A Herculean Task

I have never been a fan of detective stories, except for those of Conan Doyle, but I recently became acquainted with the film series Agatha's Christie's Poirot. These 65 episodes (with five more to come) are excellent. David Suchet is Hercule Poirot. I highly recommend them.

Watching these fine productions led me to read some of Agatha Christie's stories. I will not be reading them all, but it was good to see how the author depicted her characters.

My fascination with the immortal Belgian detective led me to write my first piece of fan fiction: a  light-hearted detective story gently satirizing Hercule Poirot and his world.

I here present you with the opening of the story. If you would like to read it all--at 17 pages it's too long to post on a blog--you may find it at  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9321353/1/The-Adventure-of-the-Surprising-Ending

I would welcome comments on The Adventure of the Surprising Ending.

              THE ADVENTURE OF THE SURPRISING ENDING

 On a bright, sunny morning in central London—very odd weather that many found disconcerting—the greatest detective in the world sat behind his large desk sipping his customary cup of tisane while perusing the Times.

The clock on the wall said 10:13:27 AM, Friday, May 28, 1937 A.D. (The detective, impatient with slipshod clocks that provide only partial information, had had this one custom made in Zurich.) He closed the paper, thinking that today’s lead article offered hope for the future: now that Mr. Chamberlain had become Prime Minister, maybe England would at last begin to take a firm line against Herr Hitler and Signor Mussolini. It was high time.

The door to the outer office opened as there entered a tall, lean, handsome gentleman of perhaps fifty years, attired in a neat grey suit and a regimental tie. This man by his very presence radiated all that was fine in the British upper-middle class: honesty, plain dealing, bravery, trustworthiness, dependability.

“Cheerioh, old bean! I say, what a simply spiffing morning, what?” he called out as he tripped on his own feet and went sprawling on his face. Fortunately the inch-thick pile of the fine mauve carpet prevented any injury.

The great detective contemplated this through his pince-nez and said, “Eh bien, mon pauvre Captain Waterloo, vous êtes bien maladroit comme usuel, n’est-ce pas? Please, arise and adjust your garments. Your cravat she has been much disorganized.”

The former officer was spared further contumely by the rapid entry of a lady in early middle age, her dark blonde hair tied in a severe bun, her not unattractive figure mostly concealed by her modest blue dress. She proffered a handful of mail. “The first delivery, Mr. Greycelles,” she said. “And there was a very urgent call from Viscount DeLuxe. He seemed to think he could speak to you at once, but I explained that you never accepted calls before 10:18½, after you finished your tisane. I told him you would return his call.”

“Quite right, my dear Miss Kumquat,” said her employer. “One must have order and method in one’s life or it becomes like the existence of the wild beasts of the field. Did his Grace hint at whatever petit problem troubles him?”

“He said that an explosion has destroyed the entire staff wing of Garrish Manor, his ancestral home, killing eleven retainers, including Mat Grubb, his Chief Gardener for forty years.”

“Ah, these trifles,” said Greycelles. “Call his Grace and ask if his senior under-gardener survived. If, as I suspect, he was not even there—probablement he said he had to make a sudden visit to a sick great-aunt or other superannuated relative—then voilà! Gardeners know all about fertilizer, a prominent component of which, the nitrate of aluminum, is most useful in the making of the objets explosif such as the bombs of time. As for motive, the man surely wished to supplant his senior, whose long tenure of office must have annoyed him.”

As the efficient secretary hurried to make the call, Capt. Waterloo, now seated on a sofa, exclaimed, “By Jove, Greycelles, aren’t you jumping to conclusions? I mean…”

The soigné detective raised a plump hand. “Doucement, mon vieux. Énée Greycelles, he leaps not to the conclusions rash. Did I not just read in the Times that a hundred pounds of fertilizer was stolen last week from a warehouse in Little Rotting, a village not far from Garrish Manor? Eh bien, the under-gardener took it for the construction of the bombe gigantesque used in the up-blowing of his so-hated rival the chief gardener. So now we have solved two cases. Remind Miss Kumquat to bill both Viscount DeLuxe and the Little Rotting constabulary. But now let us peruse the mail and discover if any real problems await us, mon ami.”

