Our final class will be on Thursday, May 17 from 2:30 to 5:00.  This is a required class.  We will see a film, still to be determined.

Below you will find the requirements for Self and Society courses in the PSU General Education Program. Each Self and Society course, regardless of the department in which it is taught, must attempt to fulfill these requirements.

Read through these requirements, and discuss what you have learned in Mx3 that has contributed to your understanding of the relationship of the individual to society, and to your own relationship to society in relation to these requirements, which are set out on page 67 of the 2006-2007 PSU catalogue. How has the course contributed to your understanding and appreciation of the “multiple dimensions of self including the social, physical, emotional and cognitive” and your investigation of the “interactions between individuals and the spacial, temporal, political, economic and technological aspects of the social environment?” Also explain how and to what extent this class has helped to “[D]evelop an understanding of how society affects our perceptions of what is accepted and not accepted as normal and right. How does society respond to individuals whose needs conflict with those of society[?]”

In discussing these questions and issues, refer to stories, class discussions and blog entries in which they were raised, be as specific as possible, citing specific references whenever appropriate. Employ MLA style for all citations and for your Works Cited. Your essay should be five to seven pages in length, not counting your Works Cited.

Please submit this essay as an electronic attachment to artfried@gmail.com. If you want to receive your paper back with my comments on it, please submit it no later than noon, Friday, May 11. If you will be satisfied just knowing your grade, submit it by noon, Thursday, May17.

If you have any questions, ask them in class or email me at artfried@gmail.com.

An educated person must grapple with a question that has interested human beings for centuries: the relationship between self and society. To understand one’s self, one must understand and acknowledge the impact of society on the development of identity and the formation of beliefs. The needs of the individual sometimes conflict with the needs of society. Cultures differ in the relative value they give to the individual and to the group.

Using issues that impact on students’ lives, Self and Society explore courses of these sorts. They encourage students to inquire into multiple dimensions of self including the social, physical, emotional and cognitive and to investigate the interactions between individuals and the spatial, temporal, political, economic and technological aspects of the social environment. [The remainder of this description, which is not directly relevant to this assignment, may be found on page 67 of the PSU academic catalogue for 2006-2007.]

We will only see one film in this class, on the day that others are taking a final exam (Tuesday, May 15, from 2:30 to 5 p.m.).  Do you have a choice for a film that we might want to see that day.  It should deal in a serious way with murder, mayhem and/or madness, should be less than 2 1/2 hours in length, and should be available in VHS or, preferably, DVD.

What do I mean when I write that the film should deal with mx3 “in a serious way?”  Basically, that the film has a point of view regarding human nature that helps us to understand, or at least experience, the point of view of one or more of the characters.  For more information, please check out the course syllabus on the class Moodle site, which goes into more detail about the goals and values of the course.

The film you choose can be violent, but it should not simply be violent for its own sake.  To get information on virtually any feature film every made, go to www.imdb.com.  To read film reviews, go to www.mrqe.com.

Please post by noon on Thursday, April 26.

Your entry for this blog posting should be three to five paragraphs in length.

The Office of Undergraduate Studies asks you to fill out a survey on this class, one of the Spring 2007 Self and Society Directions (SSDI) courses.  Please read the following directions and then go to the URL printed below:

Course information: ENDI1300.H1

Course name: Murder, Mayhem, Madness (Hon.)

Professor Arthur Fried

 This is an important survey that helps us learn what students think about Gen Ed courses and how to improve them.  Each student who replies to the survey will be entered into a drawing for a 30 gig iPod or an iPod Nano.

Here’s the link: http://www.plymouth.edu/webapp/survey/fillsurvey.php?sid=109

Questions?  Post them here, or email me at artfried@gmail.com

First go to the URL at the end of this commentary and read”The Storm,” a short story by Kate Chopin, a Louisiana writer of the late 19th century. After you have done that, post a commentary, following the same procedure we used for “My Last Duchess” and “The Raven.” Please post your comment no later than noon on Tuesday, April 17. We will discuss both “The Storm” and “The Raven” in class that day.

Please note that I have rearranged the schedule for the next few weeks. We will be reading the same stories as previously scheduled, but on different dates.

http://classiclit.about.com/library/bl-etexts/kchopin/bl-kchop-thestorm.htm

You can also read the story on the mx3 Moodle home page.

Here is another famous poem about Murder, Mayhem and Madness.  (Well, definitely madness!)  Please posts comments, just like you did for “My Last Duchess.”  Deadline is noon next Thursday, April 12.

Edgar Allan Poe

The Raven

[First published in 1845]

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. `’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.’Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Nameless here for evermore.And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating `’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and nothing more,’ Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’ This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’ Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. `Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - ‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’ Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as `Nevermore.’ But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before - On the morrow will he leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’ Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’ Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, `Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of “Never-nevermore.”‘ But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’ This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. `Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore - Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting - `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’ Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted – nevermore!

Hello, and welcome to the mx3blog.

Our first class assignment will be a group discussion of Robert Browning’s 19th century poem, “My Last Duchess.” I am not going to say much about this poem because I want to see what the entire class, working as a group, can pull out of it. Instead, here are some ground rules:

1) Each member of the class must make one — and only one — statement or comment that will help us to better understand the poem. Once a student has responded to the poem, he or she should not respond again until every other member of the class has responded as well.

2) Your comment or statement must be significantly different than anyone else’s. In other words, you have to do more than rephrase someone else’s response. You may, however, reply to or even dispute a classmate’s response.

3) This project will be graded by participation; so long as you make an acceptable contribution, you will receive a grade of Pass. However, to encourage more than just passable efforts, I will give extra credit to the five best entries. (I’ll let you know who you are.)

4) You may definitely use any research tools or information you discover, so long as you attribute it.

5) I’ve started off with a comment of my own regarding the word “Ferrara” in the subtitle, so you can see how I expect it to be done. But this is the first time that I have tried a wiki of this sort, so if you have any questions, recommendations, complaints, etc., email me at artfried@gmail.com and let me know.

6) For how to information, check out the mx3blog home page.

That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,

Looking as if she were alive. I call

That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf’s hands

Worked busily a day, and there she stands.

Will `t please you sit and look at her? I said

“Fra Pandolf” by design, for never read

Strangers like you that pictured countenance,

The depth and passion of its earnest glance,

But to myself they turned (since none puts by

The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)

And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,

How such a glance came there; so, not the first

Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, `twas not

Her husband’s presence only, called that spot

Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek: perhaps

Fra Pandolf chanced to say “Her mantle laps

Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint

Must never hope to reproduce the faint

Half-flush that dies along her throat”: such stuff

Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough

For calling up that spot of joy. She had

A heart — how shall I say? — too soon made glad,

Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er

She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.

Sir, `twas all one! My favor at her breast,

The dropping of the daylight in the West,

The bough of cherries some officious fool

Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule

She rode with round the terrace — all and each

Would draw from her alike the approving speech,

Or blush, at least. She thanked men — good! but thanked

Somehow — I know not how — as if she ranked

My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name

With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame

This sort of trifling? Even had you skill

In speech — which I have not — to make your will

Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this

Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,

Or there exceed the mark” — and if she let

Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set

Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse

– E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose

Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,

Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without

Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;

Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands

As if alive. Will `t please you rise? We’ll meet

The company below, then. I repeat,

The Count your master’s known munificence

Is ample warrant that no just pretense

Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;

Though his fair daughter’s self as I avowed

At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go

Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,

Taming a sea horse, thought a rarity,

Which Claus of Innshruck cast in bronze for me!

1842