Still Tutoring

I started tutoring over eight years ago. Since then I have tutored students as young as sixth grade and as old as graduate students. I have tutored students in math, language arts, chess, philosophy, and theology. I have seen students raise their grade twenty-five points and two letter grades while I tutored them.

I am currently tutoring two female eighth graders who have been struggling with Algebra. I also first encountered Algebra in the eighth grade so I have empathy for these two teenagers, but my eighth grade Algebra course was forty-six years ago!

I excelled in high school math, acing the most difficult courses offered, as well as an optional course in slide rule back when we used those stone aged instruments instead of calculators. I did so well in my first year of college math that my professor had me tutoring students in the course the following fall. While I have not taken a math course in thirty-eight years, I still remember enough math, love math, and have maintained enough math proficiency to enable me to help both high school and college students with Algebra, Geometry, Trigonometry, and Algebra II.

I tutor each of my current students between one and two hours a session once a week, one Monday evenings and the other Tuesday evenings, both at a public library. I love helping them better understand and finally fully grasp often difficult algebraic concepts, from PEMDAS to linear equations, and quadratic equations to FOIL. I have come to realize that public school teachers often do not have the time or resources to devote to struggling students but that an hour or two of one-on-one tutoring can make a big difference.

I am offering my tutoring services to anyone within more-or-less a ten mile radius of Wellsburg, West Virginia. That includes Follansbee and Weirton, West Virginia and Steubenville, Ohio. If you or a person you know might benefit from tutoring, please visit this link to arrange for sessions.

https://www.wyzant.com/match/tutor/77187020

Easter 2014

John M. Buchanan writes in the April 16, 2014 issue of The Christian Century that the canonical gospels not only provide us sparse accounts of the resurrection but what they do tell us they tell from different perspectives.  “It is almost as if they are telling us, like someone who warns us not to look directly at the bright sun, that we should not try to look too directly, that we should perceive this event in a different, deeper way—more heart than mind, more wonder than analysis.  Some things are bigger than our ability to say them.” (p. 3)

After what has seemed like one of the hardest, coldest, snowiest winters I can remember I am now enjoying longer days as the sun seems to be moving ever northward and stays up longer than the day before as I read Buchanan’s words. With Easter being almost as late as possible this year, the longer, warmer, and brighter days of spring have coincided with the approach of Easter.  I know that the cold, dark days of Lent, I mean winter, will end with the rising of the Son, I mean sun.

Thanks to John Buchanan and Bruce Springsteen, who reminds us that “Mama always told me not to look into the eye of the sun”, a caution reiterated by Astronomers appearing on public media every time we are about to experience a solar eclipse, we know not to look directly at the sun. Looking directly into that celestial object even with dark glasses can cause permanent eye damage. Yet something compels the astronomer as well as the non-scientist to study the heavenly sphere that warms us, illuminates us, and provides the energy our planet needs to sustain life. I remember making a pinhole box viewer to watch a solar eclipse and using a small telescope to project sun spots unto the ceiling of my bedroom.  Even though I was not looking directly at the sun I was still mesmerized by its brilliance.

I know that the sunlight now reaching the earth and tanning my skin as I sit poolside left the sun about eight minutes ago and that any sun spots I might project onto the ceiling I am seeing where they were about eight minutes ago.  Just because it takes light from the sun about eight minutes to reach us does not mean we cannot appreciate or observe it. Even though it is eight minutes old it can still illuminate, warm, and yes, even burn and blind.  It might be eight minutes old we can still wonder-- is it a wave, a particle, or a string?

I also know that in the strictest, most literal sense, the sun does not rise.  Our senses deceive us.  The sun only appears to rise as we, standing on the surface of a rotating earth, rotate with our planet on its axis, completing a rotation cycle about every twenty-four hours.  I also know that in the spring the sun only appears to be climbing ever northward.  What is actually happening is that the earth, constantly tilting on its axis in a yearly cycle, is now beginning to present its northern hemisphere toward the sun after having presented the southern hemisphere for six months. In spite of knowing better, however, I still talk about, and appreciate the “miracle” of a sunrise rather than a morning turnaround and relish in a northward marching sun even though I know it is not true.  Sometimes historical and culturally loaded language better describe our experience and enables us to share it rather than the sometimes hard, cold, precise language of science, but that does not mean I disregard science.

