Consistent Tones or Constant Drones?

"Cosette, I don't know what to say."
"Then make no sound."
 ~ Les Miserables

Ursula Franklin, the first female professor of metallurgy and materials science at the University of Toronto, wrote an article called "Silence and the Notion of the Commons," talking about the changes technology has brought about to society (if you had to look up the word "metallurgy," no judgement- I did too).

To put it simply, she believes that background noise prevents great experiences from taking place. Franklin clarifies that to be silent allows unforeseen, unforeseeable, and unprogrammed things to happen (Franklin 643). This is why church has moments of silence, she points out. The congregation needs it to hear the voice of God.

I don't doubt any of these things. In fact, I agree with them. Being still, being by ourselves, completely uninhibited of others' thoughts of us... these are things that should be treasured and enjoyed. I feel so free when I'm by myself, just reading or sitting still, because silence can provide an overwhelming sense of peace.

But I don't think that background noise is a terrible thing. I like it. In grocery stores, or when I'm shopping, I enjoy listening to the music playing in the background. In movies, background music add to the story, particularly in a little gem called Almost Famous. There's a great scene in it where William Miller runs through the street to find Penny Lane- and "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" is playing in the background. That song completely sums up the scene, and breaks my heart every single time. It's so sorrowful, and very truthful, which makes it all the harder and more important to hear. If the movie had been made without music,  it would have definitely suffered.

I'm not saying that I don't have moments where I wish the music could be off (after hearing "Witchy Woman" several times in a row at a restaurant, my family and I are in agreement of that). As I've said, silence is good for us. It puts things in perspective. It takes its time. There's a reason 70% of communication is nonverbal- silence says everything for us.

Referring back to my quote at the beginning, I think Cosette had it right. Sometimes all we need is a little silence to clear our thoughts and get us where we need to go.

Let's not give up the background entirely, though.

You never know when you'll need Elton John to narrate your life experiences through song.

Birds and those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines

Loreen Eisley, author of "The Bird and The Machines," represents the opinion that life is more important than machines. Real people, with real lives and real experiences, are doing great things, and we should not disregard that for some "machine," even if it can do things faster. Even people are machines to some degree- full of pulleys and joints. What's the difference?

Eisley points out that power can be found in anything, and their place in society is dependent upon the amount of power and worth we as humans give it. Since we have given digital technology a high position, it has that position- we all should recognize the human's potential as a sort of "judge."

This makes sense to me, particularly with one of his points: "I learned...that time is a series of planes existing superficially in the same universe. The tempo is a human illusion, a subjective clock ticking in our own kind of protoplasm" (Eisley 603). In other words, we have created the cosmopolitan ideal of "hurrying" to catch a plane, to meet up with friends, or to get to a recital on time. Andy the Squirrel didn't say, "You have to have deadlines, because otherwise nothing will get done."

That's on us.

And we have to understand that a machine cannot take responsibility for something. It doesn't have ideas, or dreams, or even knowledge.

The designer of that machine has dreams.

As soon as we start to forget that, we forget who we are, and what we were meant to do.

And once that's gone, we're living a meaningless existence.

Pictures: No Words Necessary

The other day, I watched a video on the website ted.com. Chris Jordan, a researcher, showcased his art based on several statistics, including a particularly striking image of piles and piles of orange prison uniforms stacked on top of one another, symbolizing the number of Americans imprisoned in America (I loved it so much I decided I had to put it up on my rarely-visited blog).

I think above all, his message was that math can be beautiful, and tell us all of the things we need to hear. This was especially hard for me to grasp, particularly since I've struggled with math for as long as I can remember. But seeing those stats personalized was a sobering experience, similar to the room in the Holocaust Museum full of glasses, or the Vietnam Memorial with all of those names engraved in marble.
Because they aren't just names, or numbers, or even prison uniforms.

Those are people.

