The Creative Classroom by Mitchell Lopate, M.A.T. = Academic humanities advising-mentoring, tutoring, writing support: 25 years college & university and middle-elementary education in-class/online with a B.A. in psychology and a masters in education. (PS: it's fun.) Cross-curriculum humanities concepts, career counseling, MBA instruction, composition and research methods, and values, ethics, and writing. “Learn by example, succeed by effort." mitchLOP8@yahoo.com / 840-216*1014
This is a two-part tale, and you'll need the Periodic Table of Elements to solve it. But stay with it for the adventure and the answers! Now, get ready to hand over the loot!
The (Au)-Dust
Kid mounted his trusty, rust-colored horse, Old (I).His shooting (Fe) was strapped to his belt,
alongside a shiny (Ag) buckle from Mexico.The bright, new invention, (Ne) lights, lit up the night sky like a (Mg)
flare.There was danger in the
wind:The Kid was aiming to rob the
midnight stagecoach with the payroll money!The nearby (U) mine was getting ready to make a deposit at the local
bank, and The Kid was looking for one last big stick-up.He decided to use a bag of burning (S) to
confuse the horses and make the stagecoach driver stop.The Kid hated the smell of the stuff—it
reminded him of a rotten goose egg.But,
it would make any dumb animal or man helpless when it was inhaled and make them
forget everything but the need to breathe clean, crisp fresh (O).
He
was getting too old to do this, and his bones ached from (Ca) deposits he had
developed in his knees from hard work in the (Zn) refinery.He had led a hard life:as a young man, he had been a scout in the
army and had used (He) balloons to spy on the enemy during the War Between the
States, and he was a Confederate soldier from Texas.A rancher’s daughter had loved him too, and
she tried to poison him with (As) when she found that he cared for another
woman.He just wanted one last robbery
to make his fortune and then he would leave his life of crime.
Up
there!—the stagecoach was coming, guarded by a deputy with a (Tn) badge.The Kid lit the bag from his hiding spot and
tossed it in front of the horses, causing them to rear up and snort in
fear.The deputy went for his rifle, but
The Kid drew first and filled him with (Pb) slugs.The (Cu) shells from his pistol clattered on
the ground—the deputy’s life wasn’t worth a plugged (Ni). A (Pt) blonde
passenger with red lipstick screamed at the sight of The Kid, and she held
tightly to an (Al) box under her seat.“Give me those diamonds on your fingers,” snarled The Kid, “or I’ll
crush them into (C) dust!” The woman
fainted in fear.
Suddenly,
shots rang out again, and the sheriff and his posse galloped out from their
hiding spot with their guns raised.The
Kid was taken before a judge and thrown into a jail with (Co)-colored
steel-reinforced bars—the sun would burn out of its supply of (H) before The
Kid would be a free man. His jail sentence was a warning to all that crime
never pays!!
H _______________ Co__________________ C ______________ Ni
____________
(This article is presented by me because (1) I lived in Japan and China, and I have eaten some strange things like sea worms--but not ever as dangerous as this, and (2) it's the kind of cool educational idea that can make for a great class report or presentation.
The Japanese delicacy fugu, or blowfish, is so poisonous that the smallest mistake in its preparation could be fatal. But Tokyo's city government is planning to ease restrictions that allow only highly trained and licensed chefs to serve the dish.
Kunio Miura always uses his special knives to prepare fugu - wooden-handled with blades tempered by a swordsmith to a keen edge. Before he starts work in his kitchen they are brought to him by an assistant, carefully stored in a special box.
Miura-san, as he is respectfully known, has been cutting up blowfish for 60 years but still approaches the task with caution. A single mistake could mean death for a customer.
Fugu is an expensive delicacy in Japan and the restaurants that serve it are among the finest in the country. In Miura-san's establishment a meal starts at $120 (£76) a head, but people are willing to pay for the assurance of the fugu chef licence mounted on his wall, yellowed now with age. He is one of a select guild authorised by Tokyo's city government to serve the dish.
When he begins work the process is swift, and mercifully out of sight of the surviving fugu swimming in their tank by the restaurant door.
First he lays the despatched fish, rather square of body with stubby fins, on its stomach and cuts open the head to removes its brain and eyes.
They are carefully placed in a metal tray marked "non-edible". Then he removes the skin, greenish and mottled on the top and sides, white underneath, and starts cutting at the guts.
"This is the most poisonous part," he says pulling out the ovaries. But the liver and intestines are potentially lethal too. "People say it is 200 times more deadly than cyanide."
Twenty-three people have died in Japan after eating fugu since 2000, according to government figures. Most of the victims are anglers who rashly try to prepare their catch at home. A spokesman for the Health and Welfare Ministry struggles to think of a single fatality in a restaurant, though last year a woman was hospitalised after eating a trace of fugu liver in one of Tokyo's top restaurants - not Miura-san's.
