Bongiorno! What a day it has been. Actually, two. Three? I can’t quite tell. We made it to Florence though! So Tuesday was just like any other day as we went to school, except for the pile of bags by each of our doors. As we sat in music class with Caleb, our drivers, Mr. Bortins, Mr. Bianco, and Mrs. Harvey, drove to the villas and loaded the cars. Mrs. Bortins arrived at the house a little before noon, and we left almost immediately. The ride there was cramped, hot, and smelly— at least for the guys. The girls enjoyed a little more leg space, and the chaperones had more room than they could use. C’est la vie. It gave us some perspective later, when we were on the plane.
We got to the airport with five hours to spare and set out to enjoy ourselves. We parked our bags by the gate and split up to explore the airport. Something about airports brings out a spirit of playfulness in me. Maybe it’s the fact that everyone there is in transit and won’t see me again, or maybe because airports themselves are still so new to me. I don’t know, but I couldn't sit still. We all moved around quite a bit, adventuring here and there, visiting shops and restaurants, always returning to the group of card-players, readers, and nappers. The time seemed to fly by, and before we knew it, we were boarding the plane to Rome. The time was six o’clock. Flying with a group was a new experience for me, and I enjoyed hopping around from seat to seat, trading companions every so often. Eventually though, I got stuck in a cramped seat on the aisle, and spent the rest of the flight somewhat uncomfortably.
We landed in Rome at nine AM, and promptly set to exploring the city. Our guide Pietro met us at the gate and we took a bus to the city center, then walked to Saint Peter's Basilica. We only had a few hours to spend in Rome, but we decided to splurge on time and money and enter the majestic building. We were amazed. The sheer scale was overwhelming, with every inch of the walls and ceiling covered with ornate decorations. Every little alcove literally hid a priceless work of art— I wandered for half an hour before I noticed the Pieta sitting behind a wall of glass. We gathered in the entryway, waiting for everyone. Unfortunately, our headcount was off, and we didn't notice until we were well out of the building, that our photographer, Austin, had disappeared, engrossed in the sights. He became the first straggler of many.
Pietro led us through the city and over the Tiber river, past a huge old fortress. Street venders called to us, crowds jostled us, and we laughed our way to dinner at a sweet little indoor eatery, so far out of the way of normal tours that they didn't speak english. Ordering Italian food, in Italian, from Italians, was quite an experience. Most of us ended up with our own personal fourteen inch pizzas. That being said, the food was excellent. We tossed around Italian phrases from Anna Harvey's book, and Caleb got way too excited at everything. He's enjoying Italy to no end.
We finished and left for the bus, our brief stay in Rome exhausted and exhausting. Whether or not we slept on the plane, we were all tired, and the bus to Florence was full of sleeping bodies. The last hour into Florence passed quickly as we strained our eyes to catch every detail about the countryside. The first difference I noticed from America was the dirt. The clayish brown earth, tossed up in large unbroken clods, was unlike the darker loam in Vermont, or the sandy soil of North Carolina. We arrived in Florence in the afternoon, bussed through the city, and walked to the Villa Morghen from the square at Settignano. I had heard a lot of racial stereotypes about Italian drivers, but I never expected them to all be true. These people are the fastest and most controlled drivers I have ever seen, whether they're piloting a Vespa or a bus.
We settled in, napped, cleaned up, and met for dinner at seven. While our hunger certainly contributed to the quality of the meal, I have no doubt that the homemade lasagna and fresh Italian bread were the best I've ever had. It was an amazing meal. With nothing else on our agenda, we spent the rest of the evening lounging on the porch, drinking in the beautiful city and the rays from the setting sun. We turned in early, preparing for a long day in Florence.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Monday, August 26, 2013
Leigh: From Functions to Florence in twelve-point-two hours!
Hello everyone! Whew! It's been crazy here, let me tell you. I can't believe we leave for Italy in less than twenty-four hours. By the time some of you read this, we'll actually be there! I'm coming to you from the hammock outside Villa Heorot, where I'm watching people make last minute preparations to the houses. While we're gone, a crew of roofers are going to redo all the old villa roofs. We're all more or less ready to go— though I suppose we have to be at this point. The villa center would normally be bustling with this many fellows home from work, but everyone is either cleaning or packing. I know everyone is tired of waiting. We just want it to be tomorrow already. I can't wait to look out my window and see the rolling hills of Tuscany. Having never been out of the country, let alone to Europe, I couldn't be more excited! Unfortunately, what with everything we have been doing and everything we have left to do, I'll have to keep this somewhat brief. Don't worry though, I'll make it up to you with letters every other day from Villa Morghen.
So the week was pretty simple. Most days we just did our math, followed the music, and went to work. By Thursday we were ready for a change. The girls all scheduled a night out at the Bortins, so the guys went on an adventure by ourselves. (It was awesome and it was better.) We ended up reluctantly meeting to share the water at the Bortins, then it was adios again, and the night continued. Everyone enjoyed themselves and the relaxation, something we all saw the next day in class.
Friday was a good day. We all enjoyed class and got along well. Mrs. Bortins let us stay home from work to prepare if we needed to. While most of us did, Laura went to get a long day of recording, and Chris, Zach and I came along for the ride. Mr. Infantino was expecting us early, and we spent the first half hour at his house looking at pictures from his trip to Florence and Venice and listening to practical advice on traveling. So after work, we went to the park to climb trees, and from there into town to eat and do some shopping. If the week was defined by routine, the resulting weekend was an endless stream of trips to town. Two more trips were made that night alone.
We caught up on a little sleep on Saturday and got back to our preparations. The villa was practically dead all morning, with everyone either sleeping or gone. Samuel went on a spontaneous trip to the beach with the Bortins, while Alec, Seth, and David went to a rugby game. Christopher and Olivia's families came to visit, and Mrs. Knooihuizen made pasta for anyone who cared to drop by. (We cared. Very much.) After everyone left, a bunch of us went to the Bortins' to watch Casablanca. We turned in early to get ready for Sunday.
Sunday went by too quickly, and we enjoyed every fleeting minute. Pastor Skogen embarrassed Caleb from the pulpit twice, garnering laughs from the whole congregation, but none louder than ours. We love Caleb, and though we tease him quite a lot, we really appreciate him more than we usually let on. Since Sunday afternoon, we've been cleaning and packing. We washed all the cars and houses and did oodles of laundry. After class and music this morning, the craziness resumed. At this point, everything has been taken care of, and we're simply waiting for tomorrow. I can't believe we have class though. Honestly, I don't mind. I'm ready, and we might as well. That is so very like Mrs. Bortins though, to go straight from math to Italy, and to make sure we don't waste a second of our time.
Ladies and Gentlemen, when next you hear from me, I will be in Europe, sitting on a hillside somewhere, sharing the same air as Leonardo da Vinci and the Caesars.
Arrivederci!
Barnabas
So the week was pretty simple. Most days we just did our math, followed the music, and went to work. By Thursday we were ready for a change. The girls all scheduled a night out at the Bortins, so the guys went on an adventure by ourselves. (It was awesome and it was better.) We ended up reluctantly meeting to share the water at the Bortins, then it was adios again, and the night continued. Everyone enjoyed themselves and the relaxation, something we all saw the next day in class.
Friday was a good day. We all enjoyed class and got along well. Mrs. Bortins let us stay home from work to prepare if we needed to. While most of us did, Laura went to get a long day of recording, and Chris, Zach and I came along for the ride. Mr. Infantino was expecting us early, and we spent the first half hour at his house looking at pictures from his trip to Florence and Venice and listening to practical advice on traveling. So after work, we went to the park to climb trees, and from there into town to eat and do some shopping. If the week was defined by routine, the resulting weekend was an endless stream of trips to town. Two more trips were made that night alone.
We caught up on a little sleep on Saturday and got back to our preparations. The villa was practically dead all morning, with everyone either sleeping or gone. Samuel went on a spontaneous trip to the beach with the Bortins, while Alec, Seth, and David went to a rugby game. Christopher and Olivia's families came to visit, and Mrs. Knooihuizen made pasta for anyone who cared to drop by. (We cared. Very much.) After everyone left, a bunch of us went to the Bortins' to watch Casablanca. We turned in early to get ready for Sunday.
