic stage. Probably of course human evolution in this matter must have been perfectly continuous from stages presenting the very feeblest or an absolutely deficient animistic sense to the very highest manifestations of anthropomorphism; but as there is a good deal of evidence to show that ANIMALS (notably dogs and horses) see ghosts, the inquiry ought certainly to be enlarged so far as to include the pre-human species. Anyhow it must be remembered that the question is one of CONSCIOUSNESS--that is, of how far and to what degree consciousness of self has been developed in the animal or the primitive man or the civilized man, and therefore how far and to what degree the animal or human creature has credited the outside world with a similar consciousness. It is not a question of whether there IS an inner life and SUB-consciousness common to all these creatures of the earth and sky, because that, I take it, is a fact beyond question; they all emerge or have emerged from the same matrix, and are rooted in identity; but it is a question of how far they are AWARE of this, and how far by separation (which is the genius of evolution) each individual creature has become conscious of the interior nature both of itself and of the other creatures AND of the great whole which includes them all.

Finally, and to avoid misunderstanding, let me say that Anthropomorphism, in man's conception of the gods, is itself of course only a stage and destined to pass away. In so far, that is, as the term indicates a belief in divine beings corresponding to our PRESENT conception of ourselves --that is as separate personalities having each a separate and limited character and function, and animated by the separatist motives of ambition, possession, power, vainglory, superiority, patronage, self-greed, self-satisfaction, etc.--in so far as anthropomorphism is the expression of that kind of belief it is of course destined, with the illusion from which it springs, to pass away. When man arrives at the final consciousness in which the idea of such a self, superior or inferior or in any way antagonistic to others, ceases to operate, then he will return to his first and primal condition, and will cease to need ANY special religion or gods, knowing himself and all his fellows to be divine and the origin and perfect fruition of all.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Green Flieees

Neon Flies Brillant, intense green flies with wings. Keep your swatter in the closet for this CSI. These green beasts may look like nobodys, but in fact they are privy to high-priority intelligence. Still, they only spill the details to those who can decipher boundless volumes of code. They are secret agents.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

The American Abacus

Look this over for we all want a better understanding and a better world.

Monday, September 05, 2005

American Red Cross | Greater Carolinas Chapter:

VICTIMS OF HURRICANE KATRINA NEED YOUR HELP NOW! When disaster strikes, the American Red Cross is on the scene providing emergency shelter, food, water and other critical assistance. CLICK HERE TO DONATE NOW!

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Look this over please.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

THE ABACUS AND OLD AGE

Here is a good article about the abacus. It agrees with some of my thoughts about teaching arithmetic. I wish I had got this in the first and second grade. I believe it could have helped me very much in later life.
This is from a study being done in Japan as of late.

THE ABACUS AND OLD AGE
Abacus Education Ought to Be for the Development of the Right Brain.
Arrival of and countermeasure for the declining birth rate and aging population
Our country Japan cannot avoid the present situation of a declining birth rate and aging population. There are many conceivable reasons for the rapid decline in the population of citizens under fourteen years of age. We cannot forget to mention the worsening of the global environment as one of the factors. Computers have predicted that the tendency of a declining birth rate and aging population will continue even further by the year 2020.  
The number of people who take the abacus official examination is declining. I hope that the abacus education will diversify itself in order to attract a larger range of examinees for the official examination by developing a system in which older people can take the examinations as well.  
I have studied engineering in college and have done some research in polymer materials. About twenty years ago, I was given an opportunity to conduct research to develop materials for medicine. In our country that had to suddenly accept the aging population, there are many patients who were helped by the drastic development of medical technology and knowledge. National medical expenses are rising, and I worry about the future with this situation.  
Research for saving patients from terrible diseases and injuries is important, but now the search for healthy living conditions seems more important to me. Public Nursing Care Insurance System is now available, but what is most important is to live a happy, healthy life without having to depend on that system. There is an old saying that worry is often the cause of illness. Recent medical research has shown that various diseases are influenced by how the patients deal with their state of minds. People with active minds maintain their youthful energy longer. What can we do to heighten our brain activity?
Development of human brain
What is the structure of our brain like? How does the brain develop? Cerebral physiology has seen great developments. However, there still is much that is unknown about our brain. Our brain is truly amazing. What we know up to this point includes that the human brain is created at an early stage of embryo development and that cerebral nerve cells are already made by the time of birth. Within the brain, the brain stem (all living animals have it, and it controls the functions necessary for survival such as the functions of the heart and internal organs) and the cerebral archicortex (which controls basic instincts such as appetite, sexual desire, sleep, desire to belong to a group, and emotions such as pleasant and unpleasant feelings, fear, anger,etc) are basically completed while in the womb.
On the other hand, among animals of higher order, humans have the highly developed cerebral neocortex that can create nerve cells (some say there are 14 billion nerve cells!). This cerebral neocortex does not fully function at the time of birth. In the following years, suitable stimuli start to activate (to connect motor nerves and sensory nerves) the nerve cells in the neocortex. This is why children grow up well in many aspects if they receive appropriate stimuli that develop the nerve cells in the neocortex. The archicortex is more or less completed at the time of birth, but it of course can develop even further after birth. What is important here is that the archicortex requires “to be loved” and is responsible for the cultivation of aesthetic sentiments.
Humans cannot live without “being loved”. Only those who grew up being loved can learn to love as they grow older. With the help of a good archicortex, the neocortex will be activated efficiently. Even with hard work, efficiency will not improve without cooperation from the archicortex. In order to activate the nerve cells in the neocortex, information or stimuli from outside the brain have first to be perceived as “pleasant” by the archicortex. This is when the activation of the brain improves and the systems to process information in the neocortex are most efficiently completed. On the other hand, if the information or stimuli are perceived as “unpleasant”, the activation of the brain does not occur and the neocortex is suppressed to grow any further.
Move the fingers and talk in a loud voice
What does the activation of the nerve cells in the neocortex mean? Nerve cells in the neocortex consist of 14 billion sets of motor nerves and sensory nerves. These sets create the network (synapses) in which they contact each other and make up a living nervous system. The importance lies in how many sets of nerve cells we can activate in our lives. We can activate the nerve cells by providing “stimuli”. Moving fingers and talking aloud lead to activation by providing appropriate stimuli in the large part of sensory to motor domains in the cerebral neocortex. In this sense, starting abacus learning as young as possible is useful in activating the brains of young children. However, if children learn to use the abacus without wanting to do it, there will be no positive effects. If they come to like learning the abacus and move the beads on the abacus with fun, they will receive benefits from this experience. There is a key in making abacus-learning fun for young children so that they will grow to like it.
Development of the right brain by the abacus method of mental calculation
The human brain consists of the right brain and the left brain. The shapes of these two parts are similar, but differences have been gradually found in their functions. The left brain is also referred to as the digital brain. It controls reading and writing, calculation, and logical thinking. The right brain is referred to as the analog brain. It controls three-dimensional sense, creativity, and artistic senses. These two work together to allow us to function as humans. The Japanese are thought to speak Japanese with their left brain, and this allows their left brain to be more efficient. On the other hand, westerners also utilize their right brain to learn their languages, so their right brain is usually more efficient. It is natural that young Japanese students are better at mathematical calculation than students in western countries who are the same age. It is also natural that, because of the better development in their right brain, students in western countries are more creative and original than Japanese students. In recent years, some have argued for the necessity of the Venture Promotion in Japan, but in order to foster this type of environment we need to develop an education system that would train the students’ right brain first. In addition, it is also found that if one trains the right brain, it is less likely to get dementia. Here, I would like to introduce the abacus method of mental calculation. In the abacus method of mental calculation, the learners manipulate abacus beads in their head to carry out a calculation. This had led us to speculate that this operation was effective in training the right brain or the analog brain. Thanks to the development of cerebral physiology and machines that can accurately measure the amount of blood flow in the brain, recent studies have proven that the abacus method of mental calculation is extremely effective in activating the right brain. This validated the speculation we had before. Therefore, I would like to ask all the abacus teachers to teach all learners the abacus method of mental calculation, no matter how briefly it may be. I consider the completion of abacus learning the mastery of the mental calculation.
Shining brain
Having grown up to be workers in various work places and providers for their families and contributors to society, many people retire from the forefront of the society and start the second stage of their lives. For these people, it is very important to live ample and healthy lives. In order to achieve this way of living, they have to remember to activate their brain as much as possible. There are many different ways to activate the brain, and one of them is the calculation with the abacus. In the abacus method of calculation, the abacus is not only the best way to exercise fingertips, but also positively influences the right brain to be activated. Although it may take a little more time than for younger people, activation in the cerebral nerve cells certainly does occur even at the age of a hundred. In this case also, they have to come to like the abacus first. Throughout the lifetime there is truth in the saying that you do well at what you like. A “master of life” is a person who has a cooperation of the archicortex and the neocortex throughout their lifetime. To become a “master of life”, we have to always aim high. There is happiness in this process to achieve the goals of our life. We all shine by pursuing our dreams with high hope and something to live for. The higher the goal of our growth, the better our lives are. If the purpose of life is the process to achieve this goal, then I believe that the abacus education can be one of the significant guidelines for life. I would like us all to be “life-long healthy people with abacus”.
Abacus and the Right Brain
Recent studies have shown that the abacus method of mental calculation is effective in the development of the right brain. At first, this idea was only a hypothesis, but the recent development of high-tech machinery has helped provide tangible research data. In this section, we will present information provided by researchers who study the effects of abacus training.
I have been engaged in research concerning the abacus for many years from the perspective of a psychology. My research findings show that abacus study not only improves the ability to calculate both on the abacus and mentally, but also provides a beneficial ripple effect on other disciplines. This paper will explain what ancillary disciplines are influenced and the reasons for it. I will also discuss the characteristics of and future prospects for abacus learning.
The Ripple Effects of Abacus Learning
The first effect is improvement of numerical memory. The second is improvement of memory in spatial arrangement. The third is progress in solving general mathematical problems taught in elementary school, including the four fundamental arithmetic calculations and word problems.
The improvement of numerical memory
The first effect, the improvement of numerical memory, can be demonstrated by asking students to remember three- to nine-digit numbers read aloud and to recite the memorized items orally. Abacus students are found to be superior in the accuracy of their memory and the number of digits they are able to memorize when compared with non-abacus learners of the same age. This is because abacus students place numbers on the abacus image in their head as they mentally calculate with the abacus method. The retention of the numbers is certain if the number of digits does not exceed the limit of the mental image of the abacus. Utilization of the abacus image enables students even to recite the memorized numbers backwards. This is possible because of the application of the procedures used in the abacus method of mental calculation to solving the memorization assignment.
High marks due to improvement in memory of spatial arrangement
The second beneficial effect is the improvement in memory of spatial arrangement. This was examined by assigning students to remove the location of several small black dot. These dots were placed on different intersection point of squares made with 3 to 5 lines in both vertical and horizontal directions. The students first looked at these dots for a few seconds to memorize their location, then they were asked to recreate the same picture by placing black dots on blank squares. As a result, abacus learners were found to score higher than non-abacus learners. The spatial arrangement of the dots does not have the same numerical values as beads on the abacus board. However, we can speculate that the training to obtain the abacus image visually had the effect of making students sensitive to spatial arrangement.
Progress in solving general mathematical problems
The following three points are confirmed in terms of the effects of abacus study on progress in solving mathematical problems.
1. Findings from an investigation with third grade students show that about a year of study at an abacus school enabled the learners to score higher than non-abacus learners on certain mathematical problems. These mathematical problems include addition of one-digit numbers, multiplication of one-digit numbers, addition of multi-digit numbers, subtraction of multi-digit numbers, word problems in addition and subtraction, and fill-in-the-blank problems (e.g. providing the missing items in the following equation: [ ]−7 = 27). However, no difference was found in problems where conceptual thinking was required, such one in which students were asked to figure out the digit positions (i.e. to decide if the following two items are the same: {nine 10s + nine 1s} and {eight 10s + ten 1s}). Even beginning abacus learners can be said to benefit from the ripple effect in solving mathematical problems, except for those involving conceptual understanding.
According to the statistical analysis, the addition of one-digit numbers was affected most directly by abacus study. Accurate and rapid calculation of one-digit numbers was found to lead to better marks in multi-digit mathematical calculation, which further led to better marks on word problems and fill-in-the-blank problems. We can speculate that students had more time to think about the problems, and therefore scored higher on the assignment because they needed less time to work out simple calculations as a result of their abacus background.
2. On the higher level, advanced abacus learners were found to have received even more desirable effects in solving certain types of mathematical problems compared to non-abacus learners. These problems include the comparison of the size of the numbers (i.e. put the following five numbers in order: 0.42, 12, 3.73, 0.95, 10.1), the calculation of numbers with multiple choices of proposed answers (i.e. choose the correct answer from five choices of proposed answers for 1026.95 ÷ 103.1), and word problems. In addition, a positive effect was seen, not only in mathematical problems with integers and decimals, but also in those with fractions, especially when higher level thinking is required to solve them.
In the abacus training, there are no fractions involved, but the ripple effect even affected problem solving in fractions. The abacus students were found to have transformed the fractions into decimals, in order to solve problems with fractions. They tried solving the problems by changing the numbers into the form they understood best.
3. As mentioned above, abacus learners tend to solve problems in a form in which they can utilize their knowledge of abacus calculation when confronted with various mathematical problems. This tendency was shown when abacus students were given problems of computational estimation (such as an assignment where students were to pick the figure in the largest digit position of the answer). In solving these problems, many abacus learners first calculated the whole problem then picked the figure of the largest digit position in the answer.
Merits of abacus study
To acquire the ability to calculate rapidly and accurately and to calculate mentally
Based on the results mentioned above, some advantages and characteristics of abacus learning are revealed. One of the advantages of abacus study is that learners can calculate simple mathematical problems rapidly and accurately. In addition, they acquire the ability of do mental calculation utilizing the abacus image, which allows quick calculation without actually using the abacus.  
These characteristics show positive ripple effects on the solution of various mathematical problems. On the other hand, the learners' calculation methods become fixed, and the students tend to lack flexibility in thinking out innovative ways to solve problems. It goes without saying that spending time on thinking out new ways to solve problems (such as thinking about the meaning of the calculation, or coming up with other ways to solve the problem) can be negative in terms of the amount of time needed to solve problems when the primary goal is rapid and accurate calculation. Since abacus training consists of accurate performance of simple procedures, there is no reason to change the method of traditional abacus education. However, I believe that some measures must be taken to keep the learners from being bored, since repetition of simple procedures is often accompanied by boredom.
At the beginning of the new century
I am currently considering adapting the principles of the abacus to computer software that teaches the concepts of digit position (meaning of zeros in numbers) to mentally challenged children. I have been trying to teach numbers and simple calculations to these children. They have great difficulty in understanding the concept of digit position, even though they could read and write numbers and do addition and subtraction of one-to two-digit numbers. In order to make learning fun, I have used an activity in which children carry a certain amount of money and go to their favorite store to buy something they like. However, the distinction between 13 yen and 130 yen was hard for them to grasp. I think the following reasoning could be used to provide a more easily comprehended explanation of the concept for them. On the abacus board, there can only be up to 9 in the units position. If 1 is added to 9, there will be a number in the 10s position and nothing, or zero, in the units column.
At the beginning of this, new century, I hope to expand the abacus education and give it new applications while, valuing its history.
Image thinking of abacus users found higher by a study of brain waves
We have been studying brain waves (EEG; electroencephalography) during various kinds of brain activities for more than ten years. In the beginning of the study, subjects were mainly students. We made them listen to music or calculate mathematical problems and than measured their EEGs to investigate the brain activity. After statistically analyzing the data obtained from over two hundred students, we have found the tendency that b waves, which indicate the active area of the brain, appeared on the right hemisphere while listening to music and on the left while calculating. This confirmed the hypothesis that the right brain is used to recognize images, figures and music and the left brain (the linguistic brain) to deal with logical thoughts, such as a calculation. At that time, we were asked from one TV program to measure the brain waves of an abacus champion. I thought, however, it would be difficult to prove some differences in the EEGs which involved quite large individual variances.
Neural activity in the right brain
When we measured the champion, a middle school student, during the mental calculation, the result was unexpected. Usually the left temporal region is used for calculation, but here, it was almost entirely unused. Instead, the b waves appeared on the right occipital region. In other words, the student carried out calculation using the right brain. I was not quite convinced from only one person's result, because there are always exceptions and some individual differences in brain waves. However, we conducted the same investigation with another expert only to find the result almost identical to the previous case. We than asked more abacus users with high 'dan' (ranks) to let us measure their EEGs, and found almost the same results with only little individual variances. We inquired how they were calculating, and most of them gave the same reply that the image of the abacus beads in their head moved rapidly.
Verbal thinking and image processing
Usually, ordinary people calculate in their mind using inner voice, as in one hundred minus 7 is 93. They put mathematical notions into words. On the other hand, abacus users simply visualize an image of abacus in their head. They do not replace the image into words. This difference can be seen clearly in the EEGs. These tendencies in the brain uses can also be observed in professional players of Shogi, (Japanese chess,) while they are playing the games or solving Shogi problems. However, when they calculate, they use their left brains just as ordinary people do. This is the same with the abacus users. They do not use their right brains in all cases.
Yet it does not mean that abacus learning improves everything about the right brain, such as a sense of art and music. What is important is that the ability to visualize can be put to use for other subjects and behaviors. Some abacus experts use their ability for memorizing whole page of textbook or years in history. The abilily developed by the abacas can be used effectively in different ways.  
Not only for the experts but also for the beginners, abacus learning is useful to easily grasp images in addition and subtraction problems, because the beads are moving in front of their eyes. It also allows to understand the decimal system and the concept of digit positions. Once children understand numbers, they will probably become fond of mathematics. They will be more confident there may be many positive impacts in other subjects at school. The contemporary education focuses on theory and its rote memorization. Theory of course is important but many students cannot get an actual feeling of comprehension only through it. I believe an effective application of image thinking induces human creativity and inspiration.

Food For Thought

This sounds pretty good.

Our Dilemma
To laugh is to risk appearing a fool….
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental….
To reach out for another is to risk involvement….
To expose feelings is to risk rejection….
To place your dreams before a crowd is to risk ridicule….
To love is to risk not being loved in return….
To go forward in the face of overwhelming odds is to risk failure….
But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The person who risks nothing does nothing, has nothing, is nothing.
He may avoid suffering and sorrows, but he cannot learn, feel, change, grow, or love.
Chained by his certitudes, he is a slave - he has forfeited his freedom.
Only a person who takes risks is FREE!



Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they just take the rotten apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy to pick up... The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along - the one who's brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree. Share this with other women who are good apples, even those who have already been picked. Now Men... Men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

Humor

Monday, August 08, 2005

Who‘s reading who’s mind here.

Who‘s reading who’s mind here. This is all new to me but very close to my thinking as of late.
THE BEGINNINGS OF THE MIND AND LANGUAGE (1902)
Part # 3 H.G. Wells (1866-1946)
At the end of the fifth year, as the natural outcome of its instinctive effort to experiment and learn, acting amidst wisely ordered surroundings, the little child should have acquired a certain definite foundation for the educational structure. It should have a vast variety of perceptions stored in its mind, and a vocabulary of three or four thousand words, and among these, and holding them together, there should be certain structural and cardinal ideas. They are ideas that will have been gradually and imperceptibly instilled, and they are necessary as the basis of a sound mental existence. There must be, to begin with, a developing sense and feeling for truth and for duty as something distinct and occasionally conflicting with immediate impulse and desire, and there must be certain clear intellectual elements established already almost impregnably in the mind, certain primary distinctions and classifications. Many children are called stupid, and begin their educational career with needless difficulty through an unsoundness of these fundamental intellectual elements, an unsoundness in no way inherent, but the result of accident and neglect. And a starting handicap of this sort may go on increasing right through the whole life. The child at five, unless it is colour blind, should know the range of colours by name, and distinguish them easily, blue and green not excepted; it should be able to distinguish pink from pale red and crimson from scarlet. [Footnote: There could be a set of colour bands in the book that the English Language Society might publish.] Many children through the neglect of those about them do not distinguish these colours until a very much later age. I think also--in spite of the fact that many adults go vague and ignorant on these points--that a child of five may have been taught to distinguish between a square, a circle, an oval, a triangle and an oblong, and to use these words. It is easier to keep hold of ideas with words than without them, and none of these words should be impossible by five. The child should also know familiarly by means of toys, wood blocks and so on, many elementary solid forms. It is matter of regret that in common language we have no easy, convenient words for many of these forms, and instead of being learnt easily and naturally in play, they are left undistinguished, and have to be studied later under circumstances of forbidding technicality. It would be quite easy to teach the child in an incidental way to distinguish cube, cylinder, cone, sphere (or ball), prolate spheroid (which might be called "egg"), oblate spheroid (which might be called "squatty ball"), the pyramid, and various parallelepipeds, as, for example, the square slab, the oblong slab, the brick, and post. He could have these things added to his box of bricks by degrees, he would build with them and combine them and play with them over and over again, and absorb an intimate knowledge of their properties, just at the age when such knowledge is almost instinctively sought and is most pleasant and easy in its acquisition. These things need not be specially forced upon him. In no way should he be led to emphasize them or give a priggish importance to his knowledge of them. They will come into his toys and play mingled with a thousand other interests, the fortifying powder of clear general ideas, amidst the jam of play. In addition the child should be able to count, [Footnote: There can be little doubt that many of us were taught to count very badly, and that we were hampered in our arithmetic throughout life by this defect. Counting should be taught be means of small cubes, which the child can arrange and rearrange in groups. It should have at least over a hundred of these cubes--if possible a thousand; they will be useful as toy bricks, and for innumerable purposes. Our civilization is now wedded to a decimal system of counting, and, to begin with, it will be well to teach the child to count up to ten and to stop there for a time. It is suggested by Mrs. Mary Everest Boole that it is very confusing to have distinctive names for eleven and twelve, which the child is apt to class with the single numbers and contrast with the teens, and she proposes at the beginning (_The Cultivation of the Mathematical Imagination_, Colchester: Benham & Co.) to use the words "one-ten," "two-ten," thirteen, fourteen, etc., for the second decade in counting. Her proposal is entirely in harmony with the general drift of the admirably suggestive diagrams of number order collected by Mr. Francis Gallon. Diagram after diagram displays the same hitch at twelve, the predominance in the mind of an individualized series over quantitatively equal spaces until the twenties are attained. Many diagrams also display the mental scar of the clock face, the early counting is overmuch associated with a dial. One might perhaps head off the establishment of that image, and supply a more serviceable foundation for memories by equipping the nursery with a vertical scale of numbers divided into equal parts up to two or three hundred, with each decade tinted. When the child has learnt to count up to a hundred with cubes, it should be given an abacus, and it should also be encouraged to count and check quantities with all sorts of things, marbles, apples, bricks in a wall, pebbles, spots on dominoes, and so on; taught to play guessing games with marbles in a hand, and the like. The abacus, the hundred square and the thousand cube, will then in all probability become its cardinal numerical memories. Playing cards (without corner indices) and dominoes supply good recognizable arrangements of numbers, and train a child to grasp a number at a glance. The child should not be taught the Arabic numerals until it has counted for a year or more. Experience speaks here. I know one case only too well of a man who learnt his Arabic numerals prematurely, before he had acquired any sound experimental knowledge of numerical quantity, and, as a consequence, his numerical ideas are incurably associated with the peculiarities of the figures. When he hears the word seven he does not really think of seven or seven-ness at all, even now, he thinks of a number rather like four and very unlike six. Then again, six and nine are mysteriously and unreasonably linked in his mind, and so are three and five. He confuses numbers like sixty-three and sixty-five, and finds it hard to keep seventy-four distinct from forty-seven. Consequently, when it came to the multiplication table, he learnt each table as an arbitrary arrangement of relationships, and with an extraordinary amount of needless labour and punishment. But obviously with cubes or abacus at hand, it would be the easiest thing in the world for a child to construct and learn its own multiplication table whenever the need arose.] it should be capable of some mental and experimental arithmetic, and I am told that a child of five should be able to give the _sol-fa_ names to notes, and sing these names at their proper pitch. Possibly in social intercourse the child will have picked up names for some of the letters of the alphabet, but there is no great hurry for that before five certainly, or even later. There is still a vast amount of things immediately about the child that need to be thoroughly learnt, and a premature attack on letters divides attention from these more appropriate and educational objects. It should, for the reason given in the footnote, be still ignorant of the Arabic numerals. It should be able to handle a pencil and amuse itself with freehand of this sort:--and its mind should be quite uncontaminated by that imbecile drawing upon squared paper by means of which ignorant teachers destroy both the desire and the capacity to sketch in so many little children. Such sketching could be enormously benefited by a really intelligent teacher who would watch the child's efforts, and draw with the child just a little above its level. For example, the teacher might stimulate effort by rejoining to such a sketch as the above, something in this vein:-- The child will already be a great student of picture-books at five, something of a critic (after the manner of the realistic school), and it will be easy to egg it almost imperceptibly to a level where copying from simple outline illustrations will become possible. About five, a present of some one of the plastic substitutes for modelling clay now sold by educational dealers, _plasticine_ for example, will be a discreet and acceptable present to the child--if not to its nurse. The child's imagination will also be awake and active at five. He will look out on the world with anthropomorphic (or rather with paedomorphic) eyes. He will be living on a great flat earth--unless some officious person has tried to muddle his wits by telling him the earth is round; amidst trees, animals, men, houses, engines, utensils, that are all capable of being good or naughty, all fond of nice things and hostile to nasty ones, all thumpable and perishable, and all conceivably esurient. And the child should know of Fairy Land. The beautiful fancy of the "Little People," even if you do not give it to him, he will very probably get for himself; they will lurk always just out of reach of his desiring curious eyes, amidst the grass and flowers and behind the wainscot and in the shadows of the bedroom. He will come upon their traces; they will do him little kindnesses. Their affairs should interweave with the affairs of the child's dolls and brick castles and toy furniture. At first the child will scarcely be in a world of sustained stories, but very eager for anecdotes and simple short tales. This is the hopeful foundation upon which at or about the fifth year the formal education of every child in a really civilized community ought to begin. [Footnote: One may note here, perhaps, the desirability too often disregarded by over-solicitous parents, and particularly by the parents of the solitary children who are now so common, of keeping the child a little out of focus, letting it play by itself whenever it will, never calling attention to it in a manner that awakens it to the fact of an audience, never talking about it in its presence. Solitary children commonly get too much control, they are forced and beguiled upward rather than allowed to grow, their egotism is over-stimulated, and they miss many of the benefits of play and competition. It seems a pity, too, in the case of so many well-to-do people, that having equipped nurseries they should not put them to a fuller use--if in no other way than by admitting foster children. None of this has been very fully analyzed, of course (there are enormous areas of valuable research in these matters waiting for people of intelligence and leisure, or of intelligence and means), but the opinion that solitary children are handicapped by their loneliness is very strong. It is nearly certain that as a rule they make less agreeable boys and girls, but to me at any rate it is not nearly so certain that they make adult failures. It would be interesting to learn just what proportion of solitary children there is on the roll of those who have become great in our world. One thinks of John Ruskin, a particularly fine specimen of the highly focussed single son. Prig perhaps he was, but this world has a certain need of such prigs. A correspondent (a schoolmistress of experience) who has collected statistics in her own neighbourhood, is strongly of opinion not only that solitary children are below the average, but that all elder children are inferior in quality. I do not believe this, but it would be interesting and valuable if some one could find time for a wide and thorough investigation of this question.]

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

PCCC RESOURSES

The PC Club of Charlotte is the only computer user's group in the Charlotte area that caters to the everyday computer user. Some of our members are computer professionals; most are just normal people like you and me. Our members welcome the chance to meet others using computers, help with troublesome programs or hardware, introduce new technology and discuss the current issues that affect the Internet and computer users in general. Come join us! We wish to welcome all novices, new users, power users and any one in-between to join us in 2005 to make this year the best for the PC Club of Charlotte.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Issue - Education

Issue - Education We need a major shift in education policy, especially from the federal level. My guiding principles are: first, restore local and parental control, with high standards; second, establish measurable goals with strict accountability; and third, restore discipline to the classroom and respect for teachers. And by valuing teachers as professionals with a call to public service, we can recruit – and keep – the best and brightest minds to teach. Improving teacher pay and increasing the teacher tax deduction to help defray out-of-pocket classroom expenses will help retain our teachers. We also need to invest more money and resources in our community colleges. North Carolina’s community colleges enable many adults to acquire the skills that employers need, helping workers who have lost their jobs move into growing fields, such as health care and technology. I will work to provide flexible federal grants that make continuing education possible and affordable, and I will continue to fight for increased funding for community colleges to help our workers reach the broader goals of economic opportunity and security.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

NEW SERIES OF MATHEMATICS,


AUTHOR OF THE WEST POINT COURSE OF MATHEMATICS.
The following named volumes are entirely new works, written within the past ten years, to conform to all modern improvement, and take the place of the author's older series. NO CONFLICT OF EDITIONS is possible, if patrons will be particular to order the book they want by its exact title. Whenever any change is made so radical as to be likely to cause confusion in classes, TILE NAME OF THE BOOK IS CHANGED. Teachers using any work by limns not here-in-after enumerated, are not availing themselves of the advantages offered by THE NEW SERIES. 11Primary, Intellectual, and Practical Arithmetics constitute the Series proper. Other volumes are optional. DAVIES' PRIMARY ARITHMETIC. The elementary combinations, by object lessons. DAVIES' INTELLECTUAL ARITHMETIC. Referring all processes to the Unit for analysis. DAVIES' ELEMENTS OF WRITTEN ARITH. Prominently practical, with few rules and explanations. DAVIES' PRACTICAL ARITHMETIC. Complete theory and practice. Substitute for this volume. DAVIES' UNIVERSITY ARITHMETIC. A purely scientific presentation for advanced classes. ALSO, DAVIES' NEW ELEMENTARY ALGEBRA. A connecting link between Arithmetic and Algebra.
AND A FULL COURSE OF HIGHER MATHEMATICS. Copyright, 1876, by CHARLES

Monday, April 18, 2005

Navigating Networked, Intelligent Multimedia

Technology is not now entering education for the first time. The schools embody a mature educational technology based on printing. To develop the uses of digital information technology in education, the established technology of schooling will need to be displaced. That can now happen. Imagine a thoroughly computer-based curriculum. It will reside in a system of networked multimedia. Each student will link to it with a notebook computer. Additionally, small-group workstations will be ubiquitously available, on average one for every four students, and one per teacher. These will be high-powered systems capable of delivering quality multimedia presentations while multi-tasking complex programs in the background. The networking will be very high speed, sufficiently powerful to provide each workstation with its own stream of digitized, interactive, full- screen video and good audio. The library of materials available through the system will be extensive, consisting of a full cross- section of the culture in all its branches and varieties and effective tools to aid its study. These materials will reside primarily on an advanced server system for the school on the premises, with integrated, high-speed links to other servers, near and distant, so that members of study-groups can call for most any material they want and receive it with insignificant delay. In addition to the small-group workstations, all spaces will have appropriately scaled projection monitors or large, flat wall-displays for showing material to larger groups. For our purposes, the particulars of this system are less important than the order of capacity that they indicate. In a fully digitized culture, the educational resources of the school will be ubiquitously available and they will be far more extensive and powerful than those currently available. With this order of capacity, we can indicate quite precisely how this environment will differ pedagogically from that experienced in print-based schools. Two features of it will be most important. » First, all the materials pertaining to the curriculum will be accessible to any student or teacher at any time. The curriculum will cease to be a sequence of compartmentalized units. » Second, the scope of the materials included in the curriculum, while not boundless, will be much greater than the thirty stout volumes that it currently can comprise. The curriculum will provide multiple paths to the highest levels of achievement in all domains of the contributing cultures. These two features -- a transformation of scope and a transcending of set sequence -- will profoundly alter the implementation constraints of the current system, radically changing its pedagogy. With all the school's intellectual resources accessible to all students and all teachers at all times, the curriculum will change profoundly. Currently, the place where all the school's materials might be found is in the school library, which students can use, for practical purposes, only on a limited, exceptional basis. When all the school's materials reside in a multimedia electronic library, accessible interactively over a high-speed network form any place in the school, the library, not the textbook, defines the scope of all the subjects. In effect the student, from his desk, can reach instantaneously into any part of the library, which defines suddenly the universe of knowledge and ideas that a student might study and learn. This change will have a profound effect on everyday pedagogy, for teaching and testing with reference to a text is very different from what teaching and testing with reference to an electronic library will be. With a textbook, learning means coming to know its content; with a library learning means grasping how to find, retrieve, and understand materials in it that one judges relevant. With a textbook, people generally presume that good students should master all that is in them, although teachers generally decide to leave parts out and to change the weighting of emphasis. And with the practice of "curriculum alignment," the expectation is even spreading that textbooks should include only those items likely to appear on major tests. The rest is a distraction! Currently, teachers plan the sequence of lessons to ensure that students cover the subject, with each mastering as much of the totality included as possible. Of course, the "subject" here is not really the subject, but the sanctioned epitome of it that the syllabus and its associated texts comprise. In reality, the subject includes much, much more than that, which would be found in principle, not in the appropriate textbook, but in the relevant part of the library or in university departments and labs. A student who finds his subject in a library does not work in the same way as he works with a textbook. A decent library should have many more resources in it than any individual or group can exhaust. If a student can master everything on a subject in a library, we must conclude both that the student is superhumanly able and the library abysmally poor. Learning to work productively in a library entails working in an open-ended realm where the student must make continual judgments about what to do and what not to do. He looks things up, browses, navigates through the many contributions to a subject, seeking materials that will contribute to his understanding of the issues at hand. The pedagogy appropriate in this context will differ from that used when the "good" student is to master everything in the assigned text. In a computer-based educational system, all intellectual contents and pedagogical resources will be available to all students and teachers at all times, and those materials will be much more extensive and complex than they currently are. Together, these two changes will shatter the implementation constraints of the print-based system. As these constraints disappear, the span of pedagogical possibility will change. What people will be able to learn, what they will need to learn, and how they learn it will shift significantly. Let us reflect on how these changes may soon happen.

