Lecturer Retirement Quotes

The history of Immanuel Kant's life is difficult to portray, for he had neither life nor history. He led a mechanical, regular, almost abstract bachelor existence in a little retired street of Königsberg, an old town on the north-eastern frontier of Germany. I do not believe that the great clock of the cathedral performed in a more passionless and methodical manner its daily routine than did its townsman, Immanuel Kant. Rising in the morning, coffee-drinking, writing, reading lectures, dining, walking, everything had its appointed time, and the neighbors knew that it was exactly half-past three o'clock when Kant stepped forth from his house in his grey, tight-fitting coat, with his Spanish cane in his hand, and betook himself to the little linden avenue called after him to this day the "Philosopher's Walk." Summer and winter he walked up and down it eight times, and when the weather was dull or heavy clouds prognosticated rain, the townspeople beheld his servant, the old Lampe, trudging anxiously behind Kant with a big umbrella under his arm, like an image of Providence. What a strange contrast did this man's outward life present to his destructive, world-annihilating thoughts! In sooth, had the citizens of Königsberg had the least presentiment of the full significance of his ideas, they would have felt far more awful dread at the presence of this man than at the sight of an executioner, who can but kill the body. But the worthy folk saw in him nothing more than a Professor of Philosophy, and as he passed at his customary hour, they greeted him in a friendly manner and set their watches by him.

It is very easy to grow tired at collecting; the period of a low tide is about all men can endure. At first the rocks are bright and every moving animal makes his mark on the attention. The picture is wide and colored and beautiful. But after an hour and a half the attention centers weary, the color fades, and the field is likely to narrow to an individual animal. Here one may observe his own world narrowed down until interest and, with it, observation, flicker and go out. And what if with age this weariness becomes permanent and observation dim out and not recover? Can this be what happens to so many men of science? Enthusiasm, interest, sharpness, dulled with a weariness until finally they retire into easy didacticism? With this weariness, this stultification of attention centers, perhaps there comes the pained and sad memory of what the old excitement was like, and regret might turn to envy of the men who still have it. Then out of the shell of didacticism, such a used-up man might attack the unwearied, and he would have in his hands proper weapons of attack. It does seem certain that to a wearied man an error in a mass of correct data wipes out all the correctness and is a focus for attack; whereas the unwearied man, in his energy and receptivity, might consider the little dross of error a by-product of his effort. These two may balance and produce a purer thing than either in the end. These two may be the stresses which hold up the structure, but it is a sad thing to see the interest in interested men thin out and weaken and die. We have known so many professors who once carried their listeners high on their single enthusiasm, and have seen these same men finally settle back comfortably into lectures prepared years before and never vary them again. Perhaps this is the same narrowing we observe in relation to ourselves and the tide pool—a man looking at reality brings his own limitations to the world. If he has strength and energy of mind the tide pool stretches both ways, digs back to electrons and leaps space into the universe and fights out of the moment into non-conceptual time. Then ecology has a synonym which is ALL.

To write is to transform that inward gaze into words, to study the worlds into which we pass when we retire into ourselves, and to do so with patience, obstinacy, and joy.

Novels were not arguments; a story worked, or it didn't, on its own merits. What did it matter if a detail was real or imagined? What mattered was that the detail seemed real, and that it was absolutely the best detail for the circumstance. That wasn't much of a theory, but it was all Ruth could truly commit herself to at the moment. It was time to retire that old lecture, and her penance was to endure the compliments of her former credo.

The mass education in high schools reflects the mass production of the real world. The teaching style has one teacher (supervisor) lecturing (leading) 20-25 students (workers) sitting in rows, much like a manager and his employees.