The mail apparently contained nothing unusual. The bill from the cleaners for £150—the detective always had a suit cleaned after wearing it once—and the confirmation that four pallets of the finest tisane were en route from Brussels, were routine, as were the advertisements from three manufacturers of moustache wax and eight clothing stores. But upon reaching the last item Greycelles exclaimed, “Tiens! Voyez, Waterloo, a coronet on this so-expensive envelope.” Hastily he ran his Damascus-steel letter opener under the edge and withdrew a magnificent sheet of paper. “Mon cher ami, we are bidden to see the Duke of Worcestershire at Daggerthrust House, his summer residence in Kent. His Grace recalls fondly how I found his missing cuff link two years ago and now has another matter about which he wishes to consult us.”

“A bit of all right, that,” said the captain. “I can run us down in my new Bugatti 57T. I’ve installed patent feeder gaskets on the supercharger and chromed the reverse valve injectors so the gidgit pump maximizes the superflow. Goes like smoke, old chap.”

The detective peered over his pince-nez. “I have no idea what you just said, but from your animation I infer that you can provide adequate transport to St. Anspeth-on-Sea-by-Marsh, the village where Daggerthrust House has its location. Excellent. We leave in three days. I shall have just time enough to groom my moustache.”

Before Greycelles and Waterloo left for lunch, Miss Kumquat reported that Viscount DeLuxe’s senior sub-gardener had been arrested and had confessed to both the bombing and the theft of the fertilizer. “His Lordship sends his undying thanks for your miraculous insight,” she said. “And the Little Rotting police are eternally grateful, especially since they had grown very tired of interrogating every tramp they could find.”

“Mais naturellment,” replied her chief. “But fail not to send the bills promptly.”

An Innovative Boarding School Model

Another essay in my ground-breaking series on innovation in education.
-------------------------------------------
N.B.: If you are a teacher who has come here thinking you are about to enhance your knowledge of the very latest praxis, please first read NOTE TO TEACHERS in the July 12, 2013 post..  :-) 
--------------------------------------------
In the very competitive world of college-preparatory boarding schools it is essential that a school have a character, a distinctive personality, traits that distinguish it from similar institutions. At least two decades ago a highly-respected consultant told us that a “plain-vanilla” school—one that offered merely a traditional program of strong academics—would have a hard time selling itself to prospective customers. (Footnote 1)

It is also clear that, given the tremendous amount of thought and work that many fine schools have put into designing distinctive programs, it is becoming harder and harder to “think outside the box” because the box has become so large. Cutting-edge computer programs are common; unusual language programs—Chinese, Tagalog, Finnish, whatever—are jejune. (Even some public schools teach Mandarin, so plebeian has it become!) Transforming a school into a sports academy is hardly noteworthy (though still very tragic).

No, what is needed is something really progressive, truly innovative, authentically revolutionary.

And here it is: the non-residential boarding school (NORBS).

The advantages of such a school to the board of trustees or proprietor are obvious. There is no need for dormitories, athletic facilities, laboratories, a chapel, a large cafeteria, or more than a few classrooms. Outlay is limited to the upkeep of a couple of buildings and some teachers (the latter being, of course, an almost trivial expense). All the rest of the money can go to paying vast sums to administrators, as it should.

But how would such a school exist? Surely this is some silly fantasy? No, no, not at all. Now that the computer and its associated applications exist, now that we have the means of instant communication, the non-residential boarding school is quite possible. Let us describe its main features:

ACADEMICS

We do not propose the usual form of “distance learning” in which students listen to lectures or watch demonstrations randomly and at their own convenience. No. Each student will have a class schedule. At, let’s say, 9 AM, everyone in a given section of English III [or Language Arts III, for those schools that have gone over to the Dark Side] will stand before their computers with webcams trained on themselves. The teacher—or perhaps a dean—will inspect the class to insure that each student is in dress code, instructing those who are wrongly attired to go change and awarding demerits to repeat offenders.

