Ap Biology Lab Manual Lab 5

of Sali aquellas office and the place he loved, thinking about everything that he thinks he has lost something valuable. The losses are deaths, this place had many days and hours of my life which I now saw was a carnival parade bitter, saw those who participated in the construction of this facility like me, also the characters in this masquerade healed their smiles, their mouths glued just grotesque, by the deceitful words coming out, speaking at the major events. Move slowly towards the cliff of his own ambitions.

remember at this moment the friend and associate different thoughts and actions, I see him on his bicycle as a child, laughing as a child and lectured as a good man, upright, from the caves, away from a teaching report, monstrous, kidding by the desire for productivity. Yes something learned is put on the hat and take it away to his memory, I see now with your newspaper hat, surrounded by those students who really loved him because they saw in him a friend, a companion, someone to whom could trust, also observed in the costume parade a woman who fights with his condition in every movement of her body, the new contract, is dressed in military and military walks and talks, as if a group of recruits under his command, she does the dirty war, because it does not matter, because it is very male-do you can say it is very macho? - I do not know, but there is, for it brought her, that's his job, back it with his conscience, is so insignificant, despite the potential value in other ways.

pass. Come in, walk the trails of my mind many images of these years, are some more vivid than others, is the courtyard of the old school of Our Lady of Pilar, the de Chamorro, in the sixties, it is this same venue, of my memories and dreams of another personage nondescript bland, which also crosses as a frankenstein female - they call that scalpel beauty Beauty "? But still my images, come together, fight each other to take precedence and be contained in words, are the myths and legends of the yard, like the old cloister nun, saying she had appeared on moonlit nights. Just as the rumba, the frenzy of parades poor and poor women full of beads, and students are happy to do nothing. Because it was better to do nothing so useless thing to do, because not even take the trouble to explain that this is not a university or anything like it. I left that office, go through the doorway, now filled with guards, sat on the smooth low wall of brick that is in the portal, earlier had been the lady who serves in leadership, there was living my little death, other teachers approached him happy not to have been dismissed them, they would have more modules to play, beating their complacent hands.

Then I remembered the story of Ray Bradbury tells the story of a man who was persecuted for telling that there had been a better world that they were living, a world where you could enjoy a different life, not many deficiencies and many affections that was enough to be persecuted, harmed the workplace, damaging the normal development of a society where a massacre had occurred. What has this memory? Well, because Bradbury also tells us to read, write, became a measure not well seen, freaks, says in Fahrenheit 452, because this society is a society that thinks burning the books in full screen, the virtual screen in fire technology in the game of an image that is like a labyrinth, a maze of mirrors, they call this teaching, we are visual!, yells a chorus of hungry creatures, malnourished by the lack of digestion because they can not digest what you have not read, and prefer to open your eyes, eat as much junk found in the media and is chronic constipation ... and in front of them, do not guess what those are? Our remarkable personage pompous voice, that of minor events and unnecessary and that of the face like that of Bin Laden, but discreetly hidden behind the bulky figure of the patron, is that he knows all to survive in that surreal-virtual world, I would say - but of course awful! - say our good friend there in heaven, if heaven exists, because if there had to be invented habérselo someone, can I? Yes, I created this, just for him, so he could be here in this story.

