McLean vs Arkansas Essay -- Creationism Creation Science

Science is a word that carries with it many meanings - knowledge, truth, a process of examination. But when it comes to setting a clear definition of the term, difficulties arise. Certainly physics is science, and theology isn't. But many disciplines are less intuitively dichotomized, such as the fields of psychology, history, ethics, and many others. Are these sciences? And while it may at first seem like a rather irrelevant issue only for lexicographers and philosophers, in fact the distinction between what is science and what is not is of great importance to society - for in the formation of the public school curriculum, the distinction between science, which must be taught, and religion, which must not be, is essential to keeping education both factual, up-to-date, and constitutional. The 1982 court case McLean vs. Arkansas put in the public spotlight just how important drawing the distinction is. In what has become a landmark case in the creation/evolution legal debate, the Arkansas legislature passed without debate a bill mandating that the state redraw its science education standards so to include in the state's public high school curricula the body of ideas known as "creationism" - the notion that Earth and its inhabitant life forms were formed in the same forms as they are seen today - alongside evolution - the mainstream view of biologists holding that life developed and diversified gradually over millions of successive generations. The concept of creationism has a strong religious history and very deep religious overtones, and the constitutionality of teaching the subject in a public school immediately was questioned. Called to preside over the resulting legal case was U.S. District Judge William Overton. Thu... ...of testability is unclear and the incorporation of unobserved elements is not unique to creationism, so this in and of itself is not a reason to exclude it from a curriculum - and as previously mentioned Darwin considered the two models of creation and evolution on equal scientific grounds in his arguments. Instead, creationism fails on account of the evidence against it. So in the end, while Overton's attempt to determine essential characteristics of science does not stand up to philosophical scrutiny, his decision was correct: creationism is not part of modern science, and does not belong in the modern classroom. Works Cited Gould, Stephen Jay. The Mismeasure of Man. W. W. Norton and Co.: New York, 1996. Kleppner, Daniel and Robert Kolenkow. An Introduction to Mechanics. McGraw-Hill, Inc: Boston, 1973. McLean v. Arkansas, US District Court. 1982.

John leo Essay

In John Leo’s article, â€Å"No books, please; we’re students’’, Leo discusses the issues with current college students and their lack of drive and ambition. Leo provides his readers with a multitude of statics and example why he feels college students have become lazy and disengaged. Leo introduces his readers using a survey from UCLA’s Higher Education Research Institute stating, â€Å"Only 35 percent of students said they spent six or more hours a week studying or doing homework during their senior year in high school; down from 43.7 percent 1987.’’ John Leo’s article claims that college students are losing an interest and enthusiasm for college. John Leo fills his article with statics and quotes from professors and teachers complaining about the lack of will power student have. â€Å" The real problem is students who won’t study,’’ wrote a Penn rSate Professor in the article. Leo also stated† disengaged rudeness† was the common attitude.† Leo’s article slams today’s college students on many levels. Leo’s article uses terms such as, disengaged, ignorant, and â€Å"inarticulate† to describe college students in today’s society. Leo clearly support his arguments and options with actual quotes from professors but I do not agree with his approach nor his arguments. Being a college students is not only about reading books and is definitely not only about students. There are plenty of professors that clearly don’t care or don’t like their jobs. Students can tell if a professor is passionate about a subject just like a professor can tell if a student is truly lazy or just struggling with the subject. Assumptions are being made on college students through Leo’s arguments. Leo did not thoroughly look into his students because his arguments are one sided. Leo does not provide his readers with the pros and cons, only the negative light is shed on how students learn or lack there of. John Leo’s article, â€Å"No books, Please; we’re students’’ targets today’s college students and negativity shows one side of a student’s life. Leo uses statistics and quotes from an array of professors to show the lack of interest college students show in today’s society but his approach is  extremely one sided and not thoroughly executed. More research and quotes from multiple views should have been provided.