The teacher will then teach the class. Students with questions will push a button to notify the teacher, who can respond as convenient.

The teacher will be in a normal classroom facing some sort of camera.(2)  It should be possible for the students to be displayed on a wall-sized array of screens. If this is not possible, a “virtual class” can be projected on the wall so the teacher has the illusion of speaking to real people. (Holographic projection of 3-D students at desks will be used when technology permits.)

If the class involves discussion, students can ‘text’ messages that will be displayed to everyone. If technology permits the use of microphones, so much the better. Skype should be useful.

At the end of class a virtual bell will ring out. Students then have five minutes to log in to their next class. Students with study halls will sit in front of their webcams with Kindles, iPads, Blackberries, Mulberries, or even with books, monitored by the study hall teacher.

EVALUATION

Possibly some readers are wondering how tests will be given in a NORBS. Let me happily inform the ignorant layman that the world of education is rapidly moving away from the “test.” The notion that evaluation basically means that a student studies something, learns it as best he can, and then demonstrates that knowledge on a timed written or oral exercise that is graded as to its quality, is becoming obsolete. Such “high-stakes tests”—and apparently all tests are such; I have yet to hear the term “low-stakes test”—are potentially damaging to self-esteem, unfair (being biased in favor of smart, industrious people), and generally icky. Indeed the whole notion that students should ‘know’ anything is almost passé among the pedagogical pioneers who are improving education every week. After all, one can surely look up any mere facts on Wikipedia.

Consequently we assume that—until the happy day when newborns receive bachelor’s degrees along with their birth certificates in a perfectly egalitarian society—the necessary ‘grading’ will be done on the basis of class participation, group participation, mastery of learning skills, class effort, sense-making, portfolios, concept checks, and self-evaluations using detailed rubrics for each category. (3) These can be submitted by e-mail.

However, if the instructor is such a dinosaur as to wish to administer graded tests, the mechanics to construct online tests already exist on programs such as Moodle. (No one has yet discovered how to prevent cheating on such tests. The solution—using a method pioneered by Humpty-Dumpty in Through the Looking-Glass—is to redefine the word. “Cheating” can become “collaborative learning,” “research-based testing,” or some other comforting euphemism.)

ATHLETICS

Obviously it will not be possible for a NORBS to field sports teams in any traditional sense. This means that such schools will never enroll talented athletes. However, as it is absolutely unthinkable for any American high school not to have a competitive athletics component —indeed, such a lack could result in loss of accreditation if not charges of treason to the founding ideals of the Republic—we will enable our students to compete with other schools via video games. It will surely be possible to organize teams to play various sports using currently-available online games, and we can perhaps expand into nontraditional sports including MMORPGs and other over-the-airwaves competitions. Properly managed, they should offer as many chances for self-aggrandizement, bragging, misplacing priorities, and enabling parents to live vicariously through their children, as do traditional sports.

Basic physical fitness—which certainly is important—will be maintained by students running in place and doing pushups and jumping jacks in front of their webcams, supervised by “coaches” wearing T-shirts, with whistles around their necks.

OTHER MATTERS

Students will have ninety minutes of Evening Study Hall, Sunday through Thursday, monitored over a webcam by that day’s duty master.

At lights-out the school will ring a virtual bell on all cell phones to tell students to go to bed. Parents will have to be responsible for seeing that their children stay in bed and rise on time.

Parents will also have to feed their kids; but the school will send out menu suggestions weekly so that, in theory anyway, the student body can be offered identical food.

At Graduation, the seniors will sit in cap and gown before their computers so they can, like their contemporaries, listen to music by Edward Elgar, receive edifying advice from a commencement speaker, benefit from the Headmaster’s closing remarks, and hear their names called. Seniors will be e-mailed diplomas, which they can print out.