Tetrodotoxin poisoning has been described as "rapid and violent", first a numbness around the mouth, then paralysis, finally death. The unfortunate diner remains conscious to the end. There is no antidote.
"This would be enough to kill you," Miura-san says, slicing off a tiny sliver of fugu ovary and holding it up. Then he carefully checks the poisonous organs on the tray, making sure he has accounted for every one, and tips them into a metal drum locked with a padlock. They will be taken to Tokyo's main fish-market and burned, along with the offcuts from other fugu restaurants.
Miura-san's skill is therefore highly prized. Fugu chefs consider themselves the elite of Japan's highly competitive culinary world. He started as an apprentice in a kitchen at the age of 15. Training lasts at least two years but he was not allowed to take the practical test to get a licence until he was 20, the age people become a legal adult in Japan. A third of examinees fail.
So proposals by Tokyo's city government to relax the rules have been met with an outcry from qualified chefs. Coming into effect in October, they would allow restaurants to serve portions of fugu that they have bought ready-prepared off-site.
"We worked hard to get the licence and had to pass the most difficult exam in Tokyo," says Miura-san. "Under the new rules people will be able to sell fugu after just going to a class and listening for a day. We spent lots of time and money. To get this skill you have to practise by cutting more than a hundred fish and that costs hundreds of thousands of yen."
The authorities in Tokyo impose stricter regulations than any other Japanese city. In some, restaurants have already been able to sell pre-prepared fugu for a long time. And even in Tokyo these days, it is available over the internet and in some supermarkets - one reason why officials think the rules need updating.
In terms of cost, it is likely fugu would become available in cheaper restaurants and pubs (izakayas). But going to a proper fugu restaurant to eat good wild-caught fish, prepared on-site, is quite a luxury - because of the cost, if nothing else - and also quite an event. For many, playing the equivalent of Russian roulette at the dinner table is the attraction of the dish.
Some report a strange tingling of the lips from traces of the poison, although Miura-san thinks that is unlikely. He also scoffs at the myth that a chef would be honour-bound to commit ritual suicide with his fish knife if he killed a customer. Loss of his licence, a fine, litigation or perhaps prison would be the penalty.
Image captionThe translucent fugu is carefully arranged in the form of petals
Miura-san serves fugu stew, and grilled fugu with teriyaki sauce, but today it is fugu-sashimi on the menu. He carefully slices the fish so thinly that when it is arranged like the petals of a chrysanthemum flower on a large dish the pattern beneath shows through.
Raw fugu is rather chewy and tastes mostly of the accompanying soy sauce dip. It is briefly poached in a broth set on a table-top burner - a dish known as shabu-shabu in Japan. The old journalistic cliche when eating unusual foods really does hold true - it tastes rather like chicken.
Fugu lovers, though, would say it has a distinctive taste, and, even more importantly, texture. Japanese has many words to describe texture because it is a very important aspect of the cuisine.
Another part of the fish's appeal is that it is a seasonal dish, eaten in winter, and Japanese diners attach a particular value to this. In the same way unagi, eel, is an important summer dish. But whatever you think of eel, it's not quite fugu - it lacks that extra thrill that comes with the knowledge that by eating it you are dicing with death.
Plugging my own skillset here because a state university wants to know if I am qualified to teach writing. Well then: aside from my 25 years in doing it, how about a sample? Maybe from--a different time period? But yes, I am sure I can teach Critical Thinking for Writing in any subject. Like this:
Every man and woman faces major challenges in life. They are part of a continuing cycle: love, security, courage, the ability to communicate, and confidence. In “A Modern Woman,” an offer is made to a lady to show how she has faced those demands. However, the summons for her presence and a set of encounters that follow has come from the gods and goddesses of ancient Greece, who will decide her fate.
The unexpected offer as well as outcome is far greater than anything she has ever known or considered: if she wins, immortality is granted. If she loses…she may face death. Her results indicate how each one of us can decide our own future when our own challenges occur. The way we view ourselves and how we have prepared our own values are our greatest gifts that we either use or discard.
Short answer/essay response:
Why are each of the answers given by the novice accepted by each of the challenging gods and goddesses? How and why are they convinced? How does she use her answers to them? Describe her comments: what impression is she presenting? Be descriptive: how does she speak? How are her answers received? Who adds to the importance, and why does it help make a difference?
Who really appears to be in control of Olympus and why does this make the lesson of the story that much more empowering? Why and how is this different than other stories of adventure? Finally--and optional: if you think this story reminds you of someone--anyone--even you--why? How? What difference has your story brought regarding Character, Wisdom, or Encouragement in YOUR life? (I wrote this story to express admiration for someone.
