This chapter’s title has its roots in the work of Stanley Pogrow (2009), professor of educational leadership at San Francisco State University and author of the book Teaching Content Outrageously. Pogrow states, “The Outrageous Teaching approach is designed to teach conventional content objectives more effectively and quickly than traditional approaches. It is the fusion of art, creativity, imagination, and emotion—and pragmatics” (p. viii). He has systematized what many good teachers have intuitively done to engage students and cement material and skills into instruction during their careers. This book validates and confirms the efficacy of strategies I have employed for years.
Pogrow (2009) explains that, in an outrageous lesson, the teacher uses the following elements:
• Disguises, both costume and voice
• A setting that incorporates as many media and senses as appropriate
• A storyline or scenario with a dilemma, fantasy, and humor
Certainly, the prospect of nuclear war, or even of an isolated nuclear explosion in a populated area, is a terrifying one. So far, humanity has managed to show considerable restraint in its application of nuclear weapons, but an estimated 20,000 nuclear warheads still exist in the world’s military arsenals. Ridding ourselves of this menace remains one of the most important outstanding issues in international politics. Hopefully, access to the kind of information offered by the HYDESim site will bring home to people how tragic the possibilities are, and just how imperative it is that the menace never becomes a reality.
• The Nuclear Weapons FAQ (http://nuclearweaponarchive.org/Nwfaq/
Nfaq0.html) answers a lot of common questions about nuclear weapons.
• The Atomic Archive’s New York example (http://www.atomicarchive.com/
Example/Example1.shtml) illustrates a situation much like the one shown in
Figure 3-12, only in much more detail.
• Wikipedia’s List of Nuclear Accidents at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
“The glorification of sports is a nation’s first step towards preparing its youth for war.”
As a sergeant in Quang Tri explained it to me, Con Thien was the northernmost American outpost in South Vietnam. Situated a little over six thousand meters below the Ben Hai River, it overlooked the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) and the southern panhandle of North Vietnam. By the end of February of 1967, the Marines had taken over responsibility of the hill from an Army Special Forces detachment. With Con Thien being the centerpiece, the idea behind our deployment there was to establish a string of outposts just below the 17th Parallel. Commonly known as McNamara’s Wall, the former Secretary of Defense had envisioned this wall as a sort of technological Maginot Line. During World
War II, the Maginot Line was supposed to prevent the German armies from invading France, which ended up becoming a complete and costly failure. Of course, McNamara’s wall didn’t work either.
Consisting of a collection of seismic and acoustic sensors for identifying troop movements, particle detectors for tracing carbon trails
Trust, above all things, was what Charlotte valued. It was what had kept her for over twenty years at the small Manhattan publishing firm that had hired her soon after she had graduated from City College. She trusted, in spite of the dismal rate of pay, that they truly believed she had the makings of a first-rate fiction editor. It was trust that was the indispensable glue for any durable, authentic relationship, and it was exactly the missing ingredient that explained the ultimate failure of her first marriage. It was what had emboldened her, only a week after she had opened up her first savings account, and against all her normal cautionary instincts, to invest in Pax World. After all, she had proudly told me, thirty-seven years ago this had been the first company to introduce socially responsible mutual friends in the United States. And for nearly twenty years, Pax World had repaid her trust, slowly but inexorably, seemingly managing itself, more reliable and trustworthy than any single person she had ever known.
In recent years, the psychoanalytic setting has come to be regarded as a fundamental element of the work, perhaps even the most important factor in bringing about a positive therapeutic result. I do not agree with such a view, and I would like to discuss some of the points involved in this issue.
When I went through my training, the word ‘SETTING’ was not really heard that often and it meant no more than a reference to the physical arrangements involving analytic therapy. It has now become the subject of conferences and, in fact, most discussions on analysis or psychotherapy will, sooner or later, contain a reference to ‘THE setting’. This follows from the present extreme importance being attached to the concepts of a facilitating environment, management, holding, or containing, and the analytic setting is considered a central ingredient of these.
The index to Freud’s twenty-four volumes in the Standard Edition (1943–1974) does not contain the word ‘setting’, neither is it listed in Spillius’s (1988) two volumes on Mrs Klein’s work. Rycroft’s Critical Dictionary of Psychoanalysis (1968) does not have an item on ‘setting’, nor is the word found in Laplanche and Pon-talis’s dictionary (1983). The index to Balint’s The Basic Fault (1979) does not list the word either. I do not know who first used the word ‘setting’ as a distinctive feature of psychoanalytic therapy and I imagine the word appears in many papers of the first half of the twentieth century, but I suspect it was Winnicott who first used it with the meaning that came to be invested in our days with such profound importance.