CONCLUSION

This pioneering essay has, of course, many lacunae, but readers cannot expect every loose end to be tied up in a few pages. Using this as a basis, others will fill in the blanks and proceed with the bold experiment. Surely the chance to offer to the public all the benefits of a college preparatory boarding school experience at a fraction of the cost of traditional on-campus education (4) and minimal infrastructure means this seminal essay will not lack enthusiasts!
-------------------------------------
1  A fictional account of this consultant’s message—but unfortunately not nearly as fictional as I wish it were—may be found in Chapters 5, 25, and 36 of my novel And Gladly Teach.

2  Throughout this monograph I am using generic terms when referring to technological devices. Since it is hardly worth a grown man’s time to try keeping up with the proliferation of neoteric words for computers, cell phones, hand-held devices, etc.—for all I know, the cell phone is by now called a celone and the hand-held computer a haheco—the more knowledgeable reader should simply substitute for my generic term the correct name of whatever meretricious gewgaw occupies this week’s headlines. Please do not shoot the pedagogue; he is doing his best.

3  I hope nobody expects me to define this verbiage. I do not know what most of these terms mean. I merely copied them from a memo sent out by a particularly progressive teacher earlier this year, confident that they embody cutting-edge pedagogy and the wave of the future.

4  A fraction of cost to the school is meant. Tuition will be kept in the $40,000 range.

Testing Kinesthetic Students: A Dynamic Approach

With the start of the academic year swiftly approaching, it is time for another of my seminal articles on progressive education. Others, perhaps, will follow. When these cutting-edge "best practices" come to a school near you, remember: you read about them here first. As always, I welcome reader response.
---------------------------------
In my previous monograph, Project 1812 [which you can find on this blog, July 2011], I suggested a method for insuring that kinesthetic high school students learn unforgettable lessons in history without the necessity of doing things for which they are not best suited, such as reading and writing. Here I propose a method for administering tests to kinesthetics.

The whole idea of testing is, of course, undergoing scrutiny and debate. It does not seem too far-fetched to suggest that in many schools—certainly in those progressive institutions that so rightly put a premium on innovation and creativity—the notion that students should periodically have to undergo exhausting, psychologically painful, and possibly humiliating ordeals in which they are expected to know things, and to demonstrate this knowledge by writing some of it down, will soon be as passé as slide projectors, mimeograph machines, and lectures, replaced by a portfolio system or a group project system or anything that will remove the necessity for schools to differentiate industriousness, ability, or intelligence, or award low grades to anyone.

However, until that happy day arrives, “traditional” testing will be a major component of high school classes. But how can such tests be made fairer for kinesthetic students, whose learning style makes laboriously studying famous people, notable events, crucial dates, and cause-and-effect relationships very difficult? An innovative pedagogy surely will not try to make these students overcome their weaknesses, but will take advantage of their strengths.

I propose the adoption of  Scavenger Tests  for the use of kinesthetics.

Students certified by the school psychologist, psychiatrist, “counselor,” astrologer—whatever functionary identifies some young persons as more comfortable using their hands than their heads—will be tested in a separate place. The teacher will distribute the test, which will be the same as that being administered somewhere else to the visual and verbal learners. However, the kinesthetics need not write anything on the test. Instead, the answers to the various questions will have been printed on little pieces of paper and hidden throughout the room: in books, behind classroom furniture, under the rug, inside light fixtures, etc. etc. The students will leap from their archaic, confining desks and scurry about to find these answers. When a student finds an answer, he will go to his desk and staple it next to the corresponding question. Think how much fun this will be for the kinesthetics: they can use the motion of their bodies and their tactile curiosity to complete the test without having more than a rudimentary knowledge of the subject being tested!

Tests of course vary in difficulty, from basic quizzes to final exams (in those reactionary schools that have not yet abolished such ghastly ordeals as final exams). The mechanics of a Scavenger Test do not vary, but the challenge can be enhanced by increasing the area in which the answers are hidden. Instead of only the classroom, answers can be secreted in corridors, on other floors, in bushes, flower beds and other campus shrubbery, in administrative offices, perhaps in a drawer in the Headmaster’s desk. The haptic learners should then have a really kinetic evaluational experience as they ransack the entire school to find them. (This can be a learning experience for the whole school community, too, which can live through a simulation of the sack of Jerusalem in 1099 or the Spanish Fury at Antwerp in 1576.)