Yes. This is an original story.)
A Modern Woman for the 21st Century
The gods and goddesses were surprised at the news. A new arrival was to be heralded on sacred Mt. Olympus. All were interested to meet the newcomer and prepare their tests of measure and worth. Hera, queen of the gods, enlisted several of the others to be sure that they understood the challenge. A new goddess had not been selected to sit on a throne on Mt. Olympus for many thousands of years, long after the glorious days of Socrates and Solon, of Athens in her splendor and Sparta in fighting majesty, had long passed to dust.
Zeus himself was pleased: another goddess might mean another female to pursue, a womanly figure to entertain his eye and desires. And then a conch shell blew. It was Poseidon, god of the Sea, calling all together to hear the reading of the Scroll of Immortality. Hermes, the Messenger, stepped forward into the Circle of Light and held aloft the scroll and the names inscribed upon it. Before him sat brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles; all gods and goddesses of Universal magnitude and authority.
There was Ares, defiant god of War; Aphrodite, goddess of Love and pleasure; Apollo, keeper of the Chariot of the Sun; stern Hades, ruler of the Underworld and the riches of the earth; Athena, goddess of Wisdom, bearing her shield with the image of the Medusa’s head, and an owl perched on her shoulder. And watching carefully over the others, Queen Hera. She wanted to ensure that the novice goddess-to-be was worthy of a sip of ambrosia, nectar of the gods, and the immortal life that would follow. All were directed to bring their full energies to bear upon the initiate during her test. Zeus threw a thunderbolt earthward, announcing to the mortals below that the trial had begun.
Up stepped Apollo, brandishing the reins to the horses that drew his chariot. For a full day, he raced across the sky, pulling the Sun behind him. And when the day had passed, he returned and addressed the others. “I have let the strength and brightness of the Sun fall upon her,” he said. “I have not been able to diminish her presence. She radiates a greater light from within than the Sun itself. She has passed my test.”
Next came Ares, carrying his sword and shield of battle. “I can handle this woman, who would dare call herself a goddess,” he swore. “Come forward, if you dare, and face a true warrior!” The gathering became a field of combat, the sounds of armor and weapons clashing. Finally, Ares lowered his sword and said sullenly, “She knows the arts of fighting. I accept her as an equal.” The novice brought her own sword to bear, and swung at Ares. A new battle followed, with the initiate taking the role of aggressor. Athena stepped in and brought the fight to a halt. “It seems, brother, that she has issued her own challenge. Do you accept her answer?” Ares gave her a dark, baleful stare in reply as he wiped the blood from fresh wounds, but a stern look from Hera, his mother, silenced his thoughts.
“She has met me on the arena of battle. I declare her to be a warrior of strength and courage,” he admitted to the others. The initiate spoke up: “Take up arms not against such as me. I have faced greater fights and stronger opponents and won, and do not take lightly the thought of being oppressed by the foolishness of anyone.” Zeus smiled at the boldness of the answer and a murmur of approval was heard through the gathering. Hercules spoke up, giving his favor. “I would gladly take this one along on an adventure if she is willing!” Hebe, bearer of ambrosia and wife of Hercules, crossed her arms softly and stared at her husband, and he quickly added, “Of course, it would be for the glory and praise to be reckoned for such a noble one as she!”
“I am next,” said Hesta, keeper of hearth and home. “Come show me, little one, what you know of the comforts of a place for dwelling and rest, a shrine for body and soul.” The novice replied, “Behold my own abode: I have guided and built it with my own energy and vitality to be a welcome and warm beacon for all who would become my friend and family. Come feel the security, the beauty, of that which I have forged with my hands and heart, and the serenity that brings company to my door.” Hesta gazed down at the sight of the home and smiled. “I should have easily recognized the lady and owner of such property before me.”
“My test is far more difficult,” said a voice that floated with the sighs of heroes and gods hanging on her words. Aphrodite came down off her throne to the silent gaze of all others. The gods who were present had all longed for her in their hearts. She had been promised to Hephaestus the lame, forger of metals, but her affections were not for him. Among mortals, only Adonis had truly won her over, and his death had wounded her deeply. “What do you know of love, of giving yourself to another, my friend? Have you ever shared heart and soul without reserve, and longed for a warm embrace?” she asked.
Her words did not come aloud; they burned across the distance and were only heard between the two women. The look that carried the answer held the stories of lovers come and gone, of marriage and a lifetime’s dream cast aside, of loneliness and empty arms; and hope, for happiness yet to come. The goddess of Love knew the heart that gave the answer, for she had helped craft the emotions that were found there. “I have known your response before it was asked by me,” she said softly. “You have my approval and trust forever.”