The Indigo Spell Chapter One

THIS WASN'T THE FIRST TIME I'd been pulled out of bed for a crucial mission. It was, however, the first time I'd been subjected to such a personal line of questioning. â€Å"Are you a virgin?† â€Å"Huh?† I rubbed my sleepy eyes, just in case this was all some sort of bizarre dream that would disappear. An urgent phone call had dragged me out of bed five minutes ago, and I was having a little trouble adjusting. My history teacher, Ms. Terwilliger, leaned closer and repeated the question in a stage whisper: â€Å"I said, are you a virgin?† â€Å"Um, yes. . .† I was fully awake now and glanced uneasily around my dorm's lobby, making sure no one was around to witness this crazy exchange. I didn't have to worry. Aside from a bored-looking desk attendant on the far side of the room, the lobby was empty, probably because no sane person would be up at this time of night. When Ms. Terwilliger's call had woken me, she'd demanded I meet her here for a â€Å"life-or-death† matter. Getting interrogated about my personal life wasn't quite what I'd expected. She stepped back and sighed in relief. â€Å"Yes, of course. Of course you're a virgin.† I narrowed my eyes, unsure if I should be offended or not. â€Å"Of course? What's that supposed to mean? What's going on?† She immediately snapped back to attention and pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. They were always slipping down. â€Å"No time to explain. We have to go.† She grabbed hold of my arm, but I resisted and stayed where I was. â€Å"Ma'am, it's three in the morning!† And then, just so she'd understand the severity of the situation: â€Å"On a school night.† â€Å"Never mind that.† She turned in the direction of the desk attendant and called across the room, â€Å"I'm taking Sydney Melrose with me. Mrs. Weathers can argue with me about the curfew tomorrow.† The attendant looked startled, but she was just some college student who'd been hired to sit there overnight. She was no match for the formidable Ms. Terwilliger, with her tall, gangly stature and birdlike face. The real authority keeping girls in my dorm was the security guard outside, but he simply nodded in a friendly way when Ms. Terwilliger dragged me past. It made me wonder just how many girls she'd abducted in the middle of the night. â€Å"I'm in my pajamas,† I told her. It was the last protest I could offer as we reached her car, which was parked in a fire lane. She drove a red Volkswagen Beetle with flowers painted on the sides. Somehow, this didn't surprise me in the least. â€Å"You'll be fine,† she said, fishing car keys out of her massive velvet purse. Around us, the desert night was cool and silent. Tall palm trees created dark, spiderlike shapes against the sky. Beyond them, a full moon and smattering of stars glittered. I wrapped my arms around myself, touching the soft fabric of my microfleece robe. Underneath it, I had on full-length striped pajamas paired with fluffy beige slippers. The ensemble worked well in my cozy dorm room but wasn't exactly practical for a Palm Springs night. But then, going out in pajamas wasn't really practical in any place. She unlocked the car, and I stepped gingerly inside, having to dodge empty paper coffee cups and old issues of Utne Reader. My neat sensibilities cringed at that kind of mess, but it was the least of my worries right now. â€Å"Ms. Terwilliger,† I said, once we were driving through the suburban streets. â€Å"What's going on?† Now that we were out of the dorm, I hoped she'd start talking sense. I hadn't forgotten her â€Å"life-or-death† comment and was beginning to grow nervous. Her eyes were on the road ahead of us, and lines of worry marked her angular face. â€Å"I need you to cast a spell.† I froze as I tried to process her words. Not long ago, this proclamation would've sent me into protests and fits of revulsion. Not that I was comfortable with it now. Magic still freaked me out. Ms. Terwilliger taught at my private high school, Amberwood Prep, by day and was a witch at night. She said I, too, possessed a natural affinity for magic and had managed to teach me some spells, despite my best efforts to resist. I actually had a few good reasons for wanting to avoid anything arcane. Aside from inborn beliefs about magic being wrong, I simply didn't want to get caught up in any more supernatural affairs than I had to. I already spent my days as part of a secret society that kept vampires secret from the human world. That and my schoolwork were enough to keep anyone busy. Nonetheless, her magical training had gotten me out of some dangerous situations recently, and I was no longer so quick to dismiss it. So, her suggesting I perform magic wasn't the weirdest thing going on here. â€Å"Why would you need me for that?† I asked. There were few cars out, but occasionally, passing headlights would cast a ghostly light over us. â€Å"You're a million times more powerful. I can't cast a fraction of the things you can.† â€Å"Power is one thing,† she admitted. â€Å"But there are other limitations and factors at work here. I can't cast this particular spell.