Saturday, February 26, 2005
Friday, February 25, 2005
I just finished watching The Sound of Music. What a classic. That is a great movie. It's got humor; it's got drama; it's got romance;... it's got...nuns. And Julie Andrews is my hero! She's so cool. Oh, here's a funny line from the movie: "I like rich people. I like the way they live....I like the way I live when I'm with them."
I watched it with my roommate, Bethany, and her boyfriend, Wade. Wade told us that there's a scene where the real Maria makes a cameo appearance! But he didn't tell us until after the movie was over, so we didn't notice her. Maybe next time...
I watched it with my roommate, Bethany, and her boyfriend, Wade. Wade told us that there's a scene where the real Maria makes a cameo appearance! But he didn't tell us until after the movie was over, so we didn't notice her. Maybe next time...
I'm off to work. This weekend's going to be non-stop activity for me, and the sleep probability rating is showing a strong negative on 8 hours a night, and indicating possible all-nighters in the three day forecast.
Here's a really beautiful picture I found on weather.com.
Lighthouses are cool. This one is the Portland Head Lighthouse, in Cape Elizabeth, Main. The picture was taken on the first of this month!
The Lighthouse picture from submitted Weather.com photos
Here's a really beautiful picture I found on weather.com.
Lighthouses are cool. This one is the Portland Head Lighthouse, in Cape Elizabeth, Main. The picture was taken on the first of this month!
The Lighthouse picture from submitted Weather.com photos
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Jonathan and I are taking a tennis class for P.E. We have homework due every Wednesday. For homework, we can do pretty much anything we want, (just so long as it has something to do with tennis) and we write down what it is we did on a 3x5 card. This week, we're learning how to serve. So, for homework, he and I watched this cool video about correct form in serving. You should watch it too. It'll make you a better tennis player. And a better person. Maybe; I'm actually not sure about that last part.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Since we're posting about homework, I guess I'll share what I've been working on today. It's got nothing to do with Nietzche or Orientalism.
I have an assignment for my Curriculum class to design a Thematic Unit (actually, just part of one...most Thematic Units are much longer and could take a couple of months to complete), a week's worth of lesson plans (20 in all: 1 each day for math, science, language arts and social studies), all centered around a theme. I've chosen to do Pioneer American Life, and to use Little House on the Prairie as the basis for my lessons. Jonathan and I have been reading this book together lately. He helps me with my homework. Anyway, today I created a sort of skeleton for the Thematic Unit. I don't have any of the actual lessons written yet, but I've got a good start. This is what it looks like:
Pioneer American Life
Grade 3
Language Arts (Little House on the Prairie)
1. Ch. 1-3; Pretend you're the Ingalls' dog, Jack: write the story of crossing the creek from your perspective.
2. Ch. 4-6; Venn Diagram: Compare/Contrast life then with life now.
3. Ch. 7-8; Word Choice Activity
4. Ch. 9-11; Write an alternative ending to chapter 11. What would have happened if...
5. Ch. 12-14; Class discussion: Compare Mary/Laura, Pa/Mr. Edwards
Social Studies
1. Review map skills and geographical terms
2. Geography of the states that the Ingalls travelled through
3. Discuss the meaning of the term "Indian Territory"
4. Introduce the various North American Indian tribes
5. Have students choose a tribe that they'll write a one-page report on
Math (measurement)
1. Instruments of measurement
2. Measuring to build (a log cabin)
3. Measuring distance (of travel, for example)
4. Measuring to cook
5. Measuring to dig (a well)
Science
1. What is a prairie?
2. Variety of life on the prairie (begin putting things in broad categories)
3. Birds on the prairie
4. Small mammals on the prairie
5. Large mammals on the prairie
So, that's it! I'm having fun designing it, and I think it'll be fun to dig deeper into each lesson as well.
I have an assignment for my Curriculum class to design a Thematic Unit (actually, just part of one...most Thematic Units are much longer and could take a couple of months to complete), a week's worth of lesson plans (20 in all: 1 each day for math, science, language arts and social studies), all centered around a theme. I've chosen to do Pioneer American Life, and to use Little House on the Prairie as the basis for my lessons. Jonathan and I have been reading this book together lately. He helps me with my homework. Anyway, today I created a sort of skeleton for the Thematic Unit. I don't have any of the actual lessons written yet, but I've got a good start. This is what it looks like:
Pioneer American Life
Grade 3
Language Arts (Little House on the Prairie)