Sunday went by too quickly, and we enjoyed every fleeting minute. Pastor Skogen embarrassed Caleb from the pulpit twice, garnering laughs from the whole congregation, but none louder than ours. We love Caleb, and though we tease him quite a lot, we really appreciate him more than we usually let on. Since Sunday afternoon, we've been cleaning and packing. We washed all the cars and houses and did oodles of laundry. After class and music this morning, the craziness resumed. At this point, everything has been taken care of, and we're simply waiting for tomorrow. I can't believe we have class though. Honestly, I don't mind. I'm ready, and we might as well. That is so very like Mrs. Bortins though, to go straight from math to Italy, and to make sure we don't waste a second of our time.
Ladies and Gentlemen, when next you hear from me, I will be in Europe, sitting on a hillside somewhere, sharing the same air as Leonardo da Vinci and the Caesars.
Arrivederci!
Barnabas
Monday, August 19, 2013
How Big is God?
Hello and Bongiorno! As Italy gets closer, I find its words constantly on the tip of my tongue; we're all so excited. This week is very regular, and without an astronomer coming, we the students are focusing more on preparing for the trip. But enough of that. You came to hear about our week, and boy do I have things to tell!
I believe we left off on Tuesday evening. Well, after finishing work, the entire fellowship, including Caleb and his family, piled into various vehicles and sped into Southern Pines. Jacob Crowell's family had invited us all to dinner at their beautiful house. His father cooked a fantastic Japanese feast which satisfied even the most energetic of the teenagers. We had a fantastic time there. Most of us brought bathing suits and jumped in their illuminated pool, swimming and diving in the heavy rain. Our feats of aerobatics grew to new levels as we all pushed our limits. We all saw a few great spectacles. Once we'd worn ourselves out, we returned to the house and talked with our hosts about Italy. They had just come from a similar trip and had plenty to say. We all drank in every word and had to tear ourselves away from the conversation too early. That night, we dreamed of Rome and the things we would see there.
We came down to earth the next day with the practicality of SAT testing. David Bortins has joined us in the mornings to prepare for his own SAT. Earlier in the year, Leigh said she was going to take the test along with all of us. I hope she does. As much stress as we'll have over that October morning, I'm looking forward to it. I've taken the SAT twice before, and I felt very isolated each time. This time, we go in as a fellowship. And to a homeschooler like me? Well that's golden.
So Wednesday morning passed in mathematics, and Caleb surprised us with a free afternoon. We went home for lunch and had a much appreciated hour of free time. We went back to the house after work for an hour of Astronomy. Mrs. Leigh introduced us to our upcoming guest, James Burr, a scientist and inventor. We watched a clip of one of his lectures and listened to him sing a chorus which he repeated for us later. It read like this:
How big is God, how big and wide is His domain/
To try to tell these lips can only start/
He's big enough to rule his mighty universe/
Yet small enough to live within my heart.
We left at about nine o'clock and finished out our evening at the villas.
When I walked out of my door on Thursday, I knew I was in for a treat. There is a certain kind of day which comes along only once or twice in a summer. The sun shines brightly, but never in your eyes. The breeze wicks away its heat before it can stick to your skin. The air feels like gossamer, and if you strain your senses, you can sometimes catch a glimpse of fairies peeking out from between the flowers in the garden. This was one such day. Samuel, Elizabeth, and I agreed that it felt like home in Vermont. We ended math earlier than normal, and fit music in before lunch. This gave us another long lunch break, and we used it well, most of us enjoying the pleasant outdoors. Needless to say, by the time I drove to work, I was a little giddy with the day. I was so enamored with memories of Maine, and telling Laura about how much I miss visiting it, that I missed my turn onto Vermont Avenue. I knew I could just go around by the next road, so I continued. Well, of course that road was Maine Avenue. It shut me up for the rest of the drive. God is so detailed, and he's paying attention. After work, a few of us played basketball in the driveway until William and Anna dragged a bunch of us to a nearby house to party with their wonderfully nerdy friends. It was another good night.
We slept in an hour on Friday and woke up excited for the weekend. When we got to the house, Jacob Skogen, Caleb's brother and pastor-in-training led us in a full hour of Bible study. We sang our hearts out and moved on to an hour of music and then of math to show our guest how we do things here. We had a few more great discussions over lunch, including the place of government in education and how God can be outside of time. It was after lunch though when things really took off. The sky was grey all day, but Mr. Burr took us on a tour of the marvels of the universe for the next five hours. This man understands very well that the heavens declare the glory of God. We ended at dinner time and spent the rest of the evening hanging around the house. Some of the guys went swimming and soon discovered that the water was just too cold, so we returned to the beach, intending to go back to the house. Well, two hours later, we had constructed a beautiful Aztec city in the sand with a three-foot-tall pyramid in the center. Once we realized we could use our geometric notions to help build it, we resolved to make it excellent, and I believe we succeeded. We watched the sunset through the silhouette of our kingdom and were back by nightfall, well satisfied and ready for more shenanigans. Gathering a horde of people and some leftovers from the fridge, we moved a few couches into the classroom and watched Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers together. All in all, it was a very productive day.
The next morning we were a little more sluggish than usual as we started, but we made up for it with our excited participation. Unfortunately, the sky was completely overcast again, and we couldn't go out. Mr. Burr is an expert on telescopes. He's dyslexic and he says that he checked out of high school long before he actually graduated, but as we talked to him on Saturday, we could see that he was brilliant. He's the kind of man who can solve any complicated problem with a block of wood and a bit of string. I know a lot of guys like this who work on farms and out in the woods, but Mr. Burr builds precision telescopes for a living. Coupled with his knack for mechanics, this gift has served him well, and we got to see some of the results of his work. He brought a compact telescope with him, and while we couldn't see into the sky, we were able to look across the lake at the far shore with amazing clarity. Our astronomy turned to bird watching when we caught sight of a beautiful heron and found that we could actually count its feathers. During lunch, the clouds parted briefly, and some of us were able to see the sun through his solar telescope. We had a few hours to kill after lunch. The girls ran off to a shoe store, and the guys stayed at the house together, talking, playing instruments, and reading out loud. He resumed at three, demonstrating the attributes of God apparent in nature, and after dinner we came back for our final class.
Over the two short days he had shared some amazingly technical marvels with us. Now, for two hours, he simply showed us the glories of the sky. We saw giant clouds of gas and dust, marvelously detailed, yet with stars thousands of times bigger than our sun standing between them and us, just specks of light. The scale of the universe is majestic. The scale of the God who builds that, yet who listens to my conversation and winks at me through a missed turn and a street sign is entirely unfathomable. I can't comprehend it. As Mr. Burr spoke, he welled up until he finally broke down and cried, and, still crying, prayed over us. There wasn't a dry eye in the room as we surrounded him with our hugs. I don't think I'll ever forget this weekend with him.
Compared with our time with him, the rest of the weekend seems flat, but a few noteworthy things did happen, so I'll mention them here. First of all, Anna turned eighteen on Sunday. A few nameless fellows decorated her car with washable paint, and filled it full of balloons. Seth joined choir at church. Anna's family threw a party and I got to spend time with her lovely grandmother, a woman full of stories and wisdom. We had a quiet night. Today was a little different. With nothing coming up this week, Leigh is putting an emphasis on the SAT math. We took two tests back to back and then she issued us an unrelated challenge. Brunelleschi, the genius who figured out how to build the dome of Santa Maria del Fiore, the crowning glory of Florence, could measure great heights with nothing but a mirror and a measuring stick. These were the tools she gave us, and she told us to find the height of the tallest pillar in her house. While we figured the process out, we had some trouble with finding the right numbers. We agreed to try at another time, this time with something we knew the height of. I suggested Brunelleschi dome itself, and thus the new challenge was set. After lunch, the men did choir alone, preparing for the November celebration. That brings us to where we are now, and where I will leave you for the night.
There is one thing left, and that is that I'm not sure what to do with the updates while we're in Italy. I would appreciate your input. What do you think? Should I continue it by week, post briefly but with more frequency, or simply save it for when I get home? Let me know in the comments below, on Facebook, or, if you want to relay it through Caleb, your child, or even a carrier pigeon, don't let me discourage you.
Until next time, arrivederci!