The lower middle class is petty bourgeois. These people seek their security in status; status in an organizational structure. They try to find a place for themselves in an organization which has a hierarchy in which they can count on moving up automatically simply by surviving. Some people still think that most Americans are active, assertive, aggressive, self-reliant people who need no help from anyone, especially the Government, and achieve success as individuals by competing freely with each other. That may have been true 100 years ago. It isn’t true today. Today more and more of us are petty bourgeois who snuggle down in a hierarchical bureaucracy where advancement is assured merely by keeping the body warm and not breaking the rules; it doesn’t matter whether it is education or the Armed Services or a big corporation or the Government. Notice that high school teachers are universally opposed to merit pay. They are paid on the basis of their degrees and years of teaching experience. Or consider the professor. He gets his Ph. D. by writing a large dissertation on a small subject, and he hopes to God he never meets anyone else who knows anything about that subject. If he does, they don’t talk about it; they talk about the weather or baseball. So our society is becoming more and more a society of white-collar clerks on many levels, including full professors. They live for retirement and find their security through status in structures.

Taking these things into consideration, while blinking stupidly at Dr. Z, I resolved to retire gracefully, if I must; so, with a valedictory to my boys, a private lecture to Mrs. Waldman, and a fervent wish that I could take off my body and work in my soul, I mournfully ascended to my apartment, and Nurse P. was reported off-duty.

My favorite lecturer was Alan Bean, who flew on Apollo 12 and is one of the twelve guys who walked on the moon. After retiring from NASA, he became a painter. Alan's lecture was called "The Art of Space Exploration." He talked about the mistakes he'd made and how he learned to fix them. One lesson that took him a while to learn was that at a place like NASA you can only have an effect on certain things. You can't control who likes you. You can't control who gets assigned to flights or what NASA's budget is going to be next year. If you get caught up worrying about things you can't control, you'll drive yourself nuts. It's better to focus on the things right in front of you. Identify the places where you can have a positive impact. Concentrate there and let the rest take care of itself. The last thing Alan said to us was 'What most people want in life is to do something great. That doesn't happen often. Don't take it for granted. Don't be blasé about it. And don't blow it. A lot of times, believe it or not, people blow it.

Postscript, 2005 From the Publisher ON APRIL 7, 2004, the Mid-Hudson Highland Post carried an article about an appearance that John Gatto made at Highland High School. Headlined “Rendered Speechless,” the report was subtitled “Advocate for education reform brings controversy to Highland.” The article relates the events of March 25 evening of that year when the second half of John Gatto’s presentation was canceled by the School Superintendent, “following complaints from the Highland Teachers Association that the presentation was too controversial.” On the surface, the cancellation was in response to a video presentation that showed some violence. But retired student counselor Paul Jankiewicz begged to differ, pointing out that none of the dozens of students he talked to afterwards were inspired to violence. In his opinion, few people opposing Gatto had seen the video presentation. Rather, “They were taking the lead from the teacher’s union who were upset at the whole tone of the presentation.” He continued, “Mr. Gatto basically told them that they were not serving kids well and that students needed to be told the truth, be given real-life learning experiences, and be responsible for their own education. [Gatto] questioned the validity and relevance of standardized tests, the prison atmosphere of school, and the lack of relevant experience given students.” He added that Gatto also had an important message for parents: “That you have to take control of your children’s education.” Highland High School senior Chris Hart commended the school board for bringing Gatto to speak, and wished that more students had heard his message. Senior Katie Hanley liked the lecture for its “new perspective,” adding that ”it was important because it started a new exchange and got students to think for themselves.” High School junior Qing Guo found Gatto “inspiring.” Highland teacher Aliza Driller-Colangelo was also inspired by Gatto, and commended the “risk-takers,” saying that, following the talk, her class had an exciting exchange about ideas. Concluded Jankiewicz, the students “were eager to discuss the issues raised. Unfortunately, our school did not allow that dialogue to happen, except for a few teachers who had the courage to engage the students.” What was not reported in the newspaper is the fact that the school authorities called the police to intervene and ‘restore the peace’ which, ironically enough, was never in the slightest jeopardy as the student audience was well-behaved and attentive throughout. A scheduled evening meeting at the school between Gatto and the Parents Association was peremptorily forbidden by school district authorities in a final assault on the principles of free speech and free assembly… There could be no better way of demonstrating the lasting importance of John Taylor Gatto’s work, and of this small book, than this sorry tale. It is a measure of the power of Gatto’s ideas, their urgency, and their continuing relevance that school authorities are still trying to shut them out 12 years after their initial publication, afraid even to debate them. — May the crusade continue! Chris Plant Gabriola Island, B.C. February, 2005

