He wished he was with his mom in her library, where everything was safe and numbered and organized by the Dewey decimal system. Ben wished the world was organized by the Dewey decimal system. That way you'd be able to find whatever you were looking for, like the meaning of your dream, or your dad.
Sorrow and profound fatigue are at the heart of Dewey's silence. It had been his ambition to learn "exactly what happened in that house that night." Twice now he'd been told, and the two versions were very much alike, the only serious discrepancy being that Hickock attributed all four deaths to Smith, while Smith contended that Hickock had killed the two women. But the confessions, though they answered questions of how and why, failed to satisfy his sense of meaningful design. The crime was a psychological accident, virtually an impersonal act; the victims might as well have been killed by lightning. Except for one thing: they had experienced prolonged terror, they had suffered. And Dewey could not forget their sufferings. Nonetheless, he found it possible to look at the man beside him without anger - with, rather, a measure of sympathy - for Perry Smith's life had been no bed of roses but pitiful, an ugly and lonely progress toward one mirage and then another. Dewey's sympathy, however, was not deep enough to accommodate either forgiveness or mercy. He hoped to see Perry and his partner hanged - hanged back to back.
Hence the great irony: Hayek, one of the greatest champions of individual liberty and economic freedom the world has ever known, believed that knowledge was communal. Dewey, the champion of socialism and collectivism, believed that knowledge was individual. Hayek's is a philosophy that treats individuals as the best judges of their own self-interests, which in turn yield staggering communal cooperation. Dewey's was the philosophy of a giant, Monty Pythonesque crowd shouting on cue: "We're All Individuals!
The librarian was explaining the benefits of the Dewey decimal system to her junior-benefits that extended to every area of life. It was orderly, like the universe. It had logic. It was dependable. Using it allowed a kind of moral uplift, as one's own chaos was also brought under control. 'Whenever I am troubled, ' said the librarian, 'I think about the Dewey decimal system.' 'Then what happens?' asked the junior, rather overawed. 'Then I understand that trouble is just something that has been filed in the wrong place. That is what Jung was explaining of course-as the chaos of our unconscious contents strive to find their rightful place in the index of consciousness.
In roughly the last century, important experiments have been launched by such charismatic educators as Maria Montessori, Rudolf Steiner, Shinichi Suzuki, John Dewey, and A. S. Neil. These approaches have enjoyed considerable success[...] Yet they have had relatively little impact on the mainstream of education throughout the contemporary world.
Libraries are at a cultural crossroads. Some proffer that libraries as we know them may go away altogether, ironic victims of the information age where Google has subverted Dewey decimal and researchers can access anything on a handheld device. Who needs to venture deep into the stacks when answers are but a click away?
Three has always been tougher than Two. Think of any of your famous threesomes. The Three Stooges? Look at the anger there. My bet is that before Curly was born, Moe and Larry could play together for hours without even a single poke in the eye. Huey, Dewey, and Louie? Donald Duck never had a moment's peace. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly? I rest my case.
It is not a nature cure, a system of faith healing, or a physical culture, or a medical treatment, or a semi-occult philosophy. As to what it is, Dewey's brief but striking description appeals most and has the least chance of being proved incorrect: 'It the Alexander Technique bears the same relation to education that education itself bears to all other human activities.'
There is a hideous invention called the Dewey Decimal System. And you have to look up your topic in books and newspapers. Pages upon pages upon pages... " Uncle Will frowned. "Didn't they teach you how to go about research in that school of yours?" "No. But I can recite 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic' while making martinis." "I weep for the future." "There's where the martinis come in.
Don't worry, due'ane, ' He murmured lowly... 'Who's Dewey Anne.' I asked him, voice gruff. He was so familiar, this Bracken, but so strange, naked next to me. I could touch him, I realized with wonder. I could run my hands from his flank to his shoulder, and he would welcome the touch because he was mine. You are.' He whispered, and I met his eyes. 'It's elfish, the feminine noun for 'other equal half'. You are my other. My everything.' -Wounded (Bracken and Cory)
Philip Kitcher has composed the most formidable defense of the secular view of life since Dewey. Unlike almost all of contemporary atheism, Life After Faith is utterly devoid of cartoons and caricatures of religion. It is, instead, a sober and soulful book, an exemplary practice of philosophical reflection. Scrupulous in its argument, elegant in its style, humane in its spirit, it is animated by a stirring aspiration to wisdom. Even as I quarrel with it I admire it.
A basic flaw in contemporary American educational philosophy as much as it is under the influence of the late John Dewey, is it s failure to grasp the essentially artistic character of teaching. Due to an inflated opinion of "science" and all things supposedly "scientific, " educators have been loathe to admit that teaching is an art, not a science. The art of teaching is a mingling of the liberal and the dramatic arts. Above and beyond the subject matter, the teacher actually needs but two assets: (a) a grasp of the liberal arts of grammar, rhetoric, and logic; (b) a mastery of the dramatic art of presentation." - pg 126 footnote 1.