1. Ch. 1-3; Pretend you're the Ingalls' dog, Jack: write the story of crossing the creek from your perspective.
2. Ch. 4-6; Venn Diagram: Compare/Contrast life then with life now.
3. Ch. 7-8; Word Choice Activity
4. Ch. 9-11; Write an alternative ending to chapter 11. What would have happened if...
5. Ch. 12-14; Class discussion: Compare Mary/Laura, Pa/Mr. Edwards
Social Studies
1. Review map skills and geographical terms
2. Geography of the states that the Ingalls travelled through
3. Discuss the meaning of the term "Indian Territory"
4. Introduce the various North American Indian tribes
5. Have students choose a tribe that they'll write a one-page report on
Math (measurement)
1. Instruments of measurement
2. Measuring to build (a log cabin)
3. Measuring distance (of travel, for example)
4. Measuring to cook
5. Measuring to dig (a well)
Science
1. What is a prairie?
2. Variety of life on the prairie (begin putting things in broad categories)
3. Birds on the prairie
4. Small mammals on the prairie
5. Large mammals on the prairie
So, that's it! I'm having fun designing it, and I think it'll be fun to dig deeper into each lesson as well.
I have a lot of reading to do at the moment. I'm putting a lot of effort into this Senior Thesis of mine, and so I am reading a lot about it. This means that I need to take periodic short breaks or I just about go nuts becuase of the sheer quantity of reading I've been doing on one subject this weekend.
But, to take a break, I'll post about Nietzche, and tie it into some of the reading I've been doing for my thesis, which allows me to constructively work on two homework assignments at the same time, while on my blog, which provides for me a change of environment (to liven up the night!). This is: a pull question on Nietzche, which will be due at Mid Rags (I suppose that's coming closer and closer) and to process Edward Said, whose book, Orientalism, revolutionized the discussion of Orientalism. Orientalism is the study of the East, by the Westerners, and since my thesis has to do with Byron's mission to the Greeks (a Westerner going East) it's relevant to understanding how people might think of him thinking. The sum of what this paragraph is expressing for you, the reader, is that this is going to be a very long post and most of you will not read it. But, I've also supplied (in this paragraph) justification for writing it independent of your readership and that means you dont need to read it for me to write it! Gosh, what a great paragraph!
PQ: What is the appropriate Christian response to Nietzsche? Academically? Interpersonally?
Nietzche is fundamentally opposed to the Christian religion, reviling it continuously and explicitly with his pseudo-philosophical expressions of genius and angst. Therefore it is meet for Christians to develop a response for ministering to the minds of those people who hold to ideas put forth by Nietzche (whether or not they came to believe them through him or through modern post-modern movements) and to defend Christianity against his attacks, which means, at least for Biola students, holding up at least a foundationalist evangelical form of orthodox Christianity to be more than what he says it is.
The most fundamental assault by Nietzche on Christianity in The Genealogy of Morals is not his explicit textual criticisms based through strange philology on a contrived history. Although he says that he views Christianity as a kind of Jewish revolt by an impotent priestly class against those that are weaker, his arguments do not hold up against careful scrutiny. This was adequately established several times during my class when we set out to understand his use of philology. For example, his appeal to philology to disprove the idea that guilt comes will-freedom intuitions. “Have these genealogists of morals had even the remotest suspicion that, for example, the major moral concept Schuld [guilt] has its origin in the very material concept Schulden [debts]?” (Genealogy of Morals, Second Essay, Section 4) This argument is not intended, according to the translator and editor Kaufmann, a famous Nietzche scholar who has worked to redeem Nietzche for academic study after his famous use in Hitler’s problems, to pull weight. But the truth is that it is the only referral to a potential concrete fact in the whole section, and philology is the only substantial evidence for his history offered. So, Kaufmann is probably incorrect in that assessment and we are free to move forward with our critique. But there is not far to go, the argument is easily refuted by examining English or any other language that does not have this philogical relationship to debt. Also, with the amount of information he gave us here, we cannot accept what he said because it appears equally plausible that schulden is the longer form of schuld, and the idea of debt came from an idea of responsibility stemming from moral intuitions that actually do come from our conceptions of freedom.
So, what is this genius, as he likes to consistently point out, doing? He must know this argument is invalid. This is the real puzzle in dealing with Nietzche, but it may amount to this: because power is the sum of existence, as explained in Essay 1, Section 13, with an example where he says all actions are merely actions, and do not stem from a doer, there are no ideals. Or perhaps because there are no ideals there is only material, but the point is: any ideal is not believable. Yet, remember, Nietzche is a genius. Therefore he realizes the obvious truth that “any ideal is not believable,” as I stated it above, is also an ideal! And so, he is forced also to condemn living this way. What this leaves is a totally consistent nihilist approach, expressed basically poetically throughout this work.