The 1,100 people that die every day of smoking cigarettes are sisters, brothers, grandmothers, and grandfathers. My grandfather's among them- he died of lung cancer from cigarettes. It hit me hard to know he wasn't going to be around anymore, and I imagine that their families were equally devastated.

Those Americans in prison may have children that they never get to see. They could have left families and friends behind, back when their lives were ordinary. The prisoner on death row and I may have equal hopes, dreams, and desires. But societally, we're nowhere close together.

That's what I think Jordan's work changes. It unites the nun and the unwed mother. It bonds the drug-free teenager with the drug addict.

Let's see these connections- and keep remembering that when we look at statistics, we're not just seeing numbers.

We're seeing the story of a person similar to you.

The Movies, or There and Back Again

I love everything about the movies- using the touch-screen device to buy tickets, all of the snacks, the display of “coming attractions,” and that exciting feeling you have when the lights go down. You grab a shovel-sized handful of popcorn in anticipation. The movie’s starting!

I can’t forget my very first movie. I was seven, and my biggest desire, even more than world peace, a Barbie stereo, and the latest Britney Spears CD, was to see Lilo and Stitch. My mom agreed to take me and my sisters to the matinee.

I loved the movie. It was sweet, funny, and it introduced the new idea of suspense to me. According to a favorite family story, when Lilo tentatively opens the door in one scene, I shouted, “Don’t go through the door!” to the amusement of all of the other members of the audience.

This experience forever changed me. It taught me manners (don’t kick someone else’s chair or shout suggestions out to the characters on the screen- it stops being cute at seven-and-a-half), basic math (if Katie has two dollars, and popcorn and a drink costs sixteen dollars, how long will she have to wait until dinner?), and of course, how to locate the nearest exits in the event of an emergency. I’ve also found that when movies bring people closer together. When times are tough, nothing sounds better than a family’s laughter.

That’s what makes movies great. Life is hard and boring and tragically fresh out of musical numbers. When students are eating in the cafeteria, they generally don’t begin a dance choreographed by Kenny Ortega. We don’t keep aliens that crash landed in Hawaii. We don’t see dead people. We don’t fly. Wardrobes don’t have awesome places with talking animals and Turkish Delight on the other side- just boring coats and that scarf your aunt made that no one will buy from you.

But it sure would be cool if we did, wouldn’t it? And that’s what movies are about- giving us an escape from our daily lives. The directors, producers, and cinematographers invite us into a world full of people with big dreams, challenges to overcome, and perfect hair days.

Movies invest themselves in us. We end up rooting for the football team who, at the beginning of the movie, couldn’t hold the ball correctly. We’re heartbroken when the main character gets engaged to James Marsden, instead of her one true love, Ryan Gosling. We cheer when Inigo Montoya’s father’s death is avenged, and the a cappella group wins the championship, despite one girl who’d rather be doing anything else, one serial barfer, and one closet mermaid dancer.

I give movies the same rule I give people:

Every movie has potential. It’s what movies do with that potential that determines where they go from there.

When I say that, I don’t necessarily mean “award-winning material.” Sometimes movies win awards, and people are sitting watching the Oscars who didn’t like them at all. Even more often, movies don’t win those awards, even though they should, because it was heart-wrenching and inspiring and featured Vikings, cool accents, and the training of dragons.

But awards aren’t the only recognition movies receive. It’s the viewer’s vote that truly counts. To be perfectly honest, when my mom and I are watching one of our favorite movies, we’re not really concerned with the fact that Amanda Seyfried didn’t win an award for predicting that there was a thirty percent chance that it was already raining. We aren’t outraged that no one gave Whoopi Goldberg a Golden Globe in her classic 1992 film, though she completely transformed a cloister of pitchy nuns from an inner-city church into a flawless worldwide phenomenon. We don’t call the Academy and tell them that they forgot to include Reese Witherspoon as a nominee, every time we see her try to get into Harvard Law School.