Thus a Scavenger Test can be varied in its difficulty, from the basic “Easter Egg Hunt” model to a cataclysmic exercise that leaves the school looking like northern France in 1918.

*

The “basic” Scavenger Test presupposes that the number of answers is sufficient for all the students to get an A+ : i.e. if there are nine students being tested, nine copies of each of the answers will be hidden. But those schools interested in introducing an element of real-world competitiveness into testing—for seniors, perhaps, about to leave the loving, caring coddling of an innovative and creative private school for the reality outside—can easily simulate this by simply making fewer answers available than there are students. Imagine the enhanced excitement generated by telling several seniors, their competitiveness and aggression already honed to a razor’s edge by years of playing sports, that there is only one hidden answer to each ID question. The result should be exceedingly kinetic. And the mayhem may reduce the number of kinesthetics at the school—which, readers may recall, was also one purpose of Project 1812.

A CAUTIONARY TALE

Are you contemplating writing a novel? Do you long to see your name on the cover of a book published by some illustrious commercial enterprise? Have you succumbed to furor scribendi? That’s fine. You now have a worthwhile pastime to keep you busy. But before you start spending the advance you hope for, you might read this little article to learn (a) what might happen and (b) how long things can take.

Here is a chronology of the publishing (or non-publishing) of Storm Approaching.

2001 – June 26    Began writing novel
2002 – July 29    Finished writing novel
2004 – June          Finished editing and revising novel. (This could have taken less time, but I wrote the first drafts of Gold and Glory and Resolution before final edit of Storm Approaching.)

2004 – Sept.        Began agent search (103 query letters, 14.6% of which were successful, i.e. produced requests for a partial.)
2005 – April        Secured fine agent. He suggested some changes; made changes, including about 20 pp. of new material.

2005 – by October     Agent begins submissions to major publishers --Major publishers reject novel for various reasons; e.g. From Bantam: “This had an interesting premise and was indeed well written, but…” From Warner: “The plot is great and the pacing is good, but … the problem for me is the writing…”
Very helpful.

2006 – March      A “nibble” from a major publisher. First reader recommends book to Supreme Editor.

2006 – March through 2008 – August.  Nothing happens. Agent repeatedly tries to get Supreme Editor to read book. Editor does not read book. Or maybe does. Or maybe reads part of it. Nobody knows.

2008 – August    Agent gives up: Supreme Editor has maybe read book and did not like it and maybe will re-read it or maybe not. End of agented representation. Author decides to pay AuthorHouse to publish it since only alternative is burning the trilogy.

2009 – May         Storm Approaching published at author’s expense.

And now for the punch line:

2012 – March      Letter arrives from the Major Publisher (DAW). Excerpts below:  

“Thank you… for your patience… We apologize sincerely for the delay, and are attempting to address our backlog and change our procedures… Please know that, because of the significant positive attributes of your manuscript, which the first reader enjoyed, it did reach the desk of an editor… Unfortunately, the editor did not find the manuscript right for [Major Publisher]….
----------------------------------
So there it is: a final answer after just six years. I am a bit surprised that all the principals—the author, the first reader, the Supreme Editor, even the agent—are still alive. As a historian I find it very comforting that, in this age of instant this and instant that, some things—in fact the whole of conventional publishing, as far as I can tell—still proceed at a pace that would have been considered stately when Charles Dickens—or Alexander Pope, for that matter—was trying to burst into print. When Augustus said festina lente, was he thinking of the publishing industry?

Patience is a virtue, and maybe sometimes a vice. If you hope to publish a book through a Major Publisher, start writing it today. You’ll need all the time you’ve got. Oh: The Mercenaries trilogy is available, it’s just not in bookstores. Why not buy the first volume today? Don’t take your time…

Comments? Questions?     Leave them below, or at brnlbb@gmail.com

An "Aria of Revenge" a la Verdi

This bit of whimsy was inspired by listening to Count Stankar’s 3rd Act recitative and aria (“Disonorato io son!” and “Oh gioia inesprimibile”) in Stiffelio.