Here lies the challenge for Christianity, for Christianity is unavoidably an ideal. If ideals chain men, Christianity is a great means of enslaving and turning us into our own self-destroyers through an ascetic ideal.
Responding to this question is exceptionally difficult, because Nietzche leaves no common ground through which to dialogue. It demands a dishonest intellectual attitude, an accusation Nietzche himself has leveled at all idealists, in which he denies the existence of a priori propositions that he must hold. Thus, interpersonally, the only way of expressing Christianity to a Nietzchean must be by demonstrating the fruits of Christianity. There are also, I feel, still a priori conceptions buried in the consciousness of these people, placed there by God, that might be appealed to in earnest and honest friendly discussions. If consistent, they will deny these intuitive inward pulls, but perhaps it is impossible for anything less the genius of Nietzche to hold to such a powerful belief system.
Academically, which removes the intimacy of friendship from scholarly debate, strikes a more difficult solution. There is no way, operating within a Nietzchean system, to argue against Nietzche. The only plausible solution I can see is to stand humbly on the outside and express honest incredulity. An example of a very important scholar who expresses ideas (via Foucalt) held by Nietzche was Edward Said. His book Orientalism attacked the idea of learning about the Orient as an academic discipline because it was a form of mental imperialism, and the source of political imperialism. Now, the form of Said’s argument is such that it assumes that ideas enslave (familiarly Nietzchean) those that they study. This is the bomb-blast of Said’s book, and is found in the introduction of a 200-page book. The response of intellectuals to Said was mixed. Bernard Lewis, the foremost American Orientalist, attacked it viciously four years after it was published. He claimed it was absurd, viewed common sensically, and this seems proper. But it required him standing outside of the philosophical system of Said and appealing to others’ common sense. The thrust of this defense is to prevent others from holding to Said’s belief system. It’s an unfortunately rear-guard stand, and in this way has its shortcomings. At this point, however, it seems the best response.
Said does not go so far as Nietzche, and so there is another root of criticism. It is this: his analysis of Orientalists seems as morally improper, by his own criteria, as the Orientalists' studies of the Orient.
But, to take a break, I'll post about Nietzche, and tie it into some of the reading I've been doing for my thesis, which allows me to constructively work on two homework assignments at the same time, while on my blog, which provides for me a change of environment (to liven up the night!). This is: a pull question on Nietzche, which will be due at Mid Rags (I suppose that's coming closer and closer) and to process Edward Said, whose book, Orientalism, revolutionized the discussion of Orientalism. Orientalism is the study of the East, by the Westerners, and since my thesis has to do with Byron's mission to the Greeks (a Westerner going East) it's relevant to understanding how people might think of him thinking. The sum of what this paragraph is expressing for you, the reader, is that this is going to be a very long post and most of you will not read it. But, I've also supplied (in this paragraph) justification for writing it independent of your readership and that means you dont need to read it for me to write it! Gosh, what a great paragraph!
PQ: What is the appropriate Christian response to Nietzsche? Academically? Interpersonally?
Nietzche is fundamentally opposed to the Christian religion, reviling it continuously and explicitly with his pseudo-philosophical expressions of genius and angst. Therefore it is meet for Christians to develop a response for ministering to the minds of those people who hold to ideas put forth by Nietzche (whether or not they came to believe them through him or through modern post-modern movements) and to defend Christianity against his attacks, which means, at least for Biola students, holding up at least a foundationalist evangelical form of orthodox Christianity to be more than what he says it is.
The most fundamental assault by Nietzche on Christianity in The Genealogy of Morals is not his explicit textual criticisms based through strange philology on a contrived history. Although he says that he views Christianity as a kind of Jewish revolt by an impotent priestly class against those that are weaker, his arguments do not hold up against careful scrutiny. This was adequately established several times during my class when we set out to understand his use of philology. For example, his appeal to philology to disprove the idea that guilt comes will-freedom intuitions. “Have these genealogists of morals had even the remotest suspicion that, for example, the major moral concept Schuld [guilt] has its origin in the very material concept Schulden [debts]?” (Genealogy of Morals, Second Essay, Section 4) This argument is not intended, according to the translator and editor Kaufmann, a famous Nietzche scholar who has worked to redeem Nietzche for academic study after his famous use in Hitler’s problems, to pull weight. But the truth is that it is the only referral to a potential concrete fact in the whole section, and philology is the only substantial evidence for his history offered. So, Kaufmann is probably incorrect in that assessment and we are free to move forward with our critique. But there is not far to go, the argument is easily refuted by examining English or any other language that does not have this philogical relationship to debt. Also, with the amount of information he gave us here, we cannot accept what he said because it appears equally plausible that schulden is the longer form of schuld, and the idea of debt came from an idea of responsibility stemming from moral intuitions that actually do come from our conceptions of freedom.