That’s a perfect example of how people can disagree over movies. We’re all different, and entitled to our own opinions. A saga telling the story of a moody girl falling in love with a sparkly blood sucker unwilling to wash his hair could truly fascinate me, but it could crush my friend Ashley’s soul. Ashley’s soul could feel instantly revived through an animated film about a fish traveling across the ocean to find his son, but I could feel personally offended that someone would create a film where fish can talk. Despite the fact that we will never see eye to eye on this topic, we will hopefully respect one another’s opinion and agree to disagree (that is, except for Ashley and me- I know I’m right on this one).

I don’t believe that all movies are filled with mindless violence or the misogynistic treatment of women or boys eating worms in order to avoid people stuffing them in their pants. Movies can be works of art that help us think about things in new ways. They can show us great examples of strength, bravery, and honor, when we don’t have those in our lives. When we don’t know what our college major will be, or what to do after parents get divorced, or how to recover from heartbreak, movies can inspire us to keep going, and pursue the right path.

Going to movies doesn’t solve our problems. But it does give us a few things we’ll need to solve them- time to get away from them for a little while, time to laugh and cry and smile, and time with people who love and care about you.

And let’s not forget a great musical number.

P.S. See if you can guess the number of movie references in this blog entry (directly mentioning Lilo and Stitch doesn’t count). Write down your guesses in the comment section below (shout out to Anne Hartman, who always reads this blog).

Technopoly

In his book Technopoly, Postman invites people (both users and nonusers of technology) to understand the "burdens and blessings" of technology. Technology has made lives easier and created capitalism, the foundation of our economic government. It has also created what he calls "collisions" between the ideals demonstrated in Prensky's Digital Natives, Digital Immigrants (technology is useful, technology is too difficult for someone to pick up). It helps kids with different learning situations, like ADD or dyslexia, learn the same things in a more unique way. "In introducing the personal computer to the classroom, we shall be breaking a four-hundred-year-old truce between the gregariousness and the openness fostered by orality and the introspection" (Postman 17). It develops ideas and imaginations of the highest order, and betters the experiences of everyone around it.
I don't have any questions for this blog, but I do think I'll leave you with this: Maybe we shouldn't blame the inventions themselves for external defects.
That might have been an operator error.

iBabies

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. What you see in front of you is not the future, but the present. This is a world full of digital technology and children are finding their place in it through the latest gizmos and gadgets.
I can't say it's a total surprise, but it isn't what I anticipated. Hanna Rosin's article "The Touch Screen Generation" takes the topic and goes into more detail.
More and more babies and toddlers know how to use electronics- and enjoy using it. In California on a warm summer day, Rosin attends Dust or Magic, a conference where developers for children's apps get a chance to see how their "customers" (small children, accompanied by their parents) will enjoy them. As support of this, many developers mainly followed Maria Montessori's line of thought, claiming that "hands are the instruments of man's intelligence."
Rosin polls several parents on what she calls "screen time," or time with electronic devices. Some don't provide any- a boundary, for her, seems a little harsh. Others set limits to only on airplanes or long car trips, and others about 30 minutes each day. Through even more research, she finds both positive and negative consequences of children spending time with them.
Eventually, she concludes that like almost everything, those involved with the "touch screen generation" (from the development of the games to the parents of the gamers) have good intentions. When excess enters the equation, that's when things don't add up to four.
I'm seeing Rosin's point- and I wholeheartedly agree. Whether or not a child is permitted to use electronics is entirely up to the parents of that child.
But what does this mean for education? Should we change classes to be more interactive, or as one researcher put it, "less isolated [from the other students and the teacher]?" Should we make school less like an opera aria?
Food for thought.

