MGTutoring.com. A Rational Perspective on Education.

“The Song of the Builder” by Edgar Guest

Administrator — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 04:46:23 +0000

I sink my piers to the solid rock,
And I send my steel to the sky,
And I pile up the granite, block by block
Full twenty stories high;
Nor wind nor weather shall wash away
The thing that I’ve builded, day by day.

Here’s something of mine that shall ever stand
Till another shall tear it down;
Here is the work of my brain and hand,
Towering above the town.
And the idlers gay in their smug content,
Have nothing to leave for a monument.

Here from my girders I look below
At the throngs which travel by,
For little that’s real will they leave to show
When it comes their time to die.
But I, when my time of life is through,
Will leave this building for men to view.

Oh, the work is hard and the days are long,
But hammers are tools for men,
And granite endures and steel is strong,
Outliving both brush and pen.
And ages after my voice is stilled,
Men shall know I lived by the things I build.

HT: Elizabeth M

The Usual

Administrator — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 02:53:05 +0000

A student earned a 93 on his precal final. Another student earned a 94 on his geometry final. Another student earned a 94 on a test. But, darn it, two students earned only a C+ on their math final in December 2011. They, however, go to a top private school, and have a hard teacher. They still pulled out Bs for the semester, which is good for them. Well done.

Math Humor

Administrator — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 02:48:11 +0000

Is this copyrighted??

Feeding Cats

Administrator — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 20:54:18 +0000

In “The Healthiest Diet For Your Cat,” Dr. Karen Becker says:

Research Proves It: Cats and Carbs Don’t Mix!

Cats are obligate carnivores, meaning they have nutritional requirements that can only be met with a diet based on animal tissue. The macronutrient profile for cats is high in protein and fat, consistent with a meat-based diet.

According to study authors:

The carbohydrate ceiling explains many of the intake patterns seen in both dry and wet diet experiments and suggests that cats may only be able to process ingested carbohydrate up to a certain level.The feline body is specifically designed for a low-carb diet. Indicators your kitty isn’t equipped by nature to process a lot of carbohydrates include:

• No taste receptors for sweet flavors
• Low rates of glucose uptake in the intestine
• No salivary amylase to break down starches
• Reduced capacity of pancreatic amylase and intestinal disaccharidases

In other words, cats don’t produce the enzymes required to digest carbohydrates. The only carbs felines eat in the wild are pre-digested and are found in the stomachs of prey animals.

If your kitty’s body is incapable of digesting a heavy carbohydrate load and she’s eating a cat food with high carb content, she could potentially develop digestive disease and other serious conditions, like diabetes and pancreatitis, related to eating a diet unfit for her species. And certainly, too many carbohydrates aren’t the only problem with most processed pet foods.

Copyright © 2012 TheHuffingtonPost.com, Inc.

Do not feed cats food with grains, or high in carbs. And avoid dry; cats are desert animals who get most of their moisture from what they eat. If they drink, they are dehydrated.

Nutrition: Rapper vs. Trained Doctors

Administrator — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 20:11:56 +0000

The rapper Fat Joe has more sense about nutrition and health than most modern doctors!!! Watch his interview on VLAD TV.

Wow: Paleo As “Cure” For MS

Administrator — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 00:10:48 +0000

Dr. Terry Wahl gave a great TED talk on how she beat MS by fixing her diet and Minding Her Mitochondria.

The Benefits of a Paleo Diet

Administrator — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 00:05:17 +0000

Wow. I received this email from some people I tutor:

“I would like to take this opportunity to thank you on behalf of all my family, for introducing us to so many lovely things…the paleo diet for example. My mother’s lupus is in remission, she is now 56 kg from 69 kg, her renal impairment has reversed. She has now normal renal functions and no blood pressure. Her facial lupus scars are fading and she is again as beautiful as she use to be. She was a very beautiful woman and she again is…thank you.

My father is also doing very well, he would be doing better, but his work does not allow him to be back home before 1am and 100 % paleo when he is out is not possible for him, but nonetheless he is doing MUCH better.

Every time my kids breeze through a virus or bounce back healthy and well we send a silent thank you to you. Merry Christmas, we hope one of these days we get the chance of meeting you in person.”

You can learn more on Dr. Loren Cordain’s Website, Robb Wolf’s Website, Art DeVany’s Website, and others.

“I Give Thanks” by Grace Fallow Norton

Administrator — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 23:37:15 +0000

There’s one that I once loved so much
I am no more the same.
I give thanks for that transforming touch.
I tell you not his name.

