{"id":12,"date":"2003-01-14T15:17:00","date_gmt":"2003-01-14T20:17:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/?p=12"},"modified":"2010-10-14T14:26:23","modified_gmt":"2010-10-14T18:26:23","slug":"12","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/2003\/01\/14\/12\/","title":{"rendered":"01\/14 Journal"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>one month to valentine&#8217;s day! whatever shall i do with all the flowers and chocolates i&#8217;ll receive? yeah, right. ok. back to reality.<\/p>\n<p>        <img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"\/graphics\/cooki.jpg\" width=\"63\" height=\"100\" align=\"left\">not<br \/>\n        sleeping through the night really sucks. have i mentioned that before?<br \/>\n        at least i slept for three hours before waking up. can&#8217;t complain too<br \/>\n        much though as it&#8217;s given me the chance to find more photographic evidence<br \/>\n        that cooki is the devil. clearly this evidence is irrefutable. is it any<br \/>\n        wonder i cannot sleep when i know this creature inhabits my mother&#8217;s house?<\/p>\n<p>        i&#8217;m reading what seems like the lamest book ever written. well, not counting<br \/>\n        those horrible, thick, late victorian novels by eliot and trollope. gad,<br \/>\n        the very thought of it makes me carry on in long, stupid sentences that<br \/>\n        really don&#8217;t have any true content, but oh, the truth of the indignities<br \/>\n        of the horrors of the social uproar, of the trollopes traipsing through<br \/>\n        the attics and cellars, oh for the way we were, for the pure who march<br \/>\n        down the middle of the street knowing the true heart of kindness gains<br \/>\n        the just reward of neverending sorrow and punishment in the upheavals<br \/>\n        that humankind heaps upon the, oh dear, merciful Lord, dare i say it,<br \/>\n        oh for it was the jest of times, and the wurst of times, for she saw sage<br \/>\n        not and yet, heaving upon the ebbing tide of wastrels that lurked upon<br \/>\n        the shore, tempests tossed forth by the gerry meandering that left the<br \/>\n        country divided and yet singularly unified in the tampering mischief against<br \/>\n        which they could hold no course in wide opposition and defense, for the<br \/>\n        colours of the night they bleed into the streets, tearing at the hearts<br \/>\n        and eyes and very fingers of those who&#8230;oh, good lord, how did that happen?<\/p>\n<p>        um, i&#8217;m reading a friends of ed book. i thought all foe books had a reputation<br \/>\n        of being really good, but this one is trying my patience something fierce.<br \/>\n        it&#8217;s <i>Learn Design with Flash MX (for Absolute Design Beginners). <\/i> the<br \/>\n        premise was to explain design concepts (e.g., how hue and saturuation<br \/>\n        work, why shadows are darker where they are darker and lighter where they<br \/>\n        are lighter, how the eye flows over a page of text) within the concept<br \/>\n        of saying how you&#8217;d do these things in Flash MX. ok, sounded like a good<br \/>\n        idea. i figured i could kill two birds at once, brushing up on my design<br \/>\n        skills while figuring out some of the mysteries of Flash (which i&#8217;m to<br \/>\n        use for a lot of the interactives i&#8217;m building). but&#8230;the book is set<br \/>\n        up to follow the class sessions of a representative class who encounter<br \/>\n        this information. and by that i mean the book is a supposed narrative<br \/>\n        of the class sessions these people have: <\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<blockquote>\n<p class=\"blogPost\">&quot;Oh!&quot; Zed almost leaped out of his chair.<br \/>\n            &quot;You&#8217;re drawing cartoon frames! That&#8217;s how some comics show action<br \/>\n            without showing every single movement. It&#8217;s just like watching Lisa<br \/>\n            under that strobe light at the theater, too. We knew she got from<br \/>\n            one movement to the next, and we knew how she got there, even if we<br \/>\n            couldn&#8217;t actually see it.&quot;<\/p>\n<p>            &quot;See how smart you are without that scarf?&quot; I asked. <\/p>\n<p class=\"body\" align=\"right\">(Goin 389)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p class=\"blogPost\">when i picked up the book, i thought that the paragraphs<br \/>\n        looked short and choppy, but i trusted the publisher. now i realize that<br \/>\n        those short, choppy paragraphs were paragraphs and paragraphs of inane<br \/>\n        classroom chatter interspersed between actual content about design and<br \/>\n        Flash. even the relevant content takes on this horrible interplay between<br \/>\n        teacher and students: <\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<blockquote>\n<p class=\"blogPost\">Wes retrieved a toy from his pocket. &quot;Look what<br \/>\n            I have,&quot; he announced. &quot;The eye of light!&quot;<\/p>\n<p>            We all looked at the glass prism he held between his thumb and forefinger.<br \/>\n            He moved it around until a rainbow of light shot from the side of<br \/>\n            the prism onto the brick wall of the theater.