A Followup on Google and the Lack of Intelligence Thereof

In my last post, I discussed Carr's article "Is Google Making Us Stupid?" As a response to this article, an informed scholar from the Ethics and Policy Center, James Bowman, penned the cleverly titled "Is Stupid Making Us Google?" He agreed that the Internet has changed our ways of thinking, but maybe it's not entirely to blame- something else is going on here. How do we get to be this way? Someone had to have taught us that reading long books is boring (the answer is not Bart Simpson- though I particularly enjoy this picture).
Bowman believes that teachers are at fault here. They aren't creative enough. They don't present the material in a way that applies to the students- and that's what matters, after all. Education isn't a opera aria. It's more like a concert- the lead singer sings a line, then invites the audience to sing along.
Both of these articles regarding Google and stupidity remind me of an article called "Digital Natives, Digital Immigrants." The author urges educators of all kinds to start speaking the "language" and get involved with technology in some form. There is no excuse. Teachers must rise to the occasion. If it's broken, pick up a 22 ounce Antivibe framing hammer and fix it.
I ended my last post with a question, and I think I'll do the same here:
Bowman mentions that educators need to "throw off the yoke of the past." Is the past really burdensome?

Google, Stupidity, and Skeptical Reactions

 
Overall, I love technology. I love being able to have a more efficient way of doing things, and the Internet provides that. My cousin learned to play guitar almost entirely from YouTube videos. When my family and I want to see a movie, we just open the Moviefone app on my mom's phone and we can find out what's playing at which theatre. If one of my best friends doesn't know how to get to the place where we're meeting, she uses her GPS as a guide.
That's why I was slightly peeved when I read the title to an article called "Is Google Making Us Stupid?" After all, stupid is a strong word. My cousin isn't stupid because he typed into Google "guitar tutorial" for a song he wanted to learn how to play. In my opinion, he's incredibly smart, because he found something he wanted to do, and he did it.
The author of the article, Nicholas Carr, claims that the Internet is changing everything about us- how we read, how we write, and in general how we react to certain situations. More people are finding that as the Internet expands, their attention span shrinks, especially when it comes to reading- with advertisements and pop-ups exploding all over webpages nowadays. A study from the University College London indicates that many of its students gravitate towards skimming than thorough reading, since Internet articles don't require staring at each sentence for five seconds before understanding it.
After reading the article, I will freely say that I agree with the author's point- technology has changed us, and will continue to change us. Through technological advances, it can be more difficult to remain satisfied with long books when there are Cliff Notes, or listen to the recitation of Old English poetry when the latest Michael Bay movie is on cable. However, technology can also just as easily be used as a tool to sharpen our minds. Let's not forget Carr wrote his article on the Internet- writing a book takes longer, and this article reached just as many people- even more. During a recent trip, my sister and I spent hours doing online crossword puzzles to stimulate our minds, but also, they're just fun to do.
I still don't know how I feel about all of this. It's very unsettling, so I'll leave you with a question:
How can we react against this way of thinking?

Accepting or Refusing Free Information

My last post was about free information and the way a few websites attempted to convince the audience of their side. Should we trust free information? Or is this a way of luring the innocent into bear traps?

To start, we must ask a few questions:

1. What is the source arguing?

2. How is the author arguing his point?

3. Can I trust the source?

For the first question, both sources fall into two basic categories: supporting the point or opposing the point. As for the second question, freeinfosociety.com has multiple authors with multiple ideas, but they are all driven by the same goal: Information is meant to be shared, and they will do what they can to make skeptics see this goal. Their rhetorical devices are much harder to find because it isn’t a formal argument, but they’re there. The website itself allows the viewers to become part of an “everyman” identity (the everyman being the quintessential human being that represents the triumphs and struggles of the common people).

Because of these criteria, both sources can be trusted, especially with the format and structure of their arguments. Either one shows us new things about the same topic, and illustrates its points in a way that’s easy to understand. There’s so much to learn out in the world that nothing we learn is ever a waste, but rather just a tiny part of our identities. Sources like these invite us to continue our education, long after high school is over.