Frederick D. Wilhelmsen
121. George Bernard Shaw - Plays and Prefaces 122. Max Planck - Origin and Development of the Quantum Theory; Where Is Science Going?; Scientific Autobiography 123. Henri Bergson - Time and Free Will; Matter and Memory; Creative Evolution; The Two Sources of Morality and Religion 124. John Dewey - How We Think; Democracy and Education; Experience and Nature; Logic; the Theory of Inquiry 125. Alfred North Whitehead - An Introduction to Mathematics; Science and the Modern World; The Aims of Education and Other Essays; Adventures of Ideas 126. George Santayana - The Life of Reason; Skepticism and Animal Faith; Persons and Places 127. Vladimir Lenin - The State and Revo
Mortimer J. Adler
Public education does not serve a public. It creates a public. And in creating the right kind of public, the schools contribute toward strengthening the spiritual basis of the American Creed. That is how Jefferson understood it, how Horace Mann understood it, how John Dewey understood it, and in fact, there is no other way to understand it. The question is not, Does or doesn't public schooling create a public? The question is, What kind of public does it create? A conglomerate of self-indulgent consumers? Angry, soulless, directionless masses? Indifferent, confused citizens? Or a public imbued with confidence, a sense of purpose, a respect for learning, and tolerance? The answer to this question has nothing whatever to do with computers, with testing, with teacher accountability, with class size, and with the other details of managing schools. The right answer depends on two things, and two things alone: the existence of shared narratives and the capacity of such narratives to provide an inspired reason for schooling.
Of the things I had not known when I started out, I think the most important was the degree to which the legacy of the McCarthy period still lived. It had been almost seven years since Joe McCarthy had been censured when John Kennedy took office, and most people believed that his hold on Washington was over... among the top Democrats, against whom the issue of being soft on Communism might be used, and among the Republicans, who might well use the charge, it was still live ammunition... McCarthyism still lingered... The real McCarthyism went deeper in the American grain than most people wanted to admit... The Republicans' long, arid period out of office [twenty years, ended by the Eisenhower administration], accentuated by Truman's 1948 defeat of Dewey, had permitted the out-party in its desperation, to accuse the leaders of the governing party of treason. The Democrats, in the wake of the relentless sustained attacks on Truman and Acheson over their policies in Asia, came to believe that they had lost the White House when they lost China. Long after McCarthy himself was gone, the fear of being accused of being soft on Communism lingered among the Democratic leaders. The Republicans had, of course, offered no alternative policy on China (the last thing they had wanted to do was suggest sending American boys to fight for China) and indeed there was no policy to offer, for China was never ours, events there were well outside our control, and our feudal proxies had been swept away by the forces of history. But in the political darkness of the time it had been easy to blame the Democrats for the ebb and flow of history. The fear generated in those days lasted a long time, and Vietnam was to be something of an instant replay after China. The memory of the fall of China and what it did to the Democrats, was, I think, more bitter for Lyndon Johnson than it was for John Kennedy. Johnson, taking over after Kennedy was murdered and after the Kennedy patched-up advisory commitment had failed, vowed that he was not going to be the President of the United States who lost the Great Society because he lost Saigon. In the end it would take the tragedy of the Vietnam War and the election of Richard Nixon (the only political figure who could probably go to China without being Red-baited by Richard Nixon) to exorcise those demons, and to open the door to China.
