Now, I better get back to writing about temporality! Maybe I can work on a theory of reading temporality that mimics the ebb and flow of currents...hrm....
"recogni[se] the historic wrongs visited about Aboriginal peoples; the need for
culturally relevant and culturally-based Aboriginal education; and education for all Canadians
about our true history (legacies of colonization impacts, understanding and challenging
assimilation policies and practices, becoming aware of the residential schools fiasco and cultural
genocide, and learning about ways to honour and celebrate Aboriginal perspectives in
curriculum, and more.); an increase in the number of Aboriginal peoples in post secondary
education; and the need for educational institutions to take responsibility to make Aboriginal
education a priority."
Firznor is very right here. Not only should we, as educators, ensure that we're inclusive in our teaching, but we should also be activists; actively sharing and encouraging other teachers, parents, educators, school and universities (and more) to embrace a culture of knowledge sharing and inclusion.
Note - the amazing photo at the top of this post is called "Ojibway Painting First Nations Mural Manitoba Museum Winnipeg Manitoba" and is by Kim Hunter.
My computer is nestled coyly against the computer of a person whose name I will
eventually remember to be Dave Everitt. My Toshiba tablet, which I had proudly set up in tablet mode, looks rather hulking – somewhat like a 1970s Star Wars prop – against a miniature Mac thing. That said, despite the Mac being petite, it still manages to have big, chunky keys. I envy those keys with a passion. I’ve been using this laptop for just over 5 days and it makes me feel hunched. Every key stroke has to be precise. Luckily for me, the “BkSp” key is big.
Digressions aside, I get out my stylus, tap the screen and breathe deeply. I have 5 minutes to tell Dave about me, myself and my research. I have 5 power point slides, a breadstick and half a glass of wine. Welcome, Bruce, to the world of academic speed dating.
Continue reading Bruce's post at the IoCT blog.
For some of his readers (and for himself) the intention to write a novel of sorts without the logical articulations of discourse seemed absurd. In the end, one could vaguely perceive something like a transaction, a procedure (although the absurdity of choosing narration for non-narrative ends remained.)*
* Why not? Morelli himself asked that question on a piece of graph paper in whose margin there was a list of vegetables, probably a memento buffandi). (Hopscotch, Chapter 95: 354-55).
A novel without a narrative and footnoes which refer to other footnoes. Hrm...without logical connections one might have only chaos and disintegration. The printed book, then, does not always guarantee narrative logic, sequence, or connectivity. Narrative here, as in certain web fictions, evolves with each reading.
For an interesting interview with Cortazar go here.
Perhaps this is why I enjoy the IoCT walk; it offers an opportunity to other rhythms for a while. As Francesco Careri describes it, walking becomes "an architecture of landscape." The IoCT walks are storytelling in motion. For some of us, the walk offers stimulus for narratives, for others, the walk itself is the unfolding of narrative.
11. But in idleness we are in danger of losing our sense of depth; we are taken out of the thick of things. The horizon flattens. Walking puts things back into perspective. Spacial, placial and qualitative changes occur. Distances and measurements, too, have historically been associated with the walking body - eg. the foot or the mile (from mille, a thousand paces) or the foot-candle. Pace, naturally, is important to perspective and is what distinguishes running, in part, from walking. When running distances of more than 20 miles I have occasionally been taken out of my body and its perspective - I begin to disassociate - or in better moments, lose myself in the rhythm. In our walks, we must try to harmonize body-mind - environment. We should be alarmed, as Thoreau was, when the body has walked a mile but the spirit is still loitering at the doorstep or the library.