Free or not free, I couldn’t ask for a better education from both of these sources, because they have challenged me and expanded my views in every way possible.

Free Information

With the growing popularity of the concept of “free information,” boundaries are being set- or in some cases, ignored- all across the country. “Free information” refers to the idea that all information, from academic research to government records, should be shared.. D-Lib, an online magazine, recently published an article discussing the negative effects of an argument like this. In order to elaborate this point, the author, Richard T. Kaser, often uses rhetorical devices. He opens the article with a strong ethos- explaining the sources he has used to make him more of an authority on the subject. This illustrates his willingness to not only show his character and authority as a writer, but willingness to show credit where it is due. Throughout the article, he sprinkles in dabs of pathos, with a dash of humor regarding his dog, Fido. Humor, as well as general emotions in an article, is appealing to an audience, and works especially well here. Lastly, Kaser’s use of logos is the most masterful of all: he explains what he believes in an easy and step-by-step fashion. This helps his audience better understand the topic, and more importantly, allows them to side with him by the end of the article.

After more intense browsing, I found a website that invites people to share any information they have about any topic. Freeinfosociety.com had a host of different ideas and different kinds of information, about everything from Stephen Hawking to John Wayne. I was surprised to see that unlike other sites edited by the users, the authors of the site were voraciously enthusiastic about their topics. Through their biographies and studies of all kinds, I noticed their rhetorical devices as well- they demanded to be listened to (ethos) and they were logical in their approach (logos).

In case you’re interested, here are the sites. See for yourself what all the fuss is about- and see if you agree information doesn't come with a cost. 

http://www.dlib.org/dlib/may00/kaser/05kaser.html

http://www.freeinfosociety.com/article_index.php

A Coat of Many Colors

Color is amazing.

Take this afternoon, for instance. I decided to go swing on the hammock, and I needed something to wear over my clothes. Then, I found my dad’s old flannel work jacket. It’s rugged and worn on the outside, but soft and warm on the inside. It’s also red and black plaid, and I didn’t even notice until I stepped outside that my own outfit (a blue sweater and gray and yellow plaid skort) did not match the jacket at all. Since I was in the privacy of my own home, I didn’t bother changing.

When I got on the hammock, I noticed all of the different colors around me. The sky was a brilliant blue, the clouds a wonderful white, the grass a marvelous mixture of dark green and dry brown. The forest green trees separating the neighbors’ property and ours danced in time to the steady beat of the gentle wind.

All of these things made me think about the power of color. Colors can show us all kinds of things. They can show us other people’s moods (I don’t know a single person yet who never owned a mood ring back in the day). Eric Carle, Brian Selznick, and Bill Watterson all enhanced wonderful stories using color illustrations. Millions of dollars have gone into an industry that deals with color three-dimensionally- that is, one that creates garments visually flattering to different skin tones and body types. There are Oscars for Best Costumes and Best Cinematography simply because we care about color.

Why do we care so much about the difference about pink and purple?

The answer is twofold, I think.

First, color represents beauty. The beauty of all living things manifests itself through their colors. We can more easily appreciate the sky, when we see its endless horizon and the deep color it takes (blue, gray, white, dusky pink and orange). We see the evidence of a clean slate, a day full of mystery, which appeals to us. Second, color represents diversity. Looking at trees, clouds, the grass, and sprouting flowers reminded me how exciting it looks when it all comes together. Nature exhibits perfect harmony in every way, which ought to inspire us to look at other people (and ourselves) a little differently.

You don’t have to be an artist to appreciate color. You just have to be willing to see what’s in front of you.

Well, don’t just sit there. The world’s waiting.

A Song for All Seasons

Today, I couldn’t wait to get to church, since I had to sing at the ten o’clock service. Music is such an amazing thing- it takes all of us places we never could have imagined getting to by ourselves. My friend Amy and I got out of our cars, anxious and excited to start rehearsing.