Argument: In Acts I & II, Count Ammazarlo, learning that Baron Scellerato said hello to Innocenza, the count’s daughter, without first having been properly introduced, considers all aspects of the outrage for almost a full minute before concluding that there is only one way (other than immediate suicide) to deal with such an insult. Accordingly, he accosts the baron at a party and, after hinting at his disapproval of the baron’s conduct by boxing his ears, spitting on his shoes, and pouring punch all over his doublet, he challenges him to a duel. The duel is duly fought (offstage), after which the Count appears on stage and sings:


Justice! Justice! I have found it! Halleluia! Praise the Lord!
Surely ‘twas the hand of Heaven that directed my sharp sword:
As we parried, thrust, recovered, as we fought with might and main
I soon chopped him into fragments that now decorate the plain.

Oh the remnants of his person have been scattered far and wide
Once my blade went in his liver and came out the other side.
So the honor of my family is restored to pristine state
Now that Baron Scellerato can be henceforth called “the late.”

My sweet daughter, Innocenza, I’ve protected all her life
For I’ve never met a man who could deserve to call her “wife.”
And a father has a duty to keep libertines in line.
(She is only fifty-seven and I’m only eighty-nine.)

In some countries family problems might be taken up in courts
With the lawyers and the judges scribbling stuff ‘bout pleas and torts—
But down here in fair Italia we despise mere feeble prose
And defend all slights to honor by just carving up our foes.


Count Ammazarlo then hastens to church to ask pardon for any recent peccadilloes.

LIGHTS! CAMERAS! TEACH!

by Cecil B. DeLibby

Revolutionary improvements in teaching now happen every few months. This year saw yet another giant step: the installation in classrooms of video cameras coupled with the use of Pan-Opto, a program that allows us to store the films of our classes for instant viewing on computers. Being a man who ardently embraces all advances in our ancient profession, I naturally wish to be among the harbingers of progress by examining the implications of this latest breakthrough. What can we expect to happen?

First will come changes in titles and terminology, something we are very used to anyway. The Director of Studies, now termed the “Casting Director,” will place job listings in Variety as well as traditional locations and will assemble the “cast” (faculty) for the year’s “shoots” (classes). An “actor” (teacher), before going “on stage” (to the classroom), will report “in costume” (dress code) before “call-time” (the bell) to the “green room” (faculty lounge), where a make-up artist will insure that the actor does not look pasty or off-color while the cameras are rolling.

During the opening faculty meetings actors will receive instructions on the key skills of modern pedagogy, such as how to present one’s best profile, voice projection, and the importance of not looking at the camera.

Because the presence on-set of real students is not always necessary—they can watch the movie later—the stage can sometimes be filled by “extras” chosen to personify whatever goals the school is trying to emphasize (e.g. gender balance, multicultural diversity). Extras will be controlled by an off-screen AD (assistant director), who will coach them in simulating interest, taking notes, holding vigorous (but polite) discussions—from a script, of course—and otherwise impersonating ideal students in an ideal classroom. This will make for boffo kudos when the movies are displayed, as they surely will be, on You Tube as well as Moodle.

As the actors build up fan bases and viewers, Producers and Directors (Boards of Trustees and Heads of Schools) must expect certain difficulties. The most successful actors will get agents, of course, so the annual contract-signing, at present reduced to a simple response to an e-mail, will involve heated negotiations for salary, housing, and perhaps perks like chauffeured limousines, luxurious trailers, stars painted on classroom doors, and reserved chairs with names on their backs. Directors will start hearing things like “I’m not thrilled by the script for Physics—can you do a re-write?” “I’m not right for Middle School Spanish—I’m better with more mature audiences,” “Come on, even Sir Alec Guinness couldn’t mine any yocks from Calculus AB!” “If I go into much detail about the September Massacres of 1792, will we lose our G Rating?” or “This is live theater, remember. How much audience response can you expect anyone to get from this ‘Passé Composé’ shtick?” And don’t forget residuals every time a film is played, and fees for “The Best Of ...” compilations.