Barnabas
I believe we left off on Tuesday evening. Well, after finishing work, the entire fellowship, including Caleb and his family, piled into various vehicles and sped into Southern Pines. Jacob Crowell's family had invited us all to dinner at their beautiful house. His father cooked a fantastic Japanese feast which satisfied even the most energetic of the teenagers. We had a fantastic time there. Most of us brought bathing suits and jumped in their illuminated pool, swimming and diving in the heavy rain. Our feats of aerobatics grew to new levels as we all pushed our limits. We all saw a few great spectacles. Once we'd worn ourselves out, we returned to the house and talked with our hosts about Italy. They had just come from a similar trip and had plenty to say. We all drank in every word and had to tear ourselves away from the conversation too early. That night, we dreamed of Rome and the things we would see there.
We came down to earth the next day with the practicality of SAT testing. David Bortins has joined us in the mornings to prepare for his own SAT. Earlier in the year, Leigh said she was going to take the test along with all of us. I hope she does. As much stress as we'll have over that October morning, I'm looking forward to it. I've taken the SAT twice before, and I felt very isolated each time. This time, we go in as a fellowship. And to a homeschooler like me? Well that's golden.
So Wednesday morning passed in mathematics, and Caleb surprised us with a free afternoon. We went home for lunch and had a much appreciated hour of free time. We went back to the house after work for an hour of Astronomy. Mrs. Leigh introduced us to our upcoming guest, James Burr, a scientist and inventor. We watched a clip of one of his lectures and listened to him sing a chorus which he repeated for us later. It read like this:
How big is God, how big and wide is His domain/
To try to tell these lips can only start/
He's big enough to rule his mighty universe/
Yet small enough to live within my heart.
We left at about nine o'clock and finished out our evening at the villas.
When I walked out of my door on Thursday, I knew I was in for a treat. There is a certain kind of day which comes along only once or twice in a summer. The sun shines brightly, but never in your eyes. The breeze wicks away its heat before it can stick to your skin. The air feels like gossamer, and if you strain your senses, you can sometimes catch a glimpse of fairies peeking out from between the flowers in the garden. This was one such day. Samuel, Elizabeth, and I agreed that it felt like home in Vermont. We ended math earlier than normal, and fit music in before lunch. This gave us another long lunch break, and we used it well, most of us enjoying the pleasant outdoors. Needless to say, by the time I drove to work, I was a little giddy with the day. I was so enamored with memories of Maine, and telling Laura about how much I miss visiting it, that I missed my turn onto Vermont Avenue. I knew I could just go around by the next road, so I continued. Well, of course that road was Maine Avenue. It shut me up for the rest of the drive. God is so detailed, and he's paying attention. After work, a few of us played basketball in the driveway until William and Anna dragged a bunch of us to a nearby house to party with their wonderfully nerdy friends. It was another good night.
We slept in an hour on Friday and woke up excited for the weekend. When we got to the house, Jacob Skogen, Caleb's brother and pastor-in-training led us in a full hour of Bible study. We sang our hearts out and moved on to an hour of music and then of math to show our guest how we do things here. We had a few more great discussions over lunch, including the place of government in education and how God can be outside of time. It was after lunch though when things really took off. The sky was grey all day, but Mr. Burr took us on a tour of the marvels of the universe for the next five hours. This man understands very well that the heavens declare the glory of God. We ended at dinner time and spent the rest of the evening hanging around the house. Some of the guys went swimming and soon discovered that the water was just too cold, so we returned to the beach, intending to go back to the house. Well, two hours later, we had constructed a beautiful Aztec city in the sand with a three-foot-tall pyramid in the center. Once we realized we could use our geometric notions to help build it, we resolved to make it excellent, and I believe we succeeded. We watched the sunset through the silhouette of our kingdom and were back by nightfall, well satisfied and ready for more shenanigans. Gathering a horde of people and some leftovers from the fridge, we moved a few couches into the classroom and watched Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers together. All in all, it was a very productive day.
The next morning we were a little more sluggish than usual as we started, but we made up for it with our excited participation. Unfortunately, the sky was completely overcast again, and we couldn't go out. Mr. Burr is an expert on telescopes. He's dyslexic and he says that he checked out of high school long before he actually graduated, but as we talked to him on Saturday, we could see that he was brilliant. He's the kind of man who can solve any complicated problem with a block of wood and a bit of string. I know a lot of guys like this who work on farms and out in the woods, but Mr. Burr builds precision telescopes for a living. Coupled with his knack for mechanics, this gift has served him well, and we got to see some of the results of his work. He brought a compact telescope with him, and while we couldn't see into the sky, we were able to look across the lake at the far shore with amazing clarity. Our astronomy turned to bird watching when we caught sight of a beautiful heron and found that we could actually count its feathers. During lunch, the clouds parted briefly, and some of us were able to see the sun through his solar telescope. We had a few hours to kill after lunch. The girls ran off to a shoe store, and the guys stayed at the house together, talking, playing instruments, and reading out loud. He resumed at three, demonstrating the attributes of God apparent in nature, and after dinner we came back for our final class.
Over the two short days he had shared some amazingly technical marvels with us. Now, for two hours, he simply showed us the glories of the sky. We saw giant clouds of gas and dust, marvelously detailed, yet with stars thousands of times bigger than our sun standing between them and us, just specks of light. The scale of the universe is majestic. The scale of the God who builds that, yet who listens to my conversation and winks at me through a missed turn and a street sign is entirely unfathomable. I can't comprehend it. As Mr. Burr spoke, he welled up until he finally broke down and cried, and, still crying, prayed over us. There wasn't a dry eye in the room as we surrounded him with our hugs. I don't think I'll ever forget this weekend with him.
Compared with our time with him, the rest of the weekend seems flat, but a few noteworthy things did happen, so I'll mention them here. First of all, Anna turned eighteen on Sunday. A few nameless fellows decorated her car with washable paint, and filled it full of balloons. Seth joined choir at church. Anna's family threw a party and I got to spend time with her lovely grandmother, a woman full of stories and wisdom. We had a quiet night. Today was a little different. With nothing coming up this week, Leigh is putting an emphasis on the SAT math. We took two tests back to back and then she issued us an unrelated challenge. Brunelleschi, the genius who figured out how to build the dome of Santa Maria del Fiore, the crowning glory of Florence, could measure great heights with nothing but a mirror and a measuring stick. These were the tools she gave us, and she told us to find the height of the tallest pillar in her house. While we figured the process out, we had some trouble with finding the right numbers. We agreed to try at another time, this time with something we knew the height of. I suggested Brunelleschi dome itself, and thus the new challenge was set. After lunch, the men did choir alone, preparing for the November celebration. That brings us to where we are now, and where I will leave you for the night.
There is one thing left, and that is that I'm not sure what to do with the updates while we're in Italy. I would appreciate your input. What do you think? Should I continue it by week, post briefly but with more frequency, or simply save it for when I get home? Let me know in the comments below, on Facebook, or, if you want to relay it through Caleb, your child, or even a carrier pigeon, don't let me discourage you.
Until next time, arrivederci!
Barnabas
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Ten Thousand Steps to Perfection
A
month and a half ago, we walked into the classroom to a few videos
about an amazing display of sand, sound and steel. The first video
showed a metal plate, mounted on a few sturdy legs and sprinkled with
sand. A man came onscreen and coaxed a ringing noise from the plate
with the help of a violin bow. As the noise built in intensity, we
all gasped; the sand slowly drifted into complex patterns, seemingly
of its own volition. While we were still trying to understand that,
the man dampened the corner of the plate with one finger and again
drew the bow across its edge. It rang out clearly, this time with a
lower sound, and the sand slid smoothly into a new pattern. With his
bow and fingers, the engineer in the video pulled pattern after
pattern from the sand. We all loved it. Just when we thought we had
it figured out, Leigh put on another video. In the center of the
frame stood a round old table, weighed down with four piles of
multicolored sand. Another hand came on-screen and began dragging a
rubber mallet across the top of the table. It let out a similar
ringing noise and the sand began immediately to spread into a star
pattern. As we saw differences and similarities between this video
and the last, we realized that we didn't understand the phenomenon as
much as we thought. A final video showed the same phenomenon as the
first two, but instead of an acoustic sound, the designer had hooked
the plate up to a set of speakers and was using a tone generator to
make it ring.