† I crossed my arms and slouched back in the seat. If I kept focusing on the practical aspects, I could ignore how worried I was growing. â€Å"And it couldn't have waited until morning?† â€Å"No,† she said gravely. â€Å"It could not.† Something about the tone of her voice sent chills down my spine, and I fell silent as we continued our drive. We were headed outside of the city and suburbs, into the wilds of the true desert. The farther we drove from civilization, the darker it became. Once we were off the freeway, there were no streetlights or houses in sight. Spiky desert shrubs created dark shapes along the side of the road that put me in mind of crouching animals, ready to pounce. There's no one out here, I thought. And no one back at Amberwood knows you're here either. I shifted uneasily as I recalled her virgin question. Was I going to be a sacrifice in some unholy ritual? I wished that I'd thought to bring my cell phone – not that I could have told my organization, the Alchemists, that I was spending so much time with a magic user. And not just any magic user – one who was teaching me to become one too. Better to risk being sacrificed than face the Alchemists' wrath. Twenty minutes later, Ms. Terwilliger finally pulled to a stop along the side of a dusty one-lane road that seemed to be a direct route to nowhere. She got out of the car and motioned for me to do the same. It was colder here than it had been back at Amberwood. Looking up into the night sky, I caught my breath. Free of the city lights, the stars were now out in full force. I could see the Milky Way and a dozen constellations usually hidden to the naked eye. â€Å"Stargaze later,† she said curtly. â€Å"We need to hurry, before the moon progresses much further.† A moonlight ritual, a barren desert, virgin sacrifice . . . what had I just foolishly walked into? The way Ms. Terwilliger pushed me into magic always annoyed me, but I never thought she posed a threat. Now I berated myself for being so naive. She tossed a duffel bag over one shoulder and headed off into a desolate stretch of land, dotted with rocks and scraggly vegetation. Even with the brilliant celestial display there wasn't much light out here, yet she walked purposefully, as though she knew exactly where she was going. I dutifully followed, wincing as I crossed the rocky ground. My fuzzy slippers had never been intended for this sort of terrain. â€Å"Here,† she said when we reached a small clearing. She carefully set down the duffel bag and knelt to rifle through it. â€Å"This'll do.† The desert that was so mercilessly hot in the day became cold at night, but I was still sweating. Probably my own anxiety had more to do with that than the temperature or heavy pajamas. I retied my robe more tightly making a perfect knot. I found that kind of detail and routine soothing. Ms. Terwilliger produced a large oval mirror with a scalloped silver frame. She set it down in the middle of the clearing, glanced up at the sky, and then shifted the mirror over a little. â€Å"Come here, Miss Melbourne.† She pointed to a spot opposite her, on the other side of the mirror. â€Å"Sit there and make yourself comfortable.† At Amberwood, I went by the name of Sydney Melrose, rather than my true one, Sydney Sage. Ms. Terwilliger had gotten my made-up name wrong on the first day of class, and it, unfortunately, stuck. I followed her directions, not that I could really get all that comfortable out here. I was pretty sure I could hear some large animal scuffling out in the brush and added â€Å"coyotes† to my mental list of dangers I faced out here, right below â€Å"magic use† and â€Å"lack of coffee.† â€Å"Now then. Let's get started.† Ms. Terwilliger peered at me with eyes that were dark and frightening in the desert night. â€Å"Are you wearing anything metal? You need to take it off.† â€Å"No, I – oh. Wait.† I reached around my neck and unfastened a delicate gold chain that held a small cross. I'd had the necklace for years but had recently given it to someone else, for comfort. He'd given it back to me recently, by way of our mutual friend Jill Mastrano Dragomir. Even now, I could picture the angry look on her face as she'd stormed up to me at school and thrust the cross into my hand without a word. I stared at the cross now as it gleamed in the moonlight. A queasy feeling welled up in the pit of my stomach as I thought about Adrian, the guy I'd given it to. I'd done so before he professed his love for me, something that had caught me totally off guard a few weeks ago. But maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised. The more I looked back – and I did so all the time – the more I began to recall telltale signs that should have tipped me off to his feelings. I'd just been too blind to notice at the time. Of course, it wouldn't have mattered if I'd seen it coming or not. Adrian was totally unsuitable for me, and it had nothing to do with his many vices or potential descent into insanity. Adrian was a vampire. True, he was a Moroi – one of the good, living vampires – but it made no difference. Humans and vampires couldn't be together. This