psychology dector

“The Los Angeles Unified School District has proposed total elimination of its elementary school arts education program. This unprecedented step will reverse a ten-year effort made by the District to restore arts education to its 700,000 students.” Arts For LA , February 6, 2012 In a world without color, no one looks for rainbows after a storm.   No one looks for truth in blue skies.   The word green has no meaning. In a world without beauty, we will once again be people lost in a desert.   In a void, all journeys are stillborn.   Stars in the night sky are ignored.   There is everything mired in nothing. In a world with abstract numbers and words, no one recognizes the poetry falling from trees or the patterns inside us mirroring the universe.   There is no cohesion, no connection.   We wait patiently in the dark by dead telephones for a voice we have not been taught to hear. In a world without song, we lose the ability to fly.   We grumble and mutter our discontent.   We attempt to r

In his book, Except When I Write: Reflections of A Recovering Critic (Oxford University Press, 2011) , Arthur Krystal displays a dexterity and charm with the essay in general, the literary essay in particular, that few can match these days. He does not write down to the reader or condescend. He simply gives us an education with wit and verve, never making us feel we are being schooled. The book begins with an author’s note explaining a concept readers of the prose essay going back to Montaigne will surely recognize: essayists often write in order to think. Great reading inspires great thinking, the two traveling hand in hand. It is no wonder a student once went to university to read the law or to read history. Long before there were general education requirements and majors and minors, there was reading. And of course, there was writing. Reading naturally pairs with writing, subject and predicate, yin and yang, Batman and Robin. Get the picture? Krystal uses this dynamic duo to launc

So much attention has been given to our failing elementary and high schools lately. We face a barrage of depressing tidbits on a daily basis: falling test scores, dismal teaching, sexual misconduct, financial ruin. It should come as no surprise, then, that our college and university system, the envy of the world, is facing significant challenges as well. In their recent book, Higher Education? How Colleges Are Wasting Our Money and Failing Out Kids—And What We Can Do About It (St. Martin’s Griffin, 2011), Andrew Hacker and Claudia Dreifus have little positive information to offer us. Instead, they give us a scathing analysis of failure, corruption, and lost ideals. In the 4352 colleges and universities in this country, an undergraduate degree now costs, on average, $250,000. Students often face enormous loan debt upon graduation, sometimes in the six figure range, and recent economic reports tell us that student loan debt is now outpacing all other financial obligations. Some economi

Ann McElaney-Johnson was inaugurated as the twelfth president of Mount St. Mary’s College last Friday, March 16 th , 2012 .   The ceremony took place at St. Vincent ’s Catholic Church in the West Adams district of Los Angeles, next door to the Mount’s Doheny Campus.   The church was standing room only for the nearly two hour service, with 500 students clad in yellow lining the aisles.   Honored guests included many civic and religious leaders as well as academics from a number of universities and colleges.   Ms. McElaney-Johnson was led into the church by a procession of alumnae, faculty, and students.   The Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet who founded the college in 1925 provided a sense of scope and history to the occasion as the school embarked on a new era of education for women in Los Angeles .   The entire procession and ceremony streamed live on the internet and can be accessed for replay here . St. Vincent ’s is one of the most beautiful churches in Los Angeles , dedicat

I have become acutely aware of trees. Robert Frost used them as a recurring motif in his poetry . If one wishes to sustain the health of the planet, he risks being branded a “tree hugger.” Is that a bad thing? Many nights this past winter, I sat up in front of the fire, the red glow bouncing off the walls, the ghosts of history all around, whispering out of the darkness.   The flames popped and hissed through the textured wood, warming the room against the chill, bringing comfort and dreams. I taught a class last fall where I would give my students a topic to write about and turn them loose for twenty minutes to create.   While they tapped away at their laptops, I watched the trees outside the window, huge old Eucalypti, swaying in the wind off the ocean.   I felt as if they were whispering to me, calling my name, telling me that although I have loved being in the classroom for a long time, maybe I needed to break away.   Maybe I needed to be elsewhere, to go off and be bold and coura

On Sunday, St. Elisabeth School and Parish dedicated a street corner to Our Lady of Fatima , complete with grotto and statue.   About 500 people crowded the streets to witness the event. The story of Fatima is legendary in the Catholic Church. The Virgin Mary appeared to three small shepherd children in the village of Cova da Iria in Portugal beginning on May 13, 1917. She would appear many times over the next six months, always on the thirteenth day. Her message to the world was one of prophecy, including a second world war and the grave challenges the church would face. Some say she predicted the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II in 1981, as well as the sex abuse scandal that has shaken the very foundation of the institution. Two of the children were cousins, Jacinta and Francisco Marto, who died in the Spanish Influenza outbreak 1919-1920. The lone survivor was Sister Lucia dos Santos, a member of the Discalced Carmelite order of nuns. She died at the age of 97 in 2005

Today ends spring break at Mount St. Mary’s College .   Monday, students will again flood the campus , classes will be in session, and we will all focus our attention on the inauguration of our twelfth college president on March 16 th .   But during this calm before the storm, the campus takes on its other personality, that of a monastic place of peace and serenity.   Walking the grounds, one hears the birds, the bees, and the thrum of nature in the Santa Monica mountains.   Far down the hill is the bay and pier.   An oil tanker lounges lazily in the glassy water.   A slight breeze cleared the sky of smog and clouds. It is good, this quiet before the storm of papers and tests, inauguration and graduation.   We gather our energy to finish the semester.   Then, summer will arrive, and the monastic peace will return, but that season has its own story to tell.   Here, today, spring has arrived. The Mount is truly a special place , full of history and tradition, even as it prepares to laun

Bill Cunningham’s photographs have graced the pages of The New York Times for decades. He is the quintessential street photographer, spending his days bicycling the busy thoroughfares to catch candid shots of fashion on the avenue. He is both a cultural anthropologist and documentarian of beauty. In his blue smock and working stiff’s clothes, he snaps away, catching exquisite intricacies of what is fashionable this season. Bill Cunningham New York (Zeitgeist Films, 2010) delves into his life as well as his work, both of which are so interconnected that one cannot separate one from the other. His is an ascetic’s existence. His apartment in the Carnegie Hall building is packed with file cabinets and boxes, containing thousands of negatives amassed during his daily shoots, of which only a few wind up being published on the pages of the newspaper. His bed rests on milk crates, and is little more than a mattress with a blanket. His apartment does not even have a bathroom. All of his time