Journal articles: 'Massachusetts Normal School of Art' – Grafiati (2024)

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“Photon Translations” is a piece of installation art that incorporates all the disciplines of science, technology, engineering, art, and mathematics (STEAM) and is on display at the Stoneleigh-Burnam School in Greenfield, Massachusetts. Installation art is just what it implies: art that is created for the purpose of being installed at a particular location. Sometimes the artwork can be interactive, allowing audience members to participate in the experience in some dynamic way. Terry Marashlian of Northfield, Massachusetts, created this artwork. The author collaborated with Marashlian on creating the musical chimes.

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George F. Root, Lowell Mason, and William B. Bradbury opened the New York Normal Musical Institute in April of 1853 in New York City. Each term lasted about three months and provided the first long-term preparation program for singing-school masters, church choir directors, private instructors, and school music teachers in the United States. Students at the institute studied pedagogy, voice culture, music theory, and choral literature and had the opportunity to take private lessons with prominent musicians and teachers. The Normal Musical Institute relocated to North Reading, Massachusetts, in 1856 and, in 1860, began meeting in various cities throughout the country. In 1872, the school became the National Normal Musical Institute and continued under this name until its final season in Elmira, New York, in 1885. This study was designed to examine the history of this institution in relation to its origin, details of operation, pedagogy and curriculum, prominent students and faculty, and influence on music education. Data included articles from music periodicals and newspapers, pamphlets and catalogs from the institution, biographies of prominent participants, and other primary and secondary sources.

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This article explores the Art and Science of Mindfulness from the perspective of a Buddhist Monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, an author of five books in the Mindfulness Essentials series and that of an American medical doctor, Jon Kabat Zinn, who founded the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) clinic at the University of Massachusetts. Mindfulness training for stress reduction is discussed with positive results in pain reduction, blood pressure reduction, and a greater sense of well-being. Mindfulness practices used with educators are examined including the Cultivating Awareness and Resilience in Education (CARE) program developed by Patricia Jennings, a professor at the University of Virginia; Stress management and Using Relaxation Techniques (SMART) designed by Margaret Cullen, a therapist and MBSR instructor; and MindUp a mindfulness program for elementary and middle school students sponsored by the Hawn Foundation. Mindfulness practices have the capacity for transformation in students and their teachers, as well as in parents and their children.

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The purpose of this study was to examine the professional contributions of Alice Carey Inskeep (1875-1942), who contributed significantly to music education through her positive and effective teaching, supervising, community service, and leadership in music education. Inskeep was born in Ottumwa, Iowa, and taught for five years in that city's school system after graduating from high school. She served as music supervisor in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, for most of the remainder of her career, where she provided progressive leadership to the schools and community. She was one of three people appointed to plan the initial meeting in Keokuk, Iowa, for what eventually became MENC: The National Association for Music Education, and she was one of sixty-nine founding members of the organization in 1907. The Keokuk meeting served as an impetus for Inskeep to travel to Chicago, where she studied with several notable music educators. Later, she sat on the organization's nominating committee, the first Educational Council (precursor to the Music Education Research Council) board of directors, and provided leadership to two of the organization's affiliates, the North Central Division and the Iowa Music Educators Association. She served as a part-time or summer faculty member at Iowa State Normal School and Coe College in Cedar Falls and Cedar Rapids, Iowa, respectively, and the American Institute of Normal Methods in Evanston, Illinois, and Auburndale, Massachusetts.

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the main objective of this study is to identify the differences in cognitive styles (independence, dependence, reflective and impulsive styles) between the gifted and average males/females secondary students level applying the different gender as a variable. In this study, the researcher followed the comparative descriptive approach on a sample that contains 110 males/females secondary students: 20 males gifted secondary students, 30 females gifted secondary students (both the gifted males and females students have passed the test of the Saudi Arabia national project to discover the gifted students), 30 average males secondary students and 30 average females secondary students, they have been selected by a simple randomized method. Then the researcher used two tools: Embedded Figures Test EFT (Group figures) to measure the independence/dependence styles based on the conceptual field who prepared by Anwer Al-Sharqawi and Suliman Al-khudari in (1989) and measuring the reflective/impulsive verbal styles who was presented by (Aiash, 2006) after modifying the method to be applicable for this study. The results of the study has shown the following:There is a statistical difference of less than 0.05 in the dependence/independence styles between the males/females gifted students with respect to the average students to the gifted students, which means that the gifted students are more independent from the average students. There is no statistical difference between the gifted males students and gifted females students in the dependence/independence style, which means that there is no affect of the gender differences.There is a statistical difference of a level less than 0.05 in reflective/impulsive style between the male/female gifted students with respect to the average ones to the gifted students, which means that the gifted students are more patients than the normal ones.There is no statistical difference between the male gifted students and female gifted students from the reflective/impulsive style prospective, which means that there is no affect of the gender differences.The total results of this study support that there are cognitive styles differences between the gifted and average students that were discussed and given some recommendations and suggested studies linked to this study and its topic.

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At the end of her spring term in 1862, Martha Hale Clary bade farewell to her classmates at Mount Holyoke Female Seminary one year before she was to graduate. She was a 24 year-old teacher, the daughter of a farming family from Conway, Massachusetts, who had graduated from Westfield State Normal School five years earlier. By the autumn of 1862, she was living in an abandoned plantation house in Beaufort, South Carolina, organizing a school for the Gullah people not many miles from Confederate lines, one of the earliest participants in the Sea Islands’ “Rehearsal for Reconstruction.” For the next eleven years she taught scores of the islands’ freed slaves in Beaufort and Hilton Head, one of the hundreds of teachers sponsored by the venerable American Missionary Association (AMA). By the early 1870s, young former slaves had themselves gained sufficient education to become their people's elementary teachers, so in 1873 Martha Clary accepted a position with the Presbyterian Committee on Missions to the Freedmen to teach in its academy for black students in North Carolina, Scotia Seminary. She would remain there for another fourteen years, finally retiring to her native state in 1887 after twenty-five years of service to southern African Americans.

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Writing is an essential task for self-expression. While it is normal for otherwise healthy students to struggle with handwriting, for a small group of students with a transcription learning disability (LD) called dysgraphia, rather than improving the learning process, writing creates a major hurdle that interferes with learning. Because most of their energy is spent on the process of writing, students with dysgraphia risk falling behind at school. More importantly, they are vulnerable to cumulative emotional and behavioral problems which are often left unattended. Art therapy and technology have been incorporated in a variety of ways into treatment of LDs. In the current study, a new hybrid model that builds on earlier empirical research is prosed to provide a compensatory strategy to assist students with dysgraphia. The concurrent treatment approach incorporates drawing activities with the use of mobile devices (specifically the application WhatsApp) to facilitate the self-expression of students with dysgraphia, restore their self-confidence and enhance their skills to a level commensurate with their aptitude while attending to their psychological well-being. Furthermore, the suggested trifold plan is intended to help students with dysgraphia by directly targeting their morphological awareness. The ultimate goal of the interactive strategy is to improve the environment in which students with dysgraphia are learning so that they can focus on their creativity and feel less excluded in normal classrooms. Further empirical research on concurrent dysgraphia treatments is warranted.

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Abstract This article aimed to determine the relationship between emotional intelligence and Music Art Learning Outcomes of the class IX in Senior High School 1 Ujungbatu. Type of research was quantitative research. The forms of research instrument were questionnaires and documentation. The types of data in this study were both primary and secondary. Techniques of data collection were done by giving questionnaire and documentation. Data analysis was done in several stages, namely test requirements analysis and hypothesis testing. Based on the results of the study, the contribution coefficient between emotional intelligence and learning outcomes is obtained at 23.74%. From the data analysis test, it is found that the data is normal and hom*ogeneous. The test result is at the significance level of α 0.05 (95% of confidence level) obtained a value of rcount = 0.4878 and rtable = 0.220 so that it is obtained rcount> rtable (0.4878> 0.220). This is reinforced by the results of the significance test which shows tcount = 4.9351 and ttable = 1.990 so that tcount> ttable (4.9351> 1.990) is obtained. Thus H0 is rejected and H1 is accepted which means that there is a positive and significant relationship between emotional intelligence and the Music Art Learning outcomes of the class XI in Senior High School 1 Ujungbatu. Keywords: Emotional Intelligence, Learning Outcomes

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AbstractThis article aims to describe the implementation of the training activities of self development in Deaf children dance on the SLB Discourse Compassion desert. This research is classified in qualitative research that uses descriptive approach. Instrument in this study is the researchers themselves by using data collection techniques in the form of observation, interview, documentation and study of the literature. The results showed that students can transmit an interest and talent in the art of dance in self development SLB Discourse Compassion desert. In the execution of training activities of self development in SLB Discourse Compassion field, teachers implement the method of demonstration, imitation method, manual methods or gestures. The main obstacle factors for Deaf students i.e. There is on the sense of hearing, but did not close the possibility for deaf children get his rights in education like other normal children. To develop the potential of deaf children much needed role of parents, families, teachers and the school of structural aid in the goal of self development close to the art of dance in the SLB Discourse Compassion desert.Keywords: Self Development; Deaf Children.

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This paper discusses smart learning improves student participation. The transmission of COVID-19 affects the lives of everyone in Malaysia. Many hope that life will return to normal. The objective of the study was to identify several ways of online learning for students especially stay at home due to the Covid-19 pandemic. Researchers use narrative literature studies to illustrate the current state of art and science in the field of research focused. Researcher used narrative literature reviews to build a scientific base of knowledge. Researcher gather all the key points in the discussion, and put it here by referring to the specific field where the paper is essentially based. The findings show that the parents certainly require their children to be able to resume school after closed since mid-March 2020 which affect the learning process of 4.9 million students nationwide. The Ministry of Education (MOE) learning activities are still running as usual with teachers advised to find the best method. These are students who strive to learn remotely online and use electronic equipment (e-learning). The reality is, the e-learning situation is very different from the daily school routine.

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At present, the normal teaching is seriously disturbed by the epidemic situation. In order to ensure the smooth progress of teaching, online teaching is a necessary way. Based on the current situation, this paper discusses the integration of urban and rural planning and human geography teaching in university courses. Based on the full analysis of the advantages of the original curriculum, this paper adjusts the curriculum of urban and rural planning and human geography. The new system focuses on the characteristics of “broad foundation and clear main line”, and follows the three main lines of “art, design and geography” to optimize the design. A questionnaire survey was conducted among 200 online students in our school and the data were processed by multidimensional BP neural network analysis. The experimental results show that the method proposed in this paper can improve the efficiency of online teaching.

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'Normcore' was not only the most Googled fashion trend of 2014 but also the runner-up for neologism of the year by Oxford University Press. The phrase generated numerous headlines, such as "Normcore Is (or Is It?) a Fashion Trend (or Non-Trend or Anti-Trend)" in the Los Angeles Times in 2015 or "Everyone's Getting Normcore Wrong, Says Its Inventors" in Dazed in 2014, indicating a multi-faceted and intriguing phenomenon. This article employs the timing of post peak normcore to investigate a trend that surely entailed more than meets the eye. Described as "a unisex fashion trend characterized by unpretentious, normal-looking clothing" by Wikipedia, normcore was in fact not meant to be a trend at all, nor was it meant to be used to refer to a particular code of dress. Initially a spoof marketing term coined by the art collective/trend forecasting group K-Hole in 2013, normcore was originally a subversive concept, anticipating an alternative way forward, proposing anti-distinction as the radical new, analysed here as a mode beyond luxury—as 'post luxury'. Combining anthropology, consumption theory, and critical fashion theory with a practice-based insight informed by the author's background in trend analysis and brand planning as well as the art school context, this article attempts to frame and unpack normcore in order to speculate about the future of luxury.

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Abstract Objective Identifying drug discontinuation (DDC) events and understanding their reasons are important for medication management and drug safety surveillance. Structured data resources are often incomplete and lack reason information. In this article, we assessed the ability of natural language processing (NLP) systems to unlock DDC information from clinical narratives automatically. Materials and Methods We collected 1867 de-identified providers’ notes from the University of Massachusetts Medical School hospital electronic health record system. Then 2 human experts chart reviewed those clinical notes to annotate DDC events and their reasons. Using the annotated data, we developed and evaluated NLP systems to automatically identify drug discontinuations and reasons at the sentence level using a novel semantic enrichment-based vector representation (SEVR) method for enhanced feature representation. Results Our SEVR-based NLP system achieved the best performance of 0.785 (AUC-ROC) for detecting discontinuation events and 0.745 (AUC-ROC) for identifying reasons when testing this highly imbalanced data, outperforming 2 state-of-the-art non–SEVR-based models. Compared with a rule-based baseline system for discontinuation detection, our system improved the sensitivity significantly (57.75% vs 18.31%, absolute value) while retaining a high specificity of 99.25%, leading to a significant improvement in AUC-ROC by 32.83% (absolute value). Conclusion Experiments have shown that a high-performance NLP system can be developed to automatically identify DDCs and their reasons from providers’ notes. The SEVR model effectively improved the system performance showing better generalization and robustness on unseen test data. Our work is an important step toward identifying reasons for drug discontinuation that will inform drug safety surveillance and pharmacovigilance.

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In this paper, we propose a new WebQuest model using Web 2.0 services to organize online learning activities by using OKMindmap for building WebQuest and suggest Scratch projects created by students for outcome. WebQuest is an inquiry-oriented lesson format in which most or all the information that learners work with comes from the web. WebQuests can be a valuable addition to a collaborative classroom. One of the goals is to increase critical thinking by employing higher levels of Bloom’s Taxonomy and Webb’s Depth of Knowledge. WebQuests can be a versatile tool for teaching students. OKMindmap is a useful, free, easy to use knowledge manipulation tool for content creation and management. It helps building an innovative collaborating environment for online class and provides a way to embed web service as a node. With this capability, any web service can be embedded as a node on a single map. Moreover, many users (about 40) can work on a same map together. Scratch is a free educational programming language that was developed by the Lifelong Kindergarten Group at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) with over 21 million registered users and 25 million shared projects. Scratch is designed to be fun, educational, and easy to learn. It’s a programming language for all with the tools for creating interactive stories, games, art, simulations, and more, using block-based programming. Facebook is also used as a tool for connecting and sharing WebQuest with students. This model was experimented at the School of Education at Can Tho University, which brought us positive results through blended learning. Our desire is to build a WebQuest library in a simple, cost-effective way through this STEM-style education so that inservice and preservice teachers can share together for the best professional development during the current industrial revolution 4.0.

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Objectives: The objective of this study was to determine the factors associated with malnutrition among adolescents. Design: This was a cross-sectional study conducted among adolescents (10-19 years) in secondary schools. A multistage sampling technique was employed.Setting: Senior secondary schools in The Abuja Municipal area council, Federal Capital Territory, Nigeria. Participants: A total of 1700 students from 8 selected schools. All schools in the Abuja Municipal Area council (AMAC) were stratified into urban and rural schools. Eight schools were selected by balloting from a list of schools obtained from the Education centre. A school was selected from each of the four major districts of AMAC and four schools were selected from the rural making a total of 8 schools. Although the consent of the school authorities was obtained, individual subject also consented to the study before being enrolled.Study: The study excluded those adolescents who were physically challenged thus limiting physical activity. Sociodemographic information was obtained using an interviewer administered questionnaire. Subject’s height and weight was taken using the floor-type height (H) and weight (W) measuring scale model ZT-120 using Massachusetts Department of Public Health Protocol. Main outcome measure: The nutritional status was determined using the formula: BMI= W/H2, where W=weight (in kilograms) and H=height (in meters). The age and sex specific height and BMI percentile for each subject was determined using the 2007 WHO Height and BMI growth charts for age 5-19 years. The students were then classified into one of the following categories using previously used standards: normal, stunted, wasted, overweight or obese. Data was analyzed using SPSS version 17 statistical package. A regression analysis of all investigated factors was done to determine those with significant association to malnutrition.Results: The mean age was 14.43±1.94 years; male 688, female 862, M:F ratio 1.1.3. Mean BMI, weight and height were 20.31±3.07kg/m2, 51.07±10.80 kg, and 157.88±9.33 cm. The prevalence of overweight, stunting, obesity and wasting was documented as 13.2% (205/1550), 11.3% (175/1550), 2.6% (41/1550) and 1.7% (27/1550) respectively. Low social class, male gender, hawking after school and rural setting were associated with stunting (p<0.05) and female gender and watching Television for more than 3 hours daily were associated with overweight (p<0.05). Obesity occurred more in urban areas.Bangladesh Journal of Medical Science Vol.15(2) 2016 p.243-248

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AbstractKosovo after the 1999 conflict was in a social, economic and environmental disadvantage. The creation of peace and stability depended on many actors such as UNMIK, whose mission was to achieve the overall goal of providing security and the normal living of all peoples in Kosovo and to achieve stability in South East Europe and the Balkans respectively. The research conducted in this paper reflects quality aspects in urban development of university campus and quality aspects of artistic education, especially in art, architecture, creativity, and regular meetings with focus groups, especially with residents of all settlements in Peja. The research methods consist of empirical observation in academia, observation of teaching methods, and promoting healthy academic campuses. Research concludes paper indicate that through urban development of university campus in Peja and quality aspects of artistic education in teaching methods as contemporary learning strategies strengthened with informal meeting places for education, can effectively present a urban plan methodology, hence, which can bring more clarity to the academia campuses and contemporary labor market. Furthermore, new academia campuses must involve a new closeness, a brand-new teaching method, as a response to the future contemporary academic objectives strengthened with a quality aspect of artistic education, for which Peja municipality are very well known. Peja has had and actually has the two artistic branches with legacy in education, such are the school of Fine Arts and the school of Music. The two schools in which has attended the dozen renowned Kosovar artists, who now live and work across Europe.

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Suwanwalaikorn S, Ongphiphadhanakul B, Braverman LE, Baran DT. Differential responses of femoral and vertebral bones to long-term excessive l-thyroxine administration in adult rats. Eur J Endocrinol 1996;134:655–9. ISSN 0804–4643 Recent studies suggest that thyroid-stimulating hormone suppressive doses of thyroid hormone decrease bone mass in humans and growing rats. To determine the long-term effects of excessive l-thyroxine administration on the femur and vertebrae in an adult rat model, 20 male Sprague-Dawley rats (20 weeks old) were randomized into two groups. Group 1 received l-thyroxine (20 μg/100 g body weight ip daily), and group 2 received normal saline ip daily for 20 weeks. Femoral and lumbar vertebral bone mineral density measurements were performed at 0, 6, 15, 18 and 20 weeks of treatment. After 20 weeks of treatment, total RNA was isolated from both femoral and lumbar bones. Northern hybridization was performed with 32P-labeled DNA probes for osteocalcin, osteopontin, alkaline phosphatase and tartrate-resistant acid phosphatase. Significant decreases in bone mineral density in the femur of l-thyroxine-treated rats were observed after 15 weeks (p < 0.03). Lumbar bone mineral density was not affected. Both osteoblast (osteocalcin, osteopontin, alkaline phosphatase) and osteoclast (tartrate-resistant acid phosphatase) gene expression markers were increased significantly in the femoral bone (p < 0.001), but not in the lumbar vertebrae of the l-thyroxine-treated rats. We conclude that long-term administration of excessive doses of l-thyroxine to the adult rat preferentially affects femoral but not vertebral bone. This is manifested by decreased bone mineral density as well as increased gene expression markers for osteoblast and osteoclast activity in the femur. Daniel T Baran, Department of Orthopedics, University of Massachusetts Medical School, 55 Lake Avenue North, Worcester, MA 01655, USA

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ABSTRACT Success of any assisted reproductive technology is dependent on selection of correct stimulation protocol. This is based on prestimulation assessment of female to assess ovarian response and reserve. But, this assessment can also be done by ultrasound scan on 2nd to 3rd day of menstrual cycle, named as ‘baseline scan’. This scan is done to categorize ovary into one of the four types: Normal ovaries, low reserve ovaries, poorly responding ovaries and polycystic ovaries. Patients with polycystic ovarian syndrome have variable pictures of ovaries on ultrasound. Understanding the evolution of polycystic ovarian syndrome can explain these variations. Moreover, ultrasound findings can also be correlated with the biochemical and hormonal derangements. This scan also predicts the ovarian reserve and response that can guide to decide the stimulation protocols for ART. This scan includes the use of b mode, Doppler and 3D ultrasound with 3D power Doppler. It consists of assessing ovarian size, antral follicle count (AFC), stromal echogenecity and stromal flow chiefly. Dose calculation is chiefly done based on ovarian volume, AFC and stromal flow. How to cite this article Panchal S, Nagori CB. Baseline Scan and Ultrasound Diagnosis of PCOS. Donald School J Ultrasound Obstet Gynecol 2012;6(3):290-299.