Implementation Constraints of Print

Big-time basketball players must stoop to go through most doors. Left-handed people find it hard to crank can openers or pencil sharpeners, which usually convenience right-handed people. The width and number of the road lanes and the average size of cars define thresholds for traffic density above which drivers will slow up significantly, causing delays and jams. All such problems exemplify implementation constraints, limitations of effectiveness and the ease of use that arise from choices that must be made in order to implement a technical system. Any technical system imposes implementation constraints on the functions it helps perform. When a new technical system displaces an old one, it does not necessarily bring with it the same set of implementation constraints as the old had. In the days of horse-drawn transport, towns needed to be close together, no more than twenty miles or so apart, and limitations on manure disposal, along with plodding speeds, would keep contiguous urban concentration from becoming very great. Trains and cars changed those constraints, reducing the need for provincial towns and facilitating the concentration of population in metropolitan centers and associated suburbs. Big cities got bigger and small towns smaller because the implementation constraints of the old transportation system were not carried over into the new. Implementation constraints are features built into a system in order to make it work effectively. These features do not reflect characteristics that are necessarily desirable, in and of themselves, nor are they always disadvantageous. They are tolerable components of a workable solution, enabling people to make good use of the feasible technology, but in doing that they also set limits on the performance of the system. Significant implementation constraints can last, unchallenged, for centuries over great areas, and then suddenly disappear when new technologies free from those constraints displace the old. Consider, for instance, architecture. Until recently, in every culture in every part of the world, implementation constraints made it very rare to build a structure more than five stories high. Occasionally that would be done for reasons of monumental ceremony as with various pyramids, or of communicational reach when the muezzin calls people to prayer from the minaret or the cathedral bells toll across the town from high in the belfry. With pre-mechanical architecture, implementation constraints almost always worked to keep buildings low: tall structures were expensive to build and people found them a chore to use, having to run up and down many flights of stairs. Hence it was a natural practice to limit ordinary buildings to a height of five floors or less. In the late nineteenth century, the implementation constraints limiting the height of buildings vanished as new materials, new principles of design, and new resources such as elevators, electric lighting, and central heating and ventilation, all made structures built to an unprecedented scale rapidly feasible. Now in urban areas round the world buildings scaled to the old constraints are exceptions to a completely different rule. In retrospect, it is usually easy to see implementation constraints for what they are, limiting characteristics of dominant technologies. But from within, while a dominant technology is still hegemonic, it is often difficult to see its implementation constraints as such. Instead, they can appear to be part of the natural order, artifacts, not of the technology, but of the natural laws and necessary conditions on which the technology rests. Thus, it was an implementation constraint of human transportation that no one traveled much faster than the speed of a galloping horse until the early 1800s. When trains started to puff along at speeds that left horses wheezing behind, commentators argued that the unprecedented speed was unnatural and dangerous to the humans who subjected themselves to it, not because the train might crash, but because the speed itself menaced the human constitution. From the perspective of the experience then available, evidence derived from the effects of tornadoes and hurricanes seemed to make the warnings plausible. Of course, there proved to be easy ways to shield riders from the winds of speed and the argument that speed itself was harmful proved absurdly false. Yet it illustrates how difficult it can be, from within a technical hegemony, to see its implementation constraints for what they are, mere accidents. In an educational system designed to take advantage of printed resources, implementation constraints make educational experience simultaneously fragmented and limited. These implementation constraints will seem to many to be natural necessities, but they are not. Schooling becomes a scattered intellectual experience because of the way the culture must be fragmented into many subjects, with these sequenced for study year by year, in order to implement the use of textbooks in education. It becomes limited because the total selection of the culture that can be included in the official texts is very restricted. Thirty volumes is not much relative to the total range of possibilities. These implementation constraints have dire effects on the nature of curriculum politics and they confront many students with very difficult tasks of integration. They make educational effort less liberal and less integral than it could be. Through an integral education, a student forms her judgment by integrating her engagement with the culture, forming convictions, preferences, valuations, explanations, understandings that she uses to define herself and her world. To achieve an integral education, a student should construct connections, but our system of schooling produces partitions. As we have seen, to use textbooks, an annual packaging of separate subjects is a necessity. Occasionally students in a subject will spend two or more years on a single text; sometimes they study several shorter texts in one subject in one year. But the norm is one text per subject per year, and this norm exists, for reasons of neither developmental psychology nor cultural coherence. It exists to make textbooks usable. Imagine students having at hand one gigantic, comprehensive set of texts, covering all subjects from kindergarten through high school, The Complete Compendium: Everything You Can and Should Learn In School. No student could handle the whole set, day by day, and its volumes would not fit in his desk or locker. The material constraints of using books requires segmenting the student's intellectual experience into annual increments. As a result, at best, the student passes through the curriculum, visiting each unit productively in turn. He cannot easily go back to material he studied a couple years before but did not quite get down pat, and he cannot easily reach forward in the sequence, suddenly alert to something slated for use two years hence. Educators often complain of this tendency to lockstep progression, but it is hard to avoid at least in part because it is rooted in the material constraints of texts. A complex culture can sustain innumerable paths of inquiry in and through it, each with its logic and integrity, where one thing leads to another because a specific rejoinder to a student's particular question leads to further wondering, and then to ensuing responses, new doubts, more solutions, and so on. Individualized learning develops from the inside out in this way, as a student integrates responses to her questions into an understanding that she recognizes to be her own, full responsibility for which she asserts. Historically, the way printing amplified the availability of different texts, enhancing too their quality and dependability, greatly accelerated the individuation of learning, enabling inquiring minds to follow powerful questions to productive answers to a degree that human cultures never approached before. But this great advance had limits, and we can now feel these chafing our pedagogical aspirations. The very accomplishments of the book lead us to want to go beyond the span of pedagogical possibility inherent in it. Individualized learning is a long sought, imperfectly achieved, educational ideal. The sequence of annual curricular increments greatly complicates the individualization of learning, for it imposes on everyone a single, arbitrary, over-all order. Jenny is fourteen, entering ninth grade, and she will therefore start algebra, do biology, and learn about the Greeks and Romans, because those are things her school covers in the ninth grade. If she does biology this year, it will be chemistry or physics next, not the other way around. Are biology, chemistry, and physics really separate subjects? Well, yes and no. There are surely separate textbooks for each, and universities organize specialists in each in separate departments. They work in different labs and use different instruments, and they read different journals and attend different conventions. But the practicing biologist will draw continually on knowledge of chemistry and physics and it is hard, given any real question within a discipline, to confine the discourse pertinent to it strictly within the bounds of that discipline alone. At the least, it would be helpful to do biology with the chemistry and physics texts close at hand, along with the one for biology, and much else as well. That rarely happens for the ordinary student. Thus textbooks reinforce tendencies to fragmentation in the intellectual experience of the culture -- this today, that tomorrow. To package the culture for presentation through texts, we cut the life of the mind into pieces, put defining covers around each, and dole them out one by one. This piecemeal pedagogy makes it hard for a student to integrate her studies. The day is riven into periods: the bell rings for English, fifty minutes for As You Like It, whether or not you do, then the bell again, signaling the sudden end of English and the abrupt start of Math. Such a way of organizing work objectifies arbitrary distinctions and makes it hard for a student to take full possession of her learning. It is a tribute to the formative, integrating powers of the human mind that schooling leads as often as it does, despite its false segmentations, to well integrated achievements by its students. In addition to systematically dissipating a student's intellectual focus, the implementation constraints of printed texts put severe limits on a student's curiosity and concern. This weakens the student's integrative capacities. Only a small part of any subject can be included in the text. What is not included does not count, even though it might break Billy's boredom. As they move beyond the first few years and become acculturated to competing for grades, students themselves often collaborate in their boredom, for they know the system in which they labor. When an enterprising teacher introduces an unexpected and provoking topic, one that they sense probably is not included in the official epitome on which they will be examined, the murmur rises -- "Gee, this is kinda interesting, but are we responsible for it?" The retort should resound -- "Yes! You're responsible for this and the whole of your lives and your world, for everything, and you must judge what things you encounter will prove of worth to you in it." Instead, the honest teacher, also knowing the system, answers with a apologetic nay -- "Well, no, but I thought it might interest some . . . ." Bored students do not integrate their learning well. They instead miss the point and soon forget whatever they sponged up because it would shortly be required of them. The world system of schooling has everywhere a curriculum made up of desiccated fragments that lack sufficient depth and variety to engage a student's curiosity fully, not because such a bland curriculum is a natural necessity, like pabulum for babes, but because the implementation constraints of print-based instruction permitted nothing else. These implementation constraints make it difficult for students to achieve an integral education. Likewise, they divert effort from liberal education. Through a liberal education, a student develops the capacity to acquire further knowledge, skill, and understanding without dependency on others. Such responsible self-direction is the mark of the autonomous person. A liberally educated person, confronted with a new challenge, knows how to find resources, has sufficient intellectual self-confidence to sense what he needs to know in order to proceed, can judge what is relevant, can comprehend new material, and work through the difficulties he encounters without depending on external authority for guidance. A liberally educated person has learned to learn, and can respond, a free, self-directing person, to the challenges life puts.186 Significant implementation constraints of print-based schooling discourage attainment of a liberal education. Too often educators seem to propound the fiction that to master any subject, one must learn its official epitome, and the teacher's role is to carry the student systematically through the epitome and to certify his mastery of it. At each step, one might expect interest in having students demonstrate their ability to reach out and grasp new issues and ideas, but testing is often habitually retrospective in orientation, designed to make sure that the student knows what he is supposed to know, where knowing consists in reciting back what has been taught. When this system of testing is decadent, progress through it is entirely passive, simply a function of the student's aging, year by year. When it still has some vitality, progress through it depends on demonstrating command of the given increment, good marks all along, capped by passing the "final exam," an oxymoron if there ever was one, for the final exam recurs term by term, year by year, subject by subject. Incessantly testing whether the student knows what has been taught does not cultivate the idea of a liberal education. Instead, it insinuates the slavish belief that only external authority can validate one's learning. Of course, within this world numerous teachers work interstitially with interested students to develop powers of self- directed inquiry. But such teachers are often on the defensive. Apologists of the status quo claim that at least their way has the virtue of accountability, whereas practitioners of liberal education spout high-minded platitudes the attainment of which can never be measured. In principle, it would be easy to test whether a student's education is liberal, for all one needs to do is pose new challenges to her and see whether she can independently acquire the intellectual resources needed to meet them, finding suitable materials, advice, and explanations. In practice, such a test has been hard to implement because the intellectual resources manageable in schooling have been so restricted. Problem-solving does not lend itself to textbook presentations. Testing in the print- based system does not even map the full range of what a student has learned; it probes instead how completely the student has learned those materials that authority deems essential, required. Such testing encourages servile, not liberal, education. Information about how ready a student is to tackle different sorts of problems independently would better benefit the clients of schooling -- colleges, corporations, parents and students themselves, the public at large. Critics and commentators insist that problem-solving should be the focus of the schools, the purpose of which is to help students learn to learn. These strictures signify the importance of liberal education, which can have, not only significant spiritual meaning, but also a real cash- value in a fast-changing world of pragmatic action. The implementation constraints of the current system, however, are fundamentally inimical to these goals. Problems exist as open- ended challenges and one cannot engage in solving them where the scope of relevant material is radically circumscribed and the sequence of its presentation choreographed step by step. Yet we pretend that each student should learn the same thing as any other student as they march year by year through the school curriculum. Why do we do this? That is all that print-based schools can manage. People may have seen it as a natural necessity of sound education, like never moving faster than fifteen miles-per-hour. But really it is a simple implementation constraint that comes with basing the process on a predetermined text. Can it now be done some other way, one that will discard these well-worn implementation constraints?

Span of Pedagogical Possibility

"No one yet had printed books, the preceptor alone had a printed Terence. What one read must first be dictated, then defined, then construed, and then only could he explain it...." Thus a Swiss educational reformer, Thomas Platter, recalled his experience in a school around 1515. Through a long life as printed books became common resources for preceptors and pupils, Platter's own educational experience showed how the spans of pedagogical possibility can change. Platter's family were peasants from a small village, high in the Swiss Alps. His father died when Thomas was two. At five, Thomas started the school of life, herding goats in the mountains, and by eight, accidents had nearly killed him several times. By luck and quirk, his guardians decided that he would do better to take a long shot and try to gain learning and become a priest. Essentially two ways then led to this goal, one religious and the other secular, and Thomas tried both. For the religious, he had a brief, disastrous stint at a nearby song-school, a place where a priest trained boys to sing the liturgy and chant the mass, but not to read or to write. If this went well, it might have led to a cathedral or monastic school, but in Thomas's case the song-school went badly -- the priest had frequent bouts of drunken rage, and suffering from child abuse, Thomas withdrew. Then his elders tried the secular route, sending Thomas on the road. They put him, about nine, in the service of a distant cousin, a youth of about sixteen, who was a wandering scholar, a bacchante, going from town to town in middle Europe in search of the elements of learning. As was the custom, Thomas supported the pair, begging for their bed and board, sometimes stealing, rarely studying. After nine years tramping hither and yon across middle Europe, stopping at many schools for short or long, depending on the quality of the begging, Thomas finally settled in Zurich, an unkempt eighteen-year-old, still seeking the rudiments of Latin. Such was the typical saga of a poor student prior to the era of the printed textbook. The whole system was part of a barter economy: if the schools were good, word got around and too many students would gather, making the begging miserable, and if the schools were bad there would be few students and good begging, leaving learning problematic. When it went well, the idea was to learn how, using Latin, to transcribe spoken text accurately in writing. The basic pedagogy, elementary and advanced, worked like dictation exercises in a foreign language sometimes still do: a teacher would read a passage aloud and students would try to write it on wax tablets and then the teacher or assistants would correct the transcriptions with each student, explaining their errors of grammar, spelling, and the like. Advanced instruction consisted largely of public readings of important texts, which students who had become skilled in transcription could take down for further study, provided they had the means to buy ink and parchment. Thomas Platter did not make it to this level by these means, however. Until his return to Zurich, Thomas had participated in the pre- modern world of education. Prior to about 1500, educators had to assume that students did not possess a text pertaining to the subject at hand. Since mastery of key texts by priests and scribes was nevertheless culturally important, the basic technical rationale of pre-modern schooling was to find a way to enable a student to make the texts he needed. Thus much of instruction, regardless of level, consisted in dictation, reading a text aloud so that students could write it down, making at least a rough copy of it for themselves. The task of the teacher was to correct the student's efforts at transcription, ensuring that the sense said had been accurately written. Only very late in a student's educational experience did attention turn to questions of the meaning of the material. In pre-modern education, where the student did not possess the text, learning to read and write, especially in the languages of scholarship, was a big hurdle. How do you enable someone who neither reads nor writes to make the elementary texts and grammars with which he can then learn to read and write? And all this had to be done, not in the mother tongue, but in Latin, the special language of religion and scholarship. Thomas never solved that problem. In Zurich, just on the eve of the Protestant reformation, Thomas encountered a teacher who simply provided him with printed copies of the texts. The problem of education ceased to be one of learning to write down the spoken text and became one of learning to read the printed text. Thomas's studies then prospered, although they carried him naturally into the Protestant camp and to his family's consternation he took vows of marriage, not the priesthood. He moved to Basel and became a skilled artisan, printer, real estate entrepreneur, and finally a respected, influential schoolmaster. His school was not for wandering scholars, but for the children of the town burghers, securely part of a growing money economy. He negotiated with the city fathers a substantial salary for himself and decent pay for his assistants, one for each class. His students learned from printed textbooks and they moved, in age cohorts, through a graded curriculum. It began by inculcating the skills of reading good Latin, and it ended with the substantive interpretation of significant Latin works and study of elementary Greek. It was a typical, early- modern Gymnasium, designed to take advantage of printed texts.

Span of Pedagogical Possibility

"No one yet had printed books, the preceptor alone had a printed Terence. What one read must first be dictated, then defined, then construed, and then only could he explain it...." Thus a Swiss educational reformer, Thomas Platter, recalled his experience in a school around 1515. Through a long life as printed books became common resources for preceptors and pupils, Platter's own educational experience showed how the spans of pedagogical possibility can change. Platter's family were peasants from a small village, high in the Swiss Alps. His father died when Thomas was two. At five, Thomas started the school of life, herding goats in the mountains, and by eight, accidents had nearly killed him several times. By luck and quirk, his guardians decided that he would do better to take a long shot and try to gain learning and become a priest. Essentially two ways then led to this goal, one religious and the other secular, and Thomas tried both. For the religious, he had a brief, disastrous stint at a nearby song-school, a place where a priest trained boys to sing the liturgy and chant the mass, but not to read or to write. If this went well, it might have led to a cathedral or monastic school, but in Thomas's case the song-school went badly -- the priest had frequent bouts of drunken rage, and suffering from child abuse, Thomas withdrew. Then his elders tried the secular route, sending Thomas on the road. They put him, about nine, in the service of a distant cousin, a youth of about sixteen, who was a wandering scholar, a bacchante, going from town to town in middle Europe in search of the elements of learning. As was the custom, Thomas supported the pair, begging for their bed and board, sometimes stealing, rarely studying. After nine years tramping hither and yon across middle Europe, stopping at many schools for short or long, depending on the quality of the begging, Thomas finally settled in Zurich, an unkempt eighteen-year-old, still seeking the rudiments of Latin. Such was the typical saga of a poor student prior to the era of the printed textbook. The whole system was part of a barter economy: if the schools were good, word got around and too many students would gather, making the begging miserable, and if the schools were bad there would be few students and good begging, leaving learning problematic. When it went well, the idea was to learn how, using Latin, to transcribe spoken text accurately in writing. The basic pedagogy, elementary and advanced, worked like dictation exercises in a foreign language sometimes still do: a teacher would read a passage aloud and students would try to write it on wax tablets and then the teacher or assistants would correct the transcriptions with each student, explaining their errors of grammar, spelling, and the like. Advanced instruction consisted largely of public readings of important texts, which students who had become skilled in transcription could take down for further study, provided they had the means to buy ink and parchment. Thomas Platter did not make it to this level by these means, however. Until his return to Zurich, Thomas had participated in the pre- modern world of education. Prior to about 1500, educators had to assume that students did not possess a text pertaining to the subject at hand. Since mastery of key texts by priests and scribes was nevertheless culturally important, the basic technical rationale of pre-modern schooling was to find a way to enable a student to make the texts he needed. Thus much of instruction, regardless of level, consisted in dictation, reading a text aloud so that students could write it down, making at least a rough copy of it for themselves. The task of the teacher was to correct the student's efforts at transcription, ensuring that the sense said had been accurately written. Only very late in a student's educational experience did attention turn to questions of the meaning of the material. In pre-modern education, where the student did not possess the text, learning to read and write, especially in the languages of scholarship, was a big hurdle. How do you enable someone who neither reads nor writes to make the elementary texts and grammars with which he can then learn to read and write? And all this had to be done, not in the mother tongue, but in Latin, the special language of religion and scholarship. Thomas never solved that problem. In Zurich, just on the eve of the Protestant reformation, Thomas encountered a teacher who simply provided him with printed copies of the texts. The problem of education ceased to be one of learning to write down the spoken text and became one of learning to read the printed text. Thomas's studies then prospered, although they carried him naturally into the Protestant camp and to his family's consternation he took vows of marriage, not the priesthood. He moved to Basel and became a skilled artisan, printer, real estate entrepreneur, and finally a respected, influential schoolmaster. His school was not for wandering scholars, but for the children of the town burghers, securely part of a growing money economy. He negotiated with the city fathers a substantial salary for himself and decent pay for his assistants, one for each class. His students learned from printed textbooks and they moved, in age cohorts, through a graded curriculum. It began by inculcating the skills of reading good Latin, and it ended with the substantive interpretation of significant Latin works and study of elementary Greek. It was a typical, early- modern Gymnasium, designed to take advantage of printed texts.