After three weeks of lectures and receptions in New York, Einstein paid a visit to Washington. For reasons fathomable only by those who live in that capital, the Senate decided to debate the theory of relativity. Among the leaders asserting that it was incomprehensible were Pennsylvania Republican Boies Penrose, famous for once uttering that “public office is the last refuge of a scoundrel,” and Mississippi Democrat John Sharp Williams, who retired a year later, saying, “I’d rather be a dog and bay at the moon than stay in the Senate another six years.” On the House side of the Capitol, Representative J. J. Kindred of New York proposed placing an explanation of Einstein’s theories in the Congressional Record. David Walsh of Massachusetts rose to object. Did Kindred understand the theory? “I have been earnestly busy with this theory for three weeks,” he replied, “and am beginning to see some light.” But what relevance, he was asked, did it have to the business of Congress? “It may bear upon the legislation of the future as to general relations with the cosmos.” Such discourse made it inevitable that, when Einstein went with a group to the White House on April 25, President Warren G. Harding would be faced with the question of whether he understood relativity. As the group posed for cameras, President Harding smiled and confessed that he did not comprehend the theory at all. The Washington Post carried a cartoon showing him puzzling over a paper titled “Theory of Relativity” while Einstein puzzled over one on the “Theory of Normalcy,” which was the name Harding gave to his governing philosophy. The New York Times ran a page 1 headline: “Einstein Idea Puzzles Harding, He Admits.

Once there was a Teacher when an Education System like today's didn't Exist.....His job was to Teach Life lessons to his students......Before he retired from his job he Said, " I don't know....How much you learned from my lectures or how much you can even remember from it but those words were my Life Experiences, pain, and Love.

When I was lecturing recently to a group of cardiologists at the Mayo Clinic I said... Why is it that from the moment you enter medical school to the moment you retire, the only disorder that you will ever diagnose with a physics textbook is obesity? This is biology folks, it's endocrinology, it's physiology - physics has nothing to do with it. The laws of thermodynamics are always true, the energy balance equation is irrelevant. If someone's getting fatter I guarantee you they're taking more energy than they expend (as long as they're getting heavier). And if they're getting leaner I guarantee they're expending more than they're taking in. [It's] given, let's never discuss it again. And if you say it to your patients you're telling them nothing (University Of Colorado Medical School, May 9th 2013 - via YouTube)

Most people just aren’t very talkative during the delicate tango that precedes sex, and the re-education required to make them more forthcoming would be a very big project. Nor are people unerringly good at decoding sexual signals. If they were, we wouldn’t have romantic comedies. “If there’s no social consensus about what the lines are,” says Nancy Gertner, a senior lecturer at Harvard Law School and a retired judge, then affirmative consent “has no business being in the criminal law.

Yet this third-rate and mediocre action is counted, with Waterloo and Gettysburg, among the decisive battles of history; and Goethe was not the only man there who knew that the scene before him was the beginning of a new epoch for mankind. With 36,000 men and 40 guns the French had arrested the advance of Europe, not by skilful tactics or the touch of steel, but by the moral effect of their solidity when they met the best of existing armies. The nation discovered that the Continent was at its mercy, and the war begun for the salvation of monarchy became a war for the expansion of the Republic. It was founded at Paris, and consolidated at Valmy. Yet no military event was less decisive. The French stood their ground because nobody attacked them, and they were not attacked because they stood their ground. The Prussians suffered a strategic, though not a tactical defeat. By retiring to their encampment they renounced the purposes for which they went to war, the province they occupied, and the prestige of Frederic.