was one point the Moroi and Alchemists stood firmly together on. It was still amazing to me that Adrian had voiced those feelings to me. It was amazing that he could even have them or that he'd had the nerve to kiss me, even if it was a kiss that had left me dizzy and breathless. I'd had to reject him, of course. My training would allow nothing less. Our situation here in Palm Springs forced the two of us to constantly be together in social situations, and it had been rough since his declaration. For me, it wasn't just the awkwardness of our new relationship. I . . . well, I missed him. Before this debacle, he and I had been friends and spent a lot of time together. I'd gotten used to his smirky smile and the quick banter that always flowed between us. Until those things were gone, I hadn't realized how much I relied on them. How much I needed them. I felt empty inside . . . which was ridiculous, of course. Why should I care so much about one vampire? Sometimes it made me angry. Why had he ruined such a good thing between us? Why had he made me miss him so much? And what had he expected me to do? He had to have known it was impossible for us to be together. I couldn't have feelings for him. I couldn't. If we'd lived among the Keepers – a group of uncivilized vampires, humans, and dhampirs – maybe he and I could have . . . no. Even if I had feelings for him – and I firmly told myself I didn't – it was wrong for us to even consider such a relationship. Now Adrian spoke to me as little as possible. And always, always, he watched me with a haunted look in his green eyes, one that made my heart ache and – â€Å"Ah! What is that?† I squirmed as Ms. Terwilliger dumped a bowl full of dried leaves and flowers over my head. I'd been so fixated on the cross and my memories that I hadn't seen her coming. â€Å"Rosemary,† she said matter-of-factly â€Å"Hyssop. Anise. Don't do that.† I'd reached up to pull some of the leaves out of my hair. â€Å"You need that for the spell.† â€Å"Right,† I said, getting back to business. I set the cross carefully on the ground, trying to clear my mind of green, green eyes. â€Å"The spell that only I can do. Why is that again?† â€Å"Because it has to be done by a virgin,† she explained. I tried not to grimace. Her words implied that she was not a virgin, and even if that made sense for a forty-year-old woman, it still wasn't a thought I wanted to spend a lot of time on. â€Å"That, and the person we're looking for has shielded herself from me. But you? You she won't expect.† I looked down at the shining mirror and understood. â€Å"This is a scrying spell. Why aren't we doing the one I did before?† Not that I was eager to repeat that spell. I'd used it to find someone, and it had involved me staring into a bowl of water for hours. Still, now that I knew how to do it, I knew I could perform it again. Besides, I didn't like the idea of walking into a spell I knew nothing about. Words and herbs were one thing, but what else might she ask of me? Endanger my soul? Give up my blood? â€Å"That spell only works for someone you know,† she explained. â€Å"This one will help you find someone you've never met before.† I frowned. As much as I didn't like magic, I did like problem solving – and the puzzles magic often presented intrigued me. â€Å"How will I know who to look for, then?† Ms. Terwilliger handed me a photograph. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I looked into the face of a pretty young woman. There was a striking resemblance between her and my teacher, though it wasn't initially obvious. Rather than Ms. Terwilliger's dull brown hair, this woman's was dark, nearly black. She was also much more glamorous, dressed in a black satin evening gown that was a far cry from Ms. Terwilliger's usual hippie attire. Despite those ostensible differences, the two women shared the same high cheekbones and aquiline eyes. I glanced back up. â€Å"She's related to you.† â€Å"She's my older sister,† Ms. Terwilliger confirmed, her voice remarkably flat. Older? I would've guessed this woman was at least ten years younger. â€Å"Is she missing?† I asked. When I'd scried before, it had been to find a kidnapped friend. Ms. Terwilliger's lips twitched. â€Å"Not in the way you're thinking.† From the never-ending duffel bag, she produced a small leather book and opened it to a marked page. Squinting at where she indicated, I could make out handwritten Latin words describing the mirror and herbal concoction she'd dumped on me. Following that were directions on how to use the spell. No bloodletting, thankfully. â€Å"It sounds too simple,† I said suspiciously. I'd learned that spells that only had a few steps and components usually required a lot of mental energy. I'd passed out from the other scrying spell. She nodded, guessing my thoughts. â€Å"It takes a lot of focus – more than the last one. But, as much as you don't want to hear this, your strength has grown enough that you'll probably have an easier time than before.