Leigh turned the TV off and stepped to the front to ask us a few questions and make us think about what we'd watched. After a few minutes of discussion, she called for attention and told us that what we were talking about was a device called a Chladni Plate, named after Ernst Chladni, an 18th century scientist who pioneered studies in sound and physics. Splitting into three teams, we awaited our assignment. She gave us six weeks and thirty dollars to build a plate of our own. With that, she left the room and we were left to our own devices. I led one team, Austin led another, and Christopher took the third. We met that evening and talked through some ideas, trying to make sure we didn't overlap on each others projects. My original plan was to experiment with multiple plates and a myriad of tools to gain a better understanding, Austin's goal was to program and build an electronic plate like the final example, and Christopher thriftily decided to try to replicate that first plate using as little money as possible.
We weren't always thinking about it, but we made pretty steady progress over the next few weeks. We all agreed that a Chladni Plate has roughly three elements: a resonating surface, a tool to resonate it with, and an indicator, such as sand, to show the sound waves. To understand the plate, each of the leaders assigned a few people to research various aspects of the plate. One of the researchers commented on the project saying, “It was very enjoyable to me, as I had never considered in detail how sound waves produced distinct physical patterns.” Someone else told me, “I liked the project because it was unique; not something you see every day.” The research came along well, though it got extremely technical at times. Even so, we seemed to understand the concepts well enough. Unfortunately, because the project had so few parts, the leaders weren't able to give everyone a lot to do. Gathering feedback after the project, we heard one criticism more than any other: that the groups were too large and some people felt like their potential was being wasted.
Austin and Samuel were well into the programming phase of their setup by the time we started assembling our plate. With more than a week to spare, my group left to find a plate. By this time, we had decided to build one thing which we knew would work before going off on an experimental binge. So the first thing we had to find was something which would resonate. At the hardware store, we found a twelve-by-eighteen inch steel plate which rang beautifully when we tapped it. We thought it was perfect, so we picked it up, along with a post to support it on, a bolt to attach it with, and a few washers to keep it away from the wood. Because we had seen it work in an abundance of videos, we also ordered a cheap violin bow online.
The problems came when we put it all together. Though the suspended plate had a great ring to it, the flimsy bow couldn't get a squeak out of it. We had been counting on the bow to work, so when it failed, we began to worry. As the deadline approached, the development side of our team tried everything to get the plate to work. No matter what we tried, we couldn't reproduce the patterns which Ernst Chladni discovered. The same story pervaded each team. “It was fun,” wrote one of the fellows, “but a bit directionless and frustrating. We knew our plate wasn't working right, but we couldn't figure out the exact problem, let alone the solution.”
The night before we had to present, we found ourselves clustered in three dejected groups, trying final experiments and more importantly, brainstorming problems and solutions. Our only hope lay in the presentations we had been preparing. If we couldn't make the plates work, we could at least attempt to understand them.
We presented the next day.. As we expected, none of the plates worked like we wanted them to, and while we were able to display the beginnings of some hazy patterns, they were nothing like the wild curves which we would have indicated our success. Leigh brought a friend, someone who knew the ins and outs of Chladni plates, to observe our attempts. He talked with us and gave us some information we hadn't found elsewhere, vital, practical tips for building a working plate. He left and we continued talking through our problems. We all had money left from the original supply, so we resolved to revisit the plates after we return from Italy and our schedules are a little less hectic.
Overall, the project was a great experience. We had the chance to work together to create something exciting, and while the plates didn't quite work the right way, we had a great time exploring them with each other. Some of us gained insight into our own skills, like one of Austin's teammates who said, “I really enjoyed it. I like electronics work, but hadn't had much hands-on experience until now. My team leader taught me a lot in a subject I might want to pursue.” Some dug in to building the plate itself, and most people enjoyed the communal aspect. It pushed everyone involved and forced us to try to work through seemingly impossible difficulties. None of us were fully comfortable, and we were forced to adapt to a tough situation. Everyone was fully committed to seeing it through, and personally, I don't think I've ever enjoyed working on a group project more, even though we were all disappointed and frustrated by the outcome. We take comfort knowing that we're not finished, and we echo the words of Thomas Edison, saying, “We have not failed, we have just found ten thousand ways not to build a Chladni Plate."
Leigh turned the TV off and stepped to the front to ask us a few questions and make us think about what we'd watched. After a few minutes of discussion, she called for attention and told us that what we were talking about was a device called a Chladni Plate, named after Ernst Chladni, an 18th century scientist who pioneered studies in sound and physics. Splitting into three teams, we awaited our assignment. She gave us six weeks and thirty dollars to build a plate of our own. With that, she left the room and we were left to our own devices. I led one team, Austin led another, and Christopher took the third. We met that evening and talked through some ideas, trying to make sure we didn't overlap on each others projects. My original plan was to experiment with multiple plates and a myriad of tools to gain a better understanding, Austin's goal was to program and build an electronic plate like the final example, and Christopher thriftily decided to try to replicate that first plate using as little money as possible.
We weren't always thinking about it, but we made pretty steady progress over the next few weeks. We all agreed that a Chladni Plate has roughly three elements: a resonating surface, a tool to resonate it with, and an indicator, such as sand, to show the sound waves. To understand the plate, each of the leaders assigned a few people to research various aspects of the plate. One of the researchers commented on the project saying, “It was very enjoyable to me, as I had never considered in detail how sound waves produced distinct physical patterns.” Someone else told me, “I liked the project because it was unique; not something you see every day.” The research came along well, though it got extremely technical at times. Even so, we seemed to understand the concepts well enough. Unfortunately, because the project had so few parts, the leaders weren't able to give everyone a lot to do. Gathering feedback after the project, we heard one criticism more than any other: that the groups were too large and some people felt like their potential was being wasted.
Austin and Samuel were well into the programming phase of their setup by the time we started assembling our plate. With more than a week to spare, my group left to find a plate. By this time, we had decided to build one thing which we knew would work before going off on an experimental binge. So the first thing we had to find was something which would resonate. At the hardware store, we found a twelve-by-eighteen inch steel plate which rang beautifully when we tapped it. We thought it was perfect, so we picked it up, along with a post to support it on, a bolt to attach it with, and a few washers to keep it away from the wood. Because we had seen it work in an abundance of videos, we also ordered a cheap violin bow online.
The problems came when we put it all together. Though the suspended plate had a great ring to it, the flimsy bow couldn't get a squeak out of it. We had been counting on the bow to work, so when it failed, we began to worry. As the deadline approached, the development side of our team tried everything to get the plate to work. No matter what we tried, we couldn't reproduce the patterns which Ernst Chladni discovered. The same story pervaded each team. “It was fun,” wrote one of the fellows, “but a bit directionless and frustrating. We knew our plate wasn't working right, but we couldn't figure out the exact problem, let alone the solution.”
The night before we had to present, we found ourselves clustered in three dejected groups, trying final experiments and more importantly, brainstorming problems and solutions. Our only hope lay in the presentations we had been preparing. If we couldn't make the plates work, we could at least attempt to understand them.
We presented the next day.. As we expected, none of the plates worked like we wanted them to, and while we were able to display the beginnings of some hazy patterns, they were nothing like the wild curves which we would have indicated our success. Leigh brought a friend, someone who knew the ins and outs of Chladni plates, to observe our attempts. He talked with us and gave us some information we hadn't found elsewhere, vital, practical tips for building a working plate. He left and we continued talking through our problems. We all had money left from the original supply, so we resolved to revisit the plates after we return from Italy and our schedules are a little less hectic.
Overall, the project was a great experience. We had the chance to work together to create something exciting, and while the plates didn't quite work the right way, we had a great time exploring them with each other. Some of us gained insight into our own skills, like one of Austin's teammates who said, “I really enjoyed it. I like electronics work, but hadn't had much hands-on experience until now. My team leader taught me a lot in a subject I might want to pursue.” Some dug in to building the plate itself, and most people enjoyed the communal aspect. It pushed everyone involved and forced us to try to work through seemingly impossible difficulties. None of us were fully comfortable, and we were forced to adapt to a tough situation. Everyone was fully committed to seeing it through, and personally, I don't think I've ever enjoyed working on a group project more, even though we were all disappointed and frustrated by the outcome. We take comfort knowing that we're not finished, and we echo the words of Thomas Edison, saying, “We have not failed, we have just found ten thousand ways not to build a Chladni Plate."
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Cloudy with a chance of Astronomy
Hello and welcome back! I'm writing
this from the sound studio in Southern Pines, where Laura is
recording with Danny Infantino, now the proud father of a beautiful
newborn son. It's been a busy week, to say the least. Where did we leave off? Oh yes, Sunday night.