Sasha, who referred to the drug as his “low-calorie martini,” shared it with a friend, Leo Zeff, a former U.S. Army lieutenant colonel and psychotherapist who was so impressed with the drug’s potential that he came out of retirement to proselytize about MDMA’s therapeutic possibilities. Zeff trained hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of therapists around the country in how to use MDMA as a tool in their practices. Ann Shulgin, Sasha’s wife, who accompanied him when he lectured to my class, told us that she herself had used MDMA, and also administered it to couples. She said that in her couples counseling practice she could accomplish more in a single six-hour session with MDMA than in six years of traditional therapy. Her patients could plumb their most vulnerable depths, safely and even joyfully, with the kind of trust that even years of therapy couldn’t engender.

Almost inconceivable is the power of a visible communion of numbers to give intensity to those feelings of the heart which usually retire into privacy, or only open themselves to the confidence of friendship. The faith in the validity of such emotions becomes irrefragable from its diffusion; we feel ourselves strong among so many associates, and all hearts and minds flow together in one great and irresistible stream. On this very account the privilege of influencing an assembled crowd is exposed to most dangerous abuses. As one may disinterestedly animate them, for the noblest and best of purposes, so another may entangle them in the deceitful meshes of sophistry, and dazzle them by the glare of a false magnanimity, whose vainglorious crimes may be painted as virtues and even as sacrifices. Beneath the delightful charms of oratory and poetry, the poison steals imperceptibly into ear and heart.

WEBSITE W.W.W.techcyberforcerecovery.com WHATSAPP +1 561.726.36.97 EMAIL Techcybersforcerecovery@cyberservices.com I Thought I Was Too Smart to Be Scammed, Until I Was. I'm an attorney, so precision and caution are second nature to me. My life is one of airtight contracts and triple-checking every single detail. I'm the one people come to for counsel. But none of that counted for anything on the day I lost $750,000 in Bitcoin to a scam. It started with what seemed like a normal email, polished, professional, with the same logo as my cryptocurrency exchange's support team. I was between client meetings, juggling calls and drafting agreements, when it arrived. The email warned of "suspicious activity" on my account. My heart pounding, I reacted reflexively. I clicked on the link. I entered my login credentials. I verified my wallet address. The reality hit me like a blow to the chest. My balance was zero seconds later. The screen went dim as horror roiled in my stomach. The Bitcoin I had worked so hard to accumulate over the years, stored for my retirement and my children's future, was gone. I felt embarrassed. Lawyers are supposed to outwit criminals, not get preyed on by them. Mortified, I asked a client, a cybersecurity specialist, for advice, expecting criticism. But he just suggested TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY. He assured me that they dealt with delicate situations like mine. I was confident from the first call that I was in good hands. They treated me with empathy and discretion by their staff, no patronizing lectures. They understood the sensitive nature of my business and assured me of complete confidentiality. Their forensic experts dove into blockchain analysis with attention to detail that rivaled my own legal work. They tracked the stolen money through a complex network of offshore wallets and cryptocurrency tumblers tech jargon that appeared right out of a spy thriller. Once they had identified the thieves, they initiated a blockchain reversal process, a cutting-edge method I was not even aware was possible. Three weeks of suffering later, my Bitcoin was back. Every Satoshi counted for. I sat in front of my desk, looking at the refilled balance, tears withheld. TECH CYBER FORCE RECOVERY not only restored my assets, they provided legal-grade documentation that empowered me to bring charges against the scammers. Today, I share my story with colleagues as a warning. Even the best minds get it. But when they do, it is nice to know the Wizards have your back.