Thespians who specialize in the liberal arts will have an inherent advantage over those in math and science: English Dept. actors work with material written by geniuses, while those on the nonfiction side usually can concentrate on the doings of various zanies, lunatics, and fascinating homicidal maniacs who so dominate the genre called History. Possibly actors who must try to make audiences warm to verb forms, invisible particles, or complex formulas will demand higher pay on that account.

Some teachers will also encounter difficulties. No school will wish to hire anyone who lacks stage presence or who is unsightly. It will do a school no good to place on stage some gargoyle, however skilled a teacher he might be. Maybe some careers can be salvaged by plastic surgery.

But there will, of course, be opportunities for different types of actors. A media-savvy school will try to present, through its films, a variety of interesting types to provide a potpourri of diverting performances. Among these might be:

The Young Progressive: Chummy with students, affects coolness (odd ties and belts, perhaps a tattoo), makes up for inexperience by enthusiasm (shouting, prancing about, standing on chairs), avoids giving many tests or “high stakes” evaluations.

The Matriarch: A motherly beldam who brings cookies and bags of sweets to class, perches stuffed animals on the windowsills, and punishes severely the tiniest disturbance.

The Jock: Personable, magnetic; easily distracted from his subject (usually “social studies,” which, of course, anyone can teach) by questions about the most recent “big game;” happy to speculate in class on the prospects of this or that professional team in some upcoming tournament. Knows all major sports stars even if he is hazy on Robespierre.

Mr. Chips: To meet the expectations of the public, prep schools especially must have a couple of antiques pottering about the place, confusing names and faces and reminiscing of antediluvian times. These absent-minded relics are often rather weak on classroom discipline and reporting attendance and quite easy for clever students to fool; on the other hand, students who enter their classrooms intent on actually learning something often emerge very well prepared for college.

*

A seminal article like this cannot be expected to deal with every new development that filming classes will bring about—such as post-production (e.g. insertion of special effects and a musical score; editing out such things as an actor throwing an eraser at an annoying student)—but the author hopes he has at least given his colleagues food for thought. (Might we eventually get to cutting-edge “blue screen” classes, where no students are needed since they will be computer-generated afterwards?) We invite you to meditate on this and develop your own notions.

Perhaps it is a good idea to end a treatise about this latest revolution in education with an encouraging reminder: the basic needs of good teaching were developed not last month (class-room cameras) nor last year (smart boards) nor several years ago (computers) nor in the 1960s (television in classrooms) nor in the 1940s (filmstrips) nor even in 1454 (the printing press) but around 440 BC, when Socrates demonstrated that the essentials are (1) a knowledgeable and enthusiastic instructor, (2) students who want to learn, and (3) adequate time. (He didn’t even use chalk!)
----------------------
August 2010; expanded July 2011

PROJECT 1812

HISTORY FOR THE KINESTHETIC LEARNER

A Modest Proposal

INTRODUCTION
Teaching history to kinesthetic high-schoolers is challenging because history is usually studied by reading and listening; to learn history has heretofore meant using books, or hearing about events from savants who, having devoted their lives to such study, can highlight, and simplify complex matters for easy reception by tender minds.(1) (see notes at end) Now, however, with students who find it difficult to learn by such antique methods, modern pedagogues must develop new rubrics, new praxis, new epistemologies.(2)
We present here an exemplary project that we hope will stimulate many other educational professionals (“teachers”) to develop and expand innovative methodologies.

PROJECT 1812

OVERTURE
One of the most dramatic and important events of the early 19th Century was the French invasion of Russia. Project 1812 focuses on the catastrophic dénouement of this, the largest military operation before World War I, which set in motion the downfall of the First Empire and the victory of the reactionary regimes of the Age of Metternich (1815-1848).

The retreat from Moscow has often been described--e.g. Tolstoy’s magnificent treatment in War and Peace--but how can one bring the reality of what happened to people who cannot readily comprehend the written or the spoken word? We think we have found a way.

