As mentioned, tomorrow we will begin Anthem by Ayn Rand. Please go to the web link for Anthem Project (look to the left) and see what you can expect from this assignment.
But Now For Something Completely Different:
Phrenology
Phrenology, to be slightly facetious, is the study (ology) of the bumps on your head, a pseudo-science developed more than 200 years ago by a pseudo-scientist by the name of Joseph Gall. Gall boldly stated that the shape of the head, in particular the bumps and imperfections were synonymous with a person's personality and intelligence. Without any empirical study, Gall announced his discovery in 1796 to relatively unenthusiastic ears, except here in Jacksonian America where the principles of this new science fit in with the philosophies of the times.
Phrenology Parlours became the rage in American cities. Visitors would go to the parlour like they were going to a doctor. The phrenologist, like a carnival palm reader, would explain the shape of the head and the physical attributes utilizing a molded bust of ivory or porcelain. Then he would "read" the bumps of the customer's head. Small bumps implied weakness and stupidity. Large bumps were a sign of valor and intelligence. Although Gall was a sham for the most part, he was the first to identify neurons and axons in the brain, and due to this there is still a large phrenology following and many insist on its legitimacy. (Of course there is still a tremendous membership in the Flat Earth Society as well. Yikes!)
The poem that most clearly embellishes these philosophies is Whitman's "Song of Myself." I have excerpted it here. Your assignment is write a well thought out paper on how phrenology relates to Whitman and this poem. You'll have to do some research on both Phrenology and Whitman and make specific references to the poem. This assignment is due in your journals, but not for this Friday (due by the last day of class). If you'd like to make a bolder statement and receive 5 points extra credit, make this a two page typed, double spaced paper and have it in by the end of next week.
Song of Myself
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belongs to me as it belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, formed from this soil,
This air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and
Their parents the same.
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not until death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while to suffice at what they are, but never Forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.