The good news reported by the canonical gospels comes to us from nearly two-thousand years ago yet it is still reaching us, still warming us, still illuminating us, and still granting us life.  As a trained theologian and amateur philosopher I could employ any number of metaphors and play language games in an attempt to both explain and make sense of what the gospels describe happening nearly twenty centuries ago. I could hopefully do so without breaking any of the laws of physics.  Long ago, however, I learned that any god that can be fully explained and understood is not a god worth praise and worship.  At the heart of the cosmos and faith is mystery, a mystery that compels us to explore, to ponder, and to understand, but a mystery nevertheless. If I could fully understand and explain what the gospels describe as a resurrection, perhaps it would no longer be worth believing in.  Like a darkened sun, collapsed in on itself as a black hole, it would lose its ability to illuminate and give life.

Here is the link to my Lectionary Ruminations 2.0 post for Easter, where I reflect on all six, primary and alternate, Lectionary Readings for Easter morning.

Sailing: Philosophy for Everyone: Catching the Drift of Why We Sail

Sailing: Philosophy for Everyone: Catching the Drift of Why We Sail

Edited by Patrick Goold; Forward by John Rousmaniere ISBN 978-0-470-67185-6

A Review by John Edward Harris

One of the many titles available in the Wiley-Blackwell Philosophy for Everyone series, Sailing: Philosophy for Everyone: Catching the Drift of Why We Sail offers philosophers real world application of philosophical principles and invites sailors to critically reflect on their sailing experience.  If you are a philosopher and want to learn about sailing, you could do better by taking a sailing class or reading an instructional book. If you sail and either have a philosophical bent or want a little help reflecting on your sailing experiences, this is the best book I know of.

I am both an amateur philosopher, having taught Introduction to Philosophy as Adjunct Faculty based on my M.Div., and an amateur cruiser, having completed ASA 101, 103 and owning and sailing a C&C 24 on New York’s Jamaica Bay.  As a sailor and a philosopher, I loved most of this book.

The fifteen chapters, divided into four parts, are written by either philosophers who sail or sailors who have critically reflected on sailing. In Part 1, PASSING THROUGH PAIN AND FEAR IN THE PLACE OF PERPETUAL UNDULATION, Jack Stillwaggon considers the Certo ergo sum dimension of sailing.  Gary Jobson provides a racer’s point of view. Crista Lebens draws primarily on Aristotle’s “eudaimonia” and phronesis to reflect on a typical day sailing.  In my favorite chapter, Richard Hutch applies Rudolf Otto’s idea of mysterium tremendum to ponder the spiritual dimension of sailing.

In Part 2, THE MEANING OF THE BOAT - THREE SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT, James Whitehill offers a reflection from a Zen point of view.  Gregory and Tod Basham’s chapter on The Stoic Sailor was my fourth favorite chapter.  I highlighted more text in it than any other chapter except one.   Steve Horrobin’s “Sailors of the Third Kind” was my third favorite chapter and the one in which I highlighted the most text.  In case there was any doubt, Horrobin convinced me that of the three types of sailors, I am the third kind.

In Part 3, BEAUTY AND OTHER AESTHETIC ASPECTS OF THE BEAUTY OF THE SAILING EXPERIENCE, Nicholas Hayes’ reflection on the Race to Mackinac left me a little cold because I am not a racer.  Steve Matthew’s chapter on Sailing, Flow, and Fulfillment, however, invited me to reflect on the “flow” I sometimes experience sailing as well as sea kayaking, even though he writes from the perspective of a sail boarder. My second favorite was Chapter 10, “On the Crest of the Wave: The Sublime, Tempestuous, Graceful, and Existential Facets of Sailing.”  In it, Jesus Ilundain-Agurruza, Luisa Gagliardini Graca, and Jode Angel Jauregui-Olaiz helped me understand why, for me, navigare necesse est.  Their chapter 10, along with Hutch’s Chapter 4, would have justified my purchasing this collection of essays.  In Chapter 11, Jesse Steinberg and Michael Stuckart consider what is “instrumentally valuable” and “intrinsically valuable” about sailing.

In Part 4, PHYSICS AND METAPHYSICS FOR THE PHILOSOPHICAL SAILOR, Sebastian Kuhn’s chapter 12 considers the relativity of sailing. John D. Norton considers wind, apparent wind, and created wind in Chapter 13, a chapter that forced me to remember what I learned in high school about vectors, and in the Appendix contained more math than most would be comfortable with.  In Chapter 14, Tamar M. Rudavsky and Nathaniel Rudavsky-Brody consider the gods, fate and the sea.  Hilaire Belloc’s Chapter 15 transforms a crossing of the English Channel into an archetype sail.

Because Sailing: Philosophy for Everyone: Catching the Drift of Why We Sail is a collection of essays rather than the work of one author, it can seem uneven.  While for some, its choppiness can be a challenge, it can also provide some excitement.  Sailors, from racers to cruisers, and sailboarders to blue water circumnavigators, will most likely find some wind for their sails in these pages and lead them to wonder if indeed the unexamined sail is not worth sailing.