Education, Liberal and Integral

It is one thing to say that education should promote equity and excellence. It is another to explain what kind of education can best do that. Links between educational activities and their results, both biographical and historical, are not direct. People believe that the extent and quality of education makes a difference in the experience of individuals and groups, but the results unfold slowly over time and many other contingencies affect the outcome. Most tests of educational outcomes cravenly duck this difficulty. Evaluators assume that all results empirically evident at the conclusion of an educational activity will endure, relatively unchanged, for as long as they may be significant. Thus they measure the quality of education by the grades a person earned in a sequence of courses and they estimate the quality of schools, teachers, and programs by measuring how well children perform under their influence at one or another instant of time. It is a testament to our tolerance for absurdity that the educational research establishment allows such a methodology to stand. Think of investment theories. With respect to education, researchers and the public obsessively look only at the rate of current return. Which method, they ask, yields the highest immediate gain? Economists long ago realized that this was a poor way to ascertain the value of an investment, for every investment has a useful life, which may be long or short, and a pattern of payoff across that life, which will vary, instance to instance. By measuring only the immediate current return, investment in growth industries would make little sense at their start, for at the start growth industries often lose money and usually require plowing back whatever profit they generate into development and expansion. Often the time to invest in growth industries is when they have negative current returns. In general, if people judged only by current returns, practices of deferred gratification would seem merely masochistic, yet these have been among the historically most productive economic strategies. Like economic investments, the benefits of education accrue over long periods and they accumulate in many forms. Our educational measures provide very weak resources for investigating these cumulative benefits and educators consequently have trouble making good sense of the relative value of the various means they might adopt. If the computer as a system has fundamental significance in education, it will be as a long-term transformative agent. Experimental measures of how effective one technique is relative to another rarely measure long-term secular effects, showing how a systemic innovation, operating from kindergarten through graduate school, performs, across the full span of people's lives, relative to other system options. In education we have not yet invented the techniques of integration for calculating the full values of the whole education, leaving claims of measured worth partial and deceptive. Hence, little will be gained by culling the literature to show that a selected method, used in this subject through that grade, will accelerate performance by some fractional current return. We should legitimate experiments in a different way. Let us try a different method; let us attend to intuited preferences, especially to those that recur frequently in different times and places, trying to reason out why those intuitions may have a vital truth to them. Over and over again, people in many times and many settings have had strong, intuited preferences for and against particular types of education. Neither they nor we can rigorously measure out quantitative grounds for these preferences, taking the full span of education from infancy through maturity into account, but we can thoughtfully understand them and perhaps see how they connect to the imperatives of equity and excellence. Such reasoning may help us understand how to use digital technologies as historically constructive agents in education. Here we will concentrate on two such recurrently intuited preferences, a persistent quest for an integral education and for a liberal education, which we will see, as our reflections unfold, link pedagogically to the more general aspirations of equity and excellence. Commentators often resort to the term "liberal" in discussing education. They rarely agree precisely on what it means. I will return to the topic and give a version of it. But first, let us consider the other recurring preference, that for an integral education. Commentators rarely use the term "integral" in discussing education. Yet they almost always agree about the matters that we can describe with this term. An integral education is one that the student integrates and makes her own. Educators analyze the functions that lead to an integral education when they study the processes of assimilation and stress the importance of intellectual synthesis. Likewise, they have often decried education that fails to be integral, objecting over and over to rote learning, empty mimicry, and taking on airs. If the term is a bit novel, the phenomenon is not -- it simply has not been definitively named in educational discourse. Education should be integral, it should consist of things that a student integrates into a set of skills, understandings, preferences, and beliefs that comprise a whole, one that integrally characterizes the person. A person who has achieved an integral education would be likely to have what psychologists once called "an integrated personality," and would be, in an even more traditional terminology, "a person of integrity." Integral education need not lead to bland sameness in all; rather, as we will see, it should take into account the differences that characterize each. Cultures are collective human works of such complexity that no person can integrate into his character all that is of value in one of them. Were a culture so simple, or the human character so all encompassing, history would freeze in a repetitive classicism, which is probably why so many primitive cultures persist unchanging. In a single, complex, culture, many, many different integral educations are possible and desirable. People do not easily achieve an integral education. The world of education has many stock nincompoops -- pedants, bores, pettifoggers, humbugs, fakers, dreamers, incompetents, sticklers, marionettes, drones, bombasts, drudges, and charlatans. All exhibit a failure to integrate acquirements fully. In a more positive vein, the great studies of education in our tradition have put the problem of integral education central. Plato's Republic, turns on the question of how the person can integrate appetite, emotions, and reason in a harmonious unity in which each part, keeping to its proper business, contributes constructively in coping with the claims of experience. Rousseau's Emile, turns on the issue of how the wise educator can hearken to the unfolding readiness of the maturing child so that her development is neither forced nor stunted, keeping instead to a regimen of challenges that strengthen her as she rises to each. Dewey's Democracy and Education turns on the problem of situating the child's growth in his reflective experience, nurturing and sustaining it, from the world of play outwards into that of science, work, social bonding, and politics. Throughout these, and many other works of our educational tradition, the pedagogical problem centers on the importance of integrating the particulars of education into an integral whole for the person and the group. How does a person integrate cultural acquirements into his character? Consider some hypotheses responsive to this question, a question that is far too complicated ever to receive a conclusive answer. The generalizations that follow here have their roots, not primarily in psychology, but in history and other cultural studies, along with simple introspective reflection. We should entertain them, not as claims to achieved knowledge, but as design heuristics that may enable us to create more effective modes of practice. Too often, educational researchers adopt methods that exemplify the old saw, "penny wise, pound foolish." Let us reach, as widely as we can, for knowledge tested in the crucible of controlled observation. But when, owing to the complexity of the activities at issue, we cannot subject the full spectrum of relevant variables to sound experimental study, let us not truncate our thinking about them to deal only with those few variables that we can grasp through controlled observation. Where the phenomena are many-sided, as in understanding how a person integrates cultural acquirements, we should turn to philosophy, anthropology, history, literature, to all the human studies, to advance our reflections. In integrating learning, it does not suffice to learn to recognize something or even to repeat it on cue, or to know a lot about it. A person who thoroughly assimilates a language may know far less about it than someone who has been taught it extensively without integrating it into his living or his work. An integral education challenges a student with things that are new to him, but it also allows him to select, to incorporate, to synthesize the new into what he knows, thinks, and believes. Sometimes, something new will not simply integrate with what came before, but will force him to reintegrate many of his ideas, and he will call that a transformative educational experience. Traditionally, formative education, which accentuated the ardor of thoroughly assimilating one's learning into one's life and work, often called for long apprenticeships capped with production of a difficult, unexpected masterwork. An integral education will usually be a student-centered, active education. Teachers cannot integrate material for their students. This problem is quite evident for anyone who tries teaching skills that depend on a person's kinesthetic senses -- just about any sport that turns on one's sense of balance and coordination. Take, for instance, water-skiing. You can explain to someone what to do over and over. He won't get it until he gets in the water and feels the pull of the boat, the resistance of the water on his skis, and then, quickly or laboriously as the case may be, he gets the knack of letting complex forces intersect through his legs, arms, and torso. At that point he has integrated instruction and experience, using his kinesthetic senses to get up on the skis, and a whole new discourse can start between teacher and student, a discourse based on a shared understanding of the essential experience. The same holds for cycling, dance, gymnastics, diving, the use of tools: "let me show you" can at best inspire the student to trials in which he gets the feel for it himself and then a new exchange can begin between two people, who both know how to do it, in which they exchange the fruits of their complementary experiences. As learning to manage one's body in complex ways requires that the student use her kinesthetic senses to integrate precept and example into her set of abilities, so too does integrating intellectual and emotional acquirements. Here the essential resource is the sense of judgment. Do not understand by "the sense of judgment" a quasi legal process of applying rules to instances, handing down a judgment about how a rule applies to a case. Rather the sense of judgment is a philosophic term for the process by which a person forms likes and dislikes, commitments, and rejections, in the full flux of experience. The sense of judgment generates selections. It is a biological, characterological, esthetic sensibility, and a teacher must appeal to a student's sense of judgment -- her sense of the interlocked importance and significance of things in the world she experiences that she uses to make choices, to allocate attention, to discern differences, to perceive possibilities, to respect limits, to sense dangers, to define aspirations, to obey precepts, to form intentions, to act for herself in her world. An educational system that does not effectively engage and make use of the sense of judgment that its students possess will be futile and dysfunctional. Educators do not find it easy, however, to work with and through their students' sense of judgment. The system often functions as if students neither can nor should form likes and aversions according to their inner light, whatever that may be. "Eppur si muove. But still it moves," Galileo muttered, and so they do. Hence, the ineluctable working of each student's judgment, affirming this and rejecting that, makes it necessary that the design of formal education pay careful attention to the diversity of cultural and social conditions. Anyone can have transformative experiences, for better and for worse, and with only a few constructive (however painful) transformative encounters, the anonymous child of poverty and cultural marginality can rise to great achievements. But such metamorphoses will not occur without recognizing the child's sense of judgment as it stands, from the beginning. Hence, the refined preferences of bourgeois civility cannot be the presumed sense of judgment in an education for someone for whom street-smarts are a condition of survival. Instead, the starting points for integral education need to be numerous, diverse, and many-sided. What are the forms of integration in education? To develop a sense of their range, reflect briefly on three ideal-type constructs that we can generate intellectually to help organize the wealth of experiential particulars -- combinatorial integration, self-reflective integration, and transformative integration. The first, integrating things by combining them together, seems to start early as the child draws connections wonderingly between different elements of experience. Combinatorial integration is relatively uncritical. It motivates all those childish questions -- what? how? why? where? when? The integration happens by a kind of passive proximity -- things need to stand just beyond the perimeter of the person's understanding so that he can encounter them and spontaneously make a connection between what he knows and these new matters. If he simply stays within his web of existing connections, no new combinations form, and if something is too distant from his current stock of integrated information and ideas, he will just let it pass without forming a lasting anchor in his realm of attention. Although it is most common in childhood, combinatorial integration continues through life and it is the normal way people incorporate new impressions and form new skills. Daily attention to the news probably has the function of exercising and keeping current a person's combinatorial integration of experience. Self-reflective integration involves bringing to consciousness the unifying interests and capacities that constitute an assertion of unique personhood. Often, this form of integration seems to start in adolescence and to carry through early adulthood with the formation of a conscious vocation. For self-reflective integration to occur, a person needs a sense of multiple options. She exercises a projective imagination, seeing different possibilities unfolding in the foreseeable future. She discovers that her interests are many- sided and cannot all be reconciled together by simple combinatorial judgments. Choice becomes necessary, and with it arises the need for criteria and principles, a conscious sense of self, goals, purposes, tastes, and values. She must form these for herself and in modern Western cultures, at any rate, often she rails at the bland assumption of her elders that of course she will simply take on all the norms and expectations that they model for her. Yet forced into self-reliance in this self-reflective integration, she feels that the stakes are high -- while rebelling against presumptive models, she looks about for inspiration and encouragement, and step-by-step she forms her controlling sense of self. Transformative integration shatters a person's established sense of self and recombines the parts in a new combination and purposeful orientation. Such a reintegration can occur at any time of life, usually through powerful experiences not under the person's control -- a trauma, disease, or upheaval in circumstances. Some significant challenge upsets a person's existing order of ideas, skills, and convictions, and he must reintegrate them in order to cope with the new circumstances. Sometimes in the course of formal education, one encounters a new perspective on things or new ideas or data that undercut the existing integration of a subject, forcing one to rethink it all. Increasingly, as the normal life span lengthens and people seek to maintain a sense of vital engagement with their circumstances, they subject themselves to transformative challenges, consciously through career changes and unconsciously through mid-life crises. An integral education will help the person use her judgment to mobilize the fullest range of knowledge and skills in defining and pursuing the vital itinerary of her life. Insofar as her education is not integral, it will consist of acquirements of no vital import for her, of skills that will decay unused, of things learned but soon forgotten, of masks and routines performed with hidden resentment to please the powers-that-be. Through an integral education, a student takes responsibility for being whom she is, for both those things she recognizes as fruits of her conscious will and for those things she knows to have been accidents, whether negative or positive, that befell her arbitrarily, yet befell her, and not someone else, some other onto whom she can pass responsibility. Integral education involves not a sovereign, all-powerful self, but the ever-varied particularities of personhood. As we shall see, each person's achieving an integral education is a key to promoting equity in our culture, But for now, simply let Michel de Montaigne sum up the ideal of integration in education -- "Bees pillage the flowers here and there, but they then make honey of them which is all their own; it is no longer thyme and marjoram; so the fragments borrowed from others [the student] will transform and blend together to make a work that shall be absolutely his own; that is to say, his judgment. His education, labor, and study aim only at forming that." As Montaigne perceived, through an integral education a student forms her judgment. In this sense, an integral education is closely allied to that other recurrent educational preference, namely for a liberal education. Let us reflect on the preference for a liberal education and then return to see how integral education and liberal education together help nurture equity and excellence in historical experience. One can find numerous different descriptions of liberal education. In part, this multiplicity of visions has arisen because commentators treat the term "liberal," not as an adjective, but as part of the noun phrase, "a liberal education." They busily describe the distinctive features of a liberal education and they of course differ about what these are. Let us ask instead, why did people start qualifying education with the adjective "liberal?" They started using this adjective because it meant "appropriate for a free person." They did not mean by this that a certain kind of education would take slavish youths and magically make them free. The autonomy of the person was not the result of the education; the autonomy was the condition occasioning it. Some people were free, as distinct from dependent, and free persons would find a certain type of education particularly appropriate for themselves, which came to be called a liberal education -- an education worthy of the autonomous, self-directing, responsible person. No studies mysteriously made people free; no subject had a liberating potency. The autonomy of the student, his moral freedom and responsibility, was not the consequence but the condition of a liberal education. Only on recognizing the student's inalienable autonomy did the choice of subjects traditionally represented by the liberal arts make sense. An unfree person lived and worked, bound by a determining status that laid down what skills and knowledge the person would need in order to function effectively within his allotted station. For the unfree, efficient education would impart those predetermined acquirements and nothing else. For the free person, the self-determining person, the problem of education was more complicated. What skills and knowledge the free person would need in the course of his autonomous conduct in the community could not be fully predetermined. Hence, an education worthy of a free person was one that would enable him to learn whatever skills and knowledge he needed as he conducted himself in open-ended self- governance. In order to do that without incurring a crucial dependence, exactly when autonomy was at stake, he needed to be able to learn his ever-changing skills and knowledge without dependence on paternalistic teachers and other authorities. Consequently the liberal arts were those disciplines the mastery of which would enable the free person to grasp any further concept or capacity as the need arose without dependence on teachers. Note the phrasing, "without dependence on teachers." This stricture does not suggest that the free person will be without teachers. Quite the contrary, the free person will be autonomous with respect to them, taking responsibility for attending to this one and ignoring that one, able to judge the worth of their teaching for herself. What does a youth, aware of her autonomy, want as preparation? She sees life as a continual development throughout which she will always be responsible to herself and others for certain particulars. Owing to these responsibilities, she seeks competence; but having a keen sense of her ever-changing possibilities, she cannot say honestly exactly what competencies she will desire as she unfolds her life, and she is loath to let her pursuit of competence hamper her prospective development. Consequently, she seeks an open preparation that will enable her, in the all-important school of life, to move forward independently into whatever matter she feels drawn. Hence, neither an introduction to the great books nor the beginning of a specialty, the liberal studies were simply a rigorous discipline in the intellectual tools with which one could gain access to any particular matter. Such access might involve intense engagement with teachers -- be they persons, books, or situations. Having had an education worthy of a free person, she would proceed through those engagements without becoming dependent upon them. In ancient times this discipline in the tools of study came through grammar, rhetoric, logic, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music. But these subjects were not the crux, making the education in them liberal. They empowered people to conduct themselves later in life in ways befitting their freedom. Hence, ancient commentators like Seneca derided people who took pride in being occupied with the liberal studies; he held that one should work instead to be done with them, for no good came of them themselves; rather, they served simply as a preparation for the truly serious matter of self-formation. Can someone, after a suitable preparatory discipline and engagement, acquire new knowledge, skills, and understandings on their own without dependence on teachers and formal instruction? If one can answer in the affirmative, that person has a liberal education, an education worthy of an autonomous person, one who can proceed to acquire needed knowledge without reliance on others. With the liberal assumption of the student's autonomy, the teacher accepted an important but highly circumscribed function: the self-effacing work of making himself unnecessary. Most pre- modern pedagogy is incomprehensible without realizing that its aim was not to make the teacher more effective, but to make him progressively less important. Traditionally, teachers had the self abnegating responsibility to make their assistance unnecessary by helping students build up their capacities to learn on their own. This is a goal common to most professions. The doctor who healed in such a way that he promoted the permanent dependency of his patient on his prescriptions would be called a pusher, not a physician. The healing arts aim to bring the patient to full strength and vigor, where she is no longer dependent on medical care. So too, the teacher should build up a student's capacity to learn on her own, independent of the teacher's care. Traditionally, this effort to educate to independence was a controlling goal of educational practice. Formal pedagogy was to help the student arrive as quickly as possible at a point at which he no longer needed instruction in order to continue developing apace. For instance, the medieval scholastic, John of Salisbury, observed, when asked why some arts were called liberal, that "those to whom the system of the Trivium have unveiled the significance of all words, or the rules of the Quadrivium have unveiled the secrets of nature, do not need the help of a teacher in order to understand the meaning of books and to find the solutions of questions." This same desire to end one's dependence on one's teachers was implicit in the way the Renaissance educator, Batista Guarino, recommended his course of studies: "a master who should carry his scholars through the curriculum which I have now laid down may have confidence that he has given them a training which will enable them, not only to carry forward their own reading without assistance, but also to act efficiently as teachers in their turn." Consider again the question of equity and excellence. We can hypothesize that a liberal education, the capacity to acquire further mastery independently, helps a person to achieve excellence. To excel is to transcend the limits of attained achievement, to pass precisely into those regions where teachers cannot lead. Excellence is a free assertion, a gratuitous quality, something achieved but not mechanistically caused. An education worthy of free persons enables a person to excel, not because it makes her excellent, but because it helps her make herself excel. Educators cannot guarantee that someone in their tutelage will come to excel in a particular walk of life. Such eventualities are beyond the educator's reach and depend on the student's ability to sustain her drive later into the realm of unprecedented achievement. What the educator can do is help the student develop abilities to learn self- sufficiently whatever she later feels she needs. Having become able to learn what she will, without dependence on help from others, the person pursuing excellence can better navigate the realm where she is setting new standards. As an education that enables a person to learn ever more without dependence on teachers and authorities, a liberal education supports people in their drive to excel. In a similar way, we can hypothesize that an integral education supports the quest for equity. Equity in education entails in large part, that each person, despite differing from others, should attain an integral education. The problem with equity is to respect differences while maintaining commonalty. This problem of equity is most acute, not with respect to "other people," but with respect to "each person." How can one, regardless of one's race, religion, creed, condition, and country of origin, come to respect one's own identifying differences while affirming one's solidarity with all others, recognizing each in his turn as equally unique yet essential to the whole? Through an integral education, a person integrates his acquirements, taking possession of them as his defining qualities within the whole community. If all can achieve an integral education, the grounds of equity will be secure. Unfortunately, the balance between difference and commonalty is hard to keep in education, particularly when we attend to the education that each person experiences. Education too often suppresses differences and promotes a superficial sameness, something different from genuine commonalty and something that impedes the attainment of an integral education. Diversity is not a sign that education has faltered, however; diversity is the cultural genius of the human species. If people were all exactly alike, educators could offer the same education to all, expecting each to integrate it equally well. But people are different. If they get identical educations, some will find it much more difficult to integrate what is in them. What "each person" learns at that point, when she encounters the common pedagogical program from the specific ground of her unique cultural heritage, can strain equity severely. Then the common program savagely insinuates its biases: "they are advantaged and you are impaired; don't ever forget it." Recognition of such adversity may goad a few to redouble their efforts, but it prompts many to withdraw. Educators have long understood this problem and have long thought it important to individualize instruction so that different students all have relatively equal opportunities to achieve an integral education. To do so is not easy. Consider for instance the problem of teaching reading in an inner city barrio. Many children will have difficulty integrating this skill into their daily lives. Those around them will not spend much time reading, and reading materials will not be casually at hand. If they are, they may be in a language different from that of the school. Thus it will be more difficult for such a child to integrate reading skills into his sense of what is important. And the difficulty then gets doubled -- the content of formal instruction often then turns out to have less objective value for the child of the barrio than it might for someone else, or it may powerfully appear to be of less objective worth. Under such circumstances, a student will find it both harder to integrate the skill into his set of acquirements and then harder to integrate that set of acquirements into a sustained set of accomplishments. This is not to say that reading is unimportant for the children of the barrio; rather it is to observe that equitable access to integral education is not easily attained. If the education of each is integral, consisting of challenges that push each to realize his full potentials, delivered in such a way that he has been able to integrate all the resulting acquirements into a stable, unified, self-directing sense of purpose, then equity will have been pedagogically furthered. If that education is also liberal, culminating in a set of capacities that enable each to learn thereafter whatever skills and ideas he may need, without reliance of the fortuitous availability of suitable teachers, then the conditions for excellence will have been educationally maximized. Can the computer as a system extend the opportunity of each person to acquire an education that is both integral and liberal? If we can answer this question in the affirmative, we can be confident that the digitization of our culture will enhance the educator's mission.