† I scowled. She was right. I didn't want to hear that. Or did I? Part of me knew I should refuse to go along with this madness. Another part of me worried she'd abandon me in the desert if I didn't help. And still another part was insanely curious to see how this would all work. Taking a deep breath, I recited the book's incantation and then set the picture in the middle of the mirror. I repeated the incantation and removed the picture. Leaning forward, I stared into the shining surface, trying to clear my mind and let myself become one with the darkness and moonlight. A hum of energy coursed through me, much more quickly than I expected. Nothing changed in the mirror right away, though. Only my reflection peered back at me, the poor lighting dulling my blond hair, which looked terrible both from sleeping on it and having a bunch of dried plants hanging in its strands. The energy continued to build in me, growing surprisingly warm and exhilarating. I closed my eyes and sank into it. I felt like I was floating in the moonlight, like I was the moonlight. I could've stayed that way forever. â€Å"Do you see anything?† Ms. Terwilliger's voice was an unwelcome interruption to my blissful state, but I obediently opened my eyes and looked into the mirror. My reflection was gone. A silvery gray mist hung in front of a building, but I knew the mist wasn't physical. It was magically produced, a mental barrier to keep me from seeing the image that lay beyond it. Strengthening my will, I pushed my mind passed that barrier, and after a few moments, the mist shattered. â€Å"I see a building.† My voice echoed oddly in the night. â€Å"An old Victorian house. Dark red, with a traditional covered porch. There are hydrangea bushes in front of it. There's a sign too, but I can't read it.† â€Å"Can you tell where the house is?† My teacher's voice seemed very far away. â€Å"Look around it.† I tried to pull back, to extend my vision beyond the house. It took a few moments, but slowly, the image panned out as though I were watching a movie, revealing a neighborhood of similar houses, all Victorian with wide porches and creeping vines. They were a beautiful, perfect piece of history set in the modern world. â€Å"Nothing exact,† I told her. â€Å"Just some quaint residential street.† â€Å"Go back further. See the larger picture.† I did, and it was like I drifted up into the sky, looking down upon the neighborhood the way some soaring bird would. The houses extended into more neighborhoods, which eventually gave way to industrial and commercial areas. I continued moving back. The businesses became more and more densely packed. More streets crisscrossed between them. The buildings grew taller and taller, eventually materializing into a familiar skyline. â€Å"Los Angeles,† I said. â€Å"The house is on the outskirts of Los Angeles.† I heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by: â€Å"Thank you, Miss Melbourne. That will be all.† A hand suddenly waved across my field of vision, shattering the city image. Also shattered was that state of euphoria. I was no longer floating, no longer made of light. I came crashing down to reality, down to the rocky desert landscape and my stuffy pajamas. I felt exhausted and shaky, like I might faint. Ms. Terwilliger handed me a thermos full of orange juice, which I drank greedily. As the nutrients hit my system and strengthened me, I began to feel a little better. Intense magic use depleted blood sugar. â€Å"Does that help?† I asked, once I'd downed the thermos. A nagging voice inside me started to chastise about how many calories were in orange juice, but I ignored it. â€Å"Was that what you wanted to know?† Ms. Terwilliger gave me a smile that didn't extend to her eyes. â€Å"It helps, yes. Was it what I wanted?† She stared off into the distance. â€Å"No, not exactly. I was hoping you'd name some other city. Some city far, far away.† I picked up my cross and refastened it around my neck. The familiar object brought on a sense of normality after what I'd just done. It also made me feel guilty, looking back on the euphoric high the magic had given me. Humans weren't supposed to wield magic – and they certainly weren't supposed to enjoy it. Running my fingers over the cross's surface, I found myself thinking of Adrian again. Had he ever worn it? Or had he just kept it around for luck? Had his fingers traced the cross's shape like mine often did? Ms. Terwilliger began gathering her things. When she stood up, I followed suit. â€Å"What does it mean exactly, ma'am?† I asked. â€Å"That I saw Los Angeles?† I followed her back toward the car, and she didn't answer right away. When she did, her voice was uncharacteristically grim. â€Å"It means that she's much closer than I would like. It also means, whether you want to or not, you're going to have to work on improving your magical skills very, very quickly.