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Veronikis IE, Alex S, Fang S-L, Wright G, Wu S-Y, Chanoine JP, Emerson CH, Braverman LE. Serum iodothyronine concentrations in intestinally decontaminated rats treated with a 5′-deiodinase type I inhibitor 6-anilino-2-thiouracil. Eur J Endocrinol 1996;134:519–23. ISSN 0804–4643 Enteric bacteria have been postulated to have a role in thyroid economy by promoting the hydrolysis of thyroid hormone conjugates of biliary origin, thus permitting the absorption and recycling of thyroxine (T4) and triiodothyronine (T3). An enterohepatic circulation of T3 might be more pronounced under conditions in which type I iodothyronine deiodinase activity (5′D-I) is inhibited, because this augments the accumulation of T3 sulfate conjugates in bile. This potential of increased gut reabsorption of T3 might explain, at least in part, the failure of serum T3 values to decrease appreciably when marked reductions in peripheral 5′D-I activity are induced by selenium deficiency or 6-anilino-2-thiouracil (ATU) administration. Thus, studies were performed to determine the effect of intestinal decontamination, in the absence and in the presence of 5′D-I inhibition, on plasma T4 and T3 concentrations. Groups of adult male rats received either enteric antibiotics or no antibiotics for 12 days and then, in half of the rats in each group, treatment for 10 days with ATU, a 5′D-I inhibitor that does not affect thyroid hormone synthesis. The activity of intestinal arylsulfatase and arylsulfotransferase, enzymes that catalyze hydrolysis of thyroid hormone conjugates, was reduced markedly by approximately 87% in rats that received antibiotics, regardless of whether or not they also received ATU. The ATU treatment markedly inhibited liver 5′D-I activity in antibiotic-treated as well as in non-antibiotic-treated rats (control = 399 ± 32 U/mg protein (mean ± sem); ATU = 152 ± 17; antibiotics = 351 ± 29; antibiotics + ATU = 130 ± 10; p < 0.01) and significantly increased plasma T4 and T3 sulfate (T4S, T3S) concentrations (control: T4S = 2.8 ± 0.4 and T3S = 6.7 ± 1.3 ng/dl; ATU: T4S = 6.2 ± 1.4 and T3S = 10.6 ± 2.1 ng/dl; antibiotics: T4S = 1.8 ± 0.2 and T3S = 3.6 ± 1.0 ng/dl; antibiotics + ATU: T4S = 6.8 ± 0.7 and T3S = 9.7 ± 1.8 ng/dl; p < 0.05). The ATU treatment was associated with a significant increase in plasma T4 and rT3 concentrations but did not affect plasma T3 concentrations, and intestinal decontamination did not alter these ATU-associated effects on circulating thyroid hormones. These results suggest that anaerobic enteric bacteria in the rat do not have an important role in recycling of thyroid hormones, either under normal conditions or in circ*mstances where 5′D-I activity is markedly reduced, and that increased gut absorption of T3 from T3S cannot explain the near-normal serum T3 values found when peripheral 5′D-I activity is markedly decreased. Lewis E Braverman, Endocrinology Division, University of Massachusetts Medical School, 55 Lake Avenue North, Worcester, MA 01655, USA

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ABSTRACT With the appearance of the latest three/four-dimensional (3D/4D) ultrasound machine (HDliveFlow, Voluson E10, GE Healthcare, Zipf, Austria), HDliveFlow with glass-body rendering mode or silhouette mode will facilitate more precise assessments of the fetal heart and peripheral circulation. The resolution of 3D/4D color/power Doppler using the HDlive technique shows a significant improvement compared to conventional 3D/4D color/power Doppler and the fetal heart with great vessels, small peripheral vessels, and placental blood flow can now be clearly recognized. HDliveFlow with glass-body rendering mode or silhouette mode combines the advantages of a spatial view of the great arteries in addition to the visualization of anatomical landmarks, such as the spine or diaphragm. Its use may provide potential advantages in cases of congenital heart anomalies and placental vascularity over the use of conventional 3D/4D color/power Doppler. This novel technique may assist in the evaluation of the fetal cardiovascular system and fetoplacental vascularity, and offer potential advantages relative to conventional 2D color/power Doppler assessments. In this article, we present the latest state-of-the-art HDliveFlow with glass-body rendering mode or silhouette mode of normal and abnormal fetal hearts, placentas, and umbilical cords. We also discuss the present and future applicability of 3D/4D color/ power Doppler to assess the fetal circulation. HDliveFlow with glass-body rendering mode or silhouette mode may become an important modality in future research on fetal cardiac and placental blood flow, and assist in the prenatal diagnosis of fetal congenital heart disease and placental vascular abnormalities. How to cite this article Hata T, AboEllail MAM, Sajapala S, Ito M. HDliveFlow in the Assessment of Fetal Circulation. Donald School J Ultrasound Obstet Gynecol 2015;9(4):462-470.

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<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG /> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0cm; mso-para-margin-top: .5gd; mso-para-margin-right: 0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom: .5gd; mso-para-margin-left: 0cm; text-align: justify; line-height: normal;">The purpose of the present study is to provide insights into experimental research on Content and Language Integrated Learning (CLIL) for developing English as a Foreign Language (EFL) skills and aspects of Byzantine history and culture in the context of Greek primary education. It aims at a) developing a CLIL project with a focus on Byzantine and post Byzantine history and culture for 6th primary school students; b) investigating the effects of CLIL on students’ skills performance after a total of 30 teaching sessions intervention; c) identifying whether CLIL instruction develops a more positive attitude towards FL and content learning. A multimodal and multisensory learning environment was created in order to support and enhance language skills and content knowledge. In such a context, students were encouraged to use language creatively through getting involved in communicative, problem-solving and inquiry-based activities. The positive effects of the project were indicated, particularly on students’ communicative skills. Also gains were recorded in relation to students’ enhancement of content knowledge and skills, as well their positive attitude towards FL and content learning.</p> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves /> <w:TrackFormatting /> <w:PunctuationKerning /> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas /> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF /> <w:LidThemeOther>EL</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables /> <w:SnapToGridInCell /> <w:WrapTextWithPunct /> <w:UseAsianBreakRules /> <w:DontGrowAutofit /> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark /> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning /> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents /> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps /> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math" /> <m:brkBin 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Abstrak Tujuan penelitian ini yaitu unutk menganalisis proses implementasi asesmen yang diterapkan untuk anak tunagrahita, menemukan pola perkembangan anak tunagrahita, serta mencari problematika pelaksanaan asesmen di TK LB C1 Dharma Rena Ring Putra. Penelitian ini merupakan penelitian kualitatif dengan metode pengumpulan data observasi, wawancara, dan dokumentasi. Analisis data dilakukan dengan langkah mereduksi data, menyajikan data serta menyimpulkan data. Pemerikasan keabsahan data dilakukan dengan menggunakan triangulasi teknik. Hasil penelitian menunjukan proses pelaksanaan asesmen di TK LB C 1 Drama Rena Ringputra I Yogyakarta dialkukan dengan dua cara yaitu: Pertama, Asesmen perkembangan anak disabilitas, pelaksanan dimulai dengan asesmen prasekolah yang bertujuan untuk mendiskripsikan kemampuan serta hambatan pada anak sebelum masuk sekolah, kemudia dilanjutkan asem*n pasca sekolah, sebagai tindak lanjut sesmen pasca sekolah yang bertujuan mengembangkan kemampuan anak dengan mengacu tahapan perkembangan anak disabilitas atau TPPAD (Tingkat Pencapaian Perkembangan Anak Disabilitas). Kedua, Asesmen perkembangan anak tunagrahita dari sudut kenormal, pelaksanan asesmen anak disabilitas dari kenormal dimulai dengan pengamatan setiap hari, pencatatan harian, menganalisa data setiap bulan dan rekap perkembangan selama semester dengan mengacu pada STPPA (Setandar tingkat pencapaian perkembangan anak). Pola perkembangan anak tunagrahrita selalu berkembang berpasang-pasangan, aspek kognitif selalu berpasangan dengan aspek motorik, aspek sosial emosional berpasangan dengan nilai moral agama sedangakan aspek perkembangan bahasa dan seni selalu mengiringi aspek-aspek tersebut. Problem matika pelaksanaan asesmen, masih kurang pahamnya akan pelaksanaan asesmen, kurangnya buku panduan asesmen. Kata Kunci: Tunagrahita, Asesmen, Perkembangan anak. Abstract The purpose of this study is to analyze the assessment implementation process applied to mentally retarded children, find patterns of development of mentally retarded children, and look for problems in carrying out assessments at TK LB C1 Dharma Rena Ring Putra. This research is a qualitative research with location in SLB C-1 Dharma Rena Ring Putra I Yogyakarta. Data collection is done by observation, interview, and documentation. Data analysis is done by reducing, presenting and concluding data. Data validity is done by using technique triangulation. The results showed the process of conducting the assessment in TK LB C 1 Drama Rena Ringputra I Yogyakarta was conducted in two ways: disabled child development assessment, the implementation begins with a preschool assessment that aims to describe the ability and barriers to the children before entering school, then continued assessment of post-school, as a follow-up post-school assessment that aims to develop and maximize the ability of children by referring to the development stage of children with disability or commonly called TPPAD (Level Achievement of Children Development Disability). Second, the assessment of the development of the intellectual disability children from the normal point, the implementation of the child's assessment of disability from the normality begins with daily observation, daily recording, analyzing data every month and recap the progress during the semester. The process of implementing the child's assessment of intellectual disability from the angle of normality refers to STPPA (Standard level of child development achievement).. Pattern development of intellectual disability children always develop in pairs, cognitive aspect always pairs with motor aspect, emotional social aspect paired with religion moral value while the aspect of language development and art always accompany those aspects. Problematic implementation of the assessment is the absence of assessment standards and appraisal books for intellectual disability children. Keyword : mentally disabled, assessment, childrent development

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The primary purpose of this study is to investigate students' perceptions about the characteristics of creativity and engagement in solving non-routine problems. It involved 64 science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) university students, who participated in a two-year research project in New Zealand during which participants were given opportunities to utilise puzzle-based learning in their courses. Comparing open-ended responses of two surveys, this article focuses on student perceptions about attributes of creativity in non-routine problem-solving. These results have pedagogical implications for tertiary stem education. References A. J. Baroody and A. Dowker. The development of arithmetic concepts and skills: Constructive adaptive expertise. Routledge, 2013. URL https://www.routledge.com/The-Development-of-Arithmetic-Concepts-and-Skills-Constructive-Adaptive/Baroody-Dowker/p/book/9780805831566. S. A. Costa. Puzzle-based learning: An approach to creativity, design thinking and problem solving. implications for engineering education. Proceedings of the Canadian Engineering Education Association (CEEA), 2017. doi:10.24908/pceea.v0i0.7365. N. Falkner, R. Sooriamurthi, and Z. Michalewicz. Teaching puzzle-based learning: Development of transferable skills. Teach. Math. Comput. Sci., 10(2):245–268, 2012. doi:10.5485/TMCS.2012.0304. A. Fisher. Critical thinking: An introduction. Cambridge University Press, 2011. URL https://www.cambridge.org/us/education/subject/humanities/critical-thinking/critical-thinking-2nd-edition/critical-thinking-introduction-2nd-edition-paperback?isbn=9781107401983. E. C. Fortes and R. R. Andrade. Mathematical creativity in solving non-routine problems. The Normal Lights, 13(1), 2019. URL http://po.pnuresearchportal.org/ejournal/index.php/normallights/article/view/1237. P. Gnadig, G. Honyek, and K. F. Riley. 200 puzzling physics problems: With hints and solutions. Cambridge University Press, 2001. URL https://www.cambridge.org/us/academic/subjects/physics/general-and-classical-physics/200-puzzling-physics-problems-hints-and-solutions?format=AR&isbn=9780521774802. J. P. Guilford. Creativity: Yesterday, today and tomorrow. J. Creative Behav., 1(1):3–14, 1967. doi:10.1002/j.2162-6057.1967.tb00002.x. J. P. Guilford. Characteristics of Creativity. Illinois State Office of the Superintendent of Public Instruction, Springfield. Gifted Children Section, 1973. URL https://eric.ed.gov/?id=ED080171. G. Hatano and Y. Oura. Commentary: Reconceptualizing school learning using insight from expertise research. Ed. Res., 32(8):26–29, 2003. doi:10.3102/0013189X032008026. S. Klymchuk. Puzzle-based learning in engineering mathematics: Students\T1\textquoteright attitudes. Int. J.Math. Ed. Sci. Tech., 48(7): 1106–1119, 2017. doi:10.1080/0020739X.2017.1327088. B. Martz, J. Hughes, and F. Braun. Developing a creativity and problem solving course in support of the information systems curriculum. J. Learn. High. Ed., 12(1):27–36, 2016. URL https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/EJ1139749.pdf. Z. Michalewicz, N. Falkner, and R. Sooriamurthi. Puzzle-based learning: An introduction to critical thinking and problem solving. Hybrid Publishers, 2011. B. Parhami. A puzzle-based seminar for computer engineering freshmen. Comp. Sci. Ed., 18(4):261–277, 2008. doi:10.1080/08993400802594089. URL http://www.informaworld.com/openurl?genre=article&id. G. Polya. How to solve it: A new aspect of mathematical method. Princeton University Press, 2004. URL https://press.princeton.edu/books/paperback/9780691164076/how-to-solve-it. M. A. Runco. Creativity: Theories and themes: Research, development, and practice. Elsevier, 2014. URL https://www.elsevier.com/books/creativity/runco/978-0-12-410512-6. A. H. Schoenfeld. Mathematical problem solving. Elsevier, 2014. URL https://www.elsevier.com/books/mathematical-problem-solving/schoenfeld/978-0-12-628870-4. C. Thomas, M. Badger, E. Ventura-Medina, and C. Sangwin. Puzzle-based learning of mathematics in engineering. Eng. Ed., 8(1):122–134, 2013. doi:10.11120/ened.2013.00005. M. O. J. Thomas. Developing versatility in mathematical thinking. Med. J. Res. Math. Ed., 7(2):67–87, 2008. A. Valentine, I. Belski, and M. Hamilton. Developing creativity and problem-solving skills of engineering students: A comparison of web and pen-and-paper-based approaches. Eur. J. Eng. Ed., 42(6):1309–1329, 2017. doi:10.1080/03043797.2017.1291584. G. Wallas. The art of thought. Solis Press, 1926.

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LANGUAGE NOTE | Document text in Chinese; abstract also in English.西方醫學界近年有學者提出新的「生物心理社會精神」醫藥模式以回應西方現代醫藥模式的問題。本文首先指出西方傳統之以醫藥為針對身體的正常功能之失效為主，而此一失能是身體之物理生理的表現，因而其他心理或精神的病狀或病態都必須能化約為身體的物理生理情狀，才被認可為疾病。此自然排除了心理或精神，以及由社會宗教價值失調而來的疾病。雖然此模式需要修訂，但此缺失不足以重新引入宗教教義作為診治疾病的判準。本文同時檢討了西方醫學以物種正常功能作為疾病的判準，以及近年流行的「實證醫學」政策診治模式所延續與隱含的仍然是以物理生理為主的醫藥模式，並不真能包含源自文化與價值的心理與心靈的疾病或病態。由於文化與價值的不同，中醫的醫藥模式與西方醫學不同。中國哲學以人為與天地萬物同出一源，人的生命與宇宙相對應，因此，疾病被理解為人身之小宇宙失調，而治療則以順大自然的運行法則而行。這是建立在中國傳統的儒與陰陽五行的哲學而來。儒家哲學以仁心貫通天人，因而中醫自始即不限於氣化流行的現象，而有深入了解天道運行的意義，視人為與宇宙一體的生命，身體官能之運作與宇宙之陰陽五行之氣化相應，而其中以仁心之天道貫通疾病與醫病之關係，構成中醫之儒醫理念與「醫乃仁術」的模式。心靈與心理的疾病有不同的病源和對治的方式，不能化約為物理生理的情況。在此模式中，社會文化與價值失調的疾病和病態可以被正視和治療，這亦反映了醫藥乃是文化的一環。A new conception of medicine has been proposed in response to some of the problems of the modern Western model of medicine. In this paper, I posit the view that modern Western medicine takes disease to be a bodily deviation from normal species functioning. Such malfunctioning is regarded as of the physical and physiological kind. Other types of deviations such as psychological or spiritual deviations must be reducible to symptoms before they are regarded as a disease in medical terms. Hence, psychological or mental disorders resulting from social or religious values are not catalogued as diseases, and are thus left untreated. I argue, however, that although this situation needs correction, there is no justification for introducing religious doctrine as a category of disease. This paper examines the presuppositions of the normal species functioning criterion and recent trends in evidence-based medicine, and reaches the conclusion that the present Western medical model does not readily admit some of the diseases of the human psyche caused by disorders in culture and values.Chinese medicine, which is grounded in a different culture and different values, takes a different approach to medicine. Chinese philosophy takes human beings to have the same source as the universe, and thus to represent the cosmos writ small. Disease is regarded as a disorientation of the bodily cosmos, and treatment is basically a restoration of the body and mind as a whole in harmony with natural cosmological operations. Chinese philosophy draws on Confucianism, Daoism, and the Yin-Yang School. Confucianism views empathy as unifying human beings with Heaven. Thus, in Chinese medicine the evolutionary process of the cosmos bears deeply humane and transcendental values. The correspondence between body and universe results in a conception of medicine as the operation of the principle of ren, or humanity. Accordingly, the physician is honored as a Confucian doctor, and medicine is seen as an art or humanity. Mental and psychological diseases can have independent sources, and should never be reduced to the physical and physiological. In the Chinese model, social, cultural, and value disorders are regarded as proper diseases, and can be treated as such. It allows full realization of the cultural factors at play in medicine.DOWNLOAD HISTORY | This article has been downloaded 895 times in Digital Commons before migrating into this platform.

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What makes us human? In 2015 Jeremy Vine asked this question to a selection of leading British thinkers and writers. The answers were as diverse as the people he interviewed. While you might have your own views about the complexity of being human I would suggest that being able to articulate thoughts and communicate them to others might be one of the characteristics that distinguishes us from other life forms. And if we think more about the achievements of human culture then being able to communicate thoughts in writing and reading other people’s thoughts is one of the unique abilities that humanity has acquired during its evolution: Young humans spend extensive time to learn how to read and write. They write on paper, they read books and they do the same on computers. They become adults. They read and write most days: they e-mail their telephone company, file online forms to the tax office and or write romantic notes to their partner. Then they get older and become unwell and enter large modern building full of the most state-of-the-art technology. But here, in hospitals, none of them are allowed to read or write. They are being asked questions by someone who is often younger and in a rush. That person usually speaks a different language called jargon and try their best to translate their jargon to normal language.1 Patients are not allowed to write their own records and access to read the records is cumbersome. And if this is how we structure communication in our clinical practice then why are we surprised about the hierarchical relationship between patients and healthcare professionals and the high rate of error due to miscommunication? There might be good reasons for the way we document in healthcare: historically only the educated few like doctors were able to read and write and therefore the way to record patient histories had to be by those who were educated to do so. Additionally professions have always defined themselves by their own professional language and jargon that allows their members to describe matters precisely and at the same time create a sense of identity. Things have however changed in the last 100 years and a large proportion of our patients is able to read and write and might be perfectly capable to document their own information (and subsequently read all information that relates to them). The paper from Renggli et al in this issue of Acute Medicine explores the feasibility of documentation by patients on admission to hospital in Switzerland by using a web-based platform: at least half of the patients who were admitted with an emergency to hospital could document important parts their own medical history. The study demonstrated that documentation by patients added additional new information over and beyond of that collected by doctors and improved completeness of records, especially for the increasingly important social history. The paper has three important implications: Good information needs time: Patients can add more information if given the questions and their own time – rushing through an unprepared face-to-face consultation is unlikely to bring out the most relevant information in a reliable fashion. Sharing with patients might improve work-efficiency. Up to 25% of the time of doctors and nurses working in hospitals is taken up by documentation2,3: at a time when so many employed in healthcare are overworked and burnt out it would be reckless not to consider changes in information flow through the lens of work-load and efficiency. Quality care needs joint ownership with patients: Patients participation in the co-design and delivery of new services and shared decision of patients and clinicians in making of complex decision has been challenging to say the least. Co-ownership of clinical records is potentially a key strategic lever to achieve better decisions and services. Patient organisations and policy makers are expecting for patients to access medical records. Personal health records are now compulsory in some countries with roll-out of access for all citizens completed in countries like Estonia since 20084 and Sweden since 2018.5 It is National Health Service (NHS) policy to make a “personalized healthcare” available to everybody by 2020.6 That is now. Despite this there is virtually no evidence for the usage of personal health records in hospital.7,8 There are significant caveats to the current study: Half of the patients approached declined to take part and it is unclear why this was the case. Maybe they did not want to take part in any research. Maybe they felt too unwell to write. And maybe they were unable to read and write. While most people reaching adulthood in European countries have gone to school there is also evidence that up to 7 million adults in England are functionally illiterate and not able to read and write beyond the most basic level9 and relying on friends and family members, signs and symbols to travel through modern life. There is also an increasing body of work about digital exclusion and concerns that those who are unable to navigate the online world are at risk of being left behind by society.10 There are additional questions about ownership: do patients own all data that relates to their care or is documentation by healthcare professionals their intellectual property. There are strong arguments for both perspectives. From a patient safety point of view their would seem to be a strong imperative to come to pragmatic agreements. Research suggests that the majority of serious adverse events was flagged by patients and relatives at a time when they could have been predicted and potentially prevented by clinical teams.11 But safety critical information is often hidden from those who are most affected by it, the patients. The paper by Renggli et all does therefore provide important evidence for the development of a more co-operative and democratic way of providing acute care by using something that is a key part of being human: the ability to read and write.