The Reciprocity of Equity and Excellence

Equity and excellence: these aspirations have drawn Western culture into modernity, and for better and for worse they are pulling the other cultures of the world along. Both equity and excellence are many-sided aspirations and they have long stood in a creative tension with each other. Historically, educational effort has been one of the means for cultivating both equity and excellence in productive, potent ways. Let us survey the historical significance of equity and excellence, the mission these qualities perform in life. In doing that, we do not intend to define them philosophically. We will neither argue normatively that here is the one correct conception of equity or excellence, nor pick analytically, exposing flaws in this or that version. Instead, we inquire why representatives of our tradition have taken equity and excellence seriously, seeing important matters to be at stake through them. What has been the use and disadvantage of equity and excellence in cultural experience? Equity generates historical vigor. Where there is no equity, the favored become arrogant while the deprived become despairing. With an approximate equity, all persons and groups engage fully, from within, in the realization of their unique potentialities. Equity is to the polity what good conditioning is to the athlete. Rarely has anyone argued that equity should produce universal sameness, entailing precise equality with everyone getting the same measure of goods, neither a jot more nor less, than anyone else. Human beings and their circumstances vary too much in real ways for mathematical identity to be the norm of equity. The norm of equity, however, cannot tolerate differences that are too extreme, so extreme that one person cannot recognize commonalty with another. Whether the cleavage be between rich or poor, townsfolk or peasant, minority or majority, domiciled or homeless, or any other distinguishing mark, it cannot be so great as to define separate orders of being that have no mutuality, one with the other. When that happens, equity disappears. Equity involves respect for differences within a broad ambit of commonalty. This general principle links the main practical expressions of the drive to equity in our tradition -- equality before the law; the guarantee of minority rights; and maintenance of equal opportunity. Without equality before the law, commonalty breaks down and the community shatters between those who bear the burden of onerous laws and those who enjoy exemption. Without the guarantee of minority rights, respect for differences evaporates, suppressed at one or another difficult juncture by a tyrannous majority. Without efforts to preserve equal opportunity, separations in status and differences in condition build until neither haves nor have-nots can preserve a pretense to commonalty with their counterparts. Equity is unity in diversity, e pluribus unum. What good arises historically when equity pertains? Were humans and their conditions all identical, equity would simply describe a condition, not an achievement, wrought for a purpose. But people all differ, and we can all mutually benefit from our differences when we arrange them well. Civilization, community, and polity all serve to enable people to arrange their differences in constructive ways: equity is the governing principle of these arrangements. Thus the fruits of equity seem somewhat paradoxical -- they arise, not from making everyone more alike, but in enabling people to share maximum benefit from their differences. Plato began the Western discussion of justice by recognizing that human civilizations were complicated groupings of different people, each with different conditions, interests, and skills. Civilized people had a stake, he observed, in their not being all alike, but in their benefiting from their differences through a division of activity, with each person perfecting special interests and gifts. Justice was a peculiarly civilized problem, a problem of equity, one of harmonizing the fruitful differences among people so that the variety of capacities served the good of all. The virtue of each deserved nurture and respect. Equity allows each to realize unique potentials and to participate actively in the shared effort of civilization. A society that does not maintain equity will include many who accommodate to misfortune through despair and passivity. They will not make the most of their possibilities and will drag as a weight on the resources of the whole. Others will experience their inequitable privilege as a dimension of their being, something not achieved but given in the apparent order of the world. They will fail to nurture acquired strengths, confusing such accomplishments with gifts of nature. Increasingly they will enjoy the forms of power, without its substance, lordly buffoons. Even between those extremes, where people would seem to enjoy a bracing modesty, they will deflect their energies in behaviors of avoidance and emulation, shunning the needy and aping empty privilege. Thus even the middle class can become at once anxious and over- reaching. Equity improves the chances that a people will achieve a collective vigor in the face of history. Rarely does a single group by itself ensure the greatness of the whole. For the quality of life to flourish, a wide range of people must have a sweep of skills, each exerting effort, doing well what each does best. Equity makes it possible for each to feel that he can become somebody of worth and that he can do it best by respecting his condition, skills, and interests, making the most of what these are. Equity makes diversity beneficial. It leavens the energies of a people. Equity energizes: that is its historic value to the conduct of life. We have been reflecting on what equity, as a condition, does for people in history. This question differs from the problem of how a people can achieve or maintain a condition of equity in their history. What food does for me is not the same as what I do to get food -- one has to do with nutrition, the other economics. How equity benefits civilization is not the same as how a civilization becomes equitable. Failure to note this distinction often confuses discussions of equity, especially as it relates to excellence. Historically, where life is equitable, people will display more cultural vigor. People maintain equity through their history, however, by treating it as a difficult balance that they need to maintain and keep, a dynamic tension between commonalty and difference, unity and plurality, identity and multiplicity. Recognizing this tension, people can then use opportunities for change to move first toward one pole and then toward the other, whichever is deficient, continually channeling effort toward the side of the balance that seems then insufficient. Achieving and maintaining equity is thus like riding a bicycle -- the rider subtlety steers and sways against the direction of fall, turning away from a tumble, crossing the balance point, and then turning back the other way as the imbalance reverses. Should she lean exclusively to this side or to the other, the rider will flop to the ground. The rider keeps the bike upright, continually steering it away from the side to which it is falling, bringing it upright, then starting a fall in the other direction, all as a simple expression of her kinesthetic sense -- she acts and does not find it easy to be consciously articulate about riding a bike. So too, people maintain equity, moving back and forth between commonalty and difference, as a simple expression of their sense of justice, sometimes nurturing distinctions and sometimes leveling differences in ways that they sense to be fit even though they may find them hard to plan or explain. As movement enables the rider to steer the bike against the direction of fall, so historical development allows people to maintain equity by swaying between commonalty and difference. In a static society, people cannot shift their direction between solidarity and variation, and an imbalance toward one or the other cannot be righted. Perceiving this link between social rigidity and the loss of equity, ancient Greek historians argued that a breakdown in equity caused stasis, the paralysis of a society riven by excessive differences. They had cause and effect reversed, and Machiavelli in his Discourses explained most clearly that the problem really worked the other way around: when dynamic development petered out, people became frozen in their oppositions, unable to shift against their fall. Then their differences inexorably widened, equity decayed, and the creative components of society turned to internal strife, one with the other, leaving the culture in a prolonged, irreversible decadence. In contrast, in a continually developing society, dynamic circumstances enable groups to change their direction of movement with respect to difference and commonalty, shifting from leveling to differentiating and then in time back to leveling and on, thus permitting the preservation of equity over time. Expansion, change, dynamism: these enable people to sustain equity over time. One cannot balance the stationary bicycle. In the same way, a quiescent society, one that lacks historical movement, cannot maintain equity. Thus, looking at what equity does for people in history, we have observed that the condition of equity maintains the vigor of a society. But looking at what people must do in history to get and preserve equity, we find that their capacity to change, to develop, to move dynamically in history enables them to approximate and maintain equity over time by employing their sense of justice to shift between cultivating commonalty and then difference, difference and then commonalty, thus keeping the dynamic balance, riding the bicycle of time. What drives this capacity to develop, to change? What pedals the historical bike? Here excellence enters the equations of history. Historic development flows from the ability to break through the molds of the moment. A person who excels at something penetrates beyond given levels of achievement. Historical dynamism arises from this drive to excel. Conservative excellence is an oxymoron, and its proponents confuse real excellence with conventional achievements. In actuality, equity is the much more conservative virtue, for it enables each, in a fit way, to contribute to the common enterprise. In contrast, excellence does not conserve; it forces change. To excel is to shatter molds, exceed norms, to better the existing standards. An ever flowing excellence preserves the dynamism, the historical movement, that permits people to maintain equity. Excellence drives change so that people can accentuate commonalty when differences begin to become extreme and they can nurture differences when commonalty begins to cloy and suffocate the spirit. Excellence, by breaking beyond the given, turns the wheels of change. Many who write in praise of excellence attribute to it the fruits of equity. Excellence does not necessarily guarantee a high level of competence across all the walks that contribute to the common weal. General levels of competence are the work of equity: with equity, each person feels that she has a fair shake and will, therefore, live her life, integrally, to the hilt, proud and engaged. To attain a high level of general competence, each and all must exert themselves, and equity promotes such universal exertion. Historical change, however, does not come from diffused competence, but from localized, unexpected innovations that alter existing balances between groups and functions, unexpectedly forcing readjustments among all components of society. These innovations take place when someone, in one or another walk, comes to excel all expectations, to surpass existing norms and eclipse familiar patterns. An historic flow of excellence keeps a civilization in dynamic development, allowing it to maintain equity over time. Thus we can say that the historical function of excellence is to be the historical source of the condition of equity. What, however, is the historical source of excellence? If excellence produces equity, what produces excellence? To a certain extent, excellence is an indelible expression of the human spirit, what Nietzsche called the will to power, an aspiration to find and fulfill one's possibilities. In this sense, excellence happens anywhere, often under the least propitious circumstances. Thus change has eventually, surprisingly, welled up throughout all societies, even the most static and regressive. Yet however inexorable, excellence as a driving dynamism has been more prevalent in some societies than in others and it is for this source of relative prevalence that we search. With respect to the maintenance of equity, significant excellence can originate from any sector of society. In that sense, excellence is intrinsically egalitarian. What is important in excellence for keeping equity is not that excellence occur regularly at the leading edge, whatever that may be, but that it occur with sufficient dynamism that it forces readjustments among all the parts, allowing them to shift orientation, like the cyclist, between the poles of equity. Such excellence can sometimes occur in a society that arbitrarily channels all advantage to limited groups, but it does so very rarely as the indelible spirit rises up from within one or another dispossessed group. Thus redeeming religions arose from decadent cultures. But societies that provide all their participants with opportunities to develop, to generate a compelling excellence, will more continuously undergo the dynamic readjustment of their parts. Increasingly in modern societies, people have been using the intrinsic egalitarianism of excellence to maximize the likelihood of its occurrence and to keep social relations in continual movement. Since excellence can occur unexpectedly in any and all walks of life, a society that approximates equity, and provides all walks with nurturing opportunities, will be the most dynamic, the one continually forced to undergo change and innovation. The frequency with which an energizing excellence wells up will be improved by ensuring that each and all have opportunities for self- development. Here is the wager of participatory polities: equity is the historical condition that increases the frequency that excellence will emerge in one or another sector, forcing realignment throughout the culture. Excellence sustains equity; equity occasions excellence. Excellence drives historical development; equity spreads human competence. The two together foster progress, an improving quality of life for a growing number of persons. The great achievement of modernity -- roughly the half millennium from 1500 to 2000 -- has been to harness equity and excellence together and to use them to transform both the material and cultural conditions of life, extending unprecedented opportunities to a multitude of peoples. During this period, technologies for the mechanical reproduction of information, particularly printing, greatly facilitated efforts to promote both equity and excellence. Printing expanded access to the defining documents of law and religion. It empowered vernacular cultures to address all the complexities of civilization and it evinced the creation of a community of scientific discourse. Printing altered numerous arenas of activity, giving people the opportunity to achieve unprecedented excellences in them. Printing also enhanced equity by nurturing both commonalty and diversity, helping to provide general access to cultural assets and to preserve the distinctive resources of numerous groups and specialists. Consciously and unconsciously, people made printing a powerful leaven in modern culture by discovering ways to use it as a means promoting both equity and excellence. No less needs to be done with the computer as a system. We are rounding a bend of history that will express our culture in digital code. We should do so aware of the importance of equity and excellence for the enduring quality of historic life. During the rise of modernity, education has been a domain that helped to link equity and excellence constructively, making use of the pedagogical possibilities of print. The task before us now, as the era of print gives way to that of the computer, is to find ways to renew the pedagogical link between equity and excellence, which has been strained of late. Educators have a mission to nurture our historic capacity for equity and excellence. To do that, they need to use advanced technologies to create an education that will be both integral and liberal, both meaningful relative to each person and worthy of each person's autonomy.