So, what is this genius, as he likes to consistently point out, doing? He must know this argument is invalid. This is the real puzzle in dealing with Nietzche, but it may amount to this: because power is the sum of existence, as explained in Essay 1, Section 13, with an example where he says all actions are merely actions, and do not stem from a doer, there are no ideals. Or perhaps because there are no ideals there is only material, but the point is: any ideal is not believable. Yet, remember, Nietzche is a genius. Therefore he realizes the obvious truth that “any ideal is not believable,” as I stated it above, is also an ideal! And so, he is forced also to condemn living this way. What this leaves is a totally consistent nihilist approach, expressed basically poetically throughout this work.
Here lies the challenge for Christianity, for Christianity is unavoidably an ideal. If ideals chain men, Christianity is a great means of enslaving and turning us into our own self-destroyers through an ascetic ideal.
Responding to this question is exceptionally difficult, because Nietzche leaves no common ground through which to dialogue. It demands a dishonest intellectual attitude, an accusation Nietzche himself has leveled at all idealists, in which he denies the existence of a priori propositions that he must hold. Thus, interpersonally, the only way of expressing Christianity to a Nietzchean must be by demonstrating the fruits of Christianity. There are also, I feel, still a priori conceptions buried in the consciousness of these people, placed there by God, that might be appealed to in earnest and honest friendly discussions. If consistent, they will deny these intuitive inward pulls, but perhaps it is impossible for anything less the genius of Nietzche to hold to such a powerful belief system.
Academically, which removes the intimacy of friendship from scholarly debate, strikes a more difficult solution. There is no way, operating within a Nietzchean system, to argue against Nietzche. The only plausible solution I can see is to stand humbly on the outside and express honest incredulity. An example of a very important scholar who expresses ideas (via Foucalt) held by Nietzche was Edward Said. His book Orientalism attacked the idea of learning about the Orient as an academic discipline because it was a form of mental imperialism, and the source of political imperialism. Now, the form of Said’s argument is such that it assumes that ideas enslave (familiarly Nietzchean) those that they study. This is the bomb-blast of Said’s book, and is found in the introduction of a 200-page book. The response of intellectuals to Said was mixed. Bernard Lewis, the foremost American Orientalist, attacked it viciously four years after it was published. He claimed it was absurd, viewed common sensically, and this seems proper. But it required him standing outside of the philosophical system of Said and appealing to others’ common sense. The thrust of this defense is to prevent others from holding to Said’s belief system. It’s an unfortunately rear-guard stand, and in this way has its shortcomings. At this point, however, it seems the best response.
Said does not go so far as Nietzche, and so there is another root of criticism. It is this: his analysis of Orientalists seems as morally improper, by his own criteria, as the Orientalists' studies of the Orient.
Friday, February 18, 2005
Last night four of us stayed up very late discussing this particularly puzzling question:
Can we know that something tastes good?
My opinion is yes.
We most certainly can know that some things taste good to us. As long as the sense of taste is reliable, then there's a correspondence between the flavor and me, and from this point of view it seems like knowledge.
The crux of the debate hinged on what knowledge is, and whether or not taste is proper justification.
My view of the issue is that we know things according to certain modes proper to those things. Therefore the justification of our knowledge should be according to the mode that we know it. And taste is known through our tongue's tasting (and smell, actually). Therefore we can know whether or not something tastes good.
I dunno, it all seems clear to me. Dustin, you can post your position on your blog or in my comments, so that people can understand your view.
This objection seems the most cogent: taste is not true or false. Therefore taste is not a matter of knowledge. But the proposition, "this tastes good" can be a matter of knowledge (as it's propositional) therefore I am not persuaded by this objection.
A silly discussion, I know, but the real issue was epistemology and, at least to some degree, the necessary conditions of justification. At one point I found myself defending the law of non-contradiction, which was disturbingly self-contradictory.
Another issue was whether or not certainty is a condition of knowledge. I'd say no, because inductive reasoning seems to bring things probabalistically to light in such a way that I still am able to claim to know them. In other words, it's the most likely truth, but I'm still justified in believing it through my inductive argument because there's not sufficeint contrary justification. And so it would be irresponsible not to believe it.
I think the most interesting part of the discussion was on the nature of beauty. We examined, at one point, whether or not taste could be beautiful. It fit one of the signs of a beautiful thing: it inspires desire. However, considering this definition, we had to ask, "Is beauty present to every sense?" And it seems a strange thing to say "This feels beautiful." It occured to me that I'm most comfortable saying "beauty" when I'm talking about sight and hearing. Then someone asked a great question: what about brail? So deaf people can experience beauty through words, like us, but they do it with their fingers. This showed conclusively that ideas, primarily, are beautiful.