He has become a sign to me
For flowers and for fire.
For song he is a sign to me
And for the broken lyre.

And I have known him in a book
And never touched his hand.
And he is dead—I need not took
For him through his green land.

Heaven may not be. I have no faith,
But this desire I have—
To take my soul on my last breath,
To lift it like a wave,

And surge unto his star and say,
His friendship had been heaven;
And pray, for clouds that closed his day
May light at last be given!

And say, he shone at noon so bright
I learned to run and rejoice!
And beg him for one last delight—
The true sound of his voice.

There’s one that once moved me so much
I am no more the same;
And I pray I too, I too, may touch
Some heart with singing flame.

By Grace Fallow Norton from The New Poetry, An Anthology 1917 Ed. by Harriet Monroe

HT: Elizabeth M

“Who Loves the Rain?” by Frances Shaw, 1917

Administrator — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 18:00:46 +0000

Who loves the rain
And loves his home,
And looks on life with quiet eyes,

Him will I follow through the storm;

And at his hearth-fire keep me warm;
Nor hell nor heaven shall that soul surprise,
Who loves the rain,
And loves his home,

And looks on life with quiet eyes.

Frances Shaw, 1917

HT: Elizabeth M

“Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou

Administrator — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 22:50:58 +0000

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

HT: Elizabeth M

MGTutoring.com. A Rational Perspective on Education.

“The Song of the Builder” by Edgar Guest

I sink my piers to the solid rock, And I send my steel to the sky, And I pile up the granite, block by block Full twenty stories high; Nor wind nor weather shall wash away The thing that I’ve builded, day by day.

Oh, the work is hard and the days are long, But hammers are tools for men, And granite endures and steel is strong, Outliving both brush and pen. And ages after my voice is stilled, Men shall know I lived by the things I build.

The Usual

Math Humor

Feeding Cats

Nutrition: Rapper vs. Trained Doctors

Wow: Paleo As “Cure” For MS

The Benefits of a Paleo Diet

“I Give Thanks” by Grace Fallow Norton

There’s one that I once loved so much I am no more the same. I give thanks for that transforming touch. I tell you not his name.

He has become a sign to me For flowers and for fire. For song he is a sign to me And for the broken lyre.

And I have known him in a book And never touched his hand. And he is dead—I need not took For him through his green land.

Heaven may not be. I have no faith, But this desire I have— To take my soul on my last breath, To lift it like a wave,

And surge unto his star and say, His friendship had been heaven; And pray, for clouds that closed his day May light at last be given!

And say, he shone at noon so bright I learned to run and rejoice! And beg him for one last delight— The true sound of his voice.

There’s one that once moved me so much I am no more the same; And I pray I too, I too, may touch Some heart with singing flame.

“Who Loves the Rain?” by Frances Shaw, 1917

Who loves the rain And loves his home, And looks on life with quiet eyes,

Him will I follow through the storm;

And at his hearth-fire keep me warm; Nor hell nor heaven shall that soul surprise, Who loves the rain, And loves his home,

And looks on life with quiet eyes.

Frances Shaw, 1917

“Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you? Don’t you take it awful hard ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I’ve got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs?

I sink my piers to the solid rock,
And I send my steel to the sky,
And I pile up the granite, block by block
Full twenty stories high;
Nor wind nor weather shall wash away
The thing that I’ve builded, day by day.

Oh, the work is hard and the days are long,
But hammers are tools for men,
And granite endures and steel is strong,
Outliving both brush and pen.
And ages after my voice is stilled,
Men shall know I lived by the things I build.

There’s one that I once loved so much
I am no more the same.
I give thanks for that transforming touch.
I tell you not his name.

He has become a sign to me
For flowers and for fire.
For song he is a sign to me
And for the broken lyre.

And I have known him in a book
And never touched his hand.
And he is dead—I need not took
For him through his green land.

Heaven may not be. I have no faith,
But this desire I have—
To take my soul on my last breath,
To lift it like a wave,

And surge unto his star and say,
His friendship had been heaven;
And pray, for clouds that closed his day
May light at last be given!

And say, he shone at noon so bright
I learned to run and rejoice!
And beg him for one last delight—
The true sound of his voice.

There’s one that once moved me so much
I am no more the same;
And I pray I too, I too, may touch
Some heart with singing flame.

Who loves the rain
And loves his home,
And looks on life with quiet eyes,

And at his hearth-fire keep me warm;
Nor hell nor heaven shall that soul surprise,
Who loves the rain,
And loves his home,

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?