Digitization and Communication

Digital code records samples of phenomena, not analogies to them, and it does so by techniques that are remarkably stable and accurate. By themselves, these characteristics may not seem so extraordinary. But put in context, the context of human use, they have very significant effects on the computer as a communication system. Whatever the medium, in order to communicate people need to be able to produce and reproduce information, to store it, to transmit it, to select among it, and to process it intelligently in the course of action. These five areas determine the relative historic value of different communication techniques. Reproduction, storage, transmission, selection, intelligent action: communication techniques that perform these functions well serve human needs well. Because digital coding registers samples of things and because it resists error and degradation, it has interesting effects in each of these five areas. These effects will determine how the computer as a system can contribute to our unfolding cultural history. We begin with the problem of producing and reproducing information. What sort of information can one produce with a typical analog medium, audio tape, for instance? The answer defines a wide range of matters -- anything that can be recorded through an electromagnetic analog to sound within certain frequency ranges -- an aria but not a painting, a speech but not a balance sheet. The analog techniques used in the audio system must be closely coupled to the phenomena they record so that the way they modulate electromagnetic waves is precisely analogous to the particular wave patterns they are recording. To use the audio system to record images or the financial transactions of a bank, complex and careful adjustments need to be made in it, radical adjustments that convert the audio system into something quite different. Here the constraints of the analog medium limit the sort of information the system can record. With the digital system, we can produce a much more flexible range of information. As a result, digital coding can absorb both the analog media for carrying information in energy and many of the more traditional media that carry information in matter. For instance, the most familiar digital application now is word processing, enabling people to manipulate electronically the material system of writing with far greater flexibility, precision, and ease that traditional means have availed. In due course, anything that we can represent with a symbolically coded sample, we can record in a digital system. It is not a trivial task to implement this potentiality. But it is inexorably happening. The first wave of computer uses involved diverse numerical applications. The microcomputer extended these and added extensive textual applications. Recently software designers have incorporated two-dimensional graphics into many programs for general use and three-dimensional imaging for special needs. Supercomputers have begun to record vast samplings of extremely complex phenomena that were simply beyond the ken of analog media -- climate change and molecular structures, for instance. With compact discs, the audio industries have developed and marketed the digital recording of sound, which is fast being incorporated into computing systems. The television and computing industries together are rapidly generating digital systems for producing and recording moving images. Techniques for sampling nearly all the forms of information and capturing them in digital code are quickly developing. In its basic sense, the concept of "multimedia" is this practice of integrating in one system all forms of producible information. When we speak of the computer enveloping other media and incorporating them into itself, we mean the capacity, unique to digital coding, to produce and reproduce many different forms of recordable information. Multimedia implements this capacity. The difficulties in implementing multimedia are not primarily "technical," in the layman's sense of the term. Ordinarily we think that the technical problem lies in designing an apparatus to accomplish a novel purpose. In many areas, making the apparatus is relatively simple, and it can be done in numerous different ways. What is difficult is setting a controlling standard that will establish agreement on which one of the possible ways to design the apparatus will be the one put into common use. This is in part a question of technical standards -- for instance, what sampling rates will be standard for digitally encoded sound or what screen resolution will be standard for digital high-definition television (HDTV)? But the problems of controlling standards goes far beyond the domain of technical standards -- long established branches of law and language are at stake as well. Thus, the production and reproduction of information is not simply a technical process. It is a process controlled by law and driven by incentives. Digital coding of information will affect these domains as well. For instance, copyright makes sense in a system in which people locate information in material objects -- copying consists in expending the energy to implant the information in matter, preeminently by putting ink on a page. Copying information that is located in matter is a laborious, error-prone process, subject to legal processes. Recording and reproducing information that is located in energy has very different characteristics. It becomes extremely inexpensive, with the result that it can be done ad hoc by anyone who possesses easily available, inexpensive tools. Already, spontaneous reproduction through analog means, such as photocopying and audio and video tape, has put considerable stress on laws pertaining to the right to copy. The broadcast industries have had to develop novel ways to realize economic benefit from cultural works, ways that turn less on the right to copy and more on the right to use a work. With digital coding the reproduction of material becomes even faster, cheaper, and vastly more accurate than it does with analog electronic media. Once something has been sampled and captured in digital code, the idea of a copy of that sample ceases to make much sense. The copy is not really a copy, but a second instance of the original. The computer radically changes the conditions bearing on the reproduction of information and ideas. Once the infrastructure is in place, the reproduction of materials has a negligible cost with respect to materials, work, or quality. In principle, in a digitally encoded culture, anyone can have instances of anything they wish without added cost to the system. It will require an elaborate process of technical, social, and legal development to achieve actualize such potentialities. Digital coding will also transform the problem of storing information. Librarians concerned with the preservation of materials traditionally attend closely to the durability of paper and its possible substitutes. The key question they ask is: "How long will it last?" This makes a lot of sense as long as the information is located in matter. If the paper will quickly degrade, the cultural community will soon need to reprint its materials or reproduce them on some alternative material such as microfiche. The shelf-life of all this is important as each cycle of reproduction is very costly, as well as an occasion for material to be lost and errors in reproduction to creep in. With digitally coded materials, shelf-life remains limited, but the costs of reproduction and the likelihood of errors arising from reproduction drastically declines. Hence, the keepers of the heritage need to rethink the standard principles of storage and preservation. Continuous reproduction can make the quest for durability unnecessary. Since reproduction is very cheap and very accurate, the problem is not one of finding the most enduring materials and keeping them as stable as possible. Rather the problem becomes one of regularly refreshing the energy-states in which the information is located and making sure that it is scattered in enough separate instances that a catastrophic failure in one instance would not obliterate the heritage. Other, more novel problems of storage also arise. With respect to information located in material objects, we naturally store materials in institutions adapted to the attributes of the objects. Thus we use libraries for books and museums for paintings and artifacts. Much intellectual specialization arises because people need specific skills to work effectively in these different collection of material resources. Insofar as we can record all these resources in digital code, we will store them in one, comprehensive system and we will thereby diminish in power many objective goads to intellectual specialization. As digital coding makes information easier to store with much diminished threat of loss, so too it improves our ability to transmit information. Transportation costs and limitations have long been a significant determinant of communication capacities. Through the twentieth century, techniques of coding information in energy have greatly reduced the costs and limits on its transmission. With the substitution of digital for analog coding, these developments are extending far further as we enter the twenty-first century. Analog systems using energy as the medium have developed two major principles: point-to-point circuit switching, as through the telephone, and the use of wide information channels in broadband transmissions, as through radio and television broadcasting. Digital systems are combining and unifying these two principles, allowing the links between point-to-point switched circuits to be wide information channels, creating a single transmission net of extraordinary flexibility and power. We are already everyday users of the basic principles essential to these changes. My mother is eighty-eight and legally blind, but she can use a push-button phone with confidence and has a good head for phone numbers and thus she keeps up familial and social connections all over, in Mexico, in Canada, and around the United States. Each time she dials someone's number, she instructs the phone system to establish connections within its circuits to link her phone with that of the person she is calling. Phones code and decode voices from a very simple electrical signal that can be easily transmitted through complex switching systems and has a narrow band for coding information, one just sufficient for the low- fidelity reproduction of ordinary speech. How much traffic the phone system can bear depends on how many separate circuits it can switch together at any time and on how many separate transmissions its trunk lines can aggregate together in simultaneous calls. You'll get a busy signal if the system runs out of switches or transmission room. Radio and television use much wider bandwidths, and they code them more intensely, with the result that their signals can be much more complex than those of the telephone. Thus radio can reproduce sound with much greater quality that the telephone, and the amount of information transmitted via television far exceeds that used in a phone conversation. The wider bandwidth, however, makes point-to-point switching in such transmissions more complicated to do without introducing noise into the signal, and without overwhelming the capacity of connecting circuits when many parallel transmissions are traveling on them simultaneously. Various properties of digital coding facilitate the combination of circuit switching with the information intensive transmissions that characterize broadband systems. Both analog and digital systems make use of what we will call micro-time, the actuality of incredibly brief instants. For instance, radio waves fluctuate several million times per second and each fluctuation produces some of the information we hear. The higher the frequency, the more information the signal can contain, provided we can keep the receiver tuned to the proper spot upon the spectrum and provided we can minimize interference between signals and other sources of noise. Because the information bearing medium is a continuous wave, however, we find it much easier to propagate the information onto the medium at the rate it occurs at, and at which it is to be received. In contrast, when the information has been captured in digital code, it becomes much easier to make use of micro-time in more flexible ways: capture, transmission, and delivery can be separated. The pace of capture depends on the pace of the phenomenon, what we call "real time." Transmission of the binary units, the bits encoding the phenomenon, can take place in different time -- it can squeeze into each tenth of a second, or less, the information needed for one second of conversation, giving the circuit to other conversations for the remaining nine-tenths, or more, of each second. By this technique, and others like code compression and error correction, the capacity of a circuit carrying digital data can be greatly expanded. Further, the transmission of analog data depends very closely on the particular characteristics of the transmitting medium. With the transmission of digital data, it does not matter what the transmitting medium is, provided that medium has been adapted to transmit digital code. Thus all the different electromagnetic transmission media in common use now easily transmit digital data. More importantly, new media, useless for transmitting analog information, for instance, laser light in fiber optic cable, increasingly transmit digitized information with significant gains in speed and volume, at lowered cost, and with increased dependability. The frequencies of light waves are much higher than those of electromagnetic waves. Hence, we can pack information far more densely per unit of time into light for transmission over fiberoptic cables than we can with electricity over wires or electromagnetic signals in space. The usable bandwidth is much, much wider. The higher density allows much more intense timesharing of the circuit and the greater bandwidth means that in each instant a much larger load of information will be charging through the circuit. As a result, a system is emerging in which all forms of information -- text, numerics, graphics, audio, video -- can be transmitted, switched from point-to-point, as easily as we can with the phone. Digital coding, thus, is making possible the use of one system to produce all forms of information, to reproduce anything in the system with low cost and little loss, to provide for its indefinite storage through this process of continuous reproduction, and to transmit any element of it to any user fast and cheaply. By themselves, these developments make oodles of good information easily accessible, threatening to overwhelm the user in a vast babel of bits. These three characteristics are of a piece with each other, setting limits on what intellectual resources a culture can provide its members. But they do not, alone, make for a well developed system of communication. Selective retrieval, enabling people to get precisely the information they want and when they need it, has always been a key problem of culture and communication. How can you get from the culture the ideas and information that you want and need? And even more perplexing, how can the culture intimate to you and everyone else what possibilities of interest it does and does not offer in the infinity of circumstances surrounding us? Retrieval is a fundamental problem of all cultures, and it is becoming an even more pressing problem with digitally coded information. It is the fourth determinant of communication effectiveness in history and the widespread digitization of information is transforming it as well. Throughout history, major communication advances have brought with them new ways to retrieve information. The practice of citing books and articles by title and author, edition and page, rose to full significance in the era of print. The printed book, which could be distributed in many locations in identical versions, needed some logically effective technique of reference and recall, one that would work in many different places and many different times. Prior to that people referred far more vaguely to an author and an argument or thesis, and to retrieve the actual text a scholar needed to know where a specific instance was physically located, with diverse works bound together for convenience. Today, people often handle their personal libraries in this pre-print fashion, jumbling certain books together say by size, or just shelving them as they come, able to find any particular one, not by a sense of logical order, but by having a feel for where it is by some sense of spatial juxtaposition. That works for small libraries, but it spells chaos for large collections of printed books. For those, people needed to develop far more systematic techniques of reference and recall. With digitally coded information, the situation is much the same: people need to master new, more powerful retrieval routines to manage the cornucopia of information. These techniques relate to two different problems in the use of information -- exchanging information and applying ideas. In both exchanging ideas and applying them to problems, people need to retrieve information selectively. Exchanging materials is somewhat similar to the phenomena of point-to-point switched circuits while applying them is related to finding a station or channel in broadcast communication. Exchange requires the precise identification of start and end points and application requires the substantive sifting through extensive materials to select out the precise components pertinent to the problem at hand. Since the problems and prospects in each domain are rather different, let us consider each briefly in turn. Our means for managing the exchange of information have already been heavily influenced by characteristics of digital coding, at least insofar as digital coding involves discrete units, as distinct from continuous waves. For instance, integer numbers are a system of digital entities: each number is discrete, autonomous, separate from any other. So too is the alphabet, which is a more restricted set of discrete elements, most simplistically twenty-six, but preferably 256, if we take extended ASCII code as the norm. Long before computers, people became adept at using numbers and letters to assign precise locators to all sorts of objects, persons, phones, buildings, accounts, parts, and so on.83 Implementation of these coding principles in digital computers enhances our capacity to manage them greatly, extending the scope, precision, and speed of the process. In substance, the problem of addressing things so that information about them can be exchanged from point-to-point is less technical than socio- political: the problem of privacy, of censorship, of deciding what limits, if any, to place on the reach of possible exchange. Whenever the power to exchange information increases significantly, it brings such problems with it. The abuse of privacy thus seems to be a structural issue, occurring at the margins where new ways to manage exchange are developing. Historically, people seem to opt for accepting the benefits of new systems of information exchange, after instituting measures to ensure that they will not be used to subvert personal security and integrity. Unfortunately, this trade-off has not always been benign as the tragic abuses of totalitarian regimes of right and left repeatedly demonstrate. As computers make it possible to exchange information that was formerly "private," easily kept to oneself, we will need to face up to difficult issues of defining limits and controlling abuses. Retrieval that involves sifting, selecting, and applying ideas presents different problems and opportunities. Our existing techniques for doing this involve time-consuming secondary processing of materials -- indexing books, abstracting articles, cataloguing things under key words and subject headings, adding captions to pictures and tables, annotating works with cross- references and footnotes. Digital coding makes these practices more effective in three significant ways. First it facilitates the processing by creating tools to help people to index, abstract, caption, and catalogue their culture. This presents us incremental gains. Second, it makes many traditional references, which had been unidirectional from one work to another, usefully bi- directional. Only where very special indexes have been laboriously developed can I go into a library and ask for a list of works that cite a passage that specially interests me. In a digital environment, the electronic reference that implements a note will point both ways, something that will make traditional references useful in powerful new ways. Third, traditional references implemented digitally will save users much time and energy, for following out a reference will be nearly instantaneous. Currently it is often hard to maintain a train of thought in following a reference as one needs to go off to the library or bookstore, perhaps having to wait weeks for a work to arrive from a distance. Digitally coded links will be fast and transparent. Together, these three changes will significantly enhance traditional resources for the reflective retrieval of ideas and the application of them to our controlling purposes. In addition, new retrieval resources are under development. These require no intelligent pre-processing of materials aside from the capture of them in digital code. Instead, the end-user of the material specifies criteria of interest, and the system matches materials in it against these criteria, showing the resultant possibilities and allowing the user to further winnow the results, should that be necessary. These principles have been most fully developed with respect to the retrieval of textual materials. Their novelty still engenders some confusion, and many people, among them even professional librarians, misuse the concept of "full-text retrieval." Thus some think it simply means retrieving for an inquirer the full text of a document, rather than an abstract of it. More properly it means conducting the search for matches to an inquirer's criteria of interest against the full-text of everything in a collection, rather than against a list of keywords. Techniques for such full-text retrieval are becoming both sophisticated and fast, and users can apply them to both the flow of current information generated through correspondence, calls, and news, as well as to libraries of accumulated information. Techniques of search and retrieval have historically developed far more fully with respect to text than with other forms of information. Up to now, we use text to catalogue most other forms -- maps, pictures, numeric tables, films, recordings, and so on. Yet text processing is not the only form of intelligent recall and retrieval that we can do. We can often find our way to places with a visual- spatial memory that is much more effective that verbally forming a set of directions for ourselves. We associate both moods and ideas with various sounds and melodies and even colors and places. All this suggests that beyond full-text retrieval, there lies the domain of "non-text retrieval." In non-text retrieval we might point to a geometric relationship and request the computer to search a graphic database for other instances of the similar relation or play a chord and have the system call up musical compositions in which it occurs. Non-text retrieval should in principle be possible with digitally coded information, but for the most part it is a possibility that awaits development. One area in which non-text retrieval has been underway for some time, however, gives an idea of its potential power -- statistical processing. Statistics can be thought of as a numeric system for selecting and retrieving information that allows for judgments of significance and relevance that are very hard by textual means alone. Also, the ability to zoom-in and zoom-out to different levels of detail on graphical materials such as maps, diagrams, and photos provides substantial non-text retrieval capacities. In general, digital code enables us to capture and link different kinds of information pertinent to complex phenomena and to represent their interactions in ways that we can see or hear, using those senses to select directly between combinations. All sorts of complex controls work this way, especially in simulation systems and innumerable computer games. These variations on non-text retrieval really carry us into consideration of the fifth area in which digital coding is deeply influencing our culture -- the intelligent processing of information. For the most part, up to the twentieth century, communication tools used external artifacts to extend the memory, while leaving the intelligent processing of ideas to take place almost exclusively inside the human body and brain. Through cultural history, people have accumulated vast stores of memory projected outside themselves into man-made objects. Despite all that externalization of memory, the possible agents for the key verbs describing intelligent operations on information and ideas are still almost exclusively human person -- perceiving, sensing, thinking, correlating, inferring, deducing, concluding, and so on. With the computer, man-made objects are becoming useful in performing these intelligent operations. Memory, to be meaningful, must ultimately return to a sentient human mind -- a library unread is not a culture preserved. In externalizing memory into material objects, humans have not alienated memory from ourselves, but enhanced our capacity to remember by transferring parts of the task to objects that we make and manage. So too, in externalizing intellectual activity, we do not entirely alienate it from ourselves. Instead we compensate for limitations, strengthen capacities for demanding operations, and enhance attention, precision, finesse, or speed. To understand how the computer is accelerating the transfer of intelligence to external tools, it is important to realize that this is not a sudden novelty in our culture. We perceive the world with our senses and prepare it for thought: through most of history, people did this without the aid of instruments. That began to change some centuries ago. We can interpret the rise of modern science as the intellectual fruits of externalizing capacities for perception into instruments of observation. Clocks and chronometers permitted people to perceive time with ever greater precision. The telescope and microscope enhanced the human capacity to see distances and details. The thermometer lent accuracy to our capacity to perceive differences of hot and cold. Exact scales and rules and other measures, tuning forks, prisms, filters, balances, samples, gages, a wondrous panoply of instruments, allowed inquiring minds to develop the empirical base of observation upon which they built our stock of scientific understanding. By working with digitally coded information, instrument designers are extending the power of perception greatly. The unmanned space-probes reporting on the solar system have perhaps been the most dramatic of these extensions, with wondrous photographs and other readings radioed back as masses of digital code. Not since the invention of the telescope has our ability to perceive the universe around us so leaped forward. But digital read-outs are all around us with the computer creeping into all sorts of mundane tools, enhancing our capacity to track and control their use. For many decades car instrumentation, for instance, was very stable, consisting of a few analog gages that indicated the car's speed and possibly the RPM's of the engine, while additionally giving key hints about the state of the car's fuel, coolant, engine oil, and electrical system. That's fast changing now with digital sensors in new and old places giving a much more exact picture of the car's condition of operation, with an onboard computer relating readings to one another -- "it's getting pretty close to empty" gives way to "range remaining fifteen miles." The computer will greatly extend the reach and accuracy of instrumentation as people apply it with increasing effects to small matters and large. With the computer, people can externalize into their instruments more than their powers of perception. When Edison claimed that "genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration," he probably thought that the human capacity for both inspiration and perspiration were basically fixed, and by perspiration he had in mind the laborious calculations needed to test speculative insight, separating good from bad. Digital systems do not do away with the need for perspiration, but they extend what we can accomplish with a given amount of it. Most forms of calculation, correlation, combination, and connection that people can make, computers can help them make better. They can expand our abilities to sort, order, rank, and select. Even this process of externalizing powers of calculation is not entirely new historically, as one who has worked with a slide rule will realize, but it is being vastly increased. The consequences are likely to be very great. Many people think that numeric calculation is the peculiar domain for computers, but their reach goes far beyond numbers. The computer can operate on anything that in some meaningful way can be represented in digital code through an organized data structure. And any operation that can be accurately described within the compass of binary logic -- AND, OR, NOT -- the computer can perform. Let us leave as moot whether people can, or should, or ever will, externalize into tools that one percent of their genius -- inspiration. They are externalizing in all sorts of ways that other ninety-nine percent, amplifying greatly their powers to calculate and control objects of their attention. Even if artificial intelligence, in the sense of the computer being an autonomous rational agent, is not soon coming to pass, if ever, AI, in the sense of amplified intelligence, is rapidly emerging all about us. We need to come to terms with its implications. This, then, is the computer. It is the representation of our culture in digital code and the development of all the cultural possibilities that result. The computer makes cultural work easier to produce and reproduce, to preserve, to transmit, potentially accelerating intellectual attainment and opening cultural access in unprecedented ways. The computer greatly augments human powers of selection, memory, perception, and calculation, potentially amplifying the intelligence that each and all can bring to bear upon the panoply of questions that life puts to them. We turn to the implications of this computer for the activity of education.