Monday morning was complicated by the start of the Classical Conversations school year, which is just on the cusp of resuming. The warehouse and office have been flooded with more work than before, and a few of the students who work at the warehouse went straight there that morning, leaving earlier than the rest of us who were going to class. While they worked, Leigh wrangled the rest of us through another math-filled morning.
On any given day, our class goes something like this. We start off the day with one of Euclid's geometric propositions, working it out and proving it for ourselves. After that, she usually shows us some mathematical tricks and tips, running us through some exercises to warm up our brains for what comes next: the SAT. We drop the discussion for twenty or twenty-five minutes of beautifully absolute test questions, taken in silence at our desks. After the clock runs down, we briefly check our answers, and Leigh explains how we reach those which we missed. As she satisfies our questions, some of the Fellows work on a second test, exercising their minds still further. By the time we finish, the morning is mostly gone, and we spend the final hour exploring new concepts of calculus, trigonometry, or physics.
Thus Monday morning came and went. We ate lunch and gathered around the piano for choir. Caleb introduced us to a new song: Sing Choirs of New Jerusalem, which we took to immediately. It's not an easy or simple piece, so when we left an hour later, none of us knew it perfectly. We were excited, however, singing and whistling, working on our parts with no intention of stopping. I heard people humming its harmony for days. We gathered after work that night to watch some astronomy videos and prepare for the guest lecturer coming that weekend.
Tuesday felt earlier than other days as we prepared for class. Coming into the Fellowship, I had expected math to be the more challenging of the two main subjects, but so far, music has been the most difficult. This was another full day of music, and between our discussions, debates, and lectures, we found ourselves drained by lunch-time. We found relief in the healing rays of the noonday sun, laying like lizards on the back porch. Soon enough, Caleb called us back in for our more practical music session. We tuned our instruments and listened to his assignment. He told us that we would be working in pairs to develop a unique melody based on a classic chord progression. The simple act of playing music together made up for the heated discussions of the morning, and we left refreshed and in high spirits. Immediately after work, I cracked my Bible to study the Psalm I was going to present the next morning. In the early evening, Tobin arrived to meet with some of us, and my music group still to meet to discuss our end-of-semester presentation. Shortly before midnight, as my housemates and I prepared for the next day, we agreed that the days here are simply too short.
Wednesday brought a new tradition: "Formal Friday— But On Wednesday Because We Have A Guest Coming This Weekend And We Don't Want To Make Him Feel Uncomfortable." (Simplified to FFBOWBWHAGCTWAWDWTMHFU.) Class went quickly by that day, and we soon had our SATs graded and put away. Leigh had something much more exciting to talk about: Italy. She had a list of opportunities for us to go home and consider. Lunch came early, and we spent it in the sun and on computers, deciding between Pisa and Venice, opera and cooking, caves and cliffs. Afterwards, we left for work while the music counsel met, weaving their secrets and spinning our fates.
Thursday was a fairly standard day with math in the morning and more music in the afternoon. As the weekend approached, people started getting more adventurous, forgoing studies in favor of excitement. Some of us just needed a change of pace, and before I knew what was happening, I found myself running errands at Walmart with a bunch of other guys. When we got home, we learned that our guest speaker, Dr. DeYoung, had arrived. Huzzah!
So Friday morning was fantastic. We woke up an hour later than normal with sunlight streaming uncharacteristically through the blinds. With no rush, we leisurely made our way to the house, arriving before morning devotions to meet Dr. DeYoung. Instead of having a student present a Psalm, Leigh invited pastor Skogen to lead us. He spoke clearly, laying out the biblical view on God's divine will and how it applies to our lives. We listened raptly, drinking it in. While the Socratic method of learning through questions and discussion is certainly effective, we enjoyed listening to someone teach plainly from the authority of scripture.
Afterwards, we went to the classroom, where Caleb introduced our guest to us formally. The doctor told us his students called him "Prof", and we were welcome to do the same. We expected him to start on astronomy right away, but Caleb led us in music discussion for the first hour. While we talked, DeYoung sat by, quietly observing. When he finally stood to present, he already had an idea of who we were. (By the end of his stay, he understood most of us; the man is quick and clever.) We had a great time with him over the next two hours as he gave us a crash course on astronomy. As he talked about measuring stars, plotting their movements, and way Halley's Comet slingshots around the sun, we saw the connections to the math concepts we'd been studying. An hour into the class, he sent us outside with rulers and notecards to measure the diameter of the sun. He had barely started explaining it before most of us were delightedly whispering about the elegance of the beautifully simple formula. We took our measurements and returned for more enthralling conversation.
We did something different for lunch. Splitting the main table into quarters, we made little groups and prepared for the "Pig Fest". This is a mode of dinner conversation in which a small group takes one topic and discusses it in detail, over dinner, for a quarter of an hour, at which point they stop, choose another topic, and continue. D. DeYoung sat with the first table, we all dug into our pizza, and Leigh read the first student-generated question. We discussed everything from airport security to the nuances of salvation over that hour. After it was up, Leigh dismissed everyone for twenty minutes, but many of us wanted to talk to Dr. DeYoung, and we surrounded him until Leigh called us in to class. We did math and astronomy for another few hours, and we ended in time to enjoy a few hours of sun before dinner. Most of us went swimming, though a few of us studied or played ping-pong. We met back at the house for supper together and with that done, we had another hour of class, built a fire by the lake and sat around it, telling stories and continuing to ask questions of DeYoung. Sadly, it was too cloudy to see anything, but DeYoung went out on the motorboat with Leigh and a few of the students anyway, finding a few gaps in the clouds to see the sky through. We left tired but satisfied. Unfortunately, the weekend mindset had ambushed us, and though we had to rise the next morning, some of us ignored our bodies' signals and decided to stay up late instead.
Saturday came too early. We rose at the same time as before and drove to the house. The pastor led our devotions again, and after a rousing rendition of Sing Choirs of New Jerusalem, we moved on to astronomy. This time he had all day, and he used it well. He finished his astronomy lecture by having us measure the position of the sun in its annual course at noon, and after lunch, he presented a comparison of theistic evolution and creationism before moving on to our questions. We took one more break for the afternoon, everyone heading his or her own way. It was a lovely day. We went out on the lake, wakeboarding and tubing, or we just laid in the sun, taking turns reading out loud. After supper, we met one last time, dragging class out as long as we could. When he finally closed, we stood and clapped. We were hoping he could come stargazing with us, but once again, the night was too cloudy.
On Sunday morning, most of us tried to get a little extra sleep. A diminished and heavy-lidded group trickled in to church that day. We heard Pastor Skogen preach again, and followed familiar threads through his sermon which he had laid down while he was leading us. When he talks, people listen, and we woke up. Afterwards, we said our final goodbyes to our new-found friend and left, though he was staying at Leigh's for a few more hours. Anna Harvey left to visit an old friend who had just returned from England, and many of the Fellows went with her. Tobin gave me a lift home, and we discussed the merits of togas as his wife laughed at us from the back seat. That afternoon was practically the first time any of us had free time over the weekend, so we found ourselves in town, stocking up for the next week. At the same time, Gracsyn was driving DeYoung back to the airport. That night found all of us watching Lord of the Rings at Leigh's house, our host curled up in a mound of cushions in the center of the room. One by one, people drifted off to bed. When the movie ended, we sat motionless for minutes as the credits rolled. Nobody wanted to stop the music or end the night. That was when we realized something fantastic. We were about to hit the peak of the Perseid meteor shower— and the sky was crystal clear. We quickly packed up and left for the villas, now energetic with the prospect of a longer night. The Perseids enticed some of the fellows who wouldn't normally go stargazing to come along, and we drove to the dam, where the sky is darker and the trees don't obscure. We stayed too long, but it was worth it.
The next morning started painfully. It was a normal Monday with math and choir, but that coupled with all of our sleepless weekend antics, plus the couch-filled classroom, (the music room's furniture had to be temporarily displaced for a while) made for a very drowsy experience. Leigh, however, kept us engaged with math games, the SAT, and another discussion about Italy. We had no trouble staying awake for choir. Afterwards, we all went our separate ways for work, and only met again that evening. Actually, it was a pretty eventful evening, with an introduction to Italian at Leigh's, a bunch of good discussions with the other Fellows, (Seth in particular) and with Tobin arriving to lead some of us in a few hours of nerdy gaming.