Now, ideas are immaterial realities. This seems indisputable. Ideas are most definitely not matter. You can never touch an idea or test one with an instrument. So, if beauty deals mainly with ideas, then beauty itself must be immaterial. And so Plato is right. (For an Aristotelian, beauty is immaterial but always bound in matter. If you're a Thomist, you have a hybrid of these two views, because you see beauty as existing eternally in the mind of God as the exemplar cause of beautiful things on earth: in this way Thomas obviously doesn't seem very Aristotelian, and I'm not sure he isn't a Platonist here.)
Bum bum bum!
I've been becoming a more confirmed in a more Platonic metaphysics lately, even though I've been spending a lot of time in St. Thomas Aquinas.
*later update*
I added a bit about brail because I remembered it and it's insightful and important.
Can we know that something tastes good?
My opinion is yes.
We most certainly can know that some things taste good to us. As long as the sense of taste is reliable, then there's a correspondence between the flavor and me, and from this point of view it seems like knowledge.
The crux of the debate hinged on what knowledge is, and whether or not taste is proper justification.
My view of the issue is that we know things according to certain modes proper to those things. Therefore the justification of our knowledge should be according to the mode that we know it. And taste is known through our tongue's tasting (and smell, actually). Therefore we can know whether or not something tastes good.
I dunno, it all seems clear to me. Dustin, you can post your position on your blog or in my comments, so that people can understand your view.
This objection seems the most cogent: taste is not true or false. Therefore taste is not a matter of knowledge. But the proposition, "this tastes good" can be a matter of knowledge (as it's propositional) therefore I am not persuaded by this objection.
A silly discussion, I know, but the real issue was epistemology and, at least to some degree, the necessary conditions of justification. At one point I found myself defending the law of non-contradiction, which was disturbingly self-contradictory.
Another issue was whether or not certainty is a condition of knowledge. I'd say no, because inductive reasoning seems to bring things probabalistically to light in such a way that I still am able to claim to know them. In other words, it's the most likely truth, but I'm still justified in believing it through my inductive argument because there's not sufficeint contrary justification. And so it would be irresponsible not to believe it.
I think the most interesting part of the discussion was on the nature of beauty. We examined, at one point, whether or not taste could be beautiful. It fit one of the signs of a beautiful thing: it inspires desire. However, considering this definition, we had to ask, "Is beauty present to every sense?" And it seems a strange thing to say "This feels beautiful." It occured to me that I'm most comfortable saying "beauty" when I'm talking about sight and hearing. Then someone asked a great question: what about brail? So deaf people can experience beauty through words, like us, but they do it with their fingers. This showed conclusively that ideas, primarily, are beautiful.
Now, ideas are immaterial realities. This seems indisputable. Ideas are most definitely not matter. You can never touch an idea or test one with an instrument. So, if beauty deals mainly with ideas, then beauty itself must be immaterial. And so Plato is right. (For an Aristotelian, beauty is immaterial but always bound in matter. If you're a Thomist, you have a hybrid of these two views, because you see beauty as existing eternally in the mind of God as the exemplar cause of beautiful things on earth: in this way Thomas obviously doesn't seem very Aristotelian, and I'm not sure he isn't a Platonist here.)
Bum bum bum!
I've been becoming a more confirmed in a more Platonic metaphysics lately, even though I've been spending a lot of time in St. Thomas Aquinas.
*later update*
I added a bit about brail because I remembered it and it's insightful and important.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
I added a couple of links: one to Jeff Y's site, who's an old good friend of Libby. And one to Gabe Moothart's site, who's Libby's brother. Gabe's is always a good read, and Jeff's looks interesting, too.
Also, I fixed the link to Luke's site! Now it doesn't direct you to Microsoft.com anymore. Why on earth was it doing that? Luke's site is cool, but he should post more.
Just to make it completely clear, however, on the coolness front here is the order of the world's coolest people.
1. Libby
2. Jon
3. Our families
4. Our friends
5. Everyone else
6. Lem (he's the least coolest)
Also, I fixed the link to Luke's site! Now it doesn't direct you to Microsoft.com anymore. Why on earth was it doing that? Luke's site is cool, but he should post more.
Just to make it completely clear, however, on the coolness front here is the order of the world's coolest people.