MR. JOHNSON'S HEAD I'M STARING AT THE FREAK THAT I KNOW I'M IN LOVE WITH BUT SHE DON'T EVEN KNOW MY NAME IT'S ALWAYS BEEN THE SAME I JUST LAY MY HEAD DOWN AND DROWN IN MY SPIT NOBODY EVEN NOTICES I'M HERE CUZ I AIN'T SHIT I HEAR VOICES BUT I DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY SAYING SWEAT IS ON MY FOREHEAD CUZ MY BRAIN'S INSIDE DECAYING AND THIS BITCH THAT I LOVE PROBABLY DON'T HAVE NO IDEA SHE'S TALKING TO HER FRIENDS I'M IN THE CORNER AND I SEE HER SOMETHING'S HAPPENING BUT IT ISN'T VERY CLEAR SOUNDS LIKE A BELL, SOUNDS LIKE AN ELECTRIC CHAIR NEXT THING I KNOW WALKING IN THE CROWDED HALL SO MANY DIFFERENT FACES THAT I THROW UP ON THE WALL SOME ARE YELLING "SICK" AND THE OTHERS STOP AND STARE BUT I DON'T CARE, I'M IN A HURRY GOING NOWHERE SEE, MY HEAD IS SPINNING CUZ I'M LONELY AND I'M TWISTED BUT I HAVE A SECRET EVERYBODY MISSED IT JUST A NOBODY AND I THINK IT'S A DRAG BUT I GOT MR. JOHNSON'S HEAD IN MY BOOKBAG I COULDN'T STAND THE PRESSURE, NOT ANOTHER DAY I DIDN'T LIKE THE FUCKER MR. JOHNSON ANYWAY I SAT UP IN HIS CLASS, HE HUNG A REBEL FLAG I CUT THE BIGOTS HEAD OFF AND I STUFFED IT IN MY BAG I WISH SOMEBODY KNEW ME CUZ THEN THEY COULD SAY I'M WRONG BUT SINCE NOBODY KNOWS ME I GOT IT GOING ON I'M STARING AT THE CLOCK, I LISTEN FOR THE TOCK I GOTTA COUPLE FOOD STAMPS FOLDED IN MY SOCK I GUESS I'M JUST A GHOST CUZ EVERYBODY WALKS THROUGH ME IF I DIED IN CLASS THEY WOULD PROBABLY SAY THEY KNEW ME OR THEY WOULDN'T CARE, THEY WOULDN'T EVEN MOVE A DEAD BODY ROTTING IN THE BACK OF THE ROOM FOR WEEKS AND MONTHS, STINKING UP THE CLASS UNTIL SOMEBODY NOTICED THEN THEY THROW ME IN THE TRASH I CAN HEAR THE TEACHER MAN TALKING ABOUT COLUMBUS HE NOTHING BUT AN OLD DEAD FUCK WITH A COMPASS RAN UP ON A BEACH AND THREW EVERYBODY OFF AND THEN HE CLAIMED DISCOVERY AND NOW WE ALL APPLAUD I DON'T GIVE A FUCK TO LEARN YOUR UNCLE WENT TO HELL I'M TRAPPED IN MIND AND MY BRAIN IS MY CELL BUT I HAVE A KEY, IT'S CALLED INSANITY I STICK IN MY BRAIN TO UNLOCK ETERNITY JUST A NOBODY AND I THINK IT'S A DRAG BUT I GOT MR. JOHNSON'S HEAD IN MY BOOKBAG I COULDN'T STAND THE PRESSURE, NOT ANOTHER DAY I DIDN'T LIKE THE FUCKER MR. JOHNSON ANYWAY I SAT UP IN HIS CLASS, HE HUNG A REBEL FLAG I CUT THE BIGOTS HEAD OFF AND I STUFFED IT IN MY BAG "OKAY, TODAY WE'RE GONNA LEARN ABOUT A GREAT FREEDOM. IF YOU'LL TURN YOUR TEXTBOOKS TO CHAPTER FOUR WE'LL GET STARTED. AMERICA'S THE LAND OF THE FREE, WE ALL LIVE TOGETHER IN THE SAME WEALTHY COMMUNITY AND WE ARE ALTERNATE EQUALS. YES?" "MAN, MR. JOHNSON ALREADY TAUGHT US THIS. AIN'T HE EVER COMING BACK?" "UH, UH, HE'S, UH, VERY ILL RIGHT NOW." NO, THEY CAN SIT AND FRONT ABOUT IT ALL DAY BUT I LEFT HIS FUCKING BODY IN THE HALLWAY AND IN THE MORNING THEY OPENED UP THE DOOR AND SEEN HIS MOTHERFUCKING CARCASS LAYING ON THE FLOOR BUT THEY WOULD NEVER SUSPECT ME I'M JUST A NERD I TRY TO SPEAK MY WORD, IT ALWAYS GOES UNHEARD I COULD CHOP MY ARMS OFF AND RUN AROUND THE CLASS I DOUBT THEY'D EVEN NOTICE, BUT I'D BE DYING FAST CUZ THEY'D RATHER LEARN ABOUT REDNECK CHICKER WHO OWNED A COUPLE SLAVES BUT I GUESS IT DOESN'T MATTER FUCK WASHINGTON, BENJAMIN, FUCK EM ALL AH THEY CAN SUCK MY NUTS TILL THEY WOOD TEETH FALL OUT AND THE CLASS WANNA KNOW WHO COULD IT BE BUT I'M LIKE DEWEY BOODIE, YOU AIN'T NEVER HEARD OF ME I'M JUST A NOBODY AND I THINK IT'S A DRAG BUT I GOT HIS MOTHERFUCKING MELON CHILLING IN MY BOOKBAG I COULDN'T STAND THE PRESSURE, NOT ANOTHER DAY I DIDN'T LIKE THE FUCKER MR. JOHNSON ANYWAY I SAT UP IN HIS CLASS, HE HUNG A REBEL FLAG I CUT THE BIGOTS HEAD OFF AND I STUFFED IT IN MY BAG
Insane Clown Posse (ICP)