the child grows enormous but never grows up
[Congressional representatives] need to know that we are an educational institution. We’re not Blockbuster. Entertainment is part of our business, but our major business is education and literacy.
philk:

ayjay:

W. H. Auden taught at the University of Michigan during the 1941-42 academic year. Here’s a syllabus from one of his classes. Hey teachers: next time one of your students complains that your schedule is too demanding, show him or her this.

“2 hours credit”

philk:

ayjay:

W. H. Auden taught at the University of Michigan during the 1941-42 academic year. Here’s a syllabus from one of his classes. Hey teachers: next time one of your students complains that your schedule is too demanding, show him or her this.

“2 hours credit”

…you learn. My god, do you learn.
C. S. Lewis (via nevver)
Certain things not only can’t be taught but can be retarded by other stuff that can be taught.
David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest
'[L]earn to do nothing, with your whole head and body, and everything will be done by what's around you.'
David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

nevver:

  1. Keep good company
  2. Notice the ordinary
  3. Preserve the ephemeral
  4. Design not for the elite but for the masses
  5. Explain it to a child
  6. Get lost in the content
  7. Get to the heart of the matter
  8. Never tolerate “O.K. anything.”
  9. Remember your responsibility as a storyteller
  10. Zoom out
  11. Switch
  12. Prototype it
  13. Pun
  14. Make design your life… and life, your design.
  15. Leave something behind.

curiositycounts:

The history of Mesopotamia in a 10 minute cartoon for adults? Yes please! 

Former mental_floss writers John and Hank Green have started a new nerdy thing on YouTube, and it’s pretty great: Crash Course is a series of educational videos covering World History (John) and Biology (Hank). The production values are high (including animation, HD, all that good stuff), and each video is about ten minutes long. 

So without further ado, I give you Crash Course #1: The Agricultural Revolution. 

(via)

What I discovered in my researches about this part of the country was a vigorous civic idealism and a deep commitment to education. In its early history there was a significant presence of young clergy from places like Yale and Amherst who came to the frontier intent on starting the civilisation over again on the basis of real equality, and proofing it against the encroachments of slavery. Their approach to every problem was to educate – women, African Americans and, crucially, the general population. It was an exhausting and extremely generous campaign, carried on for decades. Its effects are still palpable. The fine little colleges they founded in surprising numbers flourish still. It is true at the same time that the history behind this heritage is largely forgotten, that it persists as custom rather than as memory. In practical terms it has meant that the clock was turned back and the best reforms were compromised or lost until the civil rights movement took hold a century later. John Ames lives in this middle period, old enough to remember his abolitionist grandfather, and to see the beginnings of the new era. I am sad to say that in this respect he is a conventional good man of the period. The novel is, among other things, an inquiry into the question of how individual lives interact with culture and history, for weal and for woe. A modest query and a vast question. Still, as an American, I can only grieve at the thought of the possibilities that were raised on this gorgeous, storm-ridden prairie, then foreclosed and forgotten – history somehow erasing itself. There is a deep and abiding loveliness nevertheless, the ember still to be breathed upon. And this is in Ames’s mind, too. The prairie still shines like transfiguration.

pukegreencloud:

Um excuse me? I studied at Everything But Rap And Country University. I think I know what I’m talking about.

He took a grim and ironic pleasure from the possibility that what little learning he had managed to acquire had led him to this knowledge: that in the long run all things, even the learning that let him know this, were futile and empty, and at last diminished into a nothingness they did not alter.
John Williams, Stoner

essayist:

Donald Barthelme’s Syllabus

by Kevin Moffett

There was a time when I fought against an impatience with reading, concealing, with partisanship, the fissures in my education. I confused difficulty with duplicity, and that which didn’t come easily, I often scorned. Then, in my last year of college in Gainesville, Florida, I was given secondhand a list of eighty-one books, the recommendations of Donald Barthelme to his students. Barthelme’s only guidance, passed on by Padgett Powell, one of Barthelme’s former students at the University of Houston and my teacher at the time,was to attack the books “in no particular order, just read them,” which is exactly what I, in my confident illiteracy, resolved to do.

But first I had to find the books, a search that began at Gainesville’s Friends of the Library warehouse book sale. Early morning, the warehouse parking lot was filled with about fifty men, women, and children waiting for the doors to open. At the front of the line were the all-nighters, hard-core sci-fi fans, amateur Civil War historians, and chasers of obscurities, rumored to have been there since before midnight. Some had brought with them hibachis and coolers and battery-powered radios, giving the parking lot the feel of a Gator football pre-game with less angry hope.

lonelysandwich:

Sesame Street “What is a computer?” (1984)

ilovecharts:

Aiming for flow

ilovecharts:

Aiming for flow

Without education, we are in a horrible and deadly danger of taking educated people seriously.
G. K. Chesterton