1. Libby
2. Jon
3. Our families
4. Our friends
5. Everyone else
6. Lem (he's the least coolest)
Sunday, February 13, 2005
I had a busy day yesterday. I woke up early and went bird watching at Bolsa Chica with my Ornithology class at 7am. It was drizzling and windy when we first got there, but after about 45 minutes, the sun started to come out and it was beautiful. We got 46 different species, 47 if you count the Killdeer that we didn't see, but heard. I don't count it. Some cool birds that we actually saw were: Brown Pelicans, Great Blue Heron, Green-winged Teal, Northern Pintail, Red-tailed Hawk, Red-shouldered Hawk, Merlin Falcon (which Rafe, the professor, says he hadn't seen in 20 years!) and a Western Meadowlark. We got back a little after noon. I had some lunch, and got my stuff together for the RICA, and then went straight over there without much down time in between.
The RICA went well, I think. It's a standardized test that everyone in a teacher education program needs to take at some point. It assesses one's ability to give reading instruction. And since I took a class last semester on teaching reading, I thought it would be good to take this test as soon as possible. It consists of 70 multiple choice questions, 2 one-page essays, 2 two-page essays, and a 4-page essay. It took me exaclty 3 hours to finish it. Afterwards I was pretty tired. And hungry. But I think I did pretty well, since the reading class is designed to prepare one for the RICA. It's kind of funny: we learn in all of our education classes that standardized tests are not the best way to assess knowledge of subject matter. We also learn that it's really bad to "teach to the test." And then we have to take all these standardized tests. And we take classes to prepare us for exactly what's going to be on them. :-)
The best part was that when I got there, before they let anyone inside, I found a couple of Biola girls from one of my education classes this semester. And then another Biola girl came and waited with us. Pretty soon there were about 8 or 10 of us. I don't know any of them too terribly well, but it was really nice to see some familiar faces before going in. None of them were in my testing room, but I actually sat behind a lady who graduated from Biola a few years ago and who was in a class of mine during my first semester (which was her senior year). Having someone to talk to before the test started made me feel at ease.
And then after I got back, I went over to Jonathan's house and we had a really relaxing evening. We made dinner, and read some of Little House on the Prairie and talked. It was a great way to end a long, busy day.
The RICA went well, I think. It's a standardized test that everyone in a teacher education program needs to take at some point. It assesses one's ability to give reading instruction. And since I took a class last semester on teaching reading, I thought it would be good to take this test as soon as possible. It consists of 70 multiple choice questions, 2 one-page essays, 2 two-page essays, and a 4-page essay. It took me exaclty 3 hours to finish it. Afterwards I was pretty tired. And hungry. But I think I did pretty well, since the reading class is designed to prepare one for the RICA. It's kind of funny: we learn in all of our education classes that standardized tests are not the best way to assess knowledge of subject matter. We also learn that it's really bad to "teach to the test." And then we have to take all these standardized tests. And we take classes to prepare us for exactly what's going to be on them. :-)
The best part was that when I got there, before they let anyone inside, I found a couple of Biola girls from one of my education classes this semester. And then another Biola girl came and waited with us. Pretty soon there were about 8 or 10 of us. I don't know any of them too terribly well, but it was really nice to see some familiar faces before going in. None of them were in my testing room, but I actually sat behind a lady who graduated from Biola a few years ago and who was in a class of mine during my first semester (which was her senior year). Having someone to talk to before the test started made me feel at ease.
And then after I got back, I went over to Jonathan's house and we had a really relaxing evening. We made dinner, and read some of Little House on the Prairie and talked. It was a great way to end a long, busy day.
Saturday, February 12, 2005
Good afternoon. Libby's taking the RICA today. She should tell you more about that, because I'm sure it's an interesting experience.
Personally, I've been doing homework for my Medieval Philosophy class and for Torrey. I'm now reading Nietzche. Last week I read Marx. Darwin came right before that. I love this program! It lets me read the most interesting books.
So far this semester, it's been a fairly straight on assault on the Christian faith, but it holds up pretty dang well against the slings and arrows.
Another interesting class that I'm taking is by the famous Dr. Aaron Kleist (well, he's famous at Biola). We're doing an introduction to Shakespeare upper division English class, and it's about the histories covering the War of the Roses. Right now we're reading Richard II (Libby and I are working through this together, as it's a way to spend time together: she's not in the class, but she's being really nice and making my homework so much more interesting). Richard II is paced well, and having a background of the history makes it a really entertaining read.
But the most interesting thing about the class, as far as making it distinctive, is that its framed in the set up of a game. Instead of a term paper or final, we're all required to cast ourselves willy-nilly into a contest of wits and knowledge devised to create greater immersion into the text. The game sets the two sections of Introduction to Shakespeare (10:30 vs. 1:30) against each other. We're the Lancasters, they're the Yorks. White Rose vs. Red! Anyway, we've all been assigned characters from the time period, and we have to learn a bunch about them. We'll all be asked a series of questions to prove that we have learned it. Anyway, the point of the game is to find out who the other characters are through a series of yes or no questions that are aired over the university bulletain board service. So, for example, right now the Lancasters asked a bunch of questions to determine who was royalty and who was an earl. By doing so we'll have know a lot. It's pretty fun, a lot of strategy.