† I came to a halt. Suddenly, I felt angry. Enough was enough. I was exhausted and ached all over. She'd dragged me out here in the middle of the night and now had the presumption to make a statement like that when she knew how I felt about magic? Worse, her words frightened me. What did I have to do with this? This was her spell, her cause. Yet, she'd given the directive with such force, such certainty, that it almost seemed as though I was the reason we'd come out here to this wasteland. â€Å"Ma'am – † I began. Ms. Terwilliger spun around and leaned toward me so that there were only a few inches between us. I gulped, swallowing whatever outraged words I'd been about to utter. I'd never seen her look like this. She wasn't scary, not exactly, but there was an intensity I'd never seen before, far different from the usual scattered teacher I knew. She also looked . . . frightened. Life or death. â€Å"Sydney,† she said, in a rare use of my first name. â€Å"Let me assure you that this is not some trick on my part. You will improve upon your skills, whether you like it or not. And it's not because I'm cruel, not because I'm trying to fulfill some selfish desire. It's not even because I hate seeing you waste your ability.† â€Å"Then why?† I asked in a small voice. â€Å"Why do I need to learn more?† The wind whispered around us, blowing some of the dried leaves and flowers from my hair. The shadows we cast took on an ominous feel, and the moonlight and starlight that had seemed so divine earlier now felt cold and harsh. â€Å"Because,† Ms. Terwilliger said. â€Å"It's for your own protection.†

Edgar A. Poe

Informative Text/ EAP Essay Edgar Allen Poe was well known for his dark and mysterious writing, but what caused his abrupt death? How he died is very controversial, because there is little evidence to support any theory. Several people suggest that he died either of rabies, exposure, or alcohol abuse. Although Poe’s death remains in doubt, I believe that several factors led up to the writer falling ill.I have gathered from the biography excerpt renamed â€Å"Poe’s Final Days† by Kenneth Silverman, the article â€Å"Poe’s Death is Rewritten as Case of Rabies, Not Telltale Alcohol†, with the letter to the editor in response published in the New York Times, that Edgar Allen Poe died of symptoms of alcoholism, that escalated from stress. In the biography â€Å"Poe’s Final Days† by Kenneth Silverman, the author reveals accounts during the end of Edgar Allen Poe’s life that point towards the idea of alcoholism being the killer. Silver man traces back to before Poe fell ill, over his hospital stay, and during his rapid death.Over this time period, the writer faced great stress like parting from his wife. He set for Baltimore soon after, where he was found abusing alcohol. The author states â€Å"Poe seemed to Walker ‘rather the worse for wear’ and ‘in great distress. ’ Apparently flooded with drink, he may have also have been ill from exposure† (Silverman, 125). This suggests that Poe did not handle what he was going through in a healthy way. He was drinking to cope with his problems. The weather in Baltimore played a key role in Poe’s last few days as well.Silverman explains â€Å"Winds and soaking rains the day before had sent Baltimoreans prematurely hunting up overcoats and seeking charcoal fires for warmth† (Silverman, 125). This information shows that Poe’s already weak body from alcoholism was made even feebler due to the harsh conditions. His immune sys tem likely could not handle the stress, so it may have opened up his body to a sickness, or he may have just become delirious from not taking care of himself. His impaired judgment is noted within this excerpt, as he was seen wearing someone else’s clothes.Poe was reported delirious in several accounts, and he may have been too drunk to care about protecting himself during the storm. Silverman states, â€Å"According to Moran, one of his senior physicians diagnosed Poe’s condition as encephalitis, a brain inflammation, brought on by â€Å"exposure. † This explanation is consistent with the prematurely wintry weather at the time, with Snodgrass’s account of Poe’s partly clad condition, and with Elmira Shelton’s recollection that on leaving Richmond Poe already had a fever† (Silverman, 129).Kenneth Silverman is not entirely credible; he is only a secondary source that provides passages of primary sources. However, this is the most convi ncing article, because it explains why he made poor decisions and how they led up to him dying. The article â€Å"Poe’s Death is rewritten as Case of Rabies, Not Telltale Alcohol† from the New York Times, September 15, 1996, suggests that Poe did not die drunk and offers a new theory of rabies as the killer. This new study was developed during a medical conference and cardiologist Dr. Benitez believes Poe stopped drinking long before dying.It states, â€Å"In the brief period when he was calm and awake, Poe refused alcohol and could drink water only with great difficulty†¦Poe ‘had all the features of encephalitic rabies’ said Henry Wilde† (131). These ideas are supported with evidence, however they are unreliable sources. Henry Wilde and Dr. Benitez never treated Poe. Wilde has experience with rabies, but he never actually saw Poe’s symptoms. They are secondary sources and are not valid. They reviewed Poe’s case but never really t reated Poe, the article tells how the legend of Poe dying in a gutter drunk was likely made up by his