And, suddenly, I noticed the beauty of the day. While Saturday had been cold and rainy, Sunday was warm and sunny. The sun beamed on me, and the clouds produced just enough shade so that the weather was enjoyable, not frigid. No matter what challenges the day would bring, I had a feeling that something was going to be great. It seemed like this whole day had been made just for me.

Then I remembered: it was.

I had been put on this earth for a specific reason: to find my purpose. To help me do that, all of these fantastic things had been put on earth with me: art, architecture, great literature, archaeology, quantum particles, supernovas, hypotenuses, the outdoors, and music, just to name a few. More importantly, I knew so many people who had taken both paths, worn equally and the same, and who could help me find my way.

Seeing the flawless weather, I realized how people in my life that wanted me to succeed. My mom and I can talk about anything, and she has always encouraged me in everything that I choose to do. I have an awesome dad, who makes me smile on a bad day and is also very honest, which has helped me make a lot of the decisions of my life. During the week, my favorite part of my day is my drive home, when I round up my sisters and they tell me about their day. They mean so much to me. I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

I also remembered my great group of friends, all of whom have taught me things too numerous to count. My friend Lindsay makes me laugh more than anyone else. I’ve known my friend Bear (long story) for eight years, and he not only has incredible penmanship, he also makes a flawless pumpkin chocolate chip cookie. Just thinking about it makes me hungry.

Remembering all of this reminded me of all the great things in my life, and how stress about giving a perfect performance was distracting me from that. Music is meant to show us the beauty of the gift itself- which in turn makes us love it more.

After all, seizing the day with joy and excitement- that’s a song for all seasons.

Waiting

I like walking.

My family has always been an active bunch. My sisters are incredible lacrosse players. My dad runs. My mom loves biking.

I like to walk, because it encourages conversation. I like lacrosse, but you can’t just stroll up to one of your opponents (or teammates) and say, “So, what did you think of Portlandia last night?” When you’re walking with other people, you can enjoy the fresh air and the feeling of accomplishing a workout, and the company of friends.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get anyone to come with me when I went walking today. With unavailability, inescapable piles of homework and disinterest all being excuses, I decided to go by myself. I bundled up in my favorite blue coat and slipped on an old pair of shoes, choosing to ignore the fact that I still had on my Hello Kitty pajamas.

When I went outside, I saw an amazingly clear blue sky. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t too hot or too cold. A puddle in our yard had almost completely frozen, and my favorite tree had shed all of its leaves. The worst part of winter is seeing the trees. In the fall, leaves are changing colors. In the spring, they’re growing. But in the winter, the leaves are gone.

It made me sad to think that a tree’s only source of beauty completely dies in the wintertime. After all, there are so many amazing things about winter: skiing, snowboarding, snowball fights, building fires in the fireplace, the season premiere of Psych…

But I realized something.

Trees don’t die in the winter. They’re waiting for the right time to grow leaves again.

We wait all the time. People wait for food, for amusement park rides, for movies to start, for colleges to send acceptance letters, and more. We don’t like having to wait, but most of the time; the reward is worth the wait.

If trees can wait an entire season until they grow new leaves, then we can wait five minutes for an order of fries.

If we’re honest with ourselves, a large portion of our lives involves waiting for something. If we possibly can, let’s wait patiently.

Of course, if that doesn’t work, we can always try getting our anger out in a healthy way- through a new sport, perhaps.

Stars

What do librettists like Alain Boubil and Jean-Marc Natel; musicians like Dave Matthews and Rihanna, and artists like Alexander McQueen and Vincent Van Gogh have in common?

They were all inspired by the stars.

Stars, to me, have never lost their magic. I don’t know what it is, but something about them, when they shine in all their glory, has the power to bring the most stoic man to his knees.

I don’t always have time to look at them. The only time I feel most “connected” to nature is when the glare of the sun interferes with the TV screen.

Earlier this week, though, the stars reminded me what I had forgotten.