Et le lecteur ? Il a, en apparence, la vie facile : il achète les bons livres et ignore les autres. En fait son rôle est beaucoup plus important. Toute la stratégie que l’écrivain emploie pour écrire son livre, et le censeur pour le contrôler repose sur la complicité du lecteur ; aucun régime, sauf le parfait stalinisme des années « 50, ne peut s’en passer. En deuxième lieu, le lecteur agit directement sur la littérature en tant que critique littéraire. Il faudrait écrire un grand chapitre — je ne peux ici que l’esquisser — sur le rôle très important qu’a joué la critique littéraire en Roumanie en freinant à grands coups de bride par son esthétisme militant — le galop du censeur. La qualité esthétique des livres, réelle ou amplifiée par la complicité, a été tout le temps défendue comme étant constitutive de la littérature, mais en fait la critique traduisait maintes fois en code esthétique ce qu’elle ne pouvait formuler en code politique. L’esthétisme a sauvé la littérature, tout en dépolitisant la culture et la société roumaine, et en « mandarinisant » ses écrivains qui ont obtenu le droit de se retirer pour écrire dans leur ghetto — l’île des bienheureux — où ils traduisent en fiction les luttes qu’ils ne peuvent pas, ou qu’ils n’osent pas, porter, là-bas sur la terre ferme où l’on se meurt du désespoir d’être trahi par les élites et oublié par les dieux. Le lecteur est important, en troisième lieu, comme représentant d’un espace de liberté irréductible : la vie privée. On peut obliger le citoyen à applaudir ses maîtres mais non pas à jouir des livres qui leur déplaisent. La lecture reste un fait privé. D’où l’immense effort du stalinisme dans les années cinquante aussi bien que du néo-stalinisme actuel à réduire l’espace privé de l’individu et même à l’intégrer dans sa vie publique. Les mesures les plus aberrantes des autorités roumaines pendant les années quatre-vingt semblent obéir à une telle logique : le contrôle du nombre des enfants d’une famille : la socialisation du sexe ; la réduction à trois heures par jour du programme de télévision dédié presque intégralement au Grand Maître : la socialisation de l’amusement ; les moyens immenses accordés au festival propagandistique « Le Chant de la Roumanie » aux dépens des tirages d’œuvres littéraires de valeur : la socialisation de la consommation de l’art etc. Face à cette offensive de l’État contre la société, celle-ci peut concevoir deux stratégies de défense : soit elle met sur pied sa propre organisation, en marge et contre les mécanismes étatiques, soit elle privatise la plupart des activités. Face à un immense appareil de répression, la société roumaine s’est trouvée dans l’impossibilité de s’organiser en tant que société civile. Elle a dû choisir, pour son grand malheur, la deuxième stratégie : la privatisation. Pas de solidarité syndicale, mais de l’entraide au sein de la famille et des amis, aucune gaieté dans les rues, mais la fête et l’hospitalité à la maison, pas d’action de protestation, mais le retrait dans l’allusion et l’humour, dans l’érotisme et dans la consommation et la production de culture. La privatisation de la lecture — la chasse aux livres nouveaux, la lecture passionnée des livres empruntés correspond à la mandarinisation de l’écriture qui absorbe rapidement les techniques occidentales, l’érudition et l’étendue des connaissances ; les deux vont dans le sens d’une restriction de la vie sociale. (pp. 144-145, « Une culture de l’interstice : la littérature roumaine d’après-guerre », article publié dans « Les Temps modernes », Paris, n° 522, janvier 1990)

Abelard had been disgraced as a young man when he was master of the cathedral school of Notre-Dame in Paris: in 1115–16 he took a part-time job as tutor to a girl called Heloïse, the nieces of one of the cathedral canons. Unfortunately, in the course of teaching Heloïse, Abelard seduced her, got her pregnant (with a son whom she would name Astrolabe),* married her, and then sent her to live in a nunnery. In return for this, Heloïse’s irate uncle accosted Abelard and brutally castrated him. Fortunate to survive the ordeal, Abelard retired to live as a monk at the abbey of Saint-Denis, although he was later forced to leave, having wound up his fellow monks one too many times with his deliberately provocative behavior and opinions. He lived for a time as a wandering hermit, and gave public lectures on theology in the streets of Paris.