doctor.The other information may also be untrustworthy that they provide about rabies. The article states, â€Å"There is no evidence that a rabid animal had bitten Poe† (131). This directly says that this theory cannot be entirely true. Poe could have been delirious and confused for several reasons, not specifically rabies. There are more accounts and reports of Poe being an alcoholic, than any sign of rabies. He may have refused alcohol a few times, but not before he was in the hospital. Mr. Jerome explains, â€Å"The writer was so sensitive to alcohol that a glass of wine would make him violently ill for days.Poe may have had problems as a younger man†¦Ã¢â‚¬  (132) Mr. Jerome was a museum curator researching Poe, who earlier explained that most theories offered no proof. Jerome never directly met Poe and he is basing his theory off of accounts that may have been ske wed over time. I believe this article is not trustworthy, because the sources are not valid. The letter to the editor â€Å"If only Poe Had Succeeded When He Said Nevermore to Drink† by Burton Pollin from The New York Times, September 23, 1996, disputes Dr. Benitez’s previous theory on rabies killing Edgar Allen Poe.Pollin uncovers weaknesses in this theory and supports alcohol abuse as the main cause of death. Although Poe attempted to recover from alcoholism, he never succeeded. The theory for rabies has no proof to support that Poe died from it; all but Benitez believes the cause of death was alcohol. Pollin reveals, â€Å"Dr. Benitez admits the primary weakness of his theory- lack of evidence of a bite or scratch†¦rabies was well known as to causes and symptoms†¦ could affect an entire limb or side of the body. How could Moran and his staff ignore such symptoms in a patient? (Pollin, 134). No clues suggest the theory of rabies and relatives of Poe even d isagree with Dr. Benitez. Symptoms that significant are hard to ignore, so it is unlikely that rabies was the problem. Poe likely could not get away with such symptoms even if he wanted to. He was examined in the hospital, so if anything else were wrong with him it would have been reported. Another problem with this case is that most medical records and reports have been lost. Rabies cannot go unnoticed; Poe was not even around any animals that were infected.Pollin states, â€Å"Guiltless was the pet Caterina, who, uninfected and showed no sign of rabies, died of starvation when deserted by Clemm after Poe’s death† (Pollin, 134). Poe’s cat was innocent, and cannot be blamed for giving him rabies. Most accounts over Poe’s last few days were about him drunk or delirious. This is the most likely cause, because it is backed with the most evidence. Pollin states, â€Å"Poe was found outside a Baltimore saloon in an alcoholic stupor on October 3, 1849, and die d four days later. Dr. John J.Moran’s account of hid final days is given in a letter to Poe’s aunt and mother-in-law, Maria Clemm, a New York Herald article in 1875, and a book by Moran in 1885. Supplementary accounts of Poe’s alcoholic condition came from Joseph Walker†¦ Dr. Snodgrass, and editor well known to Poe; and two of Poe’s relatives. None of these confirm Dr. Bentitez’s statement that ‘Poe was not drunk’† (Pollin, 133). A great amount of evidence can support alcoholism as the true cause. Only one account suggests rabies. Alcohol was a big part of Poe’s past; it showed up through letters and was a constant obstacle for him.This article is slightly biased and comes across as persuasive in tone. It is a secondary source, but addresses many primary sources. The author is very opinionated and believed that Poe’s self-destructive behavior should not be concealed. This article is credible and I agree with it s argument. Edgar Allen Poe led a very mysterious life; even how he died is still in doubt. It is known that he was delirious, and had impaired judgment prior to staying in a hospital and suddenly dying. There are many disputed theories about how Poe specifically died.The biography excerpt â€Å"Poe’s Final Days† by Kenneth Silverman explains how weather and stress increased symptoms of alcoholism and caused Poe to die of poor decisions. He was too drunk to care, and faced stress that he could no longer handle. The New York Times article â€Å"Poe’s Death is rewritten as Case of Rabies, Not Telltale Alcohol† explains Dr. Benitez’s new theory developed during a medical conference suggesting Poe died of rabies. It reveals how he was said to avoid alcohol despite a drunk past and was wrongly accused of alcoholism.The letter to the editor response, â€Å"If Only Poe Had Succeeded When He Said Nevermore To Drink† by Burton Pollin argues the idea of Poe dying of rabies and supports the traditional theory of Poe dying from alcoholism. Pollin explains how much more evidence is present about Poe’s struggle with abusing alcohol, and no animals could have infected Poe. I believe that Edgar Allen Poe died of the stress from alcohol abuse and exposure. He made poor health decisions, and stopped caring about his well being. Poe’s death remains as dark and mysterious as his stories.