On Thursday, a group of my friends and I sang Valentine’s Day Singing Grams, a way of showing love and appreciation for families, spouses, boyfriends, girlfriends, and everything in between. I had so much fun last year, and I couldn't wait for this time.

After singing our pieces for a married couple, we left the house. I was going to get in the van when suddenly, my friend Taylor stopped me. “Look!” she said.

When I looked, I noticed the stars, shining, but not overpowering the beauty of the sky. They complemented the sky’s swirling indigo hue, twinkling brightly on a cold winter’s night.

I was blown away. Instead of feeling excited about singing and hanging out with my friends, I became excited by the splendor of natural beauty. As I looked at the stars, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace that I hadn't had in a long time. How could I have been too busy for this?

Looking back, I can honestly say those stars are the most beautiful natural wonders I have ever seen. Though I've seen Yosemite, Half Dome, the Grand Canyon, cascading waterfalls, and flawless mountaintops covered in fluffy white powder, the stars are still the best.

Why?

People get busy. We swap relationships with people for relationships with the latest technological innovations. We ignore the things we need, and pay attention instead to the things we think we need.

But no matter where you are, or what kind of life you have, the stars are always there. They are encouraging you, every single night, to stop being busy and look at them. It’s never too late to see things differently.

So, tonight, realize that while our world has plenty of flaws, beauty is all around us. All we have to do is look for it.

Lehman's Letter

People can have varying opinions. Unfortunately, we have abused those opinions in order to make ourselves look better. We have all fallen short of our potential, and we have all failed one another in too many ways to count. Fortunately, we can still do good things, like Chris Lehman has.

Lehman wrote a letter in response to Natalie Munroe’s angry outburst on the Internet. He explained that her comments disconcerted him, which doesn't set him apart from other people who disapproved of Munroe’s actions and updated their Facebook status about it. What sets him apart is the way he phrased the letter.

From the beginning, Lehman sympathizes with her. He insists that teaching can be extremely frustrating. He even cites an experience, where a student writes a negative and rude email to a teacher and the teacher responds even more negatively. By doing all of this, Lehman shows Munroe proper respect, and disarms the knee-jerk defensiveness we all have at times. When he does this, he uses pathos, which indicates an appeal to the reader’s emotions.

Additionally, while Lehman wants Munroe to know that he understands her, he also wants her to realize how he could possibly understand a person like her. As a school principal, Lehman deals with situations like these all the time. He knows that kids can be (and not limited to) rude, snarky, annoying, too loud, too quiet, and unwilling to push themselves to the best of their ability. He has dealt with all these kinds of students and many more. Throughout the letter, he shows her that his letter is worthy of reading, a rhetorical strategy called ethos.

Most importantly, Lehman reminds her of the consequences of her actions. He notes that every student mentioned in her blog has value, and deserves to be treated that way. He shares his concern that she never apologized for her statements, and begs her to reach out to the students. He asks her to apologize and offer any help she can. Her students are hurting, he says, and she needs to notice that. By using a logical, step-by-step plan, he exhibits logos. At the same time, he also demonstrates cautious diction (word choice) and extremely cautious syntax (word order).

I mentioned last week that Munroe’s story ought to show us who we are. We’re selfish and insecure and we only want our own success (as opposed to the success of other people). However, with Lehman, I would like to suggest the opposite. Lehman’s letter ought to show us who we can be. You and I can overcome our shortcomings. We can love the people society finds too hard to love. We can lift up the people society deems too heavy.

No one is too heavy.

So here’s my question for you:

How we can use Munroe’s story and Lehman’s letter to love one another?

Visual Arguments

Visuals make excellent arguments- especially in this case. With a picture like this, which condemns abortion, viewers only see the beautiful baby girl. This girl represents a fresh start- a clean slate, which is emotionally appealing. Then, we see her smiling face, showing us a carefree side that we used to have as children. Her overwhelming cuteness is enough to show us how to deal with abortion, persuading women not only to keep their babies, but by keeping them, they will give them a chance at a great life.

