"7 Quick Home Schooling Takes": Anne's advice on prayer (down in her seventh take) has been echoing in my mind all week.
"Writing Advice": Brandon Sanderson is posting videos of his writing class at BYU! This is excellent, excellent stuff.
ACFW Conference Flash Drives: Speaking of good writing advice, one of my best Christmas presents this year was a flash drive containing all of the lectures from the 2013 ACFW conference. If you're a writer of Christian fiction, this is a great purchase. (I don't get a kickback from this or anything, just really enjoying the product.)
"Doxxing Internet babes: 'She wanted it'": This is an article that is truly no fun to read, but if you've got daughters, you should probably be aware of this trend.
"Dead Poets Society Is a Terrible Defense of the Humanities":
For all his talk about students “finding their own voice,” however, Keating actually allows his students very little opportunity for original thought. It’s a freedom that’s often preached but never realized. A graphic example is presented in one of the film’s iconic moments, when that zany Mr. Keating with his “unorthodox” teaching methods suddenly leaps up onto his desk. Why? “I stand on my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way,” he helpfully declaims . . .
Keating then has the boys march up to the front, of course, and one-by-one and two-by-two they mount his desk and they too “look at things in a different way”—exactly the different way that he has. After each has experienced this “small alteration in [his] local position” (Emerson), he steps or leaps off the desk, as if a lemming off a cliff: Keating’s warning, “Don’t just walk off the edge like lemmings!,” unfortunately only serves to underscore the horrible irony of this unintended dramatic metaphor. Even when the students reprise this desktop posture at the film’s close, in a gesture of schoolboy disobedience (or perhaps obedience to Keating), we realize that while the boys are marching to the beat of a different drum, it’s Keating’s drum. Or they’re dancing to his pipes.
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