While no longer in fashion, during the 1960s and 1970s, many films concluded with a still frame as opposed to a moving image which faded to black. The expression “moving picture” (from which we get the term “movie ) is something of a misnomer, though, because the “moving” nature of “movies” might be understood as pure illusion.
Is Hell locked from the inside? Dante seems to think so. Few residents of the Inferno object. From time to time they pitch a sob story, but none of them has a sense of the infinite, and so they don’t know how to long for something better. For the last several weeks, my Medieval history class has bantered back and forth various arguments in favor of Hell being locked from the inside or from the out. It is easy to take simple comfort in the notion that Hell is locked from the inside; in such a scenario, the only persons who go to Hell are those who truly prefer Hell to Heaven.
With Holy Week now upon us, I suspect at least a few theology teachers across the country are taking a break from their regular schedules for an investigation of the Gospel’s account of those days leading up to the Crucifixion.
As a teacher of teenagers, and a former teenager myself, I have often heard about the ability to “handle this movie.” We speak less frequently of a teenager’s ability to “handle this music,” and little at all of the ability to “handle this book.” The ability to “handle a movie” is typically staked in the intellectual and spiritual maturity of the would-be handler; a student with greater spiritual maturity is better able to “deal with” a movie or record which liberally trades in the obscene.
From the editor: Please note that Film Fisher is not a CiRCE program, although we like it. Also note that this post is not an advertisement. Mr. Gibbs is the editor of that site and it's a program of Classical Academic Press, who we support wholeheartedly. Anyway, read on.
Most schools across the country are about to begin the fourth quarter, the final grading period of the year. Around this time, I find two temptations often beset students; they either begin caring maniacally about grades and work feverishly, or else they care little about grades, or school or anything, and coast through classes into the summer. In either case, very little learning is done.
If you teach at an ecumenical school, you’re a real character. You’re a fiction, and no less a fiction than Tom Sawyer or Wendy Darling. There is no other way. It is for the best.
From the preface to Look Homeward, Angel:
This is a first book, and in it the author has written of experience which is now far and lost, but which was once part of the fabric of his life. If any reader, therefore, should say that the book is "autobiographical" the writer has no answer for him: it seems to him that all serious work in fiction is autobiographical-- that, for instance, a more autobiographical work than Gulliver's Travels cannot easily be imagined.
At the mall, you pass the window display of the Gap and see they have “classic khakis” on display. The model wearing the classic khakis has a classic look, as well— a young Steinbeck mustache, shock of curly hair towards his forehead, pomade. The last pair of pants you’ll ever need. This is written in the window display. What if this is true? you wonder. You have always reckoned yourself a classic person, though you give yourself a once over and you don’t look particularly classic today. Busted running shoes. Cargo shorts. You look like an idiot, actually.
"Whether it was concern for the effects of grades on student self-esteem (e.g. Bauchman and O'Malley 1977; Marsh 1990), intra-departmental concerns about attracting students though the implicit promise of good grades (Becker 1997; Freeman 2010), or concerns, particularly strong at elite schools, about the effect of grades on graduates' job prospects (e.g. Dickson 1984), the trend of grade inflation continued. As of 1975, it was reported that one-half to two-thirds of the marks given in US colleges and universities were As and Bs (Davidson 1975; 122-125).