Media and Angry Outbursts

Since the beginning of our country’s independence, freedom of speech has proven essential to the growth and stability of our nation (with things like the Alien and Sedition Acts receiving particularly negative attention). Recently, however, an issue of freedom of speech has become a nationwide debate, leaving many people wondering, “How far is too far?”

The issue concerns Natalie Munroe, an honors English teacher at a public high school in Pennsylvania. Using her blog, she wrote nasty things about her students, like calling them “utterly loathsome” and “dim.” When asked about her choice of words, she claimed that “the truth hurts” and refused to apologize for what she’d said. She also insisted that since she had not used her own name (she called herself “Natalie M” on her blog) she had not done anything wrong.

When I first read this story online, I was surprised to see the amount of comments other readers posted. Some supported Munroe, others blasted her. It then occurred to me that this writer put this story on the Internet to encourage other people to weigh in on it. After seeing this, I wondered if the media encourages angry outbursts like this.

It can’t be a huge surprise, right? The American people love a comeback kid, but we love it even more if we can tear him down. We like to feel that even if we aren’t too bright, we’re still smarter than the couple who got divorced after 132 days. We have more self-control than the guy who punches the paparazzi. We have more common sense than the beauty pageant girl.

But do we? If our only thrill is finding the faults in others and exploiting them, maybe we need to figure out the qualities we have that make us individually special. We don’t need to compare ourselves to the people in the tabloids by the checkout counter in the grocery store. Everyone has insecurities. Maybe it isn’t your temper, but you have lust. Maybe you’re happy in your marriage, but lying is a problem for you. If we are willing to stop seeing other people and ourselves as only their imperfections, then we’re getting somewhere.

Munroe’s story should remind us the people that we are. We want a big controversial story, so we can slam this person to the ground. Maybe I’m wrong, but I think we can be better than that.

Do you?

The Fall of the House of Usher

The unnamed narrator in The Fall of the House of Usher is visiting his childhood friend, Roderick Usher. They haven't seen each other in a long time, but Usher sends a letter to the narrator, explaining he has multiple sclerosis (MS) and wants some company. The narrator feels uneasy of meeting him again, and his suspicions are confirmed when he arrives at Usher's house. The house of Usher intimidates the visitor, but he goes anyway. Usher greets him warmly, and the two of them start talking casually. Then, later in the conversation, Usher mentions that his dear sister, Madeline, has died. Her death was a mystery the doctors never solved. After the narrator and Usher bury Madeline's body, Usher confides that he has felt alone and lost ever since she died. Hoping to comfort his friend, the narrator decides to read him a story. The story has an exciting and adventurous plot, but when the narrator looks up from the story to see what Usher thinks of it, Usher is lying on the ground, going into convulsions. The narrator frantically attempts to talk to his friend, but Usher continues mumbling to himself. Usher's ramblings make no sense, until at the end he sits up rigidly and proclaims that Madeline is standing out in the doorway. The narrator looks up, and sees Madeline, the girl they just buried, in the doorway. Frightened, the narrator flees from the House of Usher, hoping to never return again.

Edgar Allan Poe believed that all writing should follow a systematic order, and yet still invoke a emotion. He demonstrates this in his poem "The Raven." The small events in the poem become part of a larger and more passionate story about the main character and the woman he loved, Lenore. Jonathan Edwards writes in a similar way in his famous sermon "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." It explains that sinners have no hope in detailed phrases, and all connect to an emotional "bigger picture" argument. It is for this reason that Poe and Edwards write such compelling works of literature- their work has a clear message with a clear call to action. Edwards invites us to take responsibility for our sins, and to have hope in a merciful, gracious God. Poe wants us to see that our fears, desires, and emotions come from the most sensitive and most subjective part of us: the mind.