<\/p>\n<p>            &quot;Wow!&quot; Zed bent forward to get a better look. Steve ran<br \/>\n            his hand through the rainbow of light. [The reader vomited].<\/p>\n<p>            &quot;Hard to believe this little prism can capture so much energy,&quot;<br \/>\n            Wes stated. &quot;Waves of light are bombarding this glass at a speed<br \/>\n            of 186,000 miles per second. The light waves are captured, bent as<br \/>\n            they enter the prism, and then bent again as they leave the glass.<br \/>\n            The energy is converted into visible color.&quot;<\/p>\n<p>            &quot;Thanks for bringing in that prism, Wes, that&#8217;s the perfect intro<br \/>\n            for today&#8217;s lesson.&quot; I talked as the students passed the pyramid<br \/>\n            of light around. [ok, i&#8217;m sure i&#8217;ve made my point, but this passage<br \/>\n            is so absurd, i&#8217;m typing it to the end so that someone else has to<br \/>\n            experience this schlock with me.] &quot;The discoveries Isaac Newton<br \/>\n            made with his studies of prisms and light in the late 1600s formed<br \/>\n            the basis of modern physics,&quot; I added. &quot;However, color theory<br \/>\n            now has its own place within the arts, and that&#8217;s what we&#8217;ll focus<br \/>\n            on today at this theater.&quot; <\/p>\n<p>            Bonnie shivered. &quot;If I&#8221;d known how much science and math played<br \/>\n            a part in design. I&#8217;m not sure if I would have come to this class.&quot; <\/p>\n<p>            Steve put his arm around Bonnie, &quot;Aw, don&#8217;t let it worry you&#151;I&#8217;ll<br \/>\n            bet you didn&#8217;t know that if you sent those beams of colored light<br \/>\n            through another prism, the beams would turn into white light again.&quot; <\/p>\n<p>            Zed arched his eyebrows. &quot;Don&#8217;t let her play that game on you,<br \/>\n            Steve. She&#8217;s mad about this kind of stuff. Every time we meet to work<br \/>\n            on our design, she&#8217;s got some book or other about physics and art<br \/>\n            with her.&quot;<\/p>\n<p>            Steve grinned, and Bonnie looked flustered. &quot;Well, don&#8217;t we look<br \/>\n            silly, out here on the street passing a prism around. When are we<br \/>\n            going to see the theater lights?&quot;<\/p>\n<p>            &quot;Let&#8217;s get in there then!&quot; Lisa grinned. She unlocked the<br \/>\n            front door, and we entered the lobby, ready for our adventure with<br \/>\n            color.<\/p>\n<p class=\"blogPost\" align=\"right\">(Goin 322-23)<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p class=\"blogPost\">dear lord, don&#8217;t we look silly indeed? who thought that<br \/>\n        this was what a class sounded like? and who thought that this was a good<br \/>\n        way to teach design and software? i&#8217;m all for getting at alternative learning<br \/>\n        styles, and i&#8217;m sure that there are folks out there who find this sort<br \/>\n        of narrative approach more, well, approachable than the traditional sorts<br \/>\n        of pedagogical documentation. but i&#8217;m just left wondering how this representation<br \/>\n        of classroom instruction, for all its efforts to provide a transcript<br \/>\n        of class interaction, has really created a sort of PC classroom where<br \/>\n        the students always seem miraculously to have prisms in their pocket at<br \/>\n        just the right pedagogical moment and the banter of the classroom devolves<br \/>\n        into a transcript where the real trials and errors of teaching are censored<br \/>\n        from the picture. <\/p>\n<p class=\"blogPost\">it&#8217;s not just that i find the style annoying and the information<br \/>\n        in the text hard to ferret out between the supposedly comical classroom<br \/>\n        asides and narrative structures. it&#8217;s that i find this representation<br \/>\n        of the classroom really violates what i know about how we teach, about<br \/>\n        how a &quot;real&quot; classroom works, and about what being a student<br \/>\n        and teacher in a classroom feels like. on second thought, maybe i would<br \/>\n        rather read <i>middlemarch<\/i>. i&#8217;m certainly bored enough by this text<br \/>\n        to try sleeping again anyway. it does have that value.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>one month to valentine&#8217;s day! whatever shall i do with all the flowers and chocolates i&#8217;ll receive? yeah, right. ok. back to reality. not sleeping through the night really sucks. have i mentioned that before? at least i slept for three hours before waking up. can&#8217;t complain too much though as it&#8217;s given me the [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-journal"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/sqzI8-12","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2188,"href":"https:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12\/revisions\/2188"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.tengrrl.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}