The outcome of the game isn't really so much a matter of grade as pride. The winner will be served a Shakespearean dinner by the losing section.
Personally, I've been doing homework for my Medieval Philosophy class and for Torrey. I'm now reading Nietzche. Last week I read Marx. Darwin came right before that. I love this program! It lets me read the most interesting books.
So far this semester, it's been a fairly straight on assault on the Christian faith, but it holds up pretty dang well against the slings and arrows.
Another interesting class that I'm taking is by the famous Dr. Aaron Kleist (well, he's famous at Biola). We're doing an introduction to Shakespeare upper division English class, and it's about the histories covering the War of the Roses. Right now we're reading Richard II (Libby and I are working through this together, as it's a way to spend time together: she's not in the class, but she's being really nice and making my homework so much more interesting). Richard II is paced well, and having a background of the history makes it a really entertaining read.
But the most interesting thing about the class, as far as making it distinctive, is that its framed in the set up of a game. Instead of a term paper or final, we're all required to cast ourselves willy-nilly into a contest of wits and knowledge devised to create greater immersion into the text. The game sets the two sections of Introduction to Shakespeare (10:30 vs. 1:30) against each other. We're the Lancasters, they're the Yorks. White Rose vs. Red! Anyway, we've all been assigned characters from the time period, and we have to learn a bunch about them. We'll all be asked a series of questions to prove that we have learned it. Anyway, the point of the game is to find out who the other characters are through a series of yes or no questions that are aired over the university bulletain board service. So, for example, right now the Lancasters asked a bunch of questions to determine who was royalty and who was an earl. By doing so we'll have know a lot. It's pretty fun, a lot of strategy.
The outcome of the game isn't really so much a matter of grade as pride. The winner will be served a Shakespearean dinner by the losing section.
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Intelligence Design is not only an interesting philosophical theory that has wide ranging cultural implications, but it is a contentious thorn in the side of Darwinists.
Here is an article responding in fear to the Intelligence Design movement. Here's the relevant argument in the interpretation of the movement.
Historically, evolution has been opposed by Protestant Fundamentalists.
These people desire their children not to learn Darwinism.
Court rulings have charted a course for our education system to teach Darwinism on grounds of separation of Church and State.
Therefore, they have cooked up philosophical and scientific disagreements.
Of course, in his view, these scientific disagreements have no validity. There's a cursory discussion (more of an assertion than an argument, certainly no more than an explication based on the principles of Darwinism - which, in my opinion is also the extent of Darwin's same argument in The Origin of Species) on the eye's development, opposing the powerful scientific argument advanced by Behe (who, however, focuses on cell biology) called "irreducible complexity."
I find this admission curious, however: "ID is an idea with a respectable philosophical pedigree, though no credibility in modern science."
Philosophical pedigree is critical in this area, because scientific theories rest upon philosophical beliefs in every case. The very practice of science rests upon a certain view of seeing the world. Therefore, having a philisophical pedigree opposing Darwinism seems a considerable route for disagreement.
Anyway, it's an interesting, and somewhat harsh (which is fine) article that seems designed to shut down depate on this issue. People shouldn't think critically about Darwin's theories? That seems foolish!
Here's an paper he links to explaining the CRC's philosophies. It's well argued, less rhetorical, and full of true things: Explaining the "leaked theocracy memo"
Here is an article responding in fear to the Intelligence Design movement. Here's the relevant argument in the interpretation of the movement.
Historically, evolution has been opposed by Protestant Fundamentalists.
These people desire their children not to learn Darwinism.
Court rulings have charted a course for our education system to teach Darwinism on grounds of separation of Church and State.
Therefore, they have cooked up philosophical and scientific disagreements.
Of course, in his view, these scientific disagreements have no validity. There's a cursory discussion (more of an assertion than an argument, certainly no more than an explication based on the principles of Darwinism - which, in my opinion is also the extent of Darwin's same argument in The Origin of Species) on the eye's development, opposing the powerful scientific argument advanced by Behe (who, however, focuses on cell biology) called "irreducible complexity."
I find this admission curious, however: "ID is an idea with a respectable philosophical pedigree, though no credibility in modern science."
Philosophical pedigree is critical in this area, because scientific theories rest upon philosophical beliefs in every case. The very practice of science rests upon a certain view of seeing the world. Therefore, having a philisophical pedigree opposing Darwinism seems a considerable route for disagreement.