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<p>With the development of the Internet today, the advent of the era of big data, the gradual emergence of various Internet + models of innovation and entrepreneurship, these changes mean that the traditional modes of art education in colleges and universities have followed a significant change. New teaching technologies and teaching concepts such as open video lesson, visualization teaching and big data creation mode came into being, which have an impact on the traditional teaching mode. Local higher normal colleges and universities are to train local primary and secondary school teachers, timely and effectively adjusted according to the social development training programs to meet the needs of the reform of the middle school curriculum. Based on the big data environment, this article summarizes the Innovative practice of art education both at home and abroad, and puts forward the exploration of the teaching mode of combining "cross-border integration", "project-oriented" teaching and "maker education".</p>

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David Grover of London School of Economics reviews, “The Rate and Direction of Inventive Activity Revisited” edited by Josh Lerner and Scott Stern. The EconLit abstract of this book begins: “Thirteen papers, based on the proceedings of the National Bureau of Economic Research 50th Anniversary Conference in honor of the 1962 volume The Rate and Direction of Inventive Activity: Economic and Social Factors, held in Warrenton, Virginia, in the Fall of 2010, plus thirteen comments, present theoretical and empirical contributions to fundamental questions relating to the economics of innovation and technological change, while revisiting the findings of the 1962 work. Papers discuss funding scientific knowledge—selection, disclosure, and the public-private portfolio; the diffusion of scientific knowledge across time and space—evidence from professional transitions for the scientific elite; the effects of the Foreign Fulbright Program on knowledge creation in science and engineering; Schumpeterian competition and diseconomies of scope—illustrations from the histories of Microsoft and IBM; how entrepreneurs affect the rate and direction of inventive activity; diversity and technological progress; how competition policy best promotes innovation; the effects of the Plant Patent Act on biological innovation; the rate and direction of invention in the British Industrial Revolution—incentives and institutions; the confederacy of heterogeneous software organizations and heterogeneous developers—field experimental evidence on sorting and worker effort; the consequences of financial innovation—a counterfactual research agenda; the adversity/hysteresis effect— Depression-era productivity growth in the U.S. railroad sector; and the recombination and reuse of key general purpose technologies. Includes three panel discussions from the 2010 conference that discuss the impact of the 1962 Rate and Direction volume—a retrospective; innovation incentives, institutions, and economic growth; and the art and science of innovation policy. Lerner is Jacob H. Schiff Professor of Investment Banking in the Harvard Business School at Harvard University. Stern is School of Management Distinguished Professor of Technological Innovation, Entrepreneurship, and Strategic Management in the Sloan School of Management at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Author and subject indexes.””

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Davies, Nicola. The Day War Came. Illustrated by Rebecca Cobb. Somerville, Massachusetts, Candlewick Press, in association with Help Refugees, 2018. A young school girl begins her day happily by breakfasting with her family, walking to school with her mother, and commencing the normal, pleasant learning activities of her classroom. In an instant, her world changes; she is orphaned and alone in a devastated landscape. War has come; she articulates its reality: “War took everything. War took everyone. I was ragged, bloody, all alone.” Simple, forceful, poetic lines such as these carry forward this story of a child refugee. Though it could be read and understood by primary school children, it would resonate with readers young and old alike. Nicola Davies indicates that her book was inspired by the Guardian newspaper website which featured an account of a refugee child who was refused school entry because there was no chair for her to sit on. In Davies’ own words: “…hundreds and hundreds of people posted images of empty chairs, with the hashtag #3000 chairs, as symbols of solidarity with children who had lost everything and had no place to go.” Davies’ interpretation of this reality for young readers is engrossing and moving. Her storyline is perfectly interpreted by the watercolour and graphite pencil illustrations of Rebecca Cobb. Using an expressionistic style, Cobb captures the feelings of confusion and disbelief, abandonment and isolation felt by the displaced child. She also brings a sense of hope to the story’s conclusion. The teamwork of Davies and Cobb is brilliant. Together, they have created a moving and memorable piece of children’s literature. Highly recommended: 4 out of 4 starsReviewer: Leslie AitkenLeslie Aitken’s long career in librarianship included selection of children’s literature for school, public, special and academic libraries. She is a former Curriculum Librarian of the University of Alberta.

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Abstract Study question Is men’s diet associated with assisted reproductive technology (ART) outcomes? Summary answer An empirical dietary score representing the overall effect of men’s diet on sem*n quality was unrelated to ART outcomes. What is known already Multiple studies have related various aspects of men’s diet to sem*n quality. Generally, healthier foods, such as fish, vegetables, and fruits, have been related to better sem*n quality, whereas unhealthy foods, like processed and red meats, have had the opposite relationship. Nevertheless, while bulk sem*n parameters are important biomarkers of male fertility and a diagnostic cornerstone for male factor infertility, they are imperfect predictors of a couple’s fertility. Study design, size, duration Couples presenting to the Massachusetts General Hospital Fertility Center between April 2007 and April 2018 were invited to participate in the Environment and Reproductive Health (EARTH) study, a prospective cohort study. Men’s diet was assessed with a previously validated food frequency questionnaire. A dietary score reflecting the overall relation of men’s food intake with sem*n quality parameters was empirically derived using reduced rank regression (RRR). The resulting dietary score was related to ART outcomes. Participants/materials, setting, methods We used information from 349 men (908 sem*n samples) to derive the empirical diet pattern and data from 231 couples (407 ART cycles). The primary outcome was the probability of live birth per treatment cycle; secondary outcomes were sem*n quality, and fertilization, implantation, and clinical pregnancy rates. We evaluated the association between the dietary score and these outcomes using logistic generalized linear mixed models to account for repeated cycles while adjusting for confounders. Main results and the role of chance Men had a median baseline age and BMI of 36.8 years and 26.9 kg/m2, respectively. The empirical diet pattern was significantly associated with all sem*n parameters. One standard deviation increase in the empirical diet pattern was associated with lower volume (–0.10 standard units [95% CI: –0.17 to –0.04]) and to higher sperm total sperm count (0.13 standard units [0.06 to 0.20]), concentration (0.17 standard units [0.10 to 0.24]), total motility (0.14 standard units [0.07 to 0.20]), progressive motility (0.08 standard units [0.01 to 0.15]), and normal morphology (0.18 standard units [0.11 to 0.25]). Couples with men in the lowest quartile of the empirical score were more likely to have a diagnosis of male infertility than couples with men in the highest quartile (49% vs 24%). Despite the association with sem*n parameters, the empirical diet score was not related to any clinical outcome of infertility treatment with ART. The adjusted probabilities of implantation, clinical pregnancy and live birth in the lowest and highest quartile of the empirical score were 0.62 (0.50–0.73) and 0.55 (0.45–0.66), 0.57 (0.46–0.69) and 0.50 (0.40–0.61), and 0.49 (0.37–0.62) and 0.36 (0.25–0.48), respectively. Analyses excluding couples with a diagnosis of male factor infertility yielded similar results. Limitations, reasons for caution We evaluated the relationship only among couples presenting to a fertility center and therefore it is unclear whether findings can be generalized to couples trying to conceive without ART. Wider implications of the findings: Given ART is a robust intervention including stringent sperm selection procedures, any effect that empirical diet may have on a couple’s chances of conceiving through assisted reproduction is unlikely to reflect the effect of these factors on bulk sem*n quality parameters. Trial registration number The project was funded by ES009718, ES022955, ES026648, and ES000002 from the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences, and P30DK46200 from the National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases

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In recent year it is revealed that prevalence of attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) among primary school children’s is widespread. ADHD is considered as one of the most common childhood disorders and can endure through adolescence and adulthood. Addressing and accurate diagnosis of ADHD in earlier stages will be very effective for proper and timely treatment. But it is very complex to differentiate behaviour that reflect ADHD victim from the normal growth. Though there are several existing works are available for detecting ADHD using machine learning handling indeterminacy is a toughest challenge among researchers. This paper aims at developing an unsupervised learning model-based feature subset selection to eradicate the problem of indeterminacy in handling ADHD prediction. This work adapted introduced the concept of intuitionistic kernel-based k-medoids clustering (IKKMC) for grouping similar type of ADHD patients through the knowledge of degree of membership and degree of hesitation. In this work the outliers are easily handled with intuitionistic fuzzy logic. After performing clustering, the potential feature subset involved in ADHD prediction is identified by applying Recursive Feature elimination model. The simulation results provide the evidence for IKKMC with RFE selected feature subset increases the prediction process of ADHD more accurately than other state of art

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The book Policjant konspiratorem (a beautiful edition, in hardcover, with an art paper insert with photographs) is quite an unusual document, if only because it is the first autobiography of a blue policeman that I ever heard of. Let us begin with the author: Krasnodębski was born in Wolbórz near Piotrków Trybunalski in 1916. In the late 1930s he graduated from the police school in Mosty Wielkie and shortly before the war broke out he was on duty as a constable in Dąbrowa Tarnowska. In autumn 1939 he volunteered for the blue police and remained in the force until summer 1944. At the same time, as an underground soldier, under the pseudonym “Kostek”, he was active in the Armed Combat Union (Związek Walki Zbrojnej, ZWZ), and later in the Home Army (Armia Krajowa, AK); he infiltrated the police, forewarning his “forest” commanders about the enemies’ moves. In summer 1944, “Kostek” deserted from the police and joined the partisans. After the Red Army’s arrival, Krasnodębski was still in the underground, this time in the NIE organizationand in Freedom and Independence (Zrzeszenie Wolność i Niezawisłość, WiN). He was in hiding until the early 1950s, when he was brought before a court and accused of collaboration and murdering Jews. He was, however, exonerated and returned to normal life; he devoted himself to professional work as well as patriotic and veteran’s activity. He wrote the autobiography in the mid-1980s. This is the author’s fate in a nutshell.

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Cline-Ransome, Lesa. Just a Lucky So and So: the Story of Louis Armstrong. Holiday House, 2016.This is a children’s level biography of Louis Armstrong. It is a difficult book to rate. The watercolours are superb and rate 4 stars but the text is lacking and rates 2 stars. While it is clearly a picture book and meant for children, the text seems like it might have originally been written for adults and then modified a little for children. There are too many big words for a picture book and the story is choppy and sometimes too condensed to be understood. There are sometimes big gaps in the information. For example, at a New Year’s Eve celebration, “shots were fired… Little Louis joined in with his stepfather’s gun. All his scrapes with the law added up, and at eleven years, Little Louis was sent away." We are not told why Louis was arrested, while it appears that firing guns in celebration was a normal thing to do. At one point we learn that he had a second wife, but up to that point there is no mention of marriage at all. The writing does not flow and is not always easy to read.James Ransome’s images, however, are wonderful. In keeping with the theme of luck in the book, all of the people are happy and smiling. These are well-executed works of art. The picture of the cornet inside the front cover is beautiful. In the picture of Louis’s family when he was little, Ransome has perfectly captured the shape of a small kneeling boy with his head thrown back in laughter. The music message of this book is both historical and inspirational, showing that it doesn’t matter where you come from or how little you have, you can still do great things in music.Because there are relatively few biographical works of famous musicians, and elementary and junior high school students often have to make presentations on famous musicians, this book, in spite of its weaknesses should be in public and school libraries.Recommended: 3 out of 4 stars Reviewer: Sean BorleSean Borle is a University of Alberta undergraduate student who is an advocate for child health and safety.

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Bright, Amy. Before We Go. Red Deer: Red Deer Press, 2012. Print. Before We Go is the bright debut of young adult novelist, Amy Bright. There is much to admire about this novel such as the quality of writing, the well-developed characters, and a carefully orchestrated plot. Bright’s story is set in Victoria, British Columbia and begins on New Year's Eve with 17-year-old Emily visiting her dying grandmother in hospital. Her grandmother’s imminent death is particularly poignant for Emily as she was raised by her grandparents when years before, Emily’s mother opted to pursue a career as a journalist in Vancouver leaving Emily in Victoria. With the death of her grandfather occurring a year ago, Emily’s routine of school, hospital, and home has left her lonely, isolated, and distant. However, this changes when Alex, a cancer patient at the hospital, asks Emily to join him and his sister, Lucy, for New Year’s Eve. Emily doesn’t know that Alex is dying from cancer and that his planned escape from the hospital is his last chance to be a normal teenaged boy. There is excellent chemistry and a genuine connection among the three main characters. It is apparent that Lucy loves Alex dearly and is torn between taking him back to the hospital and honoring his wish for one last adventure. Their night on the town takes them to several places and eventually to a New Year's Eve party. Through a series of flashbacks, the reader learns that the meeting between Emily and Alex is not coincidental and that family secrets have brought them together and will shape their lives and change them in ways none of them could have expected. The entire novel takes place over the course of one day and the use of flashbacks keep the reader engaged and provides further context for the character’s current situation. The ending of the story is abrupt, heart-breaking, and surprising. While the title of the book is layered with meaning, unfortunately, the cover art in this edition does not adequately convey the story. The novel would also benefit from additional editing. Overall, Before We Go is a recommended read for those who enjoy good, contemporary stories. Recommended: 3 out of 4 stars Reviewer: Tami OliphantTami Oliphant works as a research librarian at the University of Alberta Libraries and for the School of Library and Information Studies at the University of Alberta. She earned her Master of Library and Information Studies from the University of Alberta and her doctorate from the University of Western Ontario. She has worked in academic libraries, public libraries, communications and planning, and as a sessional lecturer and researcher at the University of Alberta and the University of Western Ontario.