Favorite holiday's destination Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 250 words

Favorite holiday's destination - Essay Example In addition, the red-robed Maasai community inhabits the park, and together, they live in harmony with the animals while protecting them from poachers. The period between the months of July to October is an ideal time to visit the Maasai Mara because people get to see the migration of the wilder beasts from the Serengeti in Tanzania to the Mara in Kenya. In the year 2006, the American National Newspaper regarded the migration as one of the new wonders of the world, as depicted in the photograph above. During this time, the big cats and the crocodiles are seen hunting the animals stuck in the river during the migration. At night, the Mara becomes ablaze with bonfires as the Maasai warriors entertain the guests with traditional songs and roasted meat, as is their custom. The Mara is a beautiful place to visit and one leaves there with an unforgettable experience to behold and cherish forever. I cannot wait to go back to the Maasai

Globalization of English (Rhetorical Analysis) Essay

Globalization of English (Rhetorical Analysis) - Essay Example There is also a host of many other scholars who share the same opinion with different reasons. People are increasingly using English all over the world as the primary language, especially in the business settings. This number of people using the English language as a linguistic of communication has been on the rise over the decades. There are indeed three genres of population who use English. The first being native English speakers for whom English is their mother tongue and most widely used language. As a matter of fact, many people in Europe and the Americas know only English and no other language. The second classes of people are people for whom English is a second or working language (not their mother tongue) and it is this segment of the world’s population who have been responsible for the propagation and dissemination of business English. The third class is people for whom English is a foreign language over which they have little if no command. The use of the English language has been spread all over and the growth seems exponential owing to the fact that it is considered an international language. This means the world has accepted that the use of English in its indulgence is inevitable and therefore individuals are trying their best to get a mastery of the language. The fact remains that business English has proliferated because of the efforts of globalization and the spread of UK and American cultures throughout the globe. Europeans have been very enterprising and innovative business people willing to take calculated risks and through colonization, the propagation and spread of English through schools and other educational places have been assured. In most parts of the globe, English medium schools are in great demand and many convents profess and inculcate English values and language systems throughout their currency. The main challenges are that most people now tend to neglect their own native languages at the cost of English and also there are

Should English be the Global Language Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1000 words

Should English be the Global Language - Essay Example The author has rightly presented that language plays a key role in effective communication. Language is the key component, which makes messages understandable for the people involved in the process of communication. Here, a point that must be considered is that for communication, such language should be selected which should be easily understood by all people. For example, if there is more than one person from different cultures and societies participating in the process of communication, they must talk in a language with which all people should be familiar because communication can be productive or result-oriented only if all people understand the messages easily. Use of a global language plays a very important role in such cases. A global language is one, which is easily understood by every person regardless of his/her cultural or social background. If we study different languages that are spoken in different parts of the world, we come to know that English is the language, which h as the largest spoken rate. â€Å"English is a global language that allows many diverse peoples around the world to communicate when they don't speak, read, write, or understand one another's language†. All other international languages, such as French, German, Spanish, or Chinese language has less spoken rate than English has. People from different cultures not only understand English but also they can speak good English. The reason is that English is a well-known language, which is used in medical, business, and scientific communication all over the world. Most of the well-known scholars and researchers prefer to do their scientific and medical researches in English language because of its high understandability and spoken rate. In case of negotiations between the parties from different countries, English is used as the communication language in most cases. The reason is that English has already become a common language for the people who do not understand each otherâ€℠¢s language. English language has an attraction in itself, which no other language has. It has become a leader of languages because people from different countries feel pride in speaking English language. Researches show hat English language is the most learned language in the whole world. The graph of English language being taught and learned in any specific country is higher than the graph of any other language. The reason is that English has become the key to professional and educational success of a person. People like to study in those universities, which provide highest quality education to the students. Today, the United States of America and the United Kingdom are viewed as the leaders in providing excellent education to the students related to any specific field of life. Students like to study in such universities in order to get highly valued degrees, which can earn professional success for them in future. Here, the point is that in all those universities, the academic lan guage is English. Students from other countries need to learn English in order study in those universities properly. Moreover, when they graduate from those universities, they are able to get good jobs in the multinational companies because they get the command over the language that is used extensively in multinational languages. In some countries, English is being used as the academic language even though the regional and national languages are different in those countries. It is because the ministries of education of such countries believe in the importance of the English language for the academic and professional success of students. Therefore, we can say that English should be the Global language because it brings