Harry Potter Grows Up, Goes Mainstream

The New York Times has introduced “a new opinion series that will feature the writings of contemporary philosophers on issues both timely and timeless — art, war, ethics, gender, popular culture and more.” Called The Stone, in what I assume to be a reference to the famed Philosopher’s Stone (the title of the Original Harry Potter book published in England was Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone but the title was changed to Harry Potter and the Sorcerers's Stone for the American market because it was thought Americans would be more enamoured by a sorcerer than a philosopher).

The first two installments, an introduction and a major opinion piece, appeared May 16th.

I applaud the New York Times for bringing Philosophical discourse back into the public sphere where it has always belonged. Society suffers when Philosophy is relegated to the ivy covered halls of Academia. If as many Americans will read and reflect upon the Time's series as pereused and pondered the first Harry Potter Book, our civic discourse might rise above our current sophomoric level and resemble something more fitting of an enlightened democracy.

Philosophical Seasonal Humor

Sitting on my desk, next to my laptop, is the Plato and a Platypus Walk Into A Bar . . . Daily Calendar. Based on the book by the same name, each day a joke or humorous anecdote illustrates a philosophical idea or principle. I really had to laugh when I read today’s page, which is, perhaps, a sad commentary on the state of my sense of humor.

“The History of Philosophy: On this date in 381 BCE, Plato sees shadows on the wall of a cave and interprets them to mean six more weeks of winter.”

The above reminded me of an Easter joke I heard and do not know who to attribute it to. It goes something like this.

“Little William's Sunday School teacher asked him to explain Easter. Will responded that on Easter day Jesus comes out of a cave and if he sees his shadow we have six more weeks of Lent.”

And to make matters worse I offer this original Christmas humor.

“On Christmas Eve Santa comes down the chimney, and if, as he exits from the chimney into the living room, he sees his shadow cast by Rudolph’s shining nose glaring through the window, we will have two more weeks of Advent.”

How are Poetry and Philosophy Related?

Yesterday’s page on the Poetry Speaks calendar quoted Cynthia Ozick. She asks if poetry “is the child, or perhaps the parent, of philosophy?”

I think Poetry and Philosophy are siblings. Perhaps they are the twin children of awe and wonder struggling to rise above their humble birth. They are certainly not identical twins. Like many siblings they enjoy a love/hate relationship characterized by both close affinity and distant contention.

I’m neither a philosopher nor a poet; never the less I have made amateur attempts at both, occasionally writing poems and having taught philosophy. My poetry often reflects the emotional and sometimes mystical aspects of my being. It is the Dionysian expression of my psyche. Reading philosophy and trying to think philosophically feeds my Apollonian intellect. It exercises the “Thinking” preference of my personality.

Tom Christenson’s assertion in his Wonder and Critical Reflection: An Invitation to Philosophy, that “Philosophy, like poetry, can be important for the fresh-eyed approach it brings to things” suggests to me that the relationship between Poetry and Philosophy is like the relationship between two lenses in a pair of glasses. Looking through a single lens gives us a two dimensional view of the world, void of any depth. We need both views in order to better see, appreciate and understand our multifaceted and multidimensional world.

The picture to the upper right is the poet’s chair in the Poet’s Room of City Lights Books in San Francisco, where I have found both poetry and philosophy honored, appreciated, and celebrated. Below the windows is Jack Kerouac Alley.

It Was Just Salt

About midway into my most recent long distance paddle I suspected that the images in the viewfinder of my camera seemed blurred and washed out. When I downloaded the memory card to my lap top and viewed the images on my computer’s screen my suspicions were confirmed. My worst fears were that water had found its way behind the lens of my waterproof camera and that I was going to incur an expensive repair or else need to buy a new camera.

A few days later I was taking some more pictures, this time at a youth paddle, and noticed once again that the photos seemed washed out and blurry. Suddenly I was struck with the idea of wiping off the small lens with my rash guard paddling shirt. Maybe using an article of clothing to clean the lens was not the best idea, but I did not have any lens paper or a cleaning cloth with me.

When I returned home and downloaded my new shoot I noticed a dramatic difference between the pre wipe shots (example top right) and the post wipe shots (example bottom right). I have thus determined that the problem was not mechanical. The problem was that salt water from Jamaica Bay had dried on the lens, leaving a salty (I hope it was only salt) film on the lens, a problem that was easily and inexpensively corrected.