Carnival has not ceased, and as Zalamea said Grow! Grow! the audience and from your sky Look well, this terrible spectacle, where the art teacher walks with his caminadito of it I do not give, I give do not give, but in reality Who cares if given or not given? But believe it all, despite the snows of time and settled in their one hundred, as the tango - do you remember when you said I would return as related as it was Chile when it established the rule of terror Pinochet? "That they were police everywhere, anyone who became an informant, and then returns the memory of Kafka, and yes you are right, in the tropics feverish and sleepless, - here and can not believe neither in God - because those who believe in God are those who feel they have the power to command, surveillance and punishment, that's the power of education called all theories are good lip service to that of the educational subject, that of the little question that if we can live together or to teach if, but how?, they will meet the easiest, is a card marked the ineffable leadership,! as we teach! "answers" and the choir and the ventriloquist, repeat the platitudinous desiderata of the pedagogical model of the internationalization of the institution and this word to be pronounced, like sparks spit blows from their mouths, with a smile like a scar of shame attached. All of this is novelty, is preached and not practiced, it becomes a transforming power, - But who is going to transform if they have accumulated so much wax in their ears that are deaf to anything other than the sound of the registers ? - And every morning as Mr. K, we woke up feeling like some insects and the fear that we chopped off life, say, "Taking away a bicycle? Or so they say here in this country when they get to take our lives, it was for something until fall to see the body, but we are not laying again dramatic, let us return to the drill, the carnival, carnival time, passed since the carve-up of the modules, the teaching hours of the integrations, which tell us how much we want, where they make us feel that dependence acanalla. I'm sitting on the wall at the main entrance, private security and soldiers are guarding the electric substation is one day in June, is the day that we announce who stays and who goes, the time come I recall these images, is the moment of truth, as they say the fighters, a simile lucky, because this is a shed itself of a circus fights, I imagine it with me, look right ... There's a heaven where my partner valid, transparent and clear, blue as any sky and the sun shines in all its splendor. In the stands the village, in a special balcony, governs the plaza the President and the rest of the arena is divided barrier contrabarrera alley, and the stands, where the respectable blood cries speech twisting bull, full of flattery and pretending to be an art, which called on spoons, both there and here we talk about teachers of art, both there and here is handled supposedly scholarly jargon, the bull is the big hurt, the poor bull is the king of jokes Party is a disastrous party, where he teaches in an obscene manner: torture. The bread and circus, said then the Romans, here comes the fun. Here we are then, a market day, the square filled, the barrier and the contrabarrera happy with their pockets full, and the sound is awful, people shout, curse, calling for the death of the animal, the teachers walk in ridiculous costumes, close to the body, comply with their thirds, pass from one to another third, each is more degrading than the other, prepare the beef for destasadero, once the issue dies, people ask trophies, ears or tail and celebrate soaked in the blood, reconciled to life, the President decides the awards that were amputated as a reward, to the skill, the victimization patient, methodical and cruel. I lift my eyes to heaven like a prayer, and I see you there in the deep blue sky this afternoon where I am on this wall, I think your words such good days were around the church of Santa Monica, where it watched over my brother Cesar, "worth the mention, you said that this image of the bullfight, it was the image that best spoke, I visualized, our behavior, our thinking cannibal, of wanting to devour each other, that of rendering an act of torture party, a macabre ritual in daily life - what can be taught in a country that wakes up with the news of the war? - - How the struggle of the strong against the weak? - do the buying and selling of human beings and consciousness, of anything goes?. This is Canibalia friend here is all against all, this talk is forbidden, say only if it is to shout ole!, if it is to go with the flow, because: not fool mijito to What do you care? Thinking is dangerous. We must kill the bull, to hoods, to get the body, not to be gored, learn the primer passes have or might have, knowing we are that memory pedagogy with the jargon. But of course! in short enjoy the party! Enjoy the party is ignoring Mijita! More is known that much if you do, much as bullfighting and let you fight, you stick your lunge, take it out of the ring, the marginalized in the party. Then why waste time, repeated and scolded me for my spirit controversial. That I did see many times, and you smoked you smoked, and we got into the rum, such riendazos coming to the soul, just as today in the atrium of this church finally see you again where you got off your blue sky crepe paper to attend this match, which was also yours. Ours, what did you expect? Do not you see me and have me in a painting that looks like the heart of Jesus, and that he was already out, and I had been taking everything! - But now they need only say that miracles do, and if fruit set, as to make me holy, and change of business, so this reality, so are-,-yes, that is, lose one-and That is not all bad, that's be pragmatic, we are idiots who never learned and never learn, you will die like me without a penny, and maybe say you were good. "That if you do not answered, so if you do not! - Tell me I was never good, say for example, that was intelligent, that intelligence had wasted my writing these stupid things, or reading, is that for serving whether we vision? Or that was the worst teachers because they did not teach anything., "A couple" That tiresome old students told them everything except what we had to say. Well we did say so many things and they changed so many times.

Finally! "Too bad I did not take a photo-pruning, the would be happy here next to these words, it would be both in the atrium of this church, in front of the institution they love so much, because institution means students , students, the magic of the classroom, this relationship where the word occurs and is embodied reflection in learning.

Those pictures you made, thousands of them must be somewhere, alchemy lab where you piled students, who were in search of the miracle of light in a dark room, where they heard many times your sketches and metaphors about the caverns, phone readings were wise before you sumieras in a deep skepticism. The reason I said it before and I can not say now, now, when the morning dawns and stained with violet hills and I have to install in your heaven, to continue with my story, to continue giving way without nostalgia all these experiences that become carnival in masquerade, as it should be, not to invoke both evil spirit.

* Written by Santiago Quintana. Santiago de Cali-Colombia (abril1954-September 2009)

This text was written in honor of his colleague and friend of Michelangelo, who died at the hands of a man who stole her bike. All places or persons named in this text are real. The place belongs to the Foundation Academy of Design Professional, the lady in question is Martha Ines Jaramillo Leiva-chancellor of the institution.