“My turn,” cried Hermes, god of words and thoughts. “And what do you know of the versatility of the mind, of speech; the nimbleness of an idea well spoken? Can you outwit me, the master of liars and thieves? Are you clever enough to charm your way out of the snare of a god?” The initiate looked back at him. “I know enough,” she replied, “to know that my thoughts and words can travel to the ends of the earth, and men and women find me most entertaining. Would you deny that I favor you highly amongst those who reside on this sacred mountain? I find the idea of a well-turned phrase most pleasing to my ear. I trust that a good conversation is a cup well sipped from. Is not the gift of speech, and a timely thought best offered in the company of those who can appreciate it to the fullest?” Hermes bowed gracefully and tipped his winged hat in admiration. “I salute your eloquence and imagination!”
And then Zeus, Hera, and Poseidon stood. Only Hades stayed behind, for he knew he was losing a soul to safeguard at the door of the Underworld. Poseidon spoke first: “I see within this child, the depths and mysteries to the ocean deep that I rule. I give to those who ask, the answers to the illusions of the seas that I keep hidden from the eyes of men and women. Guard my secrets carefully; you have earned my respect.” It was then Zeus’s time to address the gathering. “My brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, we have been cast aside by those who once worshipped us. But the old ways are not forgotten by those who remain faithful to those times long passed by. I now call this test to its completion, and bid the bearers of ambrosia to bring the sacred cup forward to be sipped by our newest member. I give her the safeguard of Athena, for wisdom and merit.”
Athena bowed graciously to her father and stood beside her charge. “Let the artisans begin work on a throne for our new companion,” she declared. I find her worthy to be known as the goddess of Perseverance, of Determination, and Endurance, for she has met our challenges most strongly with those qualities. I call upon those mortals below to grace her name with dignity and respect. And I bid them to call upon her by her name when she was a mortal, for now she has become one of us. For I, Athena, will take this one’s fame to the far corners of the world.”
Finally, Hera spoke. “I have championed your invitation to sit amongst us, to be rewarded for your vigilance and commitment. I need not ask for approval; by my request for your presence, you have already been accepted. I give both blessing and approval to your words, Athena. Herald the new goddess on Olympus and welcome her by my order and her new name as a goddess: We knew her when she was called “******” at birth." (c) MDLOP8 1992
My 4th book, The Creative Classroom Experience, is now available on Amazon.com in paperback and Kindle. It's a collection of some of my work on this site as well as some featured short stories that I've written**, along with some classic short stories from authors like Mark Twain and Ray Bradbury. And a commentary from--yes, it was "him"--Groucho Marx. Here's the table of contents:
I can not say this enough times: if you know how to critically think and look at problems, the answers will come.
Example in real-life for me: On Oct. 13, 2023, I was involved at 3:00 a.m. in a car accident in heavy fog coming down from the mountain where I live where a large rock had dislodged. I was enroute to a flight scheduled at 6:00 a.m. I coasted to a stop, contacted my insurance company, and then called for an UBER driver--which I hadn't used prior. So I had to open and validate an account online right away. I also had to make sure the insurance company would send a tow truck and make sure my car went to a repair facility. I made the flight. People asked me, "How were you so calm and prepared?" I answered, "I had no choice.
Just a few faces that you'll find in the book, along with Danny "Good Time Charlie's Got the Blues" O'Keefe, Koko Taylor, the J. Geils Band, Bobby Whitlock, Stevie Ray Vaughan and Albert King, Rory Block, John Lennon, Led Zeppelin, Buddy Guy, and others.
(Hint: The Allman Brothers Band, Leo Kottke, Janiva Magness, Danny Kirwan and Peter Green, Delaney and Bonnie & Friends, George Harrison, the Mahavishnu Orchestra, Levon Helm)
Reading has an unlimited number of rewards; one of the most important of which may be that it stimulates the brain and simultaneously, the power and capacity to think and use one's imagination. It also encourages and promotes the power of the mind to connect and synthesize ideas in higher levels of thought--as I've used in vocabulary, "to extrapolate and juxtapose." I'm extremely grateful that my family encouraged my thirst for knowledge when I was a child and twice bought me volumes of encyclopedia. It also laid the groundwork for my fascination as a child for the subject of Greek and Roman mythology, and also that of Egyptian, Babylonian, and Norse myths as well. This certainly influenced my decision to pursue my undergraduate degree in psychology along with my life choice of professional work as a psychological consultant and Life Mentor in education. And now, especially because I can read and comprehend, I am teaching in an entirely new capacity as a graduate business communications professor, helping my students achieve their MBA (master of business administration). Furthermore, I can advise them on job skills and achievement beyond graduation.
And because I learned to read, I was able to advance my capacity to write--including teaching composition at a college and university level. (And along with that, 11 books.) I'm so lucky I learned to read. It has helped me, more than anything, learn how to think.