I usually spray down my camera with a weak vinegar solution and then rinse it with tap water after every exposure to salt water. Apparently I had forgotten to do this between the long distance paddle and the youth paddle, because if I had, the dried salt should have been washed off.

This whole episode reminds me of Ockham’s razor, the philosophical principal that the simplest explanation is most likely the best and right explanation. A corollary would be that the simplest fix is probably the best and first one to try.

Former Students on the Web

Did Socrates take any pride in Plato? Was Plato proud of Aristotle?

From the fall of 2002 through the spring of 2007 as adjunct faculty I taught one Religion or Philosophy Course (some former students pictured at right) a semester at Davis and Elkins College, a small Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) related liberal arts college in the mountains of West Virginia. The course I taught most often was Introduction to Philosophy, in which I tried to employ the Socratic Method to draw my students out of the cave of unenlightened ignorance into the daylight of informed self-critical reality.

Perhaps the greatest reward of teaching is to see students and former students grow and mature. I am aware of at least three of my former Introduction to Philosophy students currently on the web and as their former teacher I proudly highlight them here. Check them out and let them and me know what you think about their work.

Tim Armentrout describes his blog breath made visible as the blog of a “West Virginia guerrilla mountain poet” whose writing “is primarily spontaneous and goes largely unedited.” His photos remind me of our shared home state and his poetry expresses the edgy feel of a critical, irreverent but thoughtful and self reflective young adult unwilling to accept the status quo. Tim started blogging in May 2006.

Eric’s Blue Reverie is a somewhat eclectic blog that Eric Stover started in May 2009. Eric describes himself as a smart ass but I think of him as a young, budding entrepreneurial free thinker just now finding his niche in the world. I am looking forward to reading where Blue Reverie goes.

I do not think of Vince LeGreco as a blogger per se but as the creator of the online “OH-NO Comics Featuring Whiskey Falls” which soon move to its own site at http://www.whiskey-falls.com/ Vinnie’s illustrations remind me a bit of the Simpsons. His subject matter appears to focus on uncovering the absurd and median of everyday life with a bent toward some self-effacing humor and a tinge of social criticism.

I invite any other former students of mine currently on the web to let me know of their presence, or to alert me in the future if they start blogging.

SPA

When I taught college level introduction to philosophy I taught my students to remember the historical order of the three great classical philosophers, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle with the mnemonic acronym SPA. I would often suggest to the students that when their brain hurt or needed some tender loving care and pampering that they needed to visit a SPA, a Socrates, Plato or Aristotle teaching.

Earlier this evening I was reworking the layout of Summit to Shore and decided to add sidebar gadgets with quotes from Plato and Aristotle to the sidebar gadget with quotes from Socrates. I think Sophie would be both pleased and proud. In an age of sound bite and bumper sticker politics and theology some classical philosophy might offer us a much needed corrective.

Shadows Outside the Cave

Not long ago during a sunny afternoon following a week of rain and overcast skies, I noticed a compelling shadow on a wall in our living room. Recognizing the outline I knew at once what the shadow was of. The shadow on the wall was of a mermaid sculpture sitting near the window where rays of the Sun were shining in. I would not have been able to deduce the form casting the shadow if I had not first known the Sculpture. Because I knew the three dimensional sculpture I recognized its outline in the two dimensional shadow. I knew the shadow was not the sculpture because I also knew the sculpture casting the shadow. I was compelled to capture both the shadow and the sculpture with my digital camera.

A few days later I was walking along the sidewalk on another rare bight sunny day. I noticed my shadow ahead of me on the sidewalk. Since I had my camera with me I took a picture, not quite a self portrait, but close.

A week or so later I was standing in the foyer of North Church Queens, waiting for worship to begin, when I looked out the window and noticed on the street in front of the church the shadow of a very recognizable form. It was the form of a Celtic Cross, but not any Celtic Cross. It was the shadow of the Celtic Cross on the roof of the church.

I have learned over the years that when I am aware of similar phenomena occurring in threes or more within close proximity of time to pay attention to them. Jung called such occurrences synchronicity, and through his writings he taught me that when I am aware of occurrences of synchronicity that I had not only better pay attention but also reflect upon the experience. Thus, I write this post.

Hopefully everyone who has ever had a high school or college level Introduction to Philosophy Class will be familiar with Plato’s Analogy of the Cave. I know the students I had for Introduction to Philosophy at the undergraduate level were presented with it.

I think we very often are willing to settle for and live with shadows when upon a little reflection and inquiry we can discover the three dimensional reality behind them. We rarely expend the time or energy to ask questions about our world, to go below the surface and delve deeper into reality. After awhile our own existence can take on a shadow quality and so we live shallow, superficial, two dimensional lives.