Classical Conversations started today, on Tuesday. While Caleb taught us in music, Leigh taught at the local community. It was a good day. The discussions were friendly and we had a great time. We started playing music on the speakers between sessions, and the dancing which it naturally brought left us all laughing and vitalized. Caleb surprised us by giving us the afternoon off from class, and so we ate lunch and returned home and to work, where I am now! We had a great time over the weekend, even if we didn't get all the sleep we wanted. There's another astronomer coming this week, and we're all very excited. I'll be getting back to my work now, but I hope you have and have had a great day so far.
Au revoir,
Barnabas
Monday morning was complicated by the start of the Classical Conversations school year, which is just on the cusp of resuming. The warehouse and office have been flooded with more work than before, and a few of the students who work at the warehouse went straight there that morning, leaving earlier than the rest of us who were going to class. While they worked, Leigh wrangled the rest of us through another math-filled morning.
On any given day, our class goes something like this. We start off the day with one of Euclid's geometric propositions, working it out and proving it for ourselves. After that, she usually shows us some mathematical tricks and tips, running us through some exercises to warm up our brains for what comes next: the SAT. We drop the discussion for twenty or twenty-five minutes of beautifully absolute test questions, taken in silence at our desks. After the clock runs down, we briefly check our answers, and Leigh explains how we reach those which we missed. As she satisfies our questions, some of the Fellows work on a second test, exercising their minds still further. By the time we finish, the morning is mostly gone, and we spend the final hour exploring new concepts of calculus, trigonometry, or physics.
Thus Monday morning came and went. We ate lunch and gathered around the piano for choir. Caleb introduced us to a new song: Sing Choirs of New Jerusalem, which we took to immediately. It's not an easy or simple piece, so when we left an hour later, none of us knew it perfectly. We were excited, however, singing and whistling, working on our parts with no intention of stopping. I heard people humming its harmony for days. We gathered after work that night to watch some astronomy videos and prepare for the guest lecturer coming that weekend.
Tuesday felt earlier than other days as we prepared for class. Coming into the Fellowship, I had expected math to be the more challenging of the two main subjects, but so far, music has been the most difficult. This was another full day of music, and between our discussions, debates, and lectures, we found ourselves drained by lunch-time. We found relief in the healing rays of the noonday sun, laying like lizards on the back porch. Soon enough, Caleb called us back in for our more practical music session. We tuned our instruments and listened to his assignment. He told us that we would be working in pairs to develop a unique melody based on a classic chord progression. The simple act of playing music together made up for the heated discussions of the morning, and we left refreshed and in high spirits. Immediately after work, I cracked my Bible to study the Psalm I was going to present the next morning. In the early evening, Tobin arrived to meet with some of us, and my music group still to meet to discuss our end-of-semester presentation. Shortly before midnight, as my housemates and I prepared for the next day, we agreed that the days here are simply too short.
Wednesday brought a new tradition: "Formal Friday— But On Wednesday Because We Have A Guest Coming This Weekend And We Don't Want To Make Him Feel Uncomfortable." (Simplified to FFBOWBWHAGCTWAWDWTMHFU.) Class went quickly by that day, and we soon had our SATs graded and put away. Leigh had something much more exciting to talk about: Italy. She had a list of opportunities for us to go home and consider. Lunch came early, and we spent it in the sun and on computers, deciding between Pisa and Venice, opera and cooking, caves and cliffs. Afterwards, we left for work while the music counsel met, weaving their secrets and spinning our fates.
Thursday was a fairly standard day with math in the morning and more music in the afternoon. As the weekend approached, people started getting more adventurous, forgoing studies in favor of excitement. Some of us just needed a change of pace, and before I knew what was happening, I found myself running errands at Walmart with a bunch of other guys. When we got home, we learned that our guest speaker, Dr. DeYoung, had arrived. Huzzah!
So Friday morning was fantastic. We woke up an hour later than normal with sunlight streaming uncharacteristically through the blinds. With no rush, we leisurely made our way to the house, arriving before morning devotions to meet Dr. DeYoung. Instead of having a student present a Psalm, Leigh invited pastor Skogen to lead us. He spoke clearly, laying out the biblical view on God's divine will and how it applies to our lives. We listened raptly, drinking it in. While the Socratic method of learning through questions and discussion is certainly effective, we enjoyed listening to someone teach plainly from the authority of scripture.
Afterwards, we went to the classroom, where Caleb introduced our guest to us formally. The doctor told us his students called him "Prof", and we were welcome to do the same. We expected him to start on astronomy right away, but Caleb led us in music discussion for the first hour. While we talked, DeYoung sat by, quietly observing. When he finally stood to present, he already had an idea of who we were. (By the end of his stay, he understood most of us; the man is quick and clever.) We had a great time with him over the next two hours as he gave us a crash course on astronomy. As he talked about measuring stars, plotting their movements, and way Halley's Comet slingshots around the sun, we saw the connections to the math concepts we'd been studying. An hour into the class, he sent us outside with rulers and notecards to measure the diameter of the sun. He had barely started explaining it before most of us were delightedly whispering about the elegance of the beautifully simple formula. We took our measurements and returned for more enthralling conversation.
We did something different for lunch. Splitting the main table into quarters, we made little groups and prepared for the "Pig Fest". This is a mode of dinner conversation in which a small group takes one topic and discusses it in detail, over dinner, for a quarter of an hour, at which point they stop, choose another topic, and continue. D. DeYoung sat with the first table, we all dug into our pizza, and Leigh read the first student-generated question. We discussed everything from airport security to the nuances of salvation over that hour. After it was up, Leigh dismissed everyone for twenty minutes, but many of us wanted to talk to Dr. DeYoung, and we surrounded him until Leigh called us in to class. We did math and astronomy for another few hours, and we ended in time to enjoy a few hours of sun before dinner. Most of us went swimming, though a few of us studied or played ping-pong. We met back at the house for supper together and with that done, we had another hour of class, built a fire by the lake and sat around it, telling stories and continuing to ask questions of DeYoung. Sadly, it was too cloudy to see anything, but DeYoung went out on the motorboat with Leigh and a few of the students anyway, finding a few gaps in the clouds to see the sky through. We left tired but satisfied. Unfortunately, the weekend mindset had ambushed us, and though we had to rise the next morning, some of us ignored our bodies' signals and decided to stay up late instead.
Saturday came too early. We rose at the same time as before and drove to the house. The pastor led our devotions again, and after a rousing rendition of Sing Choirs of New Jerusalem, we moved on to astronomy. This time he had all day, and he used it well. He finished his astronomy lecture by having us measure the position of the sun in its annual course at noon, and after lunch, he presented a comparison of theistic evolution and creationism before moving on to our questions. We took one more break for the afternoon, everyone heading his or her own way. It was a lovely day. We went out on the lake, wakeboarding and tubing, or we just laid in the sun, taking turns reading out loud. After supper, we met one last time, dragging class out as long as we could. When he finally closed, we stood and clapped. We were hoping he could come stargazing with us, but once again, the night was too cloudy.
On Sunday morning, most of us tried to get a little extra sleep. A diminished and heavy-lidded group trickled in to church that day. We heard Pastor Skogen preach again, and followed familiar threads through his sermon which he had laid down while he was leading us. When he talks, people listen, and we woke up. Afterwards, we said our final goodbyes to our new-found friend and left, though he was staying at Leigh's for a few more hours. Anna Harvey left to visit an old friend who had just returned from England, and many of the Fellows went with her. Tobin gave me a lift home, and we discussed the merits of togas as his wife laughed at us from the back seat. That afternoon was practically the first time any of us had free time over the weekend, so we found ourselves in town, stocking up for the next week. At the same time, Gracsyn was driving DeYoung back to the airport. That night found all of us watching Lord of the Rings at Leigh's house, our host curled up in a mound of cushions in the center of the room. One by one, people drifted off to bed. When the movie ended, we sat motionless for minutes as the credits rolled. Nobody wanted to stop the music or end the night. That was when we realized something fantastic. We were about to hit the peak of the Perseid meteor shower— and the sky was crystal clear. We quickly packed up and left for the villas, now energetic with the prospect of a longer night. The Perseids enticed some of the fellows who wouldn't normally go stargazing to come along, and we drove to the dam, where the sky is darker and the trees don't obscure. We stayed too long, but it was worth it.