METHODOLOGY
Most Modern European History courses will reach the second half of the Napoleonic Era in December or early January, which is the perfect--indeed, the only--time when this Project can be properly conducted.

* On a very cold day with high wind chill, all the kinesthetic learners will be driven to a mall or other public location about five miles from campus. They may wear only light summer clothing, such as T-shirts, shorts, cotton slacks, and sandals. Each will receive a sandwich, a pint of bottled water, and a knapsack containing about fifty pounds of hockey pucks.

Rationale: The flimsy clothing and scanty food simulate the dress and rations of most French soldiers during the retreat from Moscow. The knapsacks simulate the vast assortment of loot that the French took from the ruined city, confident that they could bring it back to France.

* The students will be told they will get $1 for each hockey puck they bring to campus.

Rationale: Students will have the opportunity to experience the common dilemma of greed vs. reason, in that they must decide whether, and when, to lighten or discard the valuable but heavy knapsacks in order to have a better chance of reaching home.

* The students will walk back to campus.

* It is highly desirable that, as a part of our Community Relations, a number of local people take part in the Project. Their job is to follow the students, and, when any fall behind the main body by more than fifty yards, to pelt them with stones, throw them into ponds, or beat them with clubs.

Rationale: The citizens simulate the Russian peasants and Cossacks who followed the French army from a safe distance but attacked stragglers.

* A teacher will ride beside the students in a chauffeur-driven car, calling out encouragement to his “troops” and composing bombastic “official bulletins” announcing that the campaign is going very well. (To assist with the bulletins, he may be accompanied by a “chief of staff” provided by the Office of Institutional Advancement.) When his limousine is half a mile from the school, he will wave encouragingly to the freezing remains of his “army” and be driven quickly back to campus, leaving his men to finish the trek on their own.

Rationale: The teacher simulates Napoleon, who departed the army in a swift coach on December 5, two weeks before the epic retreat ended.

* Those students who reach campus will be given a cup of hot chocolate and sent to the hospital. The others will be buried.

OUTCOMES
The 1812 Project gives haptic learners a “hands-on” experience like no other. Instead of merely looking at artifacts in a museum or using colored markers to occupy their fidgety fingers, they will feel they have actually participated in an important historical event. It is an experience they will remember to the ends of their lives. (This is especially true for those who do not reach campus, since their lives and the Project will end simultaneously.) At least half of the survivors will have permanent “memory triggers” right on their bodies (such as the stumps of frostbitten fingers and toes after amputation at the hospital).(3) No need for hard-to-read books or boring lectures to teach them what happened!


ENRICHMENT
Hardy kinesthetics who insist on remaining at the school after Project 1812 will take part in Project 1941, “Hitler’s Retreat From Moscow” (which is very similar to Project 1812 except that the local people may use rifles).

Schools in warm climates may obtain satisfactory results from Project 1917 (The Project to End Projects), a simulation of Passchendaele (3rd Ypres). It takes place in soft, muddy ground in early spring or late autumn. (Project 1917 provides a fine opportunity for some cross-disciplinary activity: for added realism, the Science Department can manufacture phosgene and mustard gas for use as the kinesthetics slog through the knee-deep mud towards distant, unattainable objectives.)
----------------------------
1 Kinesthetic (or “haptic”) learners (for the benefit of nonprofessionals who might not know) are those who, we are told, cannot learn much from reading or listening, but who learn best by doing things with their hands and the movement of their bodies. Some laymen, ignorant of current pedagogical “best practice,” might think that such students would not be enrolled in preparatory schools or aspire to college diplomas, but would instead be directed into shop classes, vo-techs, the lower enlisted ranks of the armed forces, and similar places where they could use their talents to best advantage without cluttering up the halls of academe; but that is not the case today.


2 I do not really know what these last words mean, but I have noticed that the most esteemed educational experts and holders of Doctorates of Education use them quite a bit. I thought I should use them too, so I will be taken seriously.


3 For these, the “hands-on” experience can also be a “hands-off” experience!