Anyway, it's an interesting, and somewhat harsh (which is fine) article that seems designed to shut down depate on this issue. People shouldn't think critically about Darwin's theories? That seems foolish!
Here's an paper he links to explaining the CRC's philosophies. It's well argued, less rhetorical, and full of true things: Explaining the "leaked theocracy memo"
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Textbooks have never been my favorite thing, but today I became extremely disenchanted with them. I read the first chapter in my Child Development textbook, in which the history of the study was recounted. The author attempts to summarize several philosophers' views in the space of a couple pages. Ok, well that's the nature of a textbook. Anyway, these philosophers are ones of whom I have actually read a decent amount (Plato, Locke and Rousseau). And this textbook either gave, for each philosopher, an extremely simplistic view of what they said, or just plain got it wrong. (I should mention that Darwin and Stanley Hall are also discussed briefly, but as I have not read either of them, I don't really know if the textbook got them right or not).
The book claims, for example, that Rousseau believed that children are born naturally good. Ok, that's fine. But it goes on to say, "The role of adults, in Rousseau's view, is to let the natural positive forces in children emerge without restraint." Woah. I've read Emile. And that is not what Rousseau says. On the contrary, he would have parents/guardians very carefully and intricately regulate the experiences that the child has, so that they will come to learn exactly what the adult desires them to learn. It's to such an extreme that I really don't know how anyone could write in a textbook that he says something so different.
Then, this afternoon, I was talking about the chapter with Jonathan. I mentioned that the book says that in the Middle Ages, there wasn't much of a distinction between children and adults; they were just seen as miniature adults. He pointed out what a wrong idea of the Medievals this is.
So, pretty much, I don't want to read this textbook anymore.
All that got me thinking about why we have textbooks anyway. They're certainly not the best way to acquire knowledge. If I want to know what Plato, Locke and Rousseau think, I should read them...not this textbook. But that would take a lot more time. So, I suppose textbooks are used because they can fit a lot of basic, summarized information into a small space. The problem is, these textbook authors have a bias, so everything comes across with a twist.
I guess all this is the cost of majoring in Liberal Studies. I'll end up knowing a little about everything and, consequently, won't have a really strong grasp of any one thing.
When I'm a teacher, I'm going to try to use textbooks as little as possible. And when they must be used, they will not be regarded as the final authority. I would have said the same thing a week ago; but today, I mean it more.
The book claims, for example, that Rousseau believed that children are born naturally good. Ok, that's fine. But it goes on to say, "The role of adults, in Rousseau's view, is to let the natural positive forces in children emerge without restraint." Woah. I've read Emile. And that is not what Rousseau says. On the contrary, he would have parents/guardians very carefully and intricately regulate the experiences that the child has, so that they will come to learn exactly what the adult desires them to learn. It's to such an extreme that I really don't know how anyone could write in a textbook that he says something so different.
Then, this afternoon, I was talking about the chapter with Jonathan. I mentioned that the book says that in the Middle Ages, there wasn't much of a distinction between children and adults; they were just seen as miniature adults. He pointed out what a wrong idea of the Medievals this is.
So, pretty much, I don't want to read this textbook anymore.
All that got me thinking about why we have textbooks anyway. They're certainly not the best way to acquire knowledge. If I want to know what Plato, Locke and Rousseau think, I should read them...not this textbook. But that would take a lot more time. So, I suppose textbooks are used because they can fit a lot of basic, summarized information into a small space. The problem is, these textbook authors have a bias, so everything comes across with a twist.
I guess all this is the cost of majoring in Liberal Studies. I'll end up knowing a little about everything and, consequently, won't have a really strong grasp of any one thing.
When I'm a teacher, I'm going to try to use textbooks as little as possible. And when they must be used, they will not be regarded as the final authority. I would have said the same thing a week ago; but today, I mean it more.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
I'm a T.A. for a high school English teacher in the area. Every once in a while he'll call me up and tell me he's got a stack of papers for me to grade. I'll read them and mark them up and take them back to him. Well, right now I'm working on a stack of about 60 "research" papers on capital punishment. It's not very fun. For one thing, it's kind of a depressing subject to read so much about. For another thing, these kids can't write. Many of them have a weak grasp of the English language. It's rare for me to find a paper written in complete, clear sentences. So when I find a sentence with a noun and a verb, and commas in the right places, I pause. Then I type it into Google. And then I (more often than not) find the article from which this student has plagiarized. I make a note of the website so I can let the teacher know, and then I repeat the process. It's bad. I'm kind of sick of it, and I'm only half way through the stack. *Sigh* Well, I guess this post doesn't really have much of a point, except allowing me to vent. Thanks.
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