The next morning started painfully. It was a normal Monday with math and choir, but that coupled with all of our sleepless weekend antics, plus the couch-filled classroom, (the music room's furniture had to be temporarily displaced for a while) made for a very drowsy experience. Leigh, however, kept us engaged with math games, the SAT, and another discussion about Italy. We had no trouble staying awake for choir. Afterwards, we all went our separate ways for work, and only met again that evening. Actually, it was a pretty eventful evening, with an introduction to Italian at Leigh's, a bunch of good discussions with the other Fellows, (Seth in particular) and with Tobin arriving to lead some of us in a few hours of nerdy gaming.
Classical Conversations started today, on Tuesday. While Caleb taught us in music, Leigh taught at the local community. It was a good day. The discussions were friendly and we had a great time. We started playing music on the speakers between sessions, and the dancing which it naturally brought left us all laughing and vitalized. Caleb surprised us by giving us the afternoon off from class, and so we ate lunch and returned home and to work, where I am now! We had a great time over the weekend, even if we didn't get all the sleep we wanted. There's another astronomer coming this week, and we're all very excited. I'll be getting back to my work now, but I hope you have and have had a great day so far.
Au revoir,
Barnabas
Monday, August 5, 2013
Progress and Performances
Oh it's good to be back. Before I tell you what's been going on here, I have to let you know that this update is one of the highlights of my week. I'm overjoyed to be able to sit down and tell you what we've been doing, and the response I've gotten from you has been greater than I ever expected. So let's dive in!
As you recall, Caleb was gone last week and a few of us worked a practicum, so the school at the house was mostly review and exercise. This week, it picked back up as Leigh taught us new concepts in Geometry and arithmetic, showing us new approaches to multiplication and division. Monday was the first full day of the week. Later that day, after Caleb led the girls in choir and we all went to work, he took Laura Bos to Southern Pines to meet with a man called Danny Infantino, a recording artist who he hoped would be able to help produce Leigh Bortins' new audiobook, The Core. The meeting was very successful, and they began recording.
Back home in West End, the rest of us worked at our various internships until the evening. With the weight of our music performances hanging over our heads, we quickly settled into our houses and most of us began practicing. Caleb had assigned us the task two weeks before, telling us to find a song we had never played, and learn it by this Tuesday. Some were prepared, adding final touches, and some were only just getting started. The most confident relaxed, driving out to dinner. By the end of the night, the music had mostly died down. A few of the Fellows met out in the driveway, arranging chairs into a theater to watch a show together, honoring the rules which divide the villas after ten o'clock, relegating our gatherings to more public places. A few more of us went to the golf course to serenade the stars with our prepared melodies. The night ended peacefully.
The next morning, Leigh divided us into groups, those who excelled at SAT math, those who needed the most help, and the remaining, the poor saps in the middle, with me in the very center. The mathematical geniuses took tests at their own pace, while the other two groups plodded along, some working with Mrs. Leigh and some alone. We were all humming with excitement and nervous energy as lunch drew nearer and the performances with it. The numbers passed in a flurry and soon we were forming phalanxes of folding chairs around a single chair on the makeshift stage, the chair which would be our testing ground in the hour to come. One after another and pair by pair, we ascended to the chair and played for our Fellows.
By this point, we knew how well our classmates could play. We knew who came with years of training, who had learned by themselves through hours at home, and who were just starting to play at Mandala. Unsurprisingly, this performance reflected something completely different. Those who had practiced did well, and some of the best among us had underwhelming performances. We all had our turn, and we all made our mistakes— well, except for William. Elizabeth and Anna Harvey played a beautiful duet for the violin and clarinet. I strummed an old rock and roll song from the fifties, pausing to let people laugh at the impossibly rapid beat my nervous leg was drilling into the floor. William, that charismatic master of the friendly ukulele stepped to the front and strummed out a love song, singing through it again, now dedicated to and updated for our dear Sensei Skogen. We joined in the chorus, and left it at that: a job well done. So we left for work, one weight off our shoulders, another pressing a little harder. Our science projects were due at the end of the week.
I waited to tell you exactly what our project was, and now that the day has come and passed, I can disclose it fully. Our task was to build a working Chladni Plate, a resonating surface which displays sound waves made visible and demonstrates how they can travel through physical objects. We had split into three teams led by Austin, Christopher, and me, and these last few days were very busy as we all hurried to understand our plates. Christopher and I had ours finished by Tuesday night, built to the best of our understanding, but neither of them worked as they were supposed to. We spent the rest of the week developing them, but to no avail. When Friday came, our three teams gave our presentations, demonstrated our deficient plates, and discussed what might have gone wrong. Setting the plates aside, we resolved to revisit them after we return from Italy. Leigh collected feedback on everyone's experience with the project, and as soon as she gives it to me, I will write up a more detailed report.
The thread of Chladni wove in and out of the week, but we did more than build our resounding plates and clanging tables. For one thing, the doctor gave Ian the okay to take off his final boot, and now he's walking around without a limp or a stumble— fully heeled. Laura and I have been making the trip to Southern Pines every day after class. We've been enjoying spending time with Mr. Infantino, the charismatic old producer and as Laura read the first chapter of The Core, we discovered that he had had a classical education in college. He's drinking in the book, and we're developing a really neat relationship with him. We won't be recording with him tomorrow, because he's actually expecting the birth of his first child tonight. I'd really appreciate if you would keep him and his wife in your prayers tonight!
So our week came and went, and the weekend came along. Because it was the first Friday of the month, some of us were looking forward to the regular public gathering at the marina. That evening, we heard music and drove over. As we waited for more people to show up, we started to feel a little out of place as we realized we were the only white faces at the party. After ten minutes on the outskirts, I walked to the pavilions in the center, only to find out the regular event had been canceled and we had stumbled into a family reunion. Enlightened, we laughed and bowed out.
That evening, Anna, Zach, and I danced at the Copper Lodge until Leigh asked us for some advice on an art project. We spent the rest of the night hanging out with her, talking about interior design and her beautiful house. She guards her time well, and I felt privileged to simply sit and chat with her. When we got home, we found the villas mostly empty. Alec, Seth, and David Bortins had left earlier that day for a rugby tournament in Atlanta, and Gracsyn, Olivia, and Anna Gordon had gone home for the weekend.
Saturday was a wonderfully relaxed day, a great change of pace from the crazy week. We slept in, and a few of us went out on the lake. William, Michael and I went wakeboarding, along with Ian and his friend Race. We had a great time, only incurring mild sunburns, bruises, and slight sensations of drowning. While William towed us around the lake, Mrs. Bortins led an antiquing excursion with most of the remaining girls and some of their friends. We found ourselves together that evening, bonding over a nice pancake dinner. I even had a taste of home, real maple syrup, something I've been missing for the past month and a half. We closed the night out with a movie. As we watched, the rugby players returned as conquering heroes, bearing bronze medals and well-earned injuries. Most of us went to bed early that night, but a few people stayed behind at the house.
When I woke at seven that morning to get ready for the day, I decided that Saturday must be our day of rest. Anyway, Alec came around to get me for choir and we went to church. It was a great morning, and we spent the afternoon with Tobin, discussing existentialism, predestination, and squirrels. A few of us went on a nature walk with him, and we spent the rest of the day in relaxation.
Well, my evening here has been very long, with interruption after distraction. For the sake of promptness, or some semblance of promptness, I'll forgo describing the events of today, and leave that for another time. I'm off to find something to eat, and find a quiet hole to sleep in.
Au revoir,
Barnabas
Once again, the SAT process has changed, and I don't have scores to report. We seem to be improving, little by little. More people are getting close to perfect scores, and the questions we're asking are getting more involved and intelligent.
As you recall, Caleb was gone last week and a few of us worked a practicum, so the school at the house was mostly review and exercise. This week, it picked back up as Leigh taught us new concepts in Geometry and arithmetic, showing us new approaches to multiplication and division. Monday was the first full day of the week. Later that day, after Caleb led the girls in choir and we all went to work, he took Laura Bos to Southern Pines to meet with a man called Danny Infantino, a recording artist who he hoped would be able to help produce Leigh Bortins' new audiobook, The Core. The meeting was very successful, and they began recording.
Back home in West End, the rest of us worked at our various internships until the evening. With the weight of our music performances hanging over our heads, we quickly settled into our houses and most of us began practicing. Caleb had assigned us the task two weeks before, telling us to find a song we had never played, and learn it by this Tuesday. Some were prepared, adding final touches, and some were only just getting started. The most confident relaxed, driving out to dinner. By the end of the night, the music had mostly died down. A few of the Fellows met out in the driveway, arranging chairs into a theater to watch a show together, honoring the rules which divide the villas after ten o'clock, relegating our gatherings to more public places. A few more of us went to the golf course to serenade the stars with our prepared melodies. The night ended peacefully.
The next morning, Leigh divided us into groups, those who excelled at SAT math, those who needed the most help, and the remaining, the poor saps in the middle, with me in the very center. The mathematical geniuses took tests at their own pace, while the other two groups plodded along, some working with Mrs. Leigh and some alone. We were all humming with excitement and nervous energy as lunch drew nearer and the performances with it. The numbers passed in a flurry and soon we were forming phalanxes of folding chairs around a single chair on the makeshift stage, the chair which would be our testing ground in the hour to come. One after another and pair by pair, we ascended to the chair and played for our Fellows.
By this point, we knew how well our classmates could play. We knew who came with years of training, who had learned by themselves through hours at home, and who were just starting to play at Mandala. Unsurprisingly, this performance reflected something completely different. Those who had practiced did well, and some of the best among us had underwhelming performances. We all had our turn, and we all made our mistakes— well, except for William. Elizabeth and Anna Harvey played a beautiful duet for the violin and clarinet. I strummed an old rock and roll song from the fifties, pausing to let people laugh at the impossibly rapid beat my nervous leg was drilling into the floor. William, that charismatic master of the friendly ukulele stepped to the front and strummed out a love song, singing through it again, now dedicated to and updated for our dear Sensei Skogen. We joined in the chorus, and left it at that: a job well done. So we left for work, one weight off our shoulders, another pressing a little harder. Our science projects were due at the end of the week.
I waited to tell you exactly what our project was, and now that the day has come and passed, I can disclose it fully. Our task was to build a working Chladni Plate, a resonating surface which displays sound waves made visible and demonstrates how they can travel through physical objects. We had split into three teams led by Austin, Christopher, and me, and these last few days were very busy as we all hurried to understand our plates. Christopher and I had ours finished by Tuesday night, built to the best of our understanding, but neither of them worked as they were supposed to. We spent the rest of the week developing them, but to no avail. When Friday came, our three teams gave our presentations, demonstrated our deficient plates, and discussed what might have gone wrong. Setting the plates aside, we resolved to revisit them after we return from Italy. Leigh collected feedback on everyone's experience with the project, and as soon as she gives it to me, I will write up a more detailed report.
The thread of Chladni wove in and out of the week, but we did more than build our resounding plates and clanging tables. For one thing, the doctor gave Ian the okay to take off his final boot, and now he's walking around without a limp or a stumble— fully heeled. Laura and I have been making the trip to Southern Pines every day after class. We've been enjoying spending time with Mr. Infantino, the charismatic old producer and as Laura read the first chapter of The Core, we discovered that he had had a classical education in college. He's drinking in the book, and we're developing a really neat relationship with him. We won't be recording with him tomorrow, because he's actually expecting the birth of his first child tonight. I'd really appreciate if you would keep him and his wife in your prayers tonight!
So our week came and went, and the weekend came along. Because it was the first Friday of the month, some of us were looking forward to the regular public gathering at the marina. That evening, we heard music and drove over. As we waited for more people to show up, we started to feel a little out of place as we realized we were the only white faces at the party. After ten minutes on the outskirts, I walked to the pavilions in the center, only to find out the regular event had been canceled and we had stumbled into a family reunion. Enlightened, we laughed and bowed out.
That evening, Anna, Zach, and I danced at the Copper Lodge until Leigh asked us for some advice on an art project. We spent the rest of the night hanging out with her, talking about interior design and her beautiful house. She guards her time well, and I felt privileged to simply sit and chat with her. When we got home, we found the villas mostly empty. Alec, Seth, and David Bortins had left earlier that day for a rugby tournament in Atlanta, and Gracsyn, Olivia, and Anna Gordon had gone home for the weekend.
Saturday was a wonderfully relaxed day, a great change of pace from the crazy week. We slept in, and a few of us went out on the lake. William, Michael and I went wakeboarding, along with Ian and his friend Race. We had a great time, only incurring mild sunburns, bruises, and slight sensations of drowning. While William towed us around the lake, Mrs. Bortins led an antiquing excursion with most of the remaining girls and some of their friends. We found ourselves together that evening, bonding over a nice pancake dinner. I even had a taste of home, real maple syrup, something I've been missing for the past month and a half. We closed the night out with a movie. As we watched, the rugby players returned as conquering heroes, bearing bronze medals and well-earned injuries. Most of us went to bed early that night, but a few people stayed behind at the house.
When I woke at seven that morning to get ready for the day, I decided that Saturday must be our day of rest. Anyway, Alec came around to get me for choir and we went to church. It was a great morning, and we spent the afternoon with Tobin, discussing existentialism, predestination, and squirrels. A few of us went on a nature walk with him, and we spent the rest of the day in relaxation.
Well, my evening here has been very long, with interruption after distraction. For the sake of promptness, or some semblance of promptness, I'll forgo describing the events of today, and leave that for another time. I'm off to find something to eat, and find a quiet hole to sleep in.
Au revoir,
Barnabas
Once again, the SAT process has changed, and I don't have scores to report. We seem to be improving, little by little. More people are getting close to perfect scores, and the questions we're asking are getting more involved and intelligent.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Perceptive History Books
“Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding in length of days.” Job 12:12
I’ve been thinking a lot about old age. Specifically, I’ve been considering the old men and women— maybe relatives, family friends, or church members— who we all have in our lives. In my cosy valley in Vermont, I had the blessing of growing up next door to my grandfather for the first eighteen years of my life. He was close enough to be over almost every day, but absent enough for our hearts to stay fond. Now that I’m living away from home, I realize how much of a blessing this situation was. Too often, the elderly people in our lives are ignored, pushed off to the side and marked as irrelevant. Youth my age are especially guilty of this, and the idea could not be more wrong. We should value the elderly for three reasons: our seniors give us context for where we have been, our elders have a unique insight into life as it is, and our grandfathers have stories to tell.
The first reason we should value the elderly is that they give us context for where we have been. George Santayana is probably best known for penning that pithy truth, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” We can study history to gain that understanding, but nothing can take the place of living through the actual events themselves. Gifted with immediate first-hand understanding and long lives spent building connections, these men and women can’t help but see the continuous threads which pervade history. When we spend time with these people, we learn about a world which was and which still is. In a world where technology is outdated minutes after being unboxed and pop stars blink in and out of the consciousness of the public like fireflies, we need the voices of the elderly to remind us, as Solomon told his sons, “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.”
The second reason we should value the elderly is that they have a unique insight into life as it is. Because of the context of where they have been, or rather, when they have been, these men and women have seen things we have not seen and experienced things we may never experience. The men who lived through the “Great War” saw what was happening thirty years later when Germany rose again to power. After the unfaithful scouts came back to Moses in the desert, God sent the Israelites to wander for another forty years to ensure that a new generation would be the first to enter the promised land. The older ones among us can see how the world changes or stays the same through all sorts of trials, informing their wisdom and knowledge.
The third reason we should value the elderly is that they have stories to tell. If there is any one thing that grandparents seem to have in common, it’s the way they all have an abundance of stories. Considering the long lives lived by each old man and woman, it’s no wonder that they seem to be walking storybooks. We go through life making choices, good, bad, and so many in between, and we reap the consequences from them. Our grandparents, our old friends, and the men and women from history all serve as individual studies for lives full of choices. We don’t have to explore every option in life to find the consequences; we can simply look to the past. From introduction to climax to conclusion, every conflict under the sun has been mapped out in the lives of the people who have come before us, and most immediately by men and women we all know in our lives. We should take advantage of that.
The elderly people among us are important. Without these people, we would be forced to stumble through life without any guidance. We should value them for their context, for their insight, and for their stories which prove relevant time after time. I miss my grandpa. I miss his laugh, his cheerful whistle, and his fun stories about his life growing up. He’s lived almost four times as long as I have, and the lessons he has learned are invaluable. While I love my fellowship of teenagers, I miss the wisdom that comes with the elderly. I need to find some surrogate grandparents to complement my newfound family.
Au revoir,
Barnabas
Barnabas
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