The Four-Year-Old’s Keys was composed by an IN reader in response to another reader’s comments regarding a post: Weasels Pimped My Kid. She’s Goin’ to Harvard! For contextual sake here are the comments followed by the poem:
I’ve got a different view.
In High School, the most important class I took was keyboarding/typing on one of those old typewriters with changeable ribbon where you pecked on the keyboards and occasionally would have to stop to unstick the keys.
No one really understood the value of that class… except for me at the time.
Learning how to type was so important because once I passed High School, college would only accept type written papers.
I made a killing off other students who couldn’t type just typing out there handwritten papers.
Now my 4 year old son not only has his own email, he has his own website and is learning basic computer programming!
What does he want for christmas? His own computer!
Guess what… you can ask anyone that has met my son, that he is the most polite, sincere, nice, and well educated 4 year old that one has ever met…. and yes I’m biased… but ask those that know me…and my son… I’m not hard to find… nor is my son ;)
I think typing is a worthwhile skill too.
You determining your son’s computer usage is one thing. (Btw, does he use one at school too?)
My comments are more of an observation that corporations tend to manipulate learning to further their market-share. That particular essay contest was worthy of further analysis, in my opinion. Teachers and students certainly shouldn’t be accepting such absurd rhetoric as that quoted from the Samsung website.
And I’m sincere when I say congratulations on their ‘winning’ some tech-stuff at the school. An ongoing policy theme of Island Notes probably goes something like, “corporate interests, and community concerns are usually quite different and these corporate interests are much more invasive (organized, if you like) such that we as a community need to discuss these things, lest we let corporations determine how we live.”
It’s high time I get down to lower puna and hope to meet up sometime. (I seem to get only as far as Maku’u market these days.)
Thanks for sharing your view.
The Four-Year-Old’s Keys
If typing was the most important class
because handwritten papers were banned in college,
then I must be the railroad tracks’ ambitions
or discarded leaflets
left on seat depressions lined with popcorn.
I must be the salad days of a couch.
The unused lemon. Every line ever drawn
in the sand, the banister or the one accused
of forgetting the raffle tickets.
Chickenpox. The underside of the soap dish
the funeral procession sticker
no one wants on their windshield or
spinning carelessly to floor piles.
If one form of answering is important
Because all other forms of answering are
on the endangered species list
then I must be
the hungry crowd’s warnings
thrown at the theater screen or
arriving fray of the ending sun
on a child’s computer programming-program,
further speeding the rabbit’s quietly
All the singed substance
of singing about singing
now making a killing while killing meaning
Domains of perception
curtailed by dominant paradigms
measured immeasurable ways of knowing
Even centuries, assumed.
those obscure and shrouded beauties
endless capabilities extinct
to our triumphant permissible.
by Courtney Carroll.