The Analog and the Digital

We distinguished between technologies that locate information in matter, for instance sculpting and printing, and those that locate it in states of energy, for instance radio and computers. Among the latter, we need to make important further distinctions, which have to do with the techniques people use to encode information in energy. To grasp the cultural import of the computer as a system incorporating all the media of communication, to appreciate its potential power, we need to reflect on the way that it encodes information in energy, seeing how that differs from other techniques. Analog coding serves effectively for some specialized computational purposes, but almost all computers, from tiny palm- tops to huge supercomputers, work with information stored in digital code. Such digital code differs profoundly from the analog codes used typically in radio and television. In the paragraphs that follow, we will reflect on how digital code differs from analog and then consider five matters that determine the value of information for human activity -- production and reproduction, storage, transmission, selective retrieval, and intelligent processing. Through these considerations, we will form a sense of why the computer, as it matures, will be a very significant step in our history. Note at the outset that we could apply this distinction between analog and digital coding to the media that use matter to carry information. For instance, painting and sculpture are highly analog media, whìch information in matter, for our concerns here are primarily with the media that carry information in energy. How does the digital coding of information in energy differ from the analog? Analog systems encode information in energy by using the properties of continuous waves so that each successive change in the amplitude of the wave will be analogous to a change in sound or appearance in the human world. Lets construct an example. Take a dishtowel. Holding each corner of one end in each hand, flap it rhythmically in front of you, making it undulate up and down. It is not hard to control the beat of the flapping, making each flap identical in duration, perhaps slow and long or quick and short. That beat is like the frequency of an analog signal. Usually it does not carry the information, but when we are surrounded by many different signals, each with a different frequency, it allows us to find the one signal we want. Observe the flapping towel, however. From beat to beat, it will have all sorts of variations, curving this way then that, depending on subtle changes in the orientation of your hands to each other and the tension they put on the cloth. If you could control the flapping skillfully enough, you could make each change in the way the towel undulated match some other, analogous change in a completely different wave, say the ever changing sounds of a symphony or rock concert. At that point, you would have encoded the concert in the flapping towel rather like the way radio encodes a concert in an electromagnetic amplitude or frequency. Like the sound itself, the flapping is transient. Analog encoding depends on making significant changes in the energy state of the wave, a most unstable phenomena. Digital encoding is much more stable. Put down the towel and flip the light switch on the wall. The switch has gone from "on" to "off;" it was stable in its former state and is stable in its latter. The light switch is a digital device, although one that does not accomplish much in the way of communication and control. To see simple signals controlling more complicated processes occurring around you, look at another digital switch, the stoplight at the corner. It has two basic states, red or green -- amber is not really a state, but a cue that a change of state is about to happen. There are two unambiguous states, green-go, red-stop. These are easily standardized, stable, and remarkably effective in controlling complex flows of matter and energy. The stoplight is very much like the small charge in a transistor in that one state allows traffic to move and the other calls it to a halt. Our basic red-green stoplight is a binary digital system -- binary because there are two alternatives and digital because those consist of discrete, unambiguously different states. The typical electric stove, with options on each burner running from warm to high, has a quinary digital control on its coils -- quinary because there are five alternatives and digital because each of these is distinct from the others. Thus, digital systems can in principle have different numbers of basic alternatives, but computers almost always use a binary system, building many subtle variations from a multiplicity of either-ors. A digital state is what it is, discrete, unambiguous, disjunctive. Digital code does not capture changes similar to other changes, it presents a set of values that are what they are. Digital coding follows a principle akin to encrypting -- there is only one message, which, when encrypted, is put in a way that makes it look indecipherable. With the appropriate key, however, the cryptographer finds the message, not something like the original, but the original itself. For instance, the apparatus for recording music digitally measures sound frequencies at successive instances and records the numeric value of the frequencies. These are samples of the actual sound, not likenesses to it. Digital coding samples a phenomenon, registers the sample, and then reproduces the phenomenon from the sample. If the sampling technique and the technique of reproducing from the sample are very good, it can be extremely hard to distinguish the original from the reproduction. What is coded is an exact value, precisely what it is and nothing else. What is encoded digitally, therefore, is actually very different from what is encoded in an analog system. The digital system encodes a sample of the thing whereas the analog system encodes an analogy to it. Again, let us construct an example. Consider a full wheel of cheddar cheese. Describing the cheese by analogy can be difficult. I might say it is about the size and shape of an old-time hatbox and that it is heavy, as if the hatbox were filled with water. Its color is like custard and it tastes -- this is the important, difficult part -- somewhat like grapefruit, although its texture in the mouth is very different, a bit like a firm fudge that crumbles and then softens into a paste as one chews it. Describing the cheddar by a sample of it is much simpler. I cut you a little piece, perhaps several from different places in the wheel. The sample is the cheese and you can sniff it or taste it directly from the sample. When we digitally code the sample, we register what the sample is on an appropriate scale and we code that value, not some approximate likeness to it. Consider recording a singer's voice digitally. At numerous intervals the recording samples the exact sound frequency of the voice, registering in a matrix of precise values what, at each sampling instant, the frequency was. The digital recording carries no information about the voice during the intervals between the sampling instants, but it carries the exact frequency of it at those instants. If the sampling frequency is sufficiently rapid, the sound of the reproduced voice will be essentially identical to the original. Digital code allows the playback to reconstruct the voice. Thus, digital coding registers sampled values, not approximate similarities. That is its first point of difference with analog coding. Secondly digital code differs from analog because it resists degradation far more effectively. Electrical systems, like everything else, are subject to entropy. Every circuit has in it random fluctuations. Computers are not wondrously free of such static. Minor fluxes are a big problem in analog coding because the locus of information is in tiny incremental differences in the amplitude of waves, which the random fluxes in circuits can easily affect. In the absolute, digital systems are equally subject to noise, but the locus of information is in the basic energy state, not in small changes of that state. When the significant point is simply whether a circuit is on or off, it allows for a huge threshold before an intrusive fluctuation will become significant, making a circuit that is "on" appear to be "off" or vice versa. To construct an example, consider a binary test for whether or not it is raining: looking out my apartment window to see if the sidewalk is wet or dry. This test is subject to noise -- perhaps in this case we should call it "splash." During the summer window air-conditioners in the building adjacent condense water on hot, humid days, splotching the sidewalk. Also on the road on the other side there is a low spot where water collects from a leaky hydrant and occasionally passing cars splash it onto the sidewalk. Like the noise in the electrical system, extraneous wetness sometimes partially covers a dry pavement. This rarely confuses my binary test, however, because I establish a threshold -- it is raining if the sidewalk is fully, uniformly wet and it is not raining if the sidewalk is dry, or partially splotched from random sources of water. Given the substantial threshold possible in a binary system, very, very rarely will electrical noise cause the misreading of a bit of information. In sum, in comparison to analog coding, digital code registers values that are attributes of the thing being coded, not likenesses to it, and those values, once coded, will be remarkably resistant to error or degradation. These characteristics make digital code immensely useful in processes of communication and control.

Information in Matter and Energy

Think of the ways we commonly represent information -- a scribbled note, a neatly printed page, a reflective sign, a painted picture, a ruler uniformly marked, a measuring cup, or the symbolic forms of church or court. With these, people have encoded ideas and information in material objects, in the ink upon the page or the shape of the sculpted stone. Put most generally, through traditional ways of encoding ideas, people expend energy to transform matter in ways that they will find meaningful, making enduring marks and forms in which ideas inhere. People locate the information in the material object. When they do this according to a defined convention and art, the tangible, palpable results are our major forms of traditional communication -- documents, sculptures, pictures, monuments. Starting with the telegraph and developing through the telephone, radio, television, and computer, people have begun to put their information into controlled pulses of energy itself. The material object, say the telephone, becomes a kind of transparent medium for an infinity of possible conversations encoded in different electrical waves that the phone will generate, transmit, and receive. Increasingly people are representing information in controlled states of energy, not in matter, as they did traditionally. The new practice requires various material tools, with which people apprehend on their human scale the information located in energy, but the information is not in the material, but in the an infinity of images because the information it displays is not in the material of the set, but in the electromagnetic waves that it picks up and decodes for me. This practice of locating information in energy states is not entirely new in our culture. One can take sound to be a form of energy, not a state of matter, and hold that through speech and song people have long encoded information in energy, using the ear as the naturally developed, material receiving apparatus. Other senses, too, especially sight, kinesthesia, and the ability to feel hot and cold, derive much information from energy states and forms of force. Some traditional tools of communication and control also provided readings of the information in energy states. The clock measures time by controlling the release of energy in uniform units. The compass provides a most informative reading of the orientation at any location of the earth's magnetic field. The governor on a steam engine directly translates a change in its energy state into a controlling action. Like the TV -- but unlike the painting on the wall -- clocks, compasses, and governors all inform their users through their changing readings, not through their static states. More strictly speaking, these instruments display information that is fortuitously located in states of energy, rather than encoding it in those states. Traditionally, only the voice and musical instruments went beyond display to encode. Up until very recently, information encoded in energy has been, however useful and dynamic, troublesomely transient. Speech is the paradigmatic instance. It is powerful and nuanced, yet fleeting and unstable. For a time memory preserves its residue, and writing fixes a stiff representation of it in stable matter. But much is lost. This transience also characterizes many modern media that encode information in wave forms, substituting electricity for sound as the energy medium. Thus telephone, radio, and television have enabled people to encode sound and gesture in electromagnetic waves, amplifying these vastly, without making them much more enduring. Recording signals on tape and other media makes such material reproducible, and thus enduring. Yet this has been a recent, ancillary development. So far, the power of electromagnetic media has resulted from the breadth of their transient reach, not from the ease with which productions can be reproduced. This transience of electromagnetically encoded information fundamentally affected the usefulness of broadcast media for education. Entertainment results from encountering cultural experiences for their immediate, present value -- they amuse, inspire, absorb, purge, distract, or release us now. Education involves us with cultural works of enduring importance -- we acquire skills, ideas, beliefs, knowledge, information that will empower us over time in the conduct of life. The things at stake in education are the elements of the culture that are on-going, lasting resources. Consequently, the educationally important media are the ones that represent and make such enduring ideas and skills available to people. For the most part, these have been the media that locate information in material objects, particularly in printed texts and pictures. Commentators complain that educators have done little with the major communications developments of the twentieth century. Despite high hopes, radio and television have not become important educational resources and some infer therefore that education is resistant to technological change. This inference is wrong. The photograph, which extends the pictorial capacity to locate information on film and paper, has been seamlessly incorporated into education. It improves the capacity to work with lasting ideas and information, and educators have quickly adopted photographs in the processes of research and instruction. As conservative a field as art history took without hesitation to 35mm color slides because they served the intellectual needs of the subject. So too, recorded music has become a natural part of music education, far more so than have broadcast performances, for the recordings are stable, enduring resources that different students at different times can study, each with unique purposes in mind. Recordings suit the needs of education because they are stable, easily stored and retrieved, while broadcasts suit the needs of entertainment, absorbing us in their immediate presence. Educators cannot resist new technologies, provided those technologies have characteristics suitable to educational purposes, foremost among those being a permanence in time. Stop for a moment to consider film, which encodes information in stable, material form yet has not come into robust use in education. Is it an exception to the rule here propounded? No. With respect to dissemination and retrieval, film is not as stable as it might seem. Film is bulky, hard to store, costly to project, and easily damaged. It can be best disseminated in a quasi-broadcast fashion with prints distributed to numerous theaters more or less at the same time, with the production playing as long as it can command a full audience and then disappearing into an archive, from which films are not easy to retrieve. These distribution constraints have made movies, until very recently, far more effective as media of entertainment than of education. Computers as a system will change that, and much more. Broadly speaking, the communication innovations since the mid- nineteenth century have created a family of technologies for encoding diverse forms of information in energy. The computer is the most recent in this series of innovations, and it is likely, historically, to incorporate all those leading up to it into itself. What seem to us to be separate industries with separate technologies will become branches of a single comprehensive industry and technology, the computer as a system. One can now see large corporations jockeying to capitalize on this consolidation of technologies. For instance, the major Japanese electronics firms seem to be calculating that they can best shape this process by combining business communication with the entertainment industries, buying up major entertainment conglomerates while designing ever-more computing power into home entertainment devices. The emerging system, however, may in fact be far more robust if built on a combination of telecommunications and education. Digital technologies enhance the staying power of information in time, expanding its educative power relative to its currency as entertainment. We will be developing the thesis that the computer is rapidly incorporating the modern media in one comprehensive system, a system of knowledge and education.

Computer as a System.

Computers are like wheeled vehicles: they come in many shapes and sizes, each serving a different purpose. Moreover, the computer has yet to mature. It is an emerging technology. Hence, to determine the potential of computers in education, we need to understand what the computer is. To start, consider two distinctions, one between transitional and mature technology and the other between artifacts and systems. Complicated technologies take a long time to develop their potentialities. They also take capital. Developers cannot perfect their technology in endless years of laboratory work and then deliver it, refined and complete, to a grateful public. To underwrite the costs of perfecting a technology, developers must bring it to market long before it is mature. Profits from transitional implementations sustain the development work, providing resources and disclosing unexpected opportunities for use. Computers have exemplified this drawn-out development: computers have evolved through several distinct, quite profitable incarnations, yet neither the time-sharing mainframe nor the stand- alone micro indicate fully what the computer will be when the technology matures. In common speech, we generally do not distinguish between typical technological products and the technical systems that make them usable. For instance, "television" can refer to the TV set, that ubiquitous appliance, or to the whole industry -- the networks, their broadcasting installations, the news teams and production studios, advertisers, and all. Likewise, "automobile" can refer to the car in my driveway or to the vast infrastructure -- the manufacturers here and abroad, with their suppliers, advertisers, and dealers; all the roads and bridges and the builders constructing and maintaining them; the service stations and oil producers, refiners, and marketers; and the myriad of designers, workers, police, and service people who make the system go. The car is both a separate artifact and a complex system. Currently, "computer" usually calls to mind the artifact, the stand-alone personal computer, like the one on which I am now writing. Most of us do not think much about the complex system of which my PC is a transitory part. Computers as a system are important, however. The significance of computers for education will not be well understood by thinking simply of a lot of separate machines sprinkled through existing schools and colleges. Computers are an emergent infrastructure, a system, fully as complicated as that of the car. We need to think about what that system is and how that infrastructure will work. Computers as a system can be a powerful agent of change in education. To grasp the computer as a system, particularly as it matures, let us concentrate, on neither hardware nor software, but on an underlying process, the digitization of information. The computer, as a system, introduces a new way of representing information in our culture, a new way of encoding ideas. When complete, it will constitute a deep transition in our history, one equal in importance to the introduction of printing, quite possibly to the development of writing itself. Essentially, the computer as a system will envelop all previous modes of representing information, preserving and empowering them by integrating once separate domains of communication into a unified, "multimedia" system.

Perspective on the task.

Let's look ahead. In the twenty-second century, how might an historian of education sum up the major changes in pedagogical practice over the sweep of time? Imagine that we commission Elizabeth Ironstone, leading authority on the computer as an agent of change, to study these changes. She reports, not in the multimedia of her time, but in the prose of ours. This might be her executive summary, introducing Toward the Educative Polity.
Through most of history, education was a loose system of apprenticeship and indentured service in households, the main location of productive activity. Those who wanted their children to become learned employed tutors to help them out. A few schools existed within specialized institutions, such as cathedral priories and monasteries, but these were not like the schools that eventually proliferated, for students were not divided into classes or grouped according to age. Around 1500, a major pedagogical transition began as printing with moveable type made an unprecedented era of educational development possible. But the transition was not a quick and simple change: to bring it off, innovators had to develop a complex of different, yet interrelated, educational strategies, which together eventually made mass schooling for all a practical reality. Key steps in this process involved: » Developing a characteristic place, a set of classrooms where children could be grouped by age, with the classes organized together into a school; and creating a standard unit of time, the fixed instructional period, which would allow for planned scheduling of the academic day and year and for organizing subject-matter into a sequence of measured lessons;
» Discovering how to manipulate motivational energies, essentially engendering a many-sided competition at memorization and mimicking normative examples, displayed through diverse recitations and examinations; » Implementing a suitable presentation of the culture through specially designed textbooks and related resources, a presentation that stoked the competition and fit well within the educational time and place of the school classroom and schedule; » Working out instructional methods that capitalized on the student's possession of the textbook, helping students with timely explanation to learn by reading, and monitoring their progress efficiently with group recitation; » Instituting means of preparing adequately trained teachers who could manage the system and make it work; and
» Developing public polices, centering on material progress, social improvement, and political cohesion, that moved parents and the public to devote sufficient resources to sustain the educative effort. These developments were tightly interrelated. The transition required the integration of complex factors into a functional system: the design of educational space and time; a chosen pattern of educational motivation; pedagogical materials suitable for use in such places with such motivations; methods of instruction suited to the organization of the cultural materials, teachers adept at using such tools and strategies; and arguments demonstrating that the substantial costs of it all were worthwhile -- all were simultaneously essential to the historic transition to mass schooling.
Sixteenth-century educational reformers worked out integration of these six, interrelated matters. For five hundred years, educators perfected, expanded, and developed the basic components of the educational system introduced early in the era of print, in due course creating modern systems of universal, compulsory schooling. As the degree of elaboration and penetration of the system into society changed, the specifics justifying the effort evolved to stay synchronized with cultural trans- formations. The main features remained stable, however. The design of the classroom and the organization of the school day, the motivational strategies employed, the scope and sequence of textbooks, the definition of good teaching practice, and the rationales for public support remained very stable. The reason for the underlying stability was rather simple: throughout it all, the character and limitations of printed textbooks remained substantially fixed, the keystone of the system. We who inhabit the electronic ethos of the twenty-second century must remember that early in the twenty-first, the function of printed materials changed rapidly, becoming restricted to their current role of verifying and guaranteeing standard data sets when the electronic versions possibly could be altered. Before then, physically printed materials had a more central intellectual function. For five hundred years, books were the unmatched resources for making ideas, knowledge, and culture available to students, and so long as this role was unquestioned, educators paid little attention to how the characteristics of books shaped the whole instructional enterprise. But during the last half of the twentieth century, diverse innovations in communication and computation occurred, displacing books from their privileged educational position and creating our current, electronic means of access to cultural achievements. From our vantage point, we can see how the microcomputer, and all its attendant peripherals, quickly matured into powerful multimedia systems. They thereby created a significant historical dilemma for educators at the end of the twentieth century. How were educators to make use of these new resources? Did the existing educational system comprise permanent, necessary arrangements? Should schools remain forever a system of classrooms for twenty-five children, of similar age and talent, overseen by a single teacher, learning set subjects that had been divided into lessons, competing for grades and recognition? Were these arrangements historically relative accidents, sensible in one communication context, but perhaps vestigial survivals in a new context, with distorted functions? In planning computer-based educational efforts, what should educators take as givens that would remain stable, before and after the introduction of powerful information technologies? At first, this question was not clear to educators. Early users of computers in education simply assumed that most features of the given system would remain stable, only getting better through judicious use of the new technology -- with a good deal of divergence, we might add, over what "better" might mean. There was an initial wave of enthusiasm, and a strong undertow of skepticism, and lots of ingenious, but encapsulated, efforts to incorporate computers into the educational system. Through such efforts to introduce computers into late-twentieth-century schooling, educators became increasingly aware that the then-existing practice was a complex technical system highly adapted over centuries to making use of books as the prime medium of cultural exchange. Encapsulated innovations repeatedly engendered inflated expectations and produced disappointment and disdain. Unfortunately, the old system had spawned a huge establishment of educational research, which functioned to optimize techniques and programs within the given system. Almost all its methods for measuring results were system-specific: they assumed that existing divisions of subject matter were the appropriate domains for testing, that standard grade-levels were fit bases for norming results, and that verbalized information was the prime indicator of learning. The bias of such research helped to protect the existing arrangements from systemic changes. To organize education to exploit the possibilities of an electronic media for cultural exchange, possibilities far more powerful and flexible than the printed media, educators had to rethink the system as a whole. They needed to take none of it as a given that would necessarily persist, unchanged, from before to after the introduction of computers. Further, to assess a new system, relative to the old, they had to develop a whole new type of educational research, one that did not presume, in its standards of testing and measurement, that structural accidents of the old system were educational necessities of timeless applicability. The full, fundamental re-examination of educational options, and the methods for assessing them, began in the 1990s. It initiated the second historic transition in educational practice. Looking back from the twenty-second century, the results of this re-examination are clear. Educators began to explore new solutions to all aspects of the existing system. They stopped applying computers to the educational strategies that had been developed in the early era of print. Instead, they started to search for educational strategies that seemed sensible in an era of digital information technologies. » At the end of the twentieth century, educational innovators scrapped well-worn assumptions about the physical location of education, keeping the school, largely for reasons of socialization, but discarding the traditional classroom, opening it physically to make many different groupings possible, from the very small to the very large. Likewise, they discarded assumptions about the periodicities of school work -- the school day and the school year. Instead, they adopted very flexible scheduling strategies, which were among the many possibilities the new technologies facilitated. » Educators harnessed a much broader mix of motivational energies than had been possible with print-based schooling. As sustained work by small groups became more feasible, cooperative learning became even more important than traditional competitive learning. With that development, the educational system began to function less exclusively as a sorting mechanism and more effectively as a means to engender social integration and interpersonal solidarity. » Simultaneously, curriculum reformers profoundly changed the organization of ideas and knowledge, reversing the tendency to break the whole up into discrete domains of subject matter. With the old system, there had been a separate text for each subject and each grade -- the experience of study had been compartmentalized and sequential, with minimal access in any particular grade to the materials used in prior or coming years. The new organization substituted an encompassing organization of ideas and knowledge -- comprehensive and integrated -- for the sequence of graded texts. It also provided a variety of navigators, appropriate to different ages and interests, to help the student. The result was most important: the experience of moving through the curriculum ceased to be one of a sequential study of subjects, grade by grade, and became much more one of a cumulative mastering of the cultural landscape. Also with respect to the organization of ideas and knowledge, innovators made the indices for accessing ideas broader, more flexible, and more effective. In the era of print, keywords and a substantial acquisition of verbal knowledge mediated access to stored ideas and information. Even to find a picture, or later a film, one had to be able to read one or another sort of verbal listing. The new technologies greatly extended the power of multiple representation in the culture, and multiple representation had its most significant effect, not on how people received ideas, but on how they found them, activated them, and then apprehended them. Pictures, icons, sounds, and gestures came to rival written expressions as means of accessing ideas. With that change, the resources routinely usable in the curriculum blossomed -- pictures, films, performances, recitations, diagrams, graphs, animations, simulations, maps lost their merely "illustrative" character. People began to make arguments with them, to explain things through them, discovering how to give images apodictic, declarative, propositional power. We can now sum up all these changes: in our electronic culture visualization enhances the verbalization that characterized the print culture. » As educators reorganized the culture, so too they altered the pedagogy guiding its study. The project method now came into its own and ideas about instruction gave way to those about construction. Students, usually working together in groups, would receive an intellectual charge, a large intellectual task that would occupy them for sustained periods of time. The curriculum could no longer consist merely of a series of lessons in a set of subjects. It was rather a field of information, ideas, and sets of tools, disciplines, and methods, by which students could bring information and ideas to bear on the charge, the task at hand. Educational method required the design of sustained, productive assignments, situating them in fields of knowledge and availing in these fields powerful tools that students would find usable in pursuing the charge their teachers had put to them. Thus learning has come to take place as students pursue various tasks, mobilizing fields of knowledge and intellectual tools, in the process learning by doing. In the old system, extrinsic contexts -- physical location and the school calendar and routine -- had done the real tracking of activity, but in the new, the curriculum had sufficient wherewithal built into it to keep track of precisely what parts of it each student had used at what times for what purposes. Well-informed in this way of their options, even young students were empowered to make decisions for themselves that teachers formerly had made for their pupils. The pedagogy became individualized and student centered to an extent never before possible. Educational strategies formerly associated with university level work spread throughout the schools. » Concomitantly, educators also re-conceived the work of teachers thanks to the same features of the computer-based curriculum that made the learning of students cumulative. In the old system, teaching had been a highly repetitive profession, with few challenges to sustained self-development in it, for the material in the syllabus and in the text, year after year, had remained static. But the integrated, multi-faceted computer-based curriculum comprised an inexhaustible re- source that teachers could continue to explore with verve throughout their careers. As a result, in the twenty-first century, the profession gained significantly in stature. » Soon, leaders in the profession and the public even developed important new policy justifications for the emerging computer-based system. Formerly, the public had typically supported classroom-based education because they had perceived it to be a needed means to some extrinsic end -- religious salvation, political power, economic security. To be sure, the new computer-based system continued to be a useful means to such goals. But in addition, they developed two further elements in an important new civic agenda for education. First, they made computer-based education a significant means for addressing some deep-seated problems of equity. The new system worked well for a broader cross- section of the population because its resources were responsive to multiple forms of intelligence and learning styles. Second, as the culture became digitized, education became, in the eyes of most people, an end worth pursuing in itself. A strange split had long existed between entertainment -- held to be fun and amusing, but idle and small-minded -- and education -- considered to be work and laborious, but constructive and enlarging. With the new educational system, this split quickly disappeared. The consequence has been fundamental: in the twenty-second century, most people generally rank educational opportunity, in preference to social security, national defense, or material progress, as the key benefit of civilization. These developments took shape in the decade preceding and following the year 2000. Educators gave up trying to introduce new technologies into the established system and they thought out an alternative system, which ineluctably displaced the old one. They came to call it the Cumulative Curriculum, and one of its pioneers, the educator Frank Moretti, described it this way: We seek to replace the superficial traveler through the sequential school, who collects knowledge trinkets to memorialize each stop on the cultural itinerary, with the philosophical explorer, whose very search for knowledge is a search for self and community. The word cumulative points to the growing personhood of the child. As the Latin indicates, it is a "heaping up" within. Able to instantly access the totality of his work through time, the child has control of his intellectual history as a series of understandings rather than the usual cryptic external judgments symbolized by [grades]. Accordingly, a child need not see each year as a separate beginning but rather as a continuation of a substantially accumulated educational reality, which is his currency entering a new year. The challenge for the child is to understand his rich past and to plan a series of strategies for moving to the next stage. He chooses his educational future in the context of the world within him that he has already shaped and formed. In this context, adults have to give up the security that comes from pretending to know precisely what it is that children ought to learn, by year, by subject. . . . The child begins with his own rich world, which is the starting point of all inquiries. . . . He understands that the art he will master is that of the tentative hypothesis, the value of which is determined by the degree to which it has to the power to explain. What the student of the cumulative curriculum will perceive as "learned" are formulations whose parenthood is not in doubt. Clear about his ownership and authorship, he will perceive all that he knows as the immediate horizon of his all-too-human vision and will seek to extend it, to glimpse a new world and form new understandings that embrace the old. Once tried, this effort to help student's take possession of their own learning, to "heap it up from within," succeeded rapidly. Old sequential school systems, which had seemed impervious to change, rapidly adopted the cumulative curriculum. Since its initiation at the turn of the twenty-first century, of course, the new system has evolved steadily, more and more thoroughly displacing the vestiges of the print-based educational system. The results have been liberating and profoundly progressive. Democracy, which had been, for the most part, a predominantly political development through the twentieth century, has gained a substantial cultural import. The persistent tendency of print-based education to reproduce and accentuate differences of power, privilege, and wealth has been decisively reversed. The digitization of the culture has been thorough and with it participation in its full powers has been decisively broadened and tools that strongly amplify human powers of calculation and control have become accessible to nearly all. The great twentieth-century aspiration, verbalized by John Dewey through Democracy and Education, has become substantively fulfilled, although in an environment of pedagogical practice quite different from any he could then imagine. Shortly before the year 2000, a long era of international tensions and war, in which national defense had been the prime function of the polity, ended. Peoples of the major nations turned their energies more fully to nurturing their human potentials. The relaxation of tensions coincided with the development of the new media of education. Liberal reformers regained a sense of their efficacy and people became increasingly confident that they could at last solve the long-standing human problems of industrial democracy. As the third millennium began, the idealistic conviction of some, that each person has a stake in the welfare and fulfillment of all, deepened into a general common sense. Material conditions and cultural convictions converged to provide the historical grounds for the worldwide educative polity. Our informant from the future depicts an alluring vision, one that we may be tempted to dismiss as too optimistic. But these are times of extraordinary potential and extraordinary change. Educators should not face them blindly, recapitulating past expectations and assumptions. However solid seeming, our educational structures are historical creations subject to thorough transformation through the subsequent dynamics of continuing historical change. Our informant from the future draws our attention to the need to look at the whole educational system in considering how to introduce information technologies into it. A basic proposition provides the generating principle of this essay: in order to have substantial effect improving education, the digitization of our culture will need to elicit a full systemic innovation in education, one that changes not only the medium of cultural exchange, substituting digital code for print, but the entire educational context for working with that medium. In the chapters that follow, I advance a case that systemic innovation in education is both desirable and possible. I do so by essaying answers to some large questions: What significance for cultural history do computers have? What historic imperatives should educators recognize as fit measures for the worth of their work? Would widespread adoption of information technologies enable educators to meet those imperatives more effectively than traditional schools have? How should educators, who want to develop the potentialities of technology in education, deal with the pedagogical environment, motivation and assessment, the organization of culture, pedagogy and educational method, and the role and preparation of teachers? What civic agenda for education should guide efforts to achieve the pedagogical potentials of digital technologies? Each chapter successively addresses one of these questions. The chapters follow sequentially, but they reciprocally interact and hence their true sense inheres in the cumulative whole.

Educators propound reforms, but schools remain the same.

Without material agency, new methods fail. A scheme captures the educational imagination -- spokespeople think it out, the daring to try it, researchers document its effects, and the committed demand its adoption. Thus, the idea diffuses from various centers -- but then, sporadically, resistance builds, enthusiasm falters, influence weakens; ineluctably, distinctive practices gravitate back to the norm. Pedagogical weathering soon makes the new shingles indistinguishable from the old. Without political vision, technological innovation leaves the quality of life unimproved. Anticipations of future technologies depict wondrous tools for living, but then culminate with "a day in the life," usually a banal office routine with little at stake that was different from what would be at stake in the corporate office anywhere today. Such visions do not inspire people to solve human problems old and new, to join together with shared hopes and historic aspirations, enabled now to act on issues hitherto in- accessible to the common weal. We need to join pedagogy and power. Educators inspired by visions of human potentiality need instruments of action, substantial agents of change, with which to work. Technologists creating new means for bringing intelligence to bear upon the work of the world need a civic agenda, a vision of historic possibility, consciously espoused and responsibly defended. Without power, educators will continue cloaking their delivery of lame services in high-minded impotence. Without pedagogy, technologists, bleating complacent corporate compromise, will recreate the injustices of the contemporary world with the new-forged tools that might otherwise transcend it. Educators need power, not purity; technologists need vision, not predictability. Together educators and technologists have the historic opportunity to improve the civic prospect -- that is the message of Power and Pedagogy.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

U.S. Copyright Office Forms

Copyright Office application forms are available in PDF format and are best viewed with the latest, free Adobe Acrobat Reader program. Fill-in versions may be completed online and then printed. To save forms, you must use the full version of Adobe Acrobat. Forms submitted to the Copyright Office must be clear, legible, and on good quality 8.5-inch by 11-inch white paper. The office produces completed registration certificates by scanning the submitted applications. Thus, poorly printed applications will result in poor quality registration certificates. You may also request Forms by Mail.

Mecklenburg County - District 26

Courts in Mecklenburg County Mecklenburg county, district 26, trial courts North Carolina's court system, called the General Court of Justice, is a unified statewide and state-operated system consisting of three divisions: the Appellate Division, the Superior Court and the District Court Division. The Superior Court and District Court Divisions are commonly referred to as the North Carolina Trial Courts. The Trial Courts have been further subdivided into specialty areas - Business Court, Family Court and Drug Court. This web site for the Courts in Mecklenburg County provides specific information on how North Carolina Trial Courts operate within Mecklenburg County.

Friday, March 11, 2005

John F. Blair, Publisher

By the time John Fries Blair was fifty-one years old, he had lived a full and productive life. He had earned a degree from Harvard Law School and a master's degree in English from Columbia University. He had taught English at Moravian College in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, and Salem College in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. He had been assistant director of the Institute of Government in Chapel Hill and a member of the editorial staff at the University of North Carolina Press.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

eBay: Learning Center: Selling:

First time seller on eBay? The courses below will get you up and running in no time. You'll learn how to create a sellers account, list an item, accept online payments and keep track of all your selling activity on your own My eBay page.

Monday, February 28, 2005

'Billy' Eduard Meier

UFO Contact from the Pleiades by Wendelle Stevens From the Conclusion: Having spent 8 years on this case, 7 trips to Switzerland and 81 days on site, interviewing 29 eyewitnesses, 5 photographers, 4 recorders of the spacecraft sounds, and dozens of observers, I feel that I am as qualified as anybody in these United States to draw some conclusions from what I have learned. Somebody not of this Earth is indeed visiting Switzerland, and those extraterrestrials were contacting Eduard "Billy" Meier living in Hinterscbmidruti. The possibility that Eduard Meier alone, or even with confederates, could have hoaxed all the phenomena we have seen and faked the hundreds of excellent photos of the spacecraft, UFO photographs of every kind and style we have known, landing tracks of several different kinds, recorded the highly peculiar sounds of the alien ships, and the other evidence we have examined and tested to our satisfaction, is as unbelievable as the basic premis of visitation by extraterrestrial human beings itself, perhaps even more »

Thursday, February 24, 2005

TEACHING LANGUAGE

Never, until the idea that composition is a `study' to be learned from a book is banished from the school, will children be taught to write properly. Among the severest criticisms made upon the com­mon school are these: `The reading and spelling are poor, "The me­chanical work in arithmetic is laborious and inaccurate,' `The com­position is bad'; and these are faults that can be corrected only through practice. There can be no greater mistake in relation to the first stages of school education than that the rationale of a process is immediately valuable. A painter or musician knows his technical rules and his science, but neither his technical rules nor his science can take the place of technique or execution. It is by no means always true that a mathematician is `good in figures'; on the other hand, he is often poor. It is, therefore, extremely important that the teacher should clearly see whether the end to which a school exercise looks is skill or knowledge—practical power or intellectual power. read more »

Monday, February 21, 2005

Teaching History

"We no longer go to history for lessons in morals, nor for good examples of conduct, nor yet for dramatic or picturesque scenes. We understand that for all these purposes legend would be preferable to history, for it presents a chain of causes and effects more in accordance with our ideas of justice, more perfect and heroic characters, finer and more affecting scenes. Nor do we seek to use history for the pur­pose of promoting patriotism and loyalty; we feel that it would be illogical for different persons to draw opposite conclusions from the same science according to their country or party; it would be an invi­tation to every people to mutilate, if not to alter, history in the di­rection of its preferences. We understand that the value of every science consists in its being true, and we ask from history truth and nothing more. read more »

Teaching Science

"We believe, therefore, that these practical applications of science to life as a child meets them in his home and surroundings are the entrance way to science. They furnish the points of contact between man and nature, especially those points of contact which are manifest to all and first attract a child's notice. . . . The teacher in the laboratory is apt to think he can grade a much simpler series of experiments in his laboratory than outside life can furnish, and this may be true. But the motive for the demonstration and its later bearing upon life are both apt to be overlooked in such pure laboratory work. When once a good problem has been raised in life, it may be well to use all the devices of the laboratory to illuminate and clear it up; but the source from which the problem came, and the final reference of the whole experiment to its life application, are the things not to be forgotten." read more »

Teaching Math

"There is probably more time wasted in the teaching of arithmetic than in the teaching of any other subject. Long problems are given instead of short; intricate ones instead of simple; things unlike the operations of actual life instead of what is practical. Children are burdened with dreadful `examples' for `home work' which, if solved at all, are solved by the aid of parents or older brothers and sisters. Time is consumed in work which children cannot possibly understand or appreciate. . . . Time was when it was considered sufficient to learn by rote definitions of technical terms employed, to memorize a rule without understanding its reasons, and to apply it to the solution of problems precisely worded. When the rule was forgotten or the problem differently worded, the power of solution was obliterated. But no matter; unreasonable work of this kind was thought in some inexplicable way to train the reasoning powers; the child was supposed to learn to think by a process that required no thinking. The doc­trine of apperception has changed all our ideas on this matter." read more »

TEACHING MORAL EDUCATION

"A beautiful form is better than a beautiful face; a beautiful behavior is better than a beautiful form: it gives a higher pleasure than statues or pictures, it is the finest of the fine arts. A man is but a little thing in the midst of the objects of nature, yet by the moral quality radiating from his countenance, he may abolish all considerations of magnitude, and in his manners equal the majesty of the world." read more »

TEACHING SELF–EDUCATION

" Teaching pupils how to study—or better, how to educate them­selves—is obviously as important as teaching them to know certain facts and to do certain things. The willingness and ability to study efficiently—to educate oneself well—involves read more »

Sunday, February 20, 2005

FREE -- Federal Resources for Educational Excellence :