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In a media saturated world, doodles have recently received the kind of attention usually reserved for coverage of racy extra marital affairs, corrupt governance, and product malfunction. Former British Prime Minister Blair’s private doodling at a World Economic Forum meeting in 2005 raised suspicions that he, according to one keen graphologist, struggled “to maintain control in a confusing world," which infers he was attempting to cohere a scattershot, fragmentary series of events (Spiegel). However, placid-faced Microsoft CEO Bill Gates, who sat nearby, actually scrawled the doodles. In this case, perhaps the scrawls mimicked the ambience in the room: Gates might have been ‘tuning’–registering the ‘white noise’ of the participants, letting his unconscious dictate doodles as a way to cope with the dissonance trekking in with the officialspeak. The doodles may have documented and registered the space between words, acting like deposits from his gestalt.Sometimes the most intriguing doodles co-exist with printed texts. This includes common vernacular graffiti that lines public and private books and magazines. Such graffiti exposes tensions in the role of readers as well as horror vacui: a fear of unused, empty space. Yet, school children fingering fresh pages and stiff book spines for the first few times often consider their book pages as sanctioned, discreet, and inviolable. The book is an object of financial and cultural investment, or imbued both with mystique and ideologies. Yet, in the e-book era, the old-fashioned, physical page is a relic of sorts, a holdover from coarse papyrus culled from wetland sage, linking us to the First Dynasty in Egypt. Some might consider the page as a vessel for typography, a mere framing device for text. The margins may reflect a perimeter of nothingness, an invisible borderland that doodles render visible by inhabiting them. Perhaps the margins are a bare landscape, like unmarred flat sand in a black and white panchromatic photo with unique tonal signature and distinct grain. Perhaps the margins are a mute locality, a space where words have evaporated, or a yet-to-be-explored environment, or an ambient field. Then comes the doodle, an icon of vernacular art.As a modern folklorist, I have studied and explored vernacular art at length, especially forms that may challenge and fissure aesthetic, cultural, and social mores, even within my own field. For instance, I contend that Grandma Prisbrey’s “Bottle Village,” featuring millions of artfully arranged pencils, bottles, and dolls culled from dumps in Southern California, is a syncretic culturescape with underlying feminist symbolism, not merely the product of trauma and hoarding (Ensminger). Recently, I flew to Oregon to deliver a paper on Mexican-American gravesite traditions. In a quest for increased multicultural tolerance, I argued that inexpensive dimestore objects left on Catholic immigrant graves do not represent a messy landscape of trinkets but unique spiritual environments with links to customs 3,000 years old. For me, doodles represent a variation on graffiti-style art with cultural antecedents stretching back throughout history, ranging from ancient scrawls on Greek ruins to contemporary park benches (with chiseled names, dates, and symbols), public bathroom latrinalia, and spray can aerosol art, including ‘bombing’ and ‘tagging’ hailed as “Spectacular Vernaculars” by Russell Potter (1995). Noted folklorist Alan Dundes mused on the meaning of latrinalia in Here I Sit – A Study of American Latrinalia (1966), which has inspired pop culture books and web pages for the preservation and discussion of such art (see for instance, www.itsallinthehead.com/gallery1.html). Older texts such as Classic American Graffiti by Allen Walker Read (1935), originally intended for “students of linguistics, folk-lore, abnormal psychology,” reveal the field’s longstanding interest in marginal, crude, and profane graffiti.Yet, to my knowledge, a monograph on doodles has yet to be published by a folklorist, perhaps because the art form is reconsidered too idiosyncratic, too private, the difference between jots and doodles too blurry for a taxonomy and not the domain of identifiable folk groups. In addition, the doodles in texts often remain hidden until single readers encounter them. No broad public interaction is likely, unless a library text circulates freely, which may not occur after doodles are discovered. In essence, the books become tainted, infected goods. Whereas latrinalia speaks openly and irreverently, doodles feature a different scale and audience.Doodles in texts may represent a kind of speaking from the ‘margin’s margins,’ revealing the reader-cum-writer’s idiosyncratic, self-meaningful, and stylised hieroglyphics from the ambient margins of one’s consciousness set forth in the ambient margins of the page. The original page itself is an ambient territory that allows the meaning of the text to take effect. When those liminal spaces (both between and betwixt, in which the rules of page format, design, style, and typography are abandoned) are altered by the presence of doodles, the formerly blank, surplus, and soft spaces of the page offer messages coterminous with the text, often allowing readers to speak, however haphazardly and unconsciously, with and against the triggering text. The bleached whiteness can become a crowded milieu in the hands of a reader re-scripting the ambient territory. If the book is borrowed, then the margins are also an intimate negotiation with shared or public space. The cryptic residue of the doodler now resides, waiting, for the city of eyes.Throughout history, both admired artists and Presidents regularly doodled. Famed Italian Renaissance painter Filippo Lippi avoided strenuous studying by doodling in his books (Van Cleave 44). Both sides of the American political spectrum have produced plentiful inky depictions as well: roughshod Democratic President Johnson drew flags and pagodas; former Hollywood fantasy fulfiller turned politician Republican President Reagan’s specialty was western themes, recalling tropes both from his actor period and his duration acting as President; meanwhile, former law student turned current President, Barack Obama, has sketched members of Congress and the Senate for charity auctions. These doodles are rich fodder for both psychologists and cross-discipline analysts that propose theories regarding the automatic writing and self-styled miniature pictures of civic leaders. Doodles allow graphologists to navigate and determine the internal, cognitive fabric of the maker. To critics, they exist as mere trifles and offer nothing more than an iota of insight; doodles are not uncanny offerings from the recesses of memory, like bite-sized Rorschach tests, but simply sloppy scrawls of the bored.Ambient music theory may shed some light. Timothy Morton argues that Brian Eno designed to make music that evoked “space whose quality had become minimally significant” and “deconstruct the opposition … between figure and ground.” In fact, doodles may yield the same attributes as well. After a doodle is inserted into texts, the typography loses its primacy. There is a merging of the horizons. The text of the author can conflate with the text of the reader in an uneasy dance of meaning: the page becomes an interface revealing a landscape of signs and symbols with multiple intelligences–one manufactured and condoned, the other vernacular and unsanctioned. A fixed end or beginning between the two no longer exists. The ambient space allows potential energies to hover at the edge, ready to illustrate a tension zone and occupy the page. The blank spaces keep inviting responses. An emergent discourse is always in waiting, always threatening to overspill the text’s intended meaning. In fact, the doodles may carry more weight than the intended text: the hierarchy between authorship and readership may topple.Resistant reading may take shape during these bouts. The doodle is an invasion and signals the geography of disruption, even when innocuous. It is a leveling tool. As doodlers place it alongside official discourse, they move away from positions of passivity, being mere consumers, and claim their own autonomy and agency. The space becomes co-determinant as boundaries are blurred. The destiny of the original text’s meaning is deferred. The habitus of the reader becomes embodied in the scrawl, and the next reader must negotiate and navigate the cultural capital of this new author. As such, the doodle constitutes an alternative authority and economy of meaning within the text.Recent studies indicate doodling, often regarded as behavior that announces a person’s boredom and withdrawal, is actually a very special tool to prevent memory loss. Jackie Andrade, an expert from the School of Psychology at the University of Plymouth, maintains that doodling actually “offsets the effects of selective memory blockade,” which yields a surprising result (quoted in “Doodling Gets”). Doodlers exhibit 29% more memory recall than those who passively listen, frozen in an unequal bond with the speaker/lecturer. Students that doodle actually retain more information and are likely more productive due to their active listening. They adeptly absorb information while students who stare patiently or daydream falter.Furthermore, in a 2006 paper, Andrew Kear argues that “doodling is a way in which students, consciously or not, stake a claim of personal agency and challenge some the values inherent in the education system” (2). As a teacher concerned with the engagement of students, he asked for three classes to submit their doodles. Letting them submit any two-dimensional graphic or text made during a class (even if made from body fluid), he soon discovered examples of “acts of resistance” in “student-initiated effort[s] to carve out a sense of place within the educational institution” (6). Not simply an ennui-prone teenager or a proto-surrealist trying to render some automatic writing from the fringes of cognition, a student doodling may represent contested space both in terms of the page itself and the ambience of the environment. The doodle indicates tension, and according to Kear, reflects students reclaiming “their own self-recognized voice” (6).In a widely referenced 1966 article (known as the “doodle” article) intended to describe the paragraph organisational styles of different cultures, Robert Kaplan used five doodles to investigate a writer’s thought patterns, which are rooted in cultural values. Now considered rather problematic by some critics after being adopted by educators for teacher-training materials, Kaplan’s doodles-as-models suggest, “English speakers develop their ideas in a linear, hierarchal fashion and ‘Orientals’ in a non-liner, spiral fashion…” (Severino 45). In turn, when used as pedagogical tools, these graphics, intentionally or not, may lead an “ethnocentric, assimilationist stance” (45). In this case, doodles likely shape the discourse of English as Second Language instruction. Doodles also represent a unique kind of “finger trace,” not unlike prints from the tips of a person’s fingers and snowflakes. Such symbol systems might be used for “a means of lightweight authentication,” according to Christopher Varenhorst of MIT (1). Doodles, he posits, can be used as “passdoodles"–a means by which a program can “quickly identify users.” They are singular expressions that are quirky and hard to duplicate; thus, doodles could serve as substitute methods of verifying people who desire devices that can safeguard their privacy without users having to rely on an ever-increasing number of passwords. Doodles may represent one such key. For many years, psychologists and psychiatrists have used doodles as therapeutic tools in their treatment of children that have endured hardship, ailments, and assault. They may indicate conditions, explain various symptoms and pathologies, and reveal patterns that otherwise may go unnoticed. For instance, doodles may “reflect a specific physical illness and point to family stress, accidents, difficult sibling relationships, and trauma” (Lowe 307). Lowe reports that children who create a doodle featuring their own caricature on the far side of the page, distant from an image of parent figures on the same page, may be experiencing detachment, while the portrayal of a father figure with “jagged teeth” may indicate a menace. What may be difficult to investigate in a doctor’s office conversation or clinical overview may, in fact, be gleaned from “the evaluation of a child’s spontaneous doodle” (307). So, if children are suffering physically or psychologically and unable to express themselves in a fully conscious and articulate way, doodles may reveal their “self-concept” and how they feel about their bodies; therefore, such creative and descriptive inroads are important diagnostic tools (307). Austrian born researcher Erich Guttman and his cohort Walter MacLay both pioneered art therapy in England during the mid-twentieth century. They posited doodles might offer some insight into the condition of schizophrenics. Guttman was intrigued by both the paintings associated with the Surrealist movement and the pioneering, much-debated work of Sigmund Freud too. Although Guttman mostly studied professionally trained artists who suffered from delusions and other conditions, he also collected a variety of art from patients, including those undergoing mescaline therapy, which alters a person’s consciousness. In a stroke of luck, they were able to convince a newspaper editor at the Evening Standard to provide them over 9,000 doodles that were provided by readers for a contest, each coded with the person’s name, age, and occupation. This invaluable data let the academicians compare the work of those hospitalised with the larger population. Their results, released in 1938, contain several key declarations and remain significant contributions to the field. Subsequently, Francis Reitman recounted them in his own book Psychotic Art: Doodles “release the censor of the conscious mind,” allowing a person to “relax, which to creative people was indispensable to production.”No appropriate descriptive terminology could be agreed upon.“Doodles are not communications,” for the meaning is only apparent when analysed individually.Doodles are “self-meaningful.” (37) Doodles, the authors also established, could be divided into this taxonomy: “stereotypy, ornamental details, movements, figures, faces and animals” or those “depicting scenes, medley, and mixtures” (37). The authors also noted that practitioners from the Jungian school of psychology often used “spontaneously produced drawings” that were quite “doodle-like in nature” in their own discussions (37). As a modern folklorist, I venture that doodles offer rich potential for our discipline as well. At this stage, I am offering a series of dictums, especially in regards to doodles that are commonly found adjacent to text in books and magazines, notebooks and journals, that may be expanded upon and investigated further. Doodles allow the reader to repopulate the text with ideogram-like expressions that are highly personalised, even inscrutable, like ambient sounds.Doodles re-purpose the text. The text no longer is unidirectional. The text becomes a point of convergence between writer and reader. The doodling allows for such a conversation, bilateral flow, or “talking back” to the text.Doodles reveal a secret language–informal codes that hearken back to the “lively, spontaneous, and charged with feeling” works of child art or naïve art that Victor Sanua discusses as being replaced in a child’s later years by art that is “stilted, formal, and conforming” (62).Doodling animates blank margins, the dead space of the text adjacent to the script, making such places ripe for spontaneous, fertile, and exploratory markings.Doodling reveals a democratic, participatory ethos. No text is too sacred, no narrative too inviolable. Anything can be reworked by the intimate graffiti of the reader. The authority of the book is not fixed; readers negotiate and form a second intelligence imprinted over the top of the original text, blurring modes of power.Doodles reveal liminal moments. Since the reader in unmonitored, he or she can express thoughts that may be considered marginal or taboo by the next reader. The original subject of the book itself does not restrict the reader. Thus, within the margins of the page, a brief suspension of boundaries and borders, authority and power, occurs. The reader hides in anonymity, free to reroute the meaning of the book. Doodling may convey a reader’s infantalism. Every book can become a picture book. This art can be the route returning a reader to the ambience of childhood.Doodling may constitute Illuminated/Painted Texts in reverse, commemorating the significance of the object in hitherto unexpected forms and revealing the reader’s codex. William Blake adorned his own poems by illuminating the skin/page that held his living verse; common readers may do so too, in naïve, nomadic, and primitive forms. Doodling demarcates tension zones, yielding social-historical insights into eras while offering psychological glimpses and displaying aesthetic values of readers-cum-writers.Doodling reveals margins as inter-zones, replete with psychogeography. While the typography is sanctioned, legitimate, normalised, and official discourse (“chartered” and “manacled,” to hijack lines from William Blake), the margins are a vernacular depository, a terminus, allowing readers a sense of agency and autonomy. The doodled page becomes a visible reminder and signifier: all pages are potentially “contested” spaces. Whereas graffiti often allows a writer to hide anonymously in the light in a city besieged by multiple conflicting texts, doodles allow a reader-cum-writer’s imprint to live in the cocoon of a formerly fossilised text, waiting for the light. Upon being opened, the book, now a chimera, truly breathes. Further exploration and analysis should likely consider several issues. What truly constitutes and shapes the role of agent and reader? Is the reader an agent all the time, or only when offering resistant readings through doodles? How is a doodler’s agency mediated by the author or the format of texts in forms that I have to map? Lastly, if, as I have argued, the ambient space allows potential energies to hover at the edge, ready to illustrate a tension zone and occupy the page, what occurs in the age of digital or e-books? Will these platforms signal an age of acquiescence to manufactured products or signal era of vernacular responses, somehow hitched to html code and PDF file infiltration? Will bytes totally replace type soon in the future, shaping unforeseen actions by doodlers? Attached Figures Figure One presents the intimate graffiti of my grandfather, found in the 1907 edition of his McGuffey’s Eclectic Spelling Book. The depiction is simple, even crude, revealing a figure found on the adjacent page to Lesson 248, “Of Characters Used in Punctuation,” which lists the perfunctory functions of commas, semicolons, periods, and so forth. This doodle may offset the routine, rote, and rather humdrum memorisation of such grammatical tools. The smiling figure may embody and signify joy on an otherwise machine-made bare page, a space where my grandfather illustrated his desires (to lighten a mood, to ease dissatisfaction?). Historians Joe Austin and Michael Willard examine how youth have been historically left without legitimate spaces in which to live out their autonomy outside of adult surveillance. For instance, graffiti often found on walls and trains may reflect a sad reality: young people are pushed to appropriate “nomadic, temporary, abandoned, illegal, or otherwise unwatched spaces within the landscape” (14). Indeed, book graffiti, like the graffiti found on surfaces throughout cities, may offer youth a sense of appropriation, authorship, agency, and autonomy: they take the page of the book, commit their writing or illustration to the page, discover some freedom, and feel temporarily independent even while they are young and disempowered. Figure Two depicts the doodles of experimental filmmaker Jim Fetterley (Animal Charm productions) during his tenure as a student at the Art Institute of Chicago in the early 1990s. His two doodles flank the text of “Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath, regarded by most readers as an autobiographical poem that addresses her own suicide attempts. The story of Lazarus is grounded in the Biblical story of John Lazarus of Bethany, who was resurrected from the dead. The poem also alludes to the Holocaust (“Nazi Lampshades”), the folklore surrounding cats (“And like the cat I have nine times to die”), and impending omens of death (“eye pits “ … “sour breath”). The lower doodle seems to signify a motorised tank-like machine, replete with a furnace or engine compartment on top that bellows smoke. Such ominous images, saturated with potential cartoon-like violence, may link to the World War II references in the poem. Meanwhile, the upper doodle seems to be curiously insect-like, and Fetterley’s name can be found within the illustration, just like Plath’s poem is self-reflexive and addresses her own plight. Most viewers might find the image a bit more lighthearted than the poem, a caricature of something biomorphic and surreal, but not very lethal. Again, perhaps this is a counter-message to the weight of the poem, a way to balance the mood and tone, or it may well represent the larval-like apparition that haunts the very thoughts of Plath in the poem: the impending disease of her mind, as understood by the wary reader. References Austin, Joe, and Michael Willard. “Introduction: Angels of History, Demons of Culture.” Eds. Joe Austion and Michael Willard. Generations of Youth: Youth Cultures and History in Twentieth-Century America. New York: NYU Press, 1998. “Doodling Gets Its Due: Those Tiny Artworks May Aid Memory.” World Science 2 March 2009. 15 Jan. 2009 ‹http://www.world-science.net/othernews/090302_doodle›. Dundes, Alan. “Here I Sit – A Study of American Latrinalia.” Papers of the Kroeber Anthropological Society 34: 91-105. Ensminger, David. “All Bottle Up: Reinterpreting the Culturescape of Grandma Prisbey.” Adironack Review 9.3 (Fall 2008). ‹http://adirondackreview.homestead.com/ensminger2.html›. Kear, Andrew. “Drawings in the Margins: Doodling in Class an Act of Reclamation.” Graduate Student Conference. University of Toronto, 2006. ‹http://gradstudentconference.oise.utoronto.ca/documents/185/Drawing%20in%20the%20Margins.doc›. Lowe, Sheila R. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Handwriting Analysis. New York: Alpha Books, 1999. Morton, Timothy. “‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ as an Ambient Poem; a Study of Dialectical Image; with Some Remarks on Coleridge and Wordsworth.” Romantic Circles Praxis Series (2001). 6 Jan. 2009 ‹http://www.rc.umd.edu/praxis/ecology/morton/morton.html›. Potter, Russell A. Spectacular Vernaculars: Hip Hop and the Politics of Postmodernism. Albany: State University of New York, 1995. Read, Allen Walker. Classic American Graffiti: Lexical Evidence from Folk Epigraphy in Western North America. Waukesha, Wisconsin: Maledicta Press, 1997. Reitman, Francis. Psychotic Art. London: Routledge, 1999. Sanua, Victor. “The World of Mystery and Wonder of the Schizophrenic Patient.” International Journal of Social Psychiatry 8 (1961): 62-65. Severino, Carol. “The ‘Doodles’ in Context: Qualifying Claims about Contrastive Rhetoric.” The Writing Center Journal 14.1 (Fall 1993): 44-62. Van Cleave, Claire. Master Drawings of the Italian Rennaissance. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard UP, 2007. Varenhost, Christopher. Passdoodles: A Lightweight Authentication Method. Research Science Institute. Cambridge, Mass.: Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 2004.

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Introduction I have this somewhat diffuse concern that at some point, I am in an appointment procedure ... and people say: ‘He has to ... be on social media, [and] have followers ..., because otherwise he can’t say anything about the field of research, otherwise he won’t identify with it … and we need a direct connection to legitimise our discipline in the population!’ And this is where I think: ‘For God’s sake! No, I really don’t want that.’ (Postdoc) Social media such as Facebook or Twitter have become an integral part of many people’s everyday lives and have introduced severe changes to the ways we communicate with each other and about ourselves. Presenting ourselves on social media and creating different online personas has become a normal practice (Vorderer et al. 270). While social media such as Facebook were at first mostly used to communicate with friends and family, they were soon also used for work-related communication (Cardon and Marshall). Later, professional networks such as LinkedIn, which focus on working relations and career management and special interest networks, such as the academic social networking sites (ASNS) Academia.edu and ResearchGate, catering specifically to academic needs, emerged. Even though social media have been around for more than 15 years now, academics in general and German academics in particular are rather reluctant users of these tools in a work-related context (König and Nentwich 175; Lo 155; Pscheida et al. 1). This is surprising as studies indicate that the presence and positive self-portrayal of researchers in social media as well as the distribution of articles via social networks such as Academia.edu or ResearchGate have a positive effect on the visibility of academics as well as the likelihood of their articles being read and cited (Eysenbach; Lo 192; Terras). Gruzd, Staves, and Wilk even assume that the presence in online media could become a relevant criterion in the allocation of scientific jobs. Science is a field where competition for long-term positions is high. In 2017, only about 17% of all scientific personnel in Germany had permanent positions, and of these 10% were professors (Federal Statistical Office 32). Having a professorship is therefore the best shot at obtaining a permanent position in the scientific field. However, the average vocational age is 40 (Zimmer et al. 40), which leads to a long phase of career-related uncertainty. Directing attention to yourself by acquiring knowledge in the use of social media for professional self-representation might offer a career advantage when trying to obtain a professorship. At the same time, social media, which have been praised for giving a voice to the unheard, become a tool for the exclusion of scholars who might not want or be able to use these tools as part of their work and career-related communication, and might remain unseen and unheard. The author obtained current data on this topic while working on a project on Mediated Scholarly Communication in Post-Normal and Traditional Science under the project lead of Corinna Lüthje. The project was funded by the German Research Foundation (DFG). In the project, German-speaking scholars were interviewed about their work-related media usage in qualitative interviews. Among them were users and non-users of social media. For this article, 16 interviews with communication scholars (three PhD students, six postdocs, seven professors) were chosen for a closer analysis, because of all the interviewees they described the (dis)advantages of career-related social media use in the most detail, giving the deepest insights into whether social media contribute to a social exclusion of academics or not. How to Define Social Exclusion (in Academia)? The term social exclusion describes a separation of individuals or groups from mainstream society (Walsh et al.). Exclusion is a practice which implies agency. It can be the result of the actions of others, but individuals can also exclude themselves by choosing not to be part of something, for example of social media and the communication taking part there (Atkinson 14). Exclusion is an everyday social practice, because wherever there is an in-group there will always be an out-group. This is what Bourdieu calls distinction. Symbols and behaviours of distinction both function as signs of demarcation and belonging (Bourdieu, Distinction). Those are not always explicitly communicated, but part of people’s behaviour. They act on a social sense by telling them how to behave appropriately in a certain situation. According to Bourdieu, the practical sense is part of the habitus (Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice). The habitus generates patterns of action that come naturally and do not have to be reflected by the actor, due to an implicit knowledge that is acquired during the course of (group-specific) socialisation. For scholars, the process of socialisation in an area of research involves the acquisition of a so-called disciplinary self-image, which is crucial to building a disciplinary identity. In every discipline it contains a dominant disciplinary self-image which defines the scientific perspectives, practices, and even media that are typically used and therefore belong to the mainstream of a discipline (Huber 24). Yet, there is a societal mainstream outside of science which scholars are a part of. Furthermore, they have been socialised into other groups as well. Therefore, the disciplinary mainstream and the habitus of its members can be impacted upon by the societal mainstream and other fields of society. For example, societally mainstream social media, such as Twitter or Facebook, focussing on establishing and sustaining social connections, might be used for scholarly communication just as well as ASNS. The latter cater to the needs of scholars to not just network with colleagues, but to upload academic articles, share and track them, and consume scholarly information (Meishar-Tal and Pieterse 17). Both can become part of the disciplinary mainstream of media usage. In order to define whether and how social media contribute to forms of social exclusion among communication scholars, it is helpful to first identify in how far their usage is part of the disciplinary mainstream, and what their including features are. In contrast to this, forms of exclusion will be analysed and discussed on the basis of qualitative interviews with communication scholars. Including Features of Social Media for Communication Scholars The interviews for this essay were first conducted in 2016. At that time all of the 16 communication scholars interviewed used at least one social medium such as ResearchGate (8), Academia.edu (8), Twitter (10), or Facebook (11) as part of their scientific workflow. By 2019, all of them had a ResearchGate and 11 an Academia.edu account, 13 were on Twitter and 13 on Facebook. This supports the notion of one of the professors, who said that he registered with ResearchGate in 2016 because "everyone’s doing that now!” It also indicates that the work-related presence especially on ResearchGate, but also on other social media, is part of the disciplinary mainstream of communication science. The interviewees figured that the social media they used helped them to increase their visibility in their own community through promoting their work and networking. They also mentioned that they were helpful to keep up to date on the newest articles and on what was happening in communication science in general. The usage of ResearchGate and Academia.edu focussed on publications. Here the scholars could, as one professor put it, access articles that were not available via their university libraries, as well as “previously unpublished articles”. They also liked that they could see "what other scientists are working on" (professor) and were informed via e-mail "when someone publishes a new publication" (PhD student). The interviewees saw clear advantages to their registration with the ASNS, because they felt that they became "much more visible and present" (postdoc) in the scientific community. Seven of the communication scholars (two PhD students, three postdocs, two professors) shared their publications on ResearchGate and Academia.edu. Two described doing cross-network promotion, where they would write a post about their publications on Twitter or Facebook that linked to the full article on Academia.edu or ResearchGate. The usage of Twitter and especially Facebook focussed a lot more on accessing discipline-related information and social networking. The communication scholars mentioned that various sections and working groups of professional organisations in their research field had accounts on Facebook, where they would post news. A postdoc said that she was on Facebook "because I get a lot of information from certain scientists that I wouldn’t have gotten otherwise". Several interviewees pointed out that Twitter is "a place where you can find professional networks, become a part of them or create them yourself" (professor). On Twitter the interviewees explained that they were rather making new connections. Facebook was used to maintain and intensify existing professional relationships. They applied it to communicate with their local networks at their institute, just as well as for international communication. A postdoc and a professor both mentioned that they perceived that Scandinavian or US-American colleagues were easier to contact via Facebook than via any other medium. One professor described how he used Facebook at international conferences to arrange meetings with people he knew and wanted to meet. But to him Facebook also catered to accessing more personal information about his colleagues, thus creating a new "mixture of professional respect for the work of other scientists and personal relationships", which resulted in a "new kind of friendship". Excluding Features of Social Media for Communication Scholars While everyone may create an Academia.edu, Facebook, or Twitter account, ResearchGate is already an exclusive network in itself, as only people working in a scientific field are allowed to join. In 2016, eight of the interviewees and in 2019 all of them had signed up to ResearchGate. So at least among the communication scholars, this did not seem to be an excluding factor. More of an issue was for one of the postdocs that she did not have the copyright to upload her published articles on the ASNS and therefore refrained from uploading them. Interestingly enough, this did not seem to worry any of the other interviewees, and concerns were mostly voiced in relation to the societal mainstream social media. Although all of the interviewees had an account with at least one social medium, three of them described that they did not use or had withdrawn from using Facebook and Twitter. For one professor and one PhD student this had to do with the privacy and data security issues of these networks. The PhD student said that she did not want to be reminded of what she “tweeted maybe 10 years ago somewhere”, and also considered tweeting to be irrelevant in her community. To her, important scientific findings would rather be presented in front of a professional audience and not so much to the “general public”, which she felt was mostly addressed on social media. The professor mentioned that she had been on Facebook since she was a postdoc, but decided to stop using the service when it introduced new rules on data security. On one hand she saw the “benefits” of the network to “stay informed about what is happening in the community”, and especially “in regards to the promotion of young researchers, since some of the junior research groups are very active there”. On the other she found it problematic for her own time management and said that she received a lot of the posted information via e-mail as well. A postdoc mentioned that he had a Facebook account to stay in contact with young scholars he met at a networking event, but never used it. He would rather connect with his colleagues in person at conferences. He felt people would just use social media to “show off what they do and how awesome it is”, which he did not understand. He mentioned that if this “is how you do it now … I don't think this is for me.” Another professor described that Facebook "is the channel for German-speaking science to generate social traffic”, but that he did not like to use it, because “there is so much nonsense ... . It’s just not fun. Twitter is more fun, but the effect is much smaller", as bigger target groups could be reached via Facebook. The majority of the interviewees did not use mainstream social media because they were intrinsically motivated. They rather did it because they felt that it was expected of them to be there, and that it was important for their career to be visible there. Many were worried that they would miss out on opportunities to promote themselves, network, and receive information if they did not use Twitter or Facebook. One of the postdocs mentioned, for example, that she was not a fan of Twitter and would often not know what to write, but that the professor she worked for had told her she needed to tweet regularly. But she did see the benefits as she said that she had underestimated the effect of this at first: “I think, if you want to keep up, then you have to do that, because people don’t notice you.” This also indicates a disciplinary mainstream of social media usage. Conclusion The interviews indicate that the usage of ResearchGate in particular, but also of Academia.edu and of the societal mainstream social media platforms Twitter and Facebook has become part of the disciplinary mainstream of communication science and the habitus of many of its members. ResearchGate mainly targets people working in the scientific field, while excluding everyone else. Its focus on publication sharing makes the network very attractive among its main target group, and serves at the same time as a symbol of distinction from other groups (Bourdieu, Distinction). Yet it also raises copyright issues, which led at least one of the participants to refrain from using this option. The societal mainstream social media Twitter and Facebook, on the other hand, have a broader reach and were more often used by the interviewees for social networking purposes than the ASNS. The interviewees emphasised the benefits of Twitter and Facebook for exchanging information and connecting with others. Factors that led the communication scholars to refrain from using the networks, and thus were excluding factors, were data security and privacy concerns; disliking that the networks were used to “show off”; as well as considering Twitter and Facebook as unfit for addressing the scholarly target group properly. The last statement on the target group, which was made by a PhD student, does not seem to represent the mainstream of the communication scholars interviewed, however. Many of them were using Twitter and Facebook for scholarly communication and rather seemed to find them advantageous. Still, this perception of the disciplinary mainstream led to her not using them for work-related purposes, and excluding her from their advantages. Even though, as one professor described it, a lot of information shared via Facebook is often spread through other communication channels as well, some can only be received via the networks. Although social media are mostly just a substitute for face-to-face communication, by not using them scholars will miss out on the possibilities of creating the “new kind of friendship” another professor mentioned, where professional and personal relations mix. The results of this study show that social media use is advantageous for academics as they offer possibilities to access exclusive information, form new kinds of relations, as well as promote oneself and one’s publications. At the same time, those not using these social media are excluded and might experience career-related disadvantages. As described in the introduction, academia is a competitive environment where many people try to obtain a few permanent positions. By default, this leads to processes of exclusion rather than integration. Any means to stand out from competitors are welcome to emerging scholars, and a career-related advantage will be used. If the growth in the number of communication scholars in the sample signing up to social networks between 2016 to 2019 is any indication, it is likely that the networks have not yet reached their full potential as tools for career advancement among scientific communities, and will become more important in the future. Now one could argue that the communication scholars who were interviewed for this essay are a special case, because they might use social media more actively than other scholars due to their area of research. Though this might be true, studies of other scholarly fields show that social media are being applied just the same (though maybe less extensively), and that they are used to establish cooperations and increase the amount of people reading and citing their publications (Eysenbach; Lo 192; Terras). The question is whether researchers will be able to avoid using social media when striving for a career in science in the future, which can only be answered by further research on the topic. References Atkinson, A.B. “Social Exclusion, Poverty and Unemployment.” Exclusion, Employment and Opportunity. Eds. A.B. Atkinson and John Hills. London: London School of Economics and Political Science, 1998. 1–20. Bourdieu, Pierre. Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard UP, 1984. ———. The Logic of Practice. Stanford, California: Stanford UP, 1990. Cardon, Peter W., and Bryan Marshall. “The Hype and Reality of Social Media Use for Work Collaboration and Team Communication.” International Journal of Business Communication 52.3 (2015): 273–93. Eysenbach, Gunther. “Can Tweets Predict Citations? Metrics of Social Impact Based on Twitter and Correlation with Traditional Metrics of Scientific Impact.” Journal of Medical Internet Research 13.4 (2011): e123. Federal Statistical Office [Statistisches Bundesamt]. Hochschulen auf einen Blick: Ausgabe 2018: 2018. 27 Dec. 2019 <https://www.destatis.de/Migration/DE/Publikationen/Thematisch/BildungForschungKultur/Hochschulen/BroschuereHochschulenBlick.html>. Gruzd, Anatoliy, Kathleen Staves, and Amanda Wilk. “Tenure and Promotion in the Age of Online Social Media.” Proceedings of the American Society for Information Science and Technology 48.1 (2011): 1–9. Huber, Nathalie. Kommunikationswissenschaft als Beruf: Zum Selbstverständnis von Professoren des Faches im deutschsprachigen Raum. Köln: Herbert von Halem Verlag, 2010. König, René, and Michael Nentwich. “Soziale Medien in der Wissenschaft.” Handbuch Soziale Medien. Eds. Jan-Hinrik Schmidt and Monika Taddicken. Wiesbaden: Springer Fachmedien, 2017. 170–188. Lo, Yin-Yueh. “Online Communication beyond the Scientific Community: Scientists' Use of New Media in Germany, Taiwan and the United States to Address the Public.” 2016. 17 Oct. 2019 <https://refubium.fu-berlin.de/bitstream/handle/fub188/7426/Diss_Lo_2016.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y>. Meishar-Tal, Hagit, and Efrat Pieterse. “Why Do Academics Use Academic Social Networking Sites?” IRRODL 18.1 (2017). Pscheida, Daniela, Claudia Minet, Sabrina Herbst, Steffen Albrecht, and Thomas Köhler. Nutzung von Social Media und onlinebasierten Anwendungen in der Wissenschaft: Ergebnisse des Science 2.0-Survey 2014. Dresden: Leibniz-Forschungsverbund „Science 2.0“, 2014. 17 Mar. 2020. <https://d-nb.info/1069096679/34>. Terras, Melissa. The Verdict: Is Blogging or Tweeting about Research Papers Worth It? LSE Impact Blog, 2012. 28 Dec. 2019 <https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/impactofsocialsciences/2012/04/19/blog-tweeting-papers-worth-it/>. Vorderer, Peter, et al. “Der mediatisierte Lebenswandel: Permanently Online, Permanently Connected.” Publizistik 60.3 (2015): 259–76. Walsh, Kieran, Thomas Scharf, and Norah Keating. “Social Exclusion of Older Persons: a Scoping Review and Conceptual Framework.” European Journal of Ageing 14.1 (2017): 81–98. Zimmer, Annette, Holger Krimmer, and Freia Stallmann. “Winners among Losers: Zur Feminisierung der deutschen Universitäten.” Beiträge zur Hochschulforschung 4.28 (2006): 30-57. 17 Mar. 2020 <https://www.uni-bremen.de/fileadmin/user_upload/sites/zentrale-frauenbeauftragte/Berichte/4-2006-zimmer-krimmer-stallmann.pdf>.

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Introduction: Brutal?The word “brutal” has associations with cruelty, inhumanity, and aggression. Within the field of architecture, however, the term “Brutalism” refers to a post-World War II Modernist style, deriving from the French phrase betón brut, which means raw concrete (Clement 18). Core traits of Brutalism include functionalist design, daring geometry, overbearing scale, and the blatant exposure of structural materials, chiefly concrete and steel (Meades 1).The emergence of Brutalism coincided with chronic housing shortages in European countries ravaged by World War II (Power 5) and government-sponsored slum clearance in the UK (Power 190; Baker). Brutalism’s promise to accommodate an astonishing number of civilians within a minimal area through high-rise configurations and elevated walkways was alluring to architects and city planners (High Rise Dreams). Concrete was the material of choice due to its affordability, durability, and versatility; it also allowed buildings to be erected quickly (Allen and Iano 622).The Brutalist style was used for cultural centres, such as the Perth Concert Hall in Western Australia, educational institutions such as the Yale School of Architecture, and government buildings such as the Secretariat Building in Chandigarh, India. However, as pioneering Brutalist architect Alison Smithson explained, the style achieved full expression by “thinking on a much bigger scale somehow than if you only got [sic] one house to do” (Smithson and Smithson, Conversation 40). Brutalism, therefore, lent itself to the design of large residential complexes. It was consequently used worldwide for public housing developments, that is, residences built by a government authority with the aim of providing affordable housing. Notable examples include the Western City Gate in Belgrade, Serbia, and Habitat 67 in Montreal, Canada.Brutalist architecture polarised opinion and continues to do so to this day. On the one hand, protected cultural heritage status has been awarded to some Brutalist buildings (Carter; Glancey) and the style remains extremely influential, for example in the recent award-winning work of architect Zaha Hadid (Niesewand). On the other hand, the public housing projects associated with Brutalism are widely perceived as failures (The Great British Housing Disaster). Many Brutalist objects currently at risk of demolition are social housing estates, such as the Smithsons’ Robin Hood Gardens in London, UK. Whether the blame for the demise of such housing developments lies with architects, inhabitants, or local government has been widely debated. In the UK and USA, local authorities had relocated families of predominantly lower socio-economic status into the newly completed developments, but were unable or unwilling to finance subsequent maintenance and security costs (Hanley 115; R. Carroll; The Pruitt-Igoe Myth). Consequently, the residents became fearful of criminal activity in staircases and corridors that lacked “defensible space” (Newman 9), which undermined a vision of “streets in the sky” (Moran 615).In spite of its later problems, Brutalism’s architects had intended to develop a style that expressed 1950s contemporary living in an authentic manner. To them, this meant exposing building materials in their “raw” state and creating an aesthetic for an age of science, machine mass production, and consumerism (Stadler 264; 267; Smithson and Smithson, But Today 44). Corporeal sensations did not feature in this “machine” aesthetic (Dalrymple). Exceptionally, acclaimed Brutalist architect Ernö Goldfinger discussed how “visual sensation,” “sound and touch with smell,” and “the physical touch of the walls of a narrow passage” contributed to “sensations of space” within architecture (Goldfinger 48). However, the effects of residing within Brutalist objects may not have quite conformed to predictions, since Goldfinger moved out of his Brutalist construction, Balfron Tower, after two months, to live in a terraced house (Hanley 112).An abstract perspective that favours theorisation over subjective experiences characterises discourse on Brutalist social housing developments to this day (Singh). There are limited data on the everyday lived experience of residents of Brutalist social housing estates, both then and now (for exceptions, see Hanley; The Pruitt-Igoe Myth; Cooper et al.).Yet, our bodily interaction with the objects around us shapes our lived experience. On a broader physical scale, this includes the structures within which we live and work. The importance of the interaction between architecture and embodied being is increasingly recognised. Today, architecture is described in corporeal terms—for example, as a “skin” that surrounds and protects its human inhabitants (Manan and Smith 37; Armstrong 77). Biological processes are also inspiring new architectural approaches, such as synthetic building materials with life-like biochemical properties (Armstrong 79), and structures that exhibit emergent behaviour in response to human presence, like a living system (Biloria 76).In this article, we employ an autoethnographic perspective to explore the corporeal effects of Brutalist buildings, thereby revealing a new dimension to the anthropological significance of these controversial structures. We trace how they shape the physicality of the bodies interacting within them. Our approach is one step towards considering the historically under-appreciated subjective, corporeal experience elicited in interaction with Brutalist objects.Method: An Autoethnographic ApproachAutoethnography is a form of self-narrative research that connects the researcher’s personal experience to wider cultural understandings (Ellis 31; Johnson). It can be analytical (Anderson 374) or emotionally evocative (Denzin 426).We investigated two Brutalist residential estates in London, UK:(i) The Barbican Estate: This was devised to redevelop London’s severely bombed post-WWII Cripplegate area, combining private residences for middle class professionals with an assortment of amenities including a concert hall, library, conservatory, and school. It was designed by architects Chamberlin, Powell, and Bon. Opened in 1982, the Estate polarised opinion on its aesthetic qualities but has enjoyed success with residents and visitors. The development now comprises extremely expensive housing (Brophy). It was Grade II-listed in 2001 (Glancey), indicating a status of architectural preservation that restricts alterations to significant buildings.(ii) Trellick Tower: This was built to replace dilapidated 19th-century housing in the North Kensington area. It was designed by Hungarian-born architect Ernő Goldfinger to be a social housing development and was completed in 1972. During the 1980s and 1990s, it became known as the “Tower of Terror” due to its high level of crime (Hanley 113). Nevertheless, Trellick Tower was granted Grade II listed status in 1998 (Carter), and subsequent improvements have increased its desirability as a residence (R. Carroll).We explored the grounds, communal spaces, and one dwelling within each structure, independently recording our corporeal impressions and sensations in detailed notes, which formed the basis of longhand journals written afterwards. Our analysis was developed through co-constructed autoethnographic reflection (emerald and Carpenter 748).For reasons of space, one full journal entry is presented for each Brutalist structure, with an excerpt from each remaining journal presented in the subsequent analysis. To identify quotations from our journals, we use the codes R- and N- to refer to RB’s and NC’s journals, respectively; we use -B and -T to refer to the Barbican Estate and Trellick Tower, respectively.The Barbican Estate: Autoethnographic JournalAn intricate concrete world emerges almost without warning from the throng of glass office blocks and commercial buildings that make up the City of London's Square Mile. The Barbican Estate comprises a multitude of low-rise buildings, a glass conservatory, and three enormous high-rise towers. Each modular building component is finished in the same coarse concrete with burnished brick underfoot, whilst the entire structure is elevated above ground level by enormous concrete stilts. Plants hang from residential balconies over glimmering pools in a manner evocative of concrete Hanging Gardens of Babylon.Figure 1. Barbican Estate Figure 2. Cromwell Tower from below, Barbican Estate. Figure 3: The stairwell, Cromwell Tower, Barbican Estate. Figure 4. Lift button pods, Cromwell Tower, Barbican Estate.R’s journalMy first footsteps upon the Barbican Estate are elevated two storeys above the street below, and already an eerie calm settles on me. The noise of traffic and the bustle of pedestrians have seemingly been left far behind, and a path of polished brown brick has replaced the paving slabs of the city's pavement. I am made more aware of the sound of my shoes upon the ground as I take each step through the serenity.Running my hands along the walkway's concrete sides as we proceed further into the estate I feel its coarseness, and look up to imagine the same sensation touching the uppermost balcony of the towers. As we travel, the cold nature and relentless employ of concrete takes over and quickly becomes the norm.Our route takes us through the Barbican's central Arts building and into the Conservatory, a space full of plant-life and water features. The noise of rushing water comes as a shock, and I'm reminded just how hauntingly peaceful the atmosphere of the outside estate has been. As we leave the conservatory, the hush returns and we follow another walkway, this time allowing a balcony-like view over the edge of the estate. I'm quickly absorbed by a sensation I can liken only to peering down at the ground from a concrete cloud as we observe the pedestrians and traffic below.Turning back, we follow the walkways and begin our approach to Cromwell Tower, a jagged structure scraping the sky ahead of us and growing menacingly larger with every step. The estate has up till now seemed devoid of wind, but even so a cold begins to prickle my neck and I increase my speed toward the door.A high-ceilinged foyer greets us as we enter and continue to the lifts. As we push the button and wait, I am suddenly aware that carpet has replaced bricks beneath my feet. A homely sensation spreads, my breathing slows, and for a brief moment I begin to relax.We travel at heart-racing speed upwards to the 32nd floor to observe the view from the Tower's fire escape stairwell. A brief glance over the stair's railing as we enter reveals over 30 storeys of stair casing in a hard-edged, triangular configuration. My mind reels, I take a second glance and fail once again to achieve focus on the speck of ground at the bottom far below. After appreciating the eastward view from the adjacent window that encompasses almost the entirety of Central London, we make our way to a 23rd floor apartment.Entering the dwelling, we explore from room to room before reaching the balcony of the apartment's main living space. Looking sheepishly from the ledge, nothing short of a genuine concrete fortress stretches out beneath us in all directions. The spirit and commotion of London as I know it seems yet more distant as we gaze at the now miniaturized buildings. An impression of self-satisfied confidence dawns on me. The fortress where we stand offers security, elevation, sanctuary and I'm furnished with the power to view London's chaos at such a distance that it's almost silent.As we leave the apartment, I am shadowed by the same inherent air of tranquillity, pressing yet another futuristic lift access button, plummeting silently back towards the ground, and padding across the foyer's soft carpet to pursue our exit route through the estate's sky-suspended walkways, back to the bustle of regular London civilization.Trellick Tower: Autoethnographic JournalThe concrete majesty of Trellick Tower is visible from Westbourne Park, the nearest Tube station. The Tower dominates the skyline, soaring above its neighbouring estate, cafes, and shops. As one nears the Tower, the south face becomes visible, revealing the suspended corridors that join the service tower to the main body of flats. Light of all shades and colours pours from its tightly stacked dwellings, which stretch up into the sky. Figure 5. Trellick Tower, South face. Figure 6. Balcony in a 27th-floor flat, Trellick Tower.N’s journalOutside the tower, I sense danger and experience a heightened sense of awareness. A thorny frame of metal poles holds up the tower’s facade, each pole poised as if to slip down and impale me as I enter the building.At first, the tower is too big for comprehension; the scale is unnatural, gigantic. I feel small and quite squashable in comparison. Swathes of unmarked concrete surround the tower, walls that are just too high to see over. Who or what are they hiding? I feel uncertain about what is around me.It takes some time to reach the 27th floor, even though the lift only stops on every 3rd floor. I feel the forces of acceleration exert their pressure on me as we rise. The lift is very quiet.Looking through the windows on the 27th-floor walkway that connects the lift tower to the main building, I realise how high up I am. I can see fog. The city moves and modulates beneath me. It is so far away, and I can’t reach it. I’m suspended, isolated, cut off in the air, as if floating in space.The buildings underneath appear tiny in comparison to me, but I know I’m tiny compared to this building. It’s a dichotomy, an internal tension, and feels quite unreal.The sound of the wind in the corridors is a constant whine.In the flat, the large kitchen window above the sink opens directly onto the narrow, low-ceilinged corridor, on the other side of which, through a second window, I again see London far beneath. People pass by here to reach their front doors, moving so close to the kitchen window that you could touch them while you’re washing up, if it weren’t for the glass. Eye contact is possible with a neighbour, or a stranger. I am close to that which I’m normally separated from, but at the same time I’m far from what I could normally access.On the balcony, I have a strong sensation of vertigo. We are so high up that we cannot be seen by the city and we cannot see others. I feel physically cut off from the world and realise that I’m dependent on the lift or endlessly spiralling stairs to reach it again.Materials: sharp edges, rough concrete, is abrasive to my skin, not warm or welcoming. Sharp little stones are embedded in some places. I mind not to brush close against them.Behind the tower is a mysterious dark maze of sharp turns that I can’t see around, and dark, narrow walkways that confine me to straight movements on sloping ramps.“Relentless Employ of Concrete:” Body versus Stone and HeightThe “relentless employ of concrete” (R-B) in the Barbican Estate and Trellick Tower determined our physical interactions with these Brutalist objects. Our attention was first directed towards texture: rough, abrasive, sharp, frictive. Raw concrete’s potential to damage skin, should one fall or brush too hard against it, made our bodies vulnerable. Simultaneously, the ubiquitous grey colour and the constant cold anaesthetised our senses.As we continued to explore, the constant presence of concrete, metal gratings, wire, and reinforced glass affected our real and imagined corporeal potentialities. Bodies are powerless against these materials, such that, in these buildings, you can only go where you are allowed to go by design, and there are no other options.Conversely, the strength of concrete also has a corporeal manifestation through a sense of increased physical security. To R, standing within the “concrete fortress” of the Barbican Estate, the object offered “security, elevation, sanctuary,” and even “power” (R-B).The heights of the Barbican’s towers (123 metres) and Trellick Tower (93 metres) were physically overwhelming when first encountered. We both felt that these menacing, jagged towers dominated our bodies.Excerpt from R’s journal (Trellick Tower)Gaining access to the apartment, we begin to explore from room to room. As we proceed through to the main living area we spot the balcony and I am suddenly aware that, in a short space of time, I had abandoned the knowledge that some 26 floors lay below me. My balance is again shaken and I dig my heels into the laminate flooring, as if to achieve some imaginary extra purchase.What are the consequences of extreme height on the body? Certainly, there is the possibility of a lethal fall and those with vertigo or who fear heights would feel uncomfortable. We discovered that height also affects physical instantiation in many other ways, both empowering and destabilising.Distance from ground-level bustle contributed to a profound silence and sense of calm. Areas of intermediate height, such as elevated communal walkways, enhanced our sensory abilities by granting the advantage of observation from above.Extreme heights, however, limited our ability to sense the outside world, placing objects beyond our range of visual focus, and setting up a “bizarre segregation” (R-T) between our physical presence and that of the rest of the world. Height also limited potentialities of movement: no longer self-sufficient, we depended on a working lift to regain access to the ground and the rest of the city. In the lift itself, our bodies passively endured a cycle of opposing forces as we plummeted up or down numerous storeys in mere seconds.At both locations, N noticed how extreme height altered her relative body size: for example, “London looks really small. I have become huge compared to the tiny city” (N-B). As such, the building’s lift could be likened to a cake or potion from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. This illustrates how the heuristics that we use to discern visual perspective and object size, which are determined by the environment in which we live (Segall et al.), can be undermined by the unusual scales and distances found in Brutalist structures.Excerpt from N’s journal (Barbican Estate)Warning: These buildings give you AFTER-EFFECTS. On the way home, the size of other buildings seems tiny, perspectives feel strange; all the scales seem to have been re-scaled. I had to become re-used to the sensation of travelling on public trains, after travelling in the tower lifts.We both experienced perceptual after-effects from the disproportional perspectives of Brutalist spaces. Brutalist structures thus have the power to affect physical sensations even when the body is no longer in direct interaction with them!“Challenge to Privacy:” Intersubjective Ideals in Brutalist DesignAs embodied beings, our corporeal manifestations are the primary transducers of our interactions with other people, who in turn contribute to our own body schema construction (Joas). Architects of Brutalist habitats aimed to create residential utopias, but we found that the impact of their designs on intersubjective corporeality were often incoherent and contradictory. Brutalist structures positioned us at two extremes in relation to the bodies of others, forcing either an uncomfortable intersection of personal space or, conversely, excessive separation.The confined spaces of the lifts, and ubiquitous narrow, low-ceilinged corridors produced uncomfortable overlaps in the personal space of the individuals present. We were fascinated by the design of the flat in Trellick Tower, where the large kitchen window opened out directly onto the narrow 27th-floor corridor, as described in N’s journal. This enforced a physical “challenge to privacy” (R-T), although the original aim may have been to promote a sense of community in the “streets in the sky” (Moran 615). The inter-slotting of hundreds of flats in Trellick Tower led to “a multitude of different cooking aromas from neighbouring flats” (R-T) and hence a direct sensing of the closeness of other people’s corporeal activities, such as eating.By contrast, enormous heights and scales constantly placed other people out of sight, out of hearing, and out of reach. Sharp-angled walkways and blind alleys rendered other bodies invisible even when they were near. In the Barbican Estate, huge concrete columns, behind which one could hide, instilled a sense of unease.We also considered the intersubjective interaction between the Brutalist architect-designer and the inhabitant. The elements of futuristic design—such as the “spaceship”-like pods for lift buttons in Cromwell Tower (N-B)—reconstruct the inhabitant’s physicality as alien relative to the Brutalist building, and by extension, to the city that commissioned it.ReflectionsThe strength of the autoethnographic approach is also its limitation (Chang 54); it is an individual’s subjective perspective, and as such we cannot experience or represent the full range of corporeal effects of Brutalist designs. Corporeal experience is informed by myriad factors, including age, body size, and ability or disability. Since we only visited these structures, rather than lived in them, we could have experienced heightened sensations that would become normalised through familiarity over time. Class dynamics, including previous residences and, importantly, the amount of choice that one has over where one lives, would also affect this experience. For a full perspective, further data on the everyday lived experiences of residents from a range of different backgrounds are necessary.R’s reflectionDespite researching Brutalist architecture for years, I was unprepared for the true corporeal experience of exploring these buildings. Reading back through my journals, I'm struck by an evident conflict between stylistic admiration and physical uneasiness. I feel I have gained a sympathetic perspective on the notion of residing in the structures day-to-day.Nevertheless, analysing Brutalist objects through a corporeal perspective helped to further our understanding of the experience of living within them in a way that abstract thought could never have done. Our reflections also emphasise the tension between the physical and the psychological, whereby corporeal struggle intertwines with an abstract, aesthetic admiration of the Brutalist objects.N’s reflectionIt was a wonderful experience to explore these extraordinary buildings with an inward focus on my own physical sensations and an outward focus on my body’s interaction with others. On re-reading my journals, I was surprised by the negativity that pervaded my descriptions. How does physical discomfort and alienation translate into cognitive pleasure, or delight?ConclusionBrutalist objects shape corporeality in fundamental and sometimes contradictory ways. The range of visual and somatosensory experiences is narrowed by the ubiquitous use of raw concrete and metal. Materials that damage skin combine with lethal heights to emphasise corporeal vulnerability. The body’s movements and sensations of the external world are alternately limited or extended by extreme heights and scales, which also dominate the human frame and undermine normal heuristics of perception. Simultaneously, the structures endow a sense of physical stability, security, and even power. By positioning multiple corporealities in extremes of overlap or segregation, Brutalist objects constitute a unique challenge to both physical privacy and intersubjective potentiality.Recognising these effects on embodied being enhances our current understanding of the impact of Brutalist residences on corporeal sensation. This can inform the future design of residential estates. Our autoethnographic findings are also in line with the suggestion that Brutalist structures can be “appreciated as challenging, enlivening environments” exactly because they demand “physical and perceptual exertion” (Sroat). Instead of being demolished, Brutalist objects that are no longer considered appropriate as residences could be repurposed for creative, cultural, or academic use, where their challenging corporeal effects could contribute to a stimulating or even thrilling environment.ReferencesAllen, Edward, and Joseph Iano. Fundamentals of Building Construction: Materials and Methods. 6th ed. 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There are days when having a child with Down syndrome can mean losing all hope of being an ordinary mother: a mother with run of the mill concerns, a mother with run of the mill routines. I know. I’ve had such days. I’ve also found that sharing these feelings with other mothers, even those who have a child with a disability, isn’t always easy. Or straightforward. In part I believe my difficulty sharing my experience with other mothers is because the motherhood issues surrounding the birth of a child with Down syndrome are qualitatively different to those experienced by mothers who give birth to children with other disabilities. Disabilities such as autism or cerebral palsy. The mother who has a child with autism or cerebral palsy is usually viewed as a victim - as having had no choice – of life having dealt her a cruel blow. There are after all no prenatal tests that can currently pick up these defects. That she may not see herself as a victim or her child as a victim often goes unreported, instead in the eyes of the popular media to give birth to a child with a disability is seen as a personal tragedy – a story of suffering and endurance. In other words disability is to be avoided if at all possible and women are expected to take advantage of the advances in reproductive medicine – to choose a genetically correct pregnancy – thus improving their lives and the lives of their offspring. Within this context it is not surprising then that the mother of a child with Down syndrome is likely to be seen as having brought the suffering on herself – of having had choices – tests such as amniocentesis and CVS – but of having failed to take control, failed to prevent the suffering of her child. But how informative are tests such as pre-implantation diagnosis, CVS or amniocentesis? How meaningful? More importantly, how safe is it to assume lives are being improved? Could it be, for example, that some lives are now harder rather than easier? As one mother who has grappled with the issues surrounding prenatal testing and disability I would like to share with you our family’s experience and hopefully illuminate some of the more complex and troubling issues these technological advances have the capacity to create. Fraser’s Pregnancy I fell pregnant with Fraser in 1995 at the age of thirty-seven. I was already the mother of a fifteen-month old and just as I had during his pregnancy – I took the routine maternal serum alpha-fetoprotein blood screen for chromosomal abnormalities at sixteen weeks. It showed I was at high risk of having a child with Down syndrome. However as I’d had a similarly high-risk reading in my first pregnancy I wasn’t particularly worried. The risk with Fraser appeared slightly higher, but other than knowing we would have to find time to see the genetic counsellor again, I didn’t dwell on it. As it happened Christopher and I sat in the same office with the same counsellor and once again listened to the risks. A normal foetus, as you both know, has 46 chromosomes in each cell. But given your high AFP reading Fiona, there is a significant risk that instead of 46 there could be 47 chromosomes in each cell. Each cell could be carrying an extra copy of chromosome 21. And as you both know, she continued her voice deepening; Trisomy 21 is associated with mild to severe intellectual disability. It also increases the risk of childhood leukaemia; certain cardiac disorders and is associated with other genetic disorders such as Hirschsprung’s disease. We listened and just as we’d done the first time – decided to have a coffee in the hospital café. This time for some reason the tone was different, this time we could feel the high-octane spiel, feel the pressure pound through our bodies, pulsate through our veins – we should take the test, we should take the test, we should take the test. We were, were we not, intelligent, well-educated and responsible human beings? Surely we could understand the need to invade, the need to extract a sample of amniotic fluid? Surely there were no ifs and buts this time? Surely we realised we had been very lucky with our first pregnancy; surely we understood the need for certainty; for reliable and accurate information this time? We did and we didn’t. We knew for example, that even if we ruled out the possibility of Down syndrome there was no guarantee our baby would be normal. We’d done our research. We knew that of all the children born with an intellectual disability only twenty five percent have a parentally detectable chromosomal disorder such as Down syndrome. In other words, the majority of mothers who give birth to a child with an intellectual disability will have received perfectly normal, utterly reassuring amniocentesis results. They will have put themselves at risk and will have been rewarded with good results. They will have been expecting a baby they could cherish, a baby they could feel proud of – a baby they could love. Our Decision Should we relent this time? Should we accept the professional advice? We talked and we talked. We knew if we agreed to the amniocentesis it would only rule out Down syndrome – or a less common chromosomal disorder such as Trisomy 18 or Trisomy 13. But little else. Four thousand other known birth defects would still remain. Defects such as attention deficit disorder, cleft lip, cleft palate, clubfoot, congenital cardiac disorder, cystic fibrosis, epilepsy, ... would not magically disappear by agreeing to the test. Neither would the possibility of giving birth to a child with autism or cerebral palsy. Or a child with vision, hearing or speech impairment. Neurological problems, skin problems or behavioural difficulties... We were however strongly aware the drive to have a normal child was expected of us. That we were making our decision at a time when social and economic imperatives dictated that we should want the best. The best partner, the best career, the best house ... the best baby. I had already agreed to a blood test and an ultrasound, so why not an amniocentesis? Why stop now? Why not proceed with a test most women over the age of thirty-five consider essential? What was wrong with me? Put simply, the test didn’t engage me. It seemed too specific. Too focused. Plus there was also a far larger obstacle. I knew if I agreed to the test and the words chromosomal disorder were to appear – a certain set of assumptions, an as yet unspoken trajectory would swiftly emerge. And I wasn’t sure I would be able to follow its course. Beyond the Test I knew if the test results came back positive I would be expected to terminate immediately. To abort my affected foetus. The fact I could find it difficult to fall pregnant again after the termination or that any future foetus may also be affected by a birth defect would make little difference. Out the four thousand known birth defects it would be considered imperative not to proceed with this particular one. And following on from that logic it would be assumed that the how – the business of termination – would be of little importance to me given the perceived gravity of the situation. I would want to solve the problem by removing it. No matter what. Before the procedure (as it would be referred to) the staff would want to reassure me, would want to comfort me – and in soothing voices tell me that yes; yes of course this procedure is in your best interests. You and your baby shouldn’t be made to suffer, not now or ever. You’re doing the right thing, they would reassure me, you are. But what would be left as unsaid would be the unavoidable realities of termination. On the elected day, during what would be the twenty-second week of my pregnancy, I would have to consent to the induction of labour. Simultaneously, I would also be expected to consent to a foetal intra-cardiac injection of potassium chloride to ensure the delivery of a dead baby. I would be advised to give birth to a dead baby because it would be considered better if I didn’t hear the baby cry. Better if I didn’t see the tiny creature breathe. Or try to breathe. The staff would also prefer I consent, would prefer I minimised everyone else’s distress. Then after the event I would be left alone. Left alone to my own devices. Left alone with no baby. I would be promised a tiny set of foot and handprints as a memento of my once vibrant pregnancy. And expected to be grateful, to be thankful, for the successful elimination of a pending disaster. But while I knew the staff would mean well, would believe they were doing the right thing for me, I knew it wasn’t the road for me. That I just couldn’t do it. We spent considerably longer in the hospital café the second time. And even though we tried to keep things light, we were both subdued. Both tense. My risk of having a baby with Down syndrome had come back as 1:120. Yes it was slightly higher than my first pregnancy (1:150), but did it mean anything? Our conversation was full of bumps and long winding trails. My Sister’s Experience of Disability Perhaps the prospect of having a child with Down syndrome didn’t terrify me because my sister had a disability. Not that we ever really referred to it as such, it was only ever Alison’s epilepsy. And although it was uncontrollable for most of her childhood, my mother tried to make her life as normal as possible. She was allowed to ride a bike, climb trees and swim. But it wasn’t easy for my mother because even though she wanted my sister to live a normal life there were no support services. Only a somewhat pessimistic neurologist. No one made the link between my sister’s declining school performance and her epilepsy. That she would lose the thread of a conversation because of a brief petit mal, a brief moment when she wouldn’t know what was going on. Or that repeated grand mal seizures took away her capacity for abstract thought and made her more and more concrete in her thinking. But despite the lack of support my mother worked long and hard to bring up a daughter who could hold down a full time job and live independently. She refused to let her use her epilepsy as an excuse. So much so that even today I still find it difficult to say my sister had a disability. I didn’t grow up with the word and my sister herself rarely used it to describe herself. Not surprisingly she went into the field herself working at first as a residential worker in a special school for disabled children and later as a rehabilitation counsellor for the Royal Blind Society. Premature Babies I couldn’t understand why a baby with Down syndrome was something to be avoided at all costs while a baby who was born prematurely and likely to emerge from the labour-intensive incubator process with severe life-long disabilities was cherished, welcomed and saved no matter what the expense. Other than being normal to begin with – where was the difference? Perhaps it was the possibility the premature baby might emerge unscathed. That hope remained. That there was a real possibility the intense and expensive process of saving the baby might not cause any damage. Whereas with Down syndrome the damage was done. The damage was known. I don’t know. Perhaps even with Down syndrome I felt there could be hope. Hope that the child might only be mildly intellectually disabled. Might not experience any of the serious medical complications. And that new and innovative treatments would be discovered in their lifetime. I just couldn’t accept the conventional wisdom. Couldn’t accept the need to test. And after approaching the decision from this angle, that angle and every other angle we could think of we both felt there was little more to say. And returned to our genetic counsellor. The Pressure to Conform Welcome back, she smiled. I’d like to introduce you to Dr M. I nodded politely in the doctor’s direction while immediately trying to discern if Christopher felt as caught off guard as I did. You’ll be pleased to know Dr M can perform the test today, she informed us. Dr M nodded and reached out to shake my hand. It’s a bit of a squeeze, she told me, but I can fit you in at around four. And don’t worry; she reassured me, that’s what we’re here for. I was shocked the heavy artillery had been called in. The pressure to conform, the pressure to say yes had been dramatically heightened by the presence of a doctor in the room. I could also sense the two women wanted to talk to me alone. That they wanted to talk woman to woman, that they thought if they could get me on my own I would agree, I would understand. That it must be the male who was the stumbling block. The problem. But I could also tell they were unsure; Christopher was after all a doctor, a member of the medical profession, one of them. Surely, they reasoned, surely he must understand why I must take the test. I didn’t want to talk to them alone. In part, because I felt the decision was as much Christopher’s as it was mine. Perhaps a little more mine, but one I wanted to make together. And much to their dismay I declined both the talk and the amniocentesis. Well, if you change your mind we’re here the counsellor reassured me. I nodded and as I left I made a point of looking each woman in the eye while shaking her hand firmly. Thank you, but no thank you, I reassured them. I wanted the baby I’d felt kick. I wanted him or her no matter what. After that day the whole issue pretty much faded, in part because soon after I developed a heart problem, a tachycardia and was fairly restricted in what I could do. I worried about the baby but more because of the medication I had to take rather than any genetic issue to do with its well being. The Birth Despite my heart condition the birth went well. And I was able to labour naturally with little intervention. I knew however, that all was not right. My first glimmer of recognition happened as I was giving birth to Fraser. He didn't push against me, he didn't thrust apart the walls of my birth canal, didn’t cause me to feel as though I was about to splinter. He was soft and floppy. Yet while I can tell you I knew something was wrong, knew instinctively – at another level I didn't have a clue. So I waited. Waited for his Apgar score. Waited to hear what the standard assessment of newborn viability would reveal. How the individual scores for activity (muscle tone), pulse (heart rate), grimace (reflex response), appearance (colour) and respiration (breathing) would add up. I knew the purpose of the Apgar test was to determine quickly whether or not Fraser needed immediate medical care – with scores below 3 generally regarded as critically low, 4 to 6 fairly low, and over 7 generally normal. Fraser scored 8 immediately after birth and 9 five minutes later. His markers of viability were fine. However all was not fine and within minutes he received a tentative diagnosis – whispers and murmurs placing a virtual sticker on his forehead. Whispers and murmurs immediately setting him apart from the normal neonate. Whispers and murmurs of concern. He was not a baby they wanted anything to do with – an experience they wanted anything to do with. In a very matter of fact voice the midwife asked me if I had had an amniocentesis. I said no, and thankfully because I was still feeling the effects of the gas, the bluntness and insensitivity of her question didn't hit me. To tell the truth it didn't hit me until years later. At the time it registered as a negative and intrusive question – certainly not the sort you want to be answering moments after giving birth – in the midst of a time that should be about the celebration of a new life. And while I can remember how much I disliked the tenor of her voice, disliked the objectifying of my son, I too had already begun a process of defining, of recognising. I had already noted he was floppy and too red. But I guess the real moment of recognition came when he was handed to me and as a way of making conversation I suggested to Christopher our baby had downsy little eyes. At the time Christopher didn’t respond. And I remember feeling slightly miffed. But it wasn’t until years later that I realised his silence had been not because he hadn’t wanted to chat but because at that moment he’d let his dread, fear and sadness of what I was suggesting go straight over my head. Unconsciously though – even then – I knew my son had Down syndrome, but I couldn't take it in, couldn't feel my way there, I needed time. But time is rarely an option in hospital and the paediatrician (who we knew from the birth of our first son) was paged immediately. Disability and the Medical Paradigm From the perspective of the medical staff I was holding a neonate who was displaying some of the 50 signs and symptoms suggestive of Trisomy 21. Of Down syndrome. I too could see them as I remembered bits and pieces from my 1970s nursing text Whaley and Wong. Remembered a list that now seems so de-personalised, so harsh and objectifying. Flat faceSmall headFlat bridge of the noseSmaller than normal, low-set noseSmall mouth, causing the tongue to stick out and look unusually largeUpward slanting eyesExtra folds of skin at the inside corner of each eyeRounded cheeksSmall, misshapened earsSmall, wide handsA deep crease across the center of each palmA malformed fifth fingerA wide space between the big and second toesUnusual creases on the soles of the feetOverly-flexible joints (as in people who are double-jointed)Shorter than normal height Christopher and I awaited the arrival of the paediatrician without the benefits of privacy, only able to guess at what the other was thinking. We only had the briefest of moments alone when they transferred me to my room and Christopher was able to tell me that the staff thought our son had what I had blurted out. I remember being totally devastated and searching his face, trying to gauge how he felt. But there was no time for us to talk because as soon as he had uttered the words Down syndrome the paediatrician entered the room and it was immediately apparent he perceived our birth outcome a disaster. You’re both professionals he said, you both know what we are thinking. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, say Down syndrome, and instead went on about the need for chromosomal testing and the likelihood of a positive result. The gist, the message about our son was that while he would walk, might even talk, he would never cook, never understand danger and never live independently, never, never, never... Fraser was only an hour or so old and he’d already been judged, already been found wanting. Creating Fraser’s Cultural Identity The staff wanted me to accept his diagnosis and prognosis. I on the other hand wanted to de-medicalise the way in which his existence was being shaped. I didn’t want to know right then and there about the disability services to which I would be entitled, the possible medical complications I might face. And in a small attempt to create a different kind of space, a social space that could afford my son an identity that wasn’t focused on his genetic make-up, I requested it not be assumed by the staff that he had Down syndrome until the results of the blood tests were known – knowing full well they wouldn’t be available until after I’d left hospital. Over the next few days Fraser had to spend some time in the neonatal intensive care unit because of an unrelated medical problem. His initial redness turning out to be a symptom of polycythemia (too many red blood cells). And in many ways this helped me to become his mother – to concentrate on looking after him in the same way you would any sick baby. Yet while I was deeply confident I was also deeply ashamed. Deeply ashamed I had given birth to a baby with a flaw, a defect. And processing the emotions was made doubly difficult because I felt many people thought I should have had prenatal testing – that it was my choice to have Fraser and therefore my fault, my problem. Fortunately however these feelings of dejection were equally matched by a passionate belief he belonged in our family, and that if he could belong and be included in our lives then there was no reason why he couldn’t be included in the lives of others. How Prenatal Testing Shapes Our Lives It is now twelve years since I gave birth to Fraser yet even today talking about our lives can still mean having to talk about the test – having to explain why I didn’t agree to an amniocentesis. Usually this is fairly straightforward, and fairly painless, but not always. Women have and still do openly challenge my decision. Why didn’t I take control? Aren’t I a feminist? What sort of a message do I think I am sending to younger women? Initially, I wasn’t able to fathom how anyone could perceive the issue as being so simple – take test, no Down syndrome. And it wasn’t until I saw the film Gattaca in 1997 that I began to understand how it could seem such a straightforward issue. Gattaca explores a world in which genetic discrimination has been taken to its logical conclusion – a world in which babies are screened at birth and labeled as either valids or in-valids according to their DNA status. Valids have every opportunity open to them while in-valids can only do menial work. It is a culture in which pre-implantation screening and prenatal testing are considered givens. Essential. And to challenge such discrimination foolish – however in the film the main character Vincent does just that and despite his in-valid status and its inherent obstacles he achieves his dream of becoming an astronaut. The film is essentially a thriller – Vincent at all times at risk of his true DNA status being revealed. The fear and loathing of imperfection is palpable. For me the tone of the film was a revelation and for the first time I could see my decision through the eyes of others. Feel the shock and horror of what must appear an irrational and irresponsible decision. Understand how if I am not either religious or anti-abortion – my objection must seem all the more strange. The film made it clear to me that if you don’t question the genes as destiny paradigm, the disability as suffering paradigm then you probably won’t think to question the prenatal tests are routine and essential paradigm. That you will simply accept the conventional medical wisdom – that certain genetic configurations are not only avoidable, but best avoided. Paradoxically, this understanding has made mothering Fraser, including Fraser easier and more enjoyable. Because I understand the grounds on which he was to have been excluded and how out of tune I am with the conventional thinking surrounding pregnancy and disability – I am so much freer to mother and to feel proud of my son. I Would Like to Share with You What Fraser Can Do He canget dressed (as long as the clothes are already turned the right side out and have no buttons!) understand most of what mum and dad sayplay with his brothers on the computermake a cup of coffee for mumfasten his own seatbeltwait in the car line with his brothersswim in the surf and catch waves on his boogie boardcompete in the school swimming carnivaldraw for hours at a time (you can see his art if you click here) Heis the first child with Down syndrome to attend his schoolloves the Simpsons, Futurama and Star Wars begs mum or dad to take him to the DVD store on the weekendsloves sausages, co*ke and salmon rissottoenjoys life is always in the now Having fun with Photo Booth His brothers Aidan and Harrison Brotherly Love – a photo taken by Persia (right) and exhibited in Local Eyes. It also appeared in The Fitz Files (Sun-Herald 30 Mar. 2008) What Excites Me Today as a Mother I love that there is now hope. That there is not just hope of a new test, a reliable non-invasive prenatal test, but hope regarding novel treatments – of medications that may assist children with Down syndrome with speech and memory. And an increasingly vocal minority who want to talk about how including children in mainstream schools enhances their development, how children with Down syndrome can, can, can … like Persia and Tyler for example. That perhaps in the not too distant future there will be a change in the way Down syndrome is perceived – that if Fraser can, if our family can – then perhaps mothering a child with Down syndrome will be considered culturally acceptable. That the nexus between genetics and destiny will be weakened in the sense of needing to choose one foetus over another, but strengthened by using genetic understandings to enhance and assist the lives of all individuals no matter what their genetic make-up. And perhaps one day Down syndrome will be considered a condition with which you can conceive. Can imagine. Can live. And not an experience to be avoided at all costs.

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Abstract:

Amongst the hundreds of emails that made their way to error@media-culture.org.au over the last ten months, I received the following correspondence: Failure noticeHi. This is the qmail-send program at sv01.wadax.ne.jp.I’m afraid I wasn’t able to deliver your message to the following addresses.This is a permanent error; I’ve given up. Sorry it didn’t work out.namewithheld@s.vodafone.ne.jp>:210.169.171.135 does not like recipient.Remote host said: 550 Invalid recipient:namewithheld@s.vodafone.ne.jp>Giving up on 210.169.171.135. Email of this sort marks a moment that is paradoxically odd and all too familiar in the digital exchanges of everyday life. The failure message arrives to tell me something “didn’t work out.” This message shows up in my email account looking no different from any other correspondence—only this one hails from the system itself, signalling a failure to communicate. Email from the “mailer-daemon” calls attention to both the logic of the post that governs email (a “letter” sent to an intended address at the intention of some source) and the otherwise invisible logic of informatic protocols, made visible in the system failure of a “permanent error.” In this particular instance, however, the failure notice is itself a kind of error. I never emailed namewithheld@s.vodafone.ne.jp—and by the mailer-daemon’s account, such a person does not exist. It seems that a spammer has exploited an email protocol as a way of covering his tracks: when a deliver-to path fails, the failure notice bounces to a third site. The failure notice marks the successful execution of a qmail protocol, but its arrival at our account is still a species of error. In most circ*mstances, error yields an invalid result. In calculation, error marks a kind of misstep that not only corrupts the end result, but all steps following the error. One error begets others. But as with the failure notice, error often marks not only the misdirections of a system, but also the system’s internal logic. The failure notice corresponds to a specific category of error—a potential error that the system must predict before it has actually occurred. While the notice signals failure (permanent error), it does so within the successful, efficient operation of a communicative system. What is at issue, then, is less a matter of whether or not error occurs than a system’s ability to handle error as it arises. Control systems attempt to close themselves off to error’s misdirections. If error signals a system failure, the “failure notice” of error foregrounds the degree to which in “societies of control” every error is a fatal error in that Baudrillardian sense—a failure that is subsumed in the operational logic of the system itself (40). Increasingly, the networks of a global marketplace require a rationalisation of processes and an introduction of informatic control systems to minimise wastage and optimise output. An informatic monoculture expresses itself through operational parameters that define communication according to principles of maximum transmission. In effect, in the growing dominance of a network society, we are witnessing the transcendence of a social and cultural system that must suppress at all costs the failure to communicate. This global communication system straddles a paradoxical moment of maximum exchange and maximum control. With growing frequency, social and commercial processes are governed by principles of quality assurance, what Lyotard defined nearly thirty years ago as a “logic of maximum performance” (xxiv). As Six Sigma standards migrate from the world of manufacturing to a wide range of institutions, we find a standard of maximum predictability and minimum error as the latest coin of the realm. Utopia is now an error-free world of 100% efficiency, accuracy, and predictability. This lure of an informatic “monoculture” reduces communication to a Maxwell’s demon for capturing transmission and excluding failure. Such a communicative system establishes a regime of signs that thrives upon the drift and flow of a network of signifiers, but that affirms its power as a system in its voracious incorporation of signs within a chain of signification (Deleuze and Guattari 111-117). Error is cast out as abject, the scapegoat “condemned as that which exceeds the signifying regime’s power of deterritorialization” (Deleuze and Guattari 117). Deleuze and Guattari describe this self-cycling apparatus of capture as “a funeral world of terror,” the terror of a black-hole regime that ultimately depends upon a return of the same and insures that everything that circulates communicates…or is cast off as abject (113). This terror marks a relation of control, one that depends upon a circulation of signs but that also insists all flows fall within its signifying regime. To speak of the “terror of information” is more than metaphorical to the extent that this forced binary (terror of signal/error of noise) imposes a kind of violence that demands a rationalisation of all singularities of expression into the functionalities of a quantifiable system. To the extent that systems of information imply systems of control, the violence of information is less metaphor than metonym, as it calls into high relief the scapegoat error—the abject remainder whose silenced line of flight marks the trajectory of the unclean. This cybernetic logic of maximum performance demands that error is either contained within the predictable deviations of a system’s performance, or nullified as outlying and asignifying. Statistics tells us that we are best off ignoring the outlier. This logic of the normal suggests that something very risky occurs when an event or an instance falls outside the scope of predicable variance. In the ascendancy of information, error, deviance, and outlying results cast a long shadow. In Norbert Wiener’s account of informatic entropy, this drift from systematic control marked a form of evil—not a Manichean evil of bad actors, but rather an Augustinian evil: a falling away from the perfection of order (34-36). Information utopia banishes error as a kind of evil—an aberration that is decidedly off the path of order and control. This cybernetic logic functions at all levels, from social systems theory to molecular biology. Our diseases are now described as errors in coding, transcription, or transmission—genetic anomalies, cancerous loop scripts, and neurochemical noise. Mutation figures as an error in reproduction—a straying from faithful replication and a falling away from the Good of order and control. But we should keep in mind that when we speak of “evil” in the context of this cybernetic logic, that evil takes on a specific form. It is the evil of the errant. Or to put it another way: it is the evil of the Sesame Street Muppet, Bert. In 2001, a U.S. high school student named Dino Ignacio created a graphic of the Muppet, Bert, with Osama bin Laden—part of his humorous Website project, “Bert is Evil.” A Pakistani-based publisher scanning the Web for images of bin Laden came across Ignacio’s image and, apparently not recognising the Sesame Street character, incorporated it into a series of anti-American posters. According to Henry Jenkins’s account of the events, in the weeks that followed, “CNN reporters recorded the unlikely sight of a mob of angry protestors marching through the streets chanting anti-American slogans and waving signs depicting Bert and bin Laden” (1-2). As the story of the Bert-sighting spread, new “Bert is evil” Websites sprang up, and Ignacio found himself the unwitting centre of a full-blown Internet phenomenon. Jenkins finds in this story a fascinating example of what he calls convergence culture, the blurring of the line between consumer and producer (3). From a somewhat different critical perspective, Mark Poster reads this moment of misappropriation and misreading as emblematic of global networked culture, in which “as never before, we must begin to interpret culture as multiple cacophonies of inscribed meanings as each cultural object moves across cultural differences” (11). But there is another moral to this story as well, to the extent that the convergence and cacophony described here occur in a moment of error, an errant slippage in which signification escapes its own regime of signs. The informatic (Augustinian) evil of Bert the Muppet showing up at an anti-American rally in Pakistan marks an event-scene in which an “error” not only signifies, but in its cognitive resonance, begins to amplify and replicate. At such moments, the “failure notice” of error signals a creative potential in its own right—a communicative context that escapes systemic control. The error of “evil Bert” introduces noise into this communicative system. It is abject information that marks an aberration within an otherwise orderly system of communication, an error of sorts marking an errant line of flight. But in contrast to the trance-like lure of 100% efficiency and maximum performance, is there not something seductive in these instances of error, as it draws us off our path of intention, leading us astray, pulling us toward the unintended and unforeseen? In its breach of predictable variance, error gives expression to the erratic. As such, “noise” marks a species of error (abject information) that, by failing to signify within a system, simultaneously marks an opening, a poiesis. This asignifying poetics of “noise,” marked by these moments of errant information, simultaneously refuses and exceeds the cybernetic imperative to communicate. This poetics of noise is somewhat reminiscent of Umberto Eco’s discussion of Claude Shannon’s information theory in The Open Work. For Shannon, the gap between signal and selection marks a space of “equivocation,” what Warren Weaver calls “an undesirable … uncertainty about what the message was” (Shannon and Weaver 21). Eco is intrigued by Shannon’s insight that communication is always haunted by equivocation, the uncertainty that the message received was the signal sent (57-58). Roland Barthes also picks up on this idea in S/Z, as N. Katherine Hayles notes in her discussion of information theory and post-structuralism (46). For these writers, equivocation suggests a creative potential in entropy, in that noise is, in Weaver’s words, “spurious information” (Shannon and Weaver 19). Eco elaborates on Shannon and Weaver’s information theory by distinguishing between actual communication (the message sent) and its virtuality (the possible messages received). Eco argues, in effect, that communication reduces information in its desire to actualise signal at the expense of noise. In contrast, poetics generates information by sustaining the equivocation of the text (66-68). It is in this tension between capture and escape marked by the scapegoats of error and noise that I find a potential for a contemporary poetics within a global network society. Error reveals the degree to which everyday life plays itself out within this space of equivocation. As Stuart Moulthrop addressed nearly ten years ago, our frequent encounters with “Error 404” on the Web calls attention to “the importance of not-finding”: that error marks a path in its own right, and not merely a misstep. Without question, this poetics of noise runs contrary to a dominant, cybernetic ideology of efficiency and control. By paying attention to drift and lines of flight, such erratic behaviour finds little favour in a world increasingly defined by protocol and predictable results. But note how in its attempt to capture error within its regime of signs, the logic of maximum performance is not above recuperating the Augustinian evil of error as a form of “fortunate fall.” Even in the Six Sigma world of 100% efficiency, does not corporate R & D mythologise the creative moment that allows error to turn a profit? Post-It Notes® and Silly Putty® present two classic instances in which happenstance, mistake, and error mark a moment in which “thinking outside of the box” saves the day. Error marks a kind of deviation from—and within—this system: a “failure” that at the same time marks a potential, a virtuality. Error calls attention to its etymological roots, a going astray, a wandering from intended destinations. Error, as errant heading, suggests ways in which failure, mutation, spurious information, and unintended results provide creative openings and lines of flight that allow for a reconceptualisation of what can (or cannot) be realised within social and cultural forms. While noise marks a rupture of signification, it also operates within the framework of a cybernetic imperative that constantly attempts to capture the flows that threaten to escape its operational parameters. As networks become increasingly social, this logic of rationalisation and abstraction serves as a dialectical enclosure for an information-based culture industry. But error also suggests a strategy of misdirection, getting a result back other than what one expected, and in doing so turns the cybernetic imperative against itself. “Google-bombing,” for example, creates an informatic structure that plays off of the creative potential of equivocation. Here, error of a Manichean sort introduces noise into an information system to produce unexpected results. Until recently, typing the word “failure” into the search engine Google produced as a top response George Bush’s Webpage at www.whitehouse.gov. By building Webpages in which the text “failure” links to the U.S. President’s page, users “hack” Google’s search algorithm to produce an errant heading. The cybernetic imperative is turned against itself; this strategy of misdirection enacts a “fatal error” that evokes the logic of a system to create an opening for poeisis, play, and the unintended. Information networks, no longer secondary to higher order social and cultural formations, now define the function and logic of social space itself. This culture of circulation creates equivalences by way of a common currency of “information,” such that “viral” distribution defines a social event in its own right, regardless of the content of transmission. While a decade earlier theorists speculated on the emergence of a collective intelligence via global networks, the culture of circulation that has developed online would seem to indicate that “emergence” and circulation are self-justifying events. In the moment of equivocation—not so much beyond good and evil, but rather in the spaces between signal and noise—slippage, error, and misdirection suggest a moment of opening in contrast to the black hole closures of the cybernetic imperative. The violence of an informatic monoculture expresses itself in this moment of insistence that whatever circulates signifies, and that which cannot communicate must be silenced. In such an environment, we would do well to examine these failures to communicate, as well as the ways in which error and noise seduce us off course. In contrast to the terror of an eternal return of the actual, a poetics of noise suggests a virtuality of the network, an opening of the possible in an increasingly networked society. The articles in this issue of M/C Journal approach error from a range of critical and social perspectives. Essays address the ways in which error marks both a misstep and an opening. Throughout this issue, the authors address error as both abject and privileged instance in a society increasingly defined by information networks and systems of control. In our feature article, “Revealing Errors,” Benjamin Mako Hill explores how media theorists would benefit from closer attention to errors as “under-appreciated and under-utilised in their ability to reveal technology around us.” By allowing errors to communicate, he argues, we gain a perspective that makes invisible technologies all the more visible. As such, error provides a productive moment for both interpretive and critical interventions. Two essays in this issue look at the place of error and noise within the work of art. Rather than foregrounding a concept of “medium” that emphasises clear, unimpeded transmission, these authors explore the ways in which the errant and unintended provide for a productive aesthetic in its own right. Using Shannon’s information theory, and in particular his concept of equivocation, Su Ballard’s essay, “Information, Noise, and et al.’s ‘maintenance of social solidarity-instance 5,” explores the productive error of noise in the digital installation art of a New Zealand artists’ collective. Rather than carefully controlling the viewer’s experience, et al.’s installation places the viewer within a field of equivocation, in effect encouraging misreadings and unintended insertions. In a similar vein, Tim Barker’s essay, “Error, the Unforeseen, and the Emergent: The Error of Interactive Media Art” examines the productive error of digital art, both as an expression of artistic intent and as an emergent expression within the digital medium. This “glitch aesthetic” foregrounds the errant and uncontrollable in any work of art. In doing so, Barker argues, error also serves as a measure of the virtual—a field of potential that gestures toward the “unforeseen.” The virtuality of error provides a framework of sorts for two additional essays that, while separated considerably in subject matter, share similar theoretical concerns. Taking up the concept of an asignifying poetics of noise, Christopher Grant Ward’s essay, “Stock Images, Filler Content, and the Ambiguous Corporate Message” explores how the stock image industry presents a kind of culture of noise in its attempt to encourage equivocation rather than control semiotic signal. By producing images that are more virtual than actual, visual filler provides an all-too-familiar instance of equivocation as a field of potential and a Derridean citation of undecidibility. Adi Kuntsman takes a similar theoretic tack in “‘Error: No Such Entry’: Haunted Ethnographies of Online Archives.” Using a database retrieval error message, “no such entry,” Kuntsman reflects upon her ethnographic study of an online community of Russian-Israeli queer immigrants. Error messages, she argues, serve as informatic “hauntings”—erasures that speak of an online community’s complex relation to the construction and archiving of a collective history. In the case of a database retrieval error—as in the mailer-daemon’s notice of the “550” error—the failure of an address to respond to its hailing calls attention to a gap between query and expected response. This slippage in control is, as discussed above, and instance of an Augustinian error. But what of the Manichean—the intentional engagement in strategies of misdirection? In Kimberly Gregson’s “Bad Avatar! Griefing in Virtual Worlds,” she provides a taxonomy of aberrant behaviour in online gaming, in which players distort or subvert orderly play through acts that violate protocol. From the perspective of many a gamer, griefing serves no purpose other than annoyance, since it exploits the rules of play to disrupt play itself. Yet in “Amazon Noir: Piracy, Distribution, Control,” Michael Dieter calls attention to “how the forces confined as exterior to control (virality, piracy, noncommunication) regularly operate as points of distinction to generate change and innovation.” The Amazon Noir project exploited vulnerabilities in Amazon.com’s Search Inside!™ feature to redistribute thousands of electronic texts for free through peer-to-peer networks. Dieter demonstrates how this “tactical media performance” challenged a cybernetic system of control by opening it up to new and ambiguous creative processes. Two of this issue’s pieces explore a specific error at the nexus of media and culture, and in keeping with Hill’s concept of “revealing errors,” use this “glitch” to lay bare dominant ideologies of media use. In her essay, “Artificial Intelligence: Media Illiteracy and the SonicJihad Debacle in Congress,” Elizabeth Losh focuses on a highly public misreading of a Battlefield 2 fan video by experts from the Science Applications International Corporation in their testimony before Congress on digital terrorism. Losh argues that Congress’s willingness to give audience to this misreading is a revealing error in its own right, as it calls attention to the anxiety of experts and power brokers over the control and distribution of information. In a similar vein, in Yasmin Ibrahim’s essay, “The Emergence of Audience as Victims: The Issue of Trust in an Era of Phone Scandals,” explores the revealing error of interactive television gone wrong. Through an examination of recent BBC phone-in scandals, Ibrahim explores how failures—both technical and ethical—challenge an increasingly interactive audience’s sense of trust in the “reality” of mass media. Our final essay takes up the theme of mutation as genetic error. Martin Mantle’s essay, “‘Have You Tried Not Being a Mutant?’: Genetic Mutation and the Acquisition of Extra-ordinary Ability,” explores “normal” and “deviant” bodies as depicted in recent Hollywood retellings of comic book superhero tales. Error, he argues, while signalling the birth of superheroic abilities, marks a site of genetic anxiety in an informatic culture. Mutation as “error” marks the body as scapegoat, signalling all that exceeds normative control. In each of these essays, error, noise, deviation, and failure provide a context for analysis. In suggesting the potential for alternate, unintended outcomes, error marks a systematic misgiving of sorts—a creative potential with unpredictable consequences. As such, error—when given its space—provides an opening for artistic and critical interventions. References “Art Fry, Inventor of Post-It® Notes: ‘One Man’s Mistake is Another’s Inspiration.” InventHelp. 2004. 14 Oct. 2007 http://www.inventhelp.com/articles-for-inventors-art-fry.asp>. Barthes, Roland. S/Z. Trans. Richard Miller. New York: Hill and Wang, 1974. Baudrillard, Jean. The Transparency of Evil. Trans. James Benedict. New York: Verso, 1993. Deleuze, Gilles. “Postscript on the Societies of Control.” October 59 (Winter 1992): 3-7. Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus. Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: U Minnesota P, 1987. Eco, Umberto. The Open Work. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1989. “Googlebombing ‘Failure.’” Official Google Blog. 16 Sep. 2005. 14 Oct. 2007 http://googleblog.blogspot.com/2005/09/googlebombing-failure.html>. Hayles, N. Katherine. How We Became Posthuman. Chicago: U Chicago P, 1999. Jenkins, Henry. Convergence Culture. New York: NYU Press, 2006. Lyotard, Jean-Francois. The Postmodern Condition. Trans. Geoffrey Bennington and Brian Massumi. Minneapolis: Minnesota UP, 1984. Moulthrop, Stuart. “Error 404: Doubting the Web.” 2000. 14 Oct. 2007 http://iat.ubalt.edu/moulthrop/essays/404.html>. Poster, Mark. Information Please. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 2006. Shannon, Claude, and Warren Weaver. The Mathematical Theory of Communication. Urbana: U Illinois P, 1949. “Silly Putty®.” Inventor of the Week. 3 Mar. 2003. 14 Oct. 2007 http://web.mit.edu/Invent/iow/sillyputty.html>. Wiener, Norbert. The Human Use of Human Beings. Cambridge, MA: Da Capo, 1988. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Nunes, Mark. "Failure Notice." M/C Journal 10.5 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0710/00-editorial.php>. APA Style Nunes, M. (Oct. 2007) "Failure Notice," M/C Journal, 10(5). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0710/00-editorial.php>.

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Sugar pigs are traditional confections shaped like sugar mice with little legs and no tail. One might, therefore, nibble the trotters of a sugar pig or suck delicately upon the nose of a sugar pig, but one must never eat one’s sugary treats like a pig. As an imagined border between the private world inside the body and the public world outside, the mouth is an unstable limit of selfhood. Food can easily cause disgust as it passes through this hazardous terrain, and this disgust is produced less by the thought of incorporation than by socially constructed boundaries such as the division between human and animal. In order to guard against disgust and the moral judgement it incurs about the eater, the mouth is governed by myriad rules and, in the case of the juvenile mouth, subject to adult surveillance. This paper investigates children’s consumption of confectionery in relation to the mouth as a liminal border space. Children are “sugar pigs” in as much as they disregard the conventions of civilised eating that govern the mouth, preferring instead to slubber, gnaw, lick, and chew like animals, to reveal the contents of their mouths and examine the contents of others, to put lollies in and out of their mouths with dirty hands, and to share single lollies. Children’s lolly rituals resist civilised eating norms, but they hold important cultural meanings that parallel and subvert those of the adult world. Children’s mouths are communal spaces and the rituals that take place in them are acts of friendship, intimacy, and power. Eating norms instituted over thousands of years ensure that people do not eat like animals, and the pig, in particular, stands in opposition to civilised eating. In On Good Manners for Boys (1530), Erasmus of Rotterdam advises that a general guide to eating like a human being is to eat inconspicuously and self-consciously—to “lick a plate or dish to which some sugar or sweet substance has adhered is for cats, not people,” he explains, and to “gnaw bones is for a dog”—and he compares ill-mannered eating with that of pigs, observing how some people “slubber up their meat like swine” (qtd. in Kass 145). Unrefined table manners and uncontrolled appetite continue to elicit such expressions of disgust as “dirty pig” and “greedy pig.” Pigs grunt. Pigs snuffle among refuse. Pigs, as Bob Ashley et al. note, represent all that is uncivilised and exist only as a signifier of appetite (2). The pig and civilisation, however, do not exist simply in opposition. Cookery writer Jane Grigson argues that European civilisation has been founded upon the pig (qtd. in Ashley et al. 2). Also, because the pig’s body is pinkish, soft, and flabby like a human body and because pigs were usually housed near or even inside human dwellings, the pig confounds the human/animal binary: it is “a threshold animal” (Stallybrass and White qtd. in Ashley et al. 7). Furthermore, the steady evolution of eating practices suggests that humans would eat like animals if left in their natural state. Food rules are part of the “attempt to exclude piggishness” from human civilisation, which, according to Ashley et al., demonstrates “precisely the proximity of human and pig” (7). As physician Leon Kass observes, eating conventions “show us both how much we have taken instruction and how much we needed it” (139). Humans aspire to purity and perfection, but William Ian Miller explains that “fuelling no small part of those aspirations is disgust with what we are or with what we are likely to slide back into” (Anatomy xiv). Eating norms, therefore, do not emphasise the difference between human and the pig as much as they express the underlying anxiety that the human mouth and the act of eating are utterly animal. ‘Lollies’ is the Australian term for the confectionery that children mostly buy, and while the child with a lolly pouched in its cheek is such a familiar, even iconic, image that it features on the covers of two recent books about confectionery (Richardson, Whittaker), licking, gnawing, and slubbering—Erasmus’ wonderfully evocative and piggish word—aptly describe the consumption of lollies. Many lollies are large and hard, and eating them requires time, effort, concentration, and conspicuous mouth activity: the cheek bulges and speaking is difficult; a great deal of saliva is produced and the area around the mouth becomes smeared with coloured drool; and there is always the possibility of the lolly falling out. The smaller the child’s mouth, or the larger the lolly, the more impossible it is to eat inconspicuously and self-consciously. Endless chewing is similarly animal-like, and “the bovine look” of teenagers featured in public complaints when chewing gum was mass-produced in the twentieth century (Hendrickson 7). Humans must not eat like animals, but overly-stuffed cheeks, sucking and slubbering mouths, licking tongues, gnawing teeth, and mindlessly ruminating jaws are unashamedly animal-like. Other rules guard against disgust arising from the sight of half-chewed food. When food is in the process of becoming part of the body, it quickly acquires the quality of things with which disgust is more readily associated, things that are, according to Miller, moist rather than dry, viscid rather than free-flowing, pliable rather than hard, things that are “oozy, mucky, gooey, slimy, clammy, sticky, tacky, dank, squishy, or filmy” (“Darwin’s Disgust” 338). Soft lollies with their vividly-coloured and glossy or sugar-encrusted surfaces look magical, but once they go into the mouth are “magically transformed into the disgusting” (Anatomy Miller 96). Food in the process of “becoming” must, therefore, never be seen again. The process of transformation takes place in the private interior of the body, but, if the mouth is open, half-transformed food is visible, and chewed food, according to Miller, “has the capacity to be even more disgusting than feces [sic]” (Anatomy 96). Sometimes, the sight of half-consumed lollies inside children’s mouths is deliberate because children poke out their tongues and look into each other’s mouths to monitor the progress of lollies that change colour as they break down. Miller explains that the rules of disgust are suspended in sexual and non-sexual love: “Disgust marks the boundaries of the self; the relaxing of them marks privilege, intimacy, duty, and caring” (Anatomy xi). This principle applies to children’s lolly rituals. If children forget to note the colour of a Clinker as they bite it, or if they want to note the progress of a Cloud or gobstopper, they open their mouths and even poke out their tongues so a friend can inspect the colour of the lolly, or their tongue. Such acts are marks of friendship. It is not something children do with everyone. The mouth is a threshold of self that children relax as a marker of privilege. The clean/unclean binary exerts a powerful influence on food because, in addition to the way in which food is eaten, it determines the kind of food that is eaten. The mouth is a border between the self (the eater) and the other (the eaten), so what is eaten (the other) eventually becomes the eater (the self). Paradoxically, the reverse is also true; the eater becomes what is eaten—hence, “we are what we eat.” Little wonder then that food is a site of anxiety, surveillance, and control. The pig eats anything, but children’s consumption is strictly monitored. The clean food imperative means that food must be uncontaminated by the world outside the body, and lollies violate the clean food category in this regard. Large, hard lollies can fall out of the mouth, or children may be obliged to violently expel them if they are danger of choking. The young protagonists in Saturdee, Norman Lindsay’s bildungsroman set in country Victoria after WWI, arrange a secret tryst with some girls, and when their plan is discovered a horde of spectators assembles to watch the proceedings: [Snowey Critchet] had provided himself with a bull’s-eye; a comestible about the size of a cricket ball, which he stowed away in one cheek, as a monkey pouches an orange, where it distended his face in a most obnoxious manner. He was prepared, it seemed, to spend the entire afternoon inspecting a scandal, while sucking his bull’s-eye down to edible proportions. (147) Amid a subsequent volley of taunts and cow dung, Snowey lands in the gutter, a reprisal that “was like to be Snowey’s end through causing him to bolt his bull’s-eye whole. It was too large to swallow but large enough to block up his gullet and choke him. Frenziedly he fought his way out of the gutter and ran off black in the face to eject his windpipe obstruction” (147-8). Choking episodes are further aspects of children’s consumption that adults would deem dangerous as well as disgusting. If a child picks up a lolly from the ground, an adult is likely to slap it away and spit out the word “Dirty!” The child’s hands are potentially part of the contaminated outside world, hence, wash your hands before you eat, don’t eat with your fingers, don’t lick your fingers, don’t put your fingers into your mouth, don’t handle food if you aren’t going to eat it, don’t eat food that others have touched. Lolly-consumption breaches the clean/unclean divide when children put fingers into mouths to hook tacky lollies like Minties off the back teeth, remove lollies in order to observe their changing shape or colour, pull chewing gum from the mouth, or push bubble gum back in. The mouth is part of the clean world inside the body; adult disgust stems from concern about contamination through contact with the world outside the body, including the face and hands. The hands are also involved in playground rituals. Children often remove lollies from their mouths, play with them, and put them back in. Such invented rituals include sharpening musk sticks by twisting them in the mouth before jabbing friends with them and returning them to the mouth. Teenagers also bite the heads off jelly babies and rearrange the bodies in multicoloured versions before eating them. These rituals expose half-consumed lollies, and allow lollies to be contaminated by the outside world, but they are markers of friendship and ways of belonging to particular groups as well as sources of entertainment. The ultimate cause for disgust, apart from sharing with a pig perhaps, arises when children violate the boundary between one mouth and another by sharing a single lolly. “Can I have a lick o’ your lollipop?” is an expression that belongs to a time when germs were yet to consume the public imagination, and it demonstrates that children have long been disposed to sharing confectionery in this way. Allowing someone to share an all-day sucker indicates friendship because it involves sacrifice as well as intimacy. How many times the friend licks it indicates how important a friend they are. Chewing gum and hard lollies such as bull’s-eyes and all-day suckers are ideal for sharing because they last a long time. Snowey’s choking episode is punishment both for having such a lolly while others did not, and for not sharing it. When friends share a single lolly in Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief it is a sign of their growing intimacy. Rudy and Liesel had only enough money for one lolly: “they unwrapped it and tried biting it in half, but the sugar was like glass. Far too tough, even for Rudy’s animal-like choppers. Instead, they had to trade sucks on it until it was finished. Ten sucks for Rudy. Ten for Liesel. Back and forth” (168). Rudy asks Liesel to kiss him on many occasions, but she never does. She regrets this after he is killed, so here the shared lolly stands in lieu of intimacy rather than friendship. Lollies are still shared in this way in Australian playgrounds, but often it is only hard lollies, and only with close friends. A hard lolly has a clearly defined boundary that can easily be washed, but even unwashed the only portion that is contaminated, and contaminable, is the visible surface of the lolly. This is not the case with a stick of chewing gum. In response to Tom Sawyer’s enquiry as to whether or not she likes rats, Becky Thatcher replies,“What I like, is chewing gum.” “O, I should say so! I wish I had some now.” “Do you? I’ve got some. I’ll let you chew it a while, but you must give it back to me.” That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment.” (58) Unlike the clearly defined boundary of a gobstopper, the boundary of chewing gum continually shifts and folds in on itself. The entire confection is contaminated through contact with the mouth of the other. The definition of clean food also includes that which is deemed appropriate for eating, and part of the appeal of lollies is their junk status. Some lollies are sugar versions of “good” foodstuffs: strawberries and cream, wildberries, milk bottles, pineapples, and bananas. Even more ironic, especially in light of the amount of junk food in many adult diets, others are sugar versions of junk food: fries, co*ke bottles, Pizzas, Hot Dogs, and Hamburgers, all of which are packaged like miniatures of actual products. Lollies, like their British equivalent, kets (which means rubbish), are absolutely distinct from the confectionery adults eat, and British sociologist Allison James shows that this is because they “stand in contrast to conventional adult sweets and adult eating generally” (298). Children use terms like junk and ket intentionally because there is a “power inherent in the conceptual gulf between the worlds of the adult and the child” (James, “Confections” 297). Parents place limits on children’s consumption because lollies are seen to interfere with the consumption of good food, but, as James explains, for children, “it is meals which disrupt the eating of sweets” (“Confections” 296). Some lollies metaphorically violate a different kind of food taboo by taking the form of “unclean” animals like rats, pythons, worms, cats, dinosaurs, blowflies, cane toads, and geckos. This highlights the arbitrary nature of food categories: snakes, lizards, and witchetty grubs do not feature on European menus, but indigenous Australians eat them. Neither do white Australians eat horses, frogs, cats, dogs, and insects, which are considered delicacies in other cultures, some even in other European cultures. Eating human beings is widely-considered taboo, but children enjoy eating lollies shaped like parts of the human body. A fundraiser at a Queensland school fete in 2009 epitomised the contemporary fascination with consuming body parts. Traditionally, the Guess-The-Number fundraiser involves guessing the number of jelly beans in a glass jar, but in this instance the jar held teeth, lips, noses, eyeballs, ears, hearts, and feet. Similarly, when children eat Tongue Pops—tangy tongue-shaped lollies on a stick—the irony of having two tongues, of licking your own tongue, is not lost on children. Other lollies represent tiny people, and even babies. In the ordinary world, children are small and powerless, but the magic of lollies enables them to be the man-eating giant, while Chicos and jelly babies represent the powerless child. Children welcome the opportunity to “bite someone else’s head off” for a change. These lollies are anonymous people, but Freddo Frog and Caramello Koala have names as well as bodies and facial features, while others, like Cadbury’s seven Magical Elves, even have personalities. One of these, Aquamarine, is depicted as a winking character dressed in blue, and described on the wrapper as “a talented musician who plays music to inspire the Elves to enjoy themselves and work harder, but is a bit of a farty pants.” Advertisem*nts also commonly personify lollies by giving them faces, voices, and limbs, so that even something as un-humanlike as a red ball, in the case of the Jaffa, is represented as a cheeky character in the act of running away. And children happily eat them all. Cannibalism rates highly in the world of children’s confectionery (James 298). If lollies are “metaphoric rubbish,” as James explains, they can also be understood as metaphorically breaking food taboos (299). Not only do children’s rituals create a sense of friendship, belonging, even intimacy, but engaging in them is also an act of power because children know that these practices disgust adults. Lollies give children permission to transgress the rules of civilised eating and this carnivalesque subversion is part of the pleasure of eating lollies. James suggests that confectionery is neither raw nor cooked, but belongs to a third food category that helps to define “the disorderly and inverted world of children” (“Confections” 301). In James’ analysis, children and adults inhabit separate worlds, and she views children’s sweets as part of the “alternative system of meanings through which [children] can establish their own integrity” (“Confections” 301, 305). In the sense that they exist outside of officialdom, children have inherited the carnivalesque tradition of the festive life, which Bakhtin theorises as “a second world” organised on the basis of laughter (6, 8). In this topsy-turvy, carnivalesque realm, with its emphasis on the grotesque body, laughter, fun, exuberance, comic rituals, and other non-official values, children escape adult rule. Lollies may be rubbish in the adult world, but, like the carnival fool, they are “king” in the child’s second and festive life, where bodies bulge, feasting is a public and often grotesque event, and children are masters of their own destiny. Eating lollies, then, represents a “metaphoric chewing up of adult order” and a means of the child assuming control over at least one of its orifices (James 305-6). In this sense, the pig is not a symbol of the uncivilised but the un-adult. Children are pigs with sugar—slubbering around hard lollies, licking other children’s lollies, metaphorically cannibalising jelly babies—and if they disgust adults it is because they challenge the eating norms that guard against the ever-present reminder that eating is an animal act. Eating practices “civilize the human animal” (Kass 131), but eating is inherently an untidy experience, and any semblance of order, as anthropologist Mary Douglas explains, is only created by exaggerating difference (qtd. in Ashley et al. 3). The pig is commonly understood to be the antithesis of civilisation and, therefore, the means by which we understand ourselves as civilised beings. The child with a lolly, however, is evidence that the line between human and animal is a tenuous divide. References Ashley, Bob, Joanne Hollows, Steve Jones and Ben Taylor. Food and Cultural Studies. London: Routledge, 2004. Bakhtin, Mikhail. Rabelais and His World. Trans.Helene Iswolsky. Cambridge: M.I.T. P, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 1968. Hendrickson, Robertson. The Great American Chewing Gum Book. Radnor, Pennsylvania: Chilton, 1976. James, Allison. “Confections, Concoctions and Conceptions.” Popular Culture: Past and Present. Eds Bernard Waites, Tony Bennett and Graham Martin. London: Routledge, 1986. 294-307. James, Allison. “The Good, the Bad and the Delicious: The Role of Confectionery in British Society.” Sociological Review 38, 1990: 666-88. Kass, Leon R. The Hungry Soul: Eating and the Perfecting of Our Nature. New York: Free Press, 1994. Lindsay, Norman. Saturdee. London: Angus & Robertson, 1981. Miller, William Ian. “Darwin’s Disgust.” Empire of the Senses: The Sensual Culture Reader. Ed. David Howes. Oxford: Berg, 2005. Miller, William Ian. The Anatomy of Disgust. Cambridge: Harvard U P, 1997. Mason, Laura. Sugar Plums and Sherbet: The Pre-history of Sweets. Devon: Prospect, 1998. Richardson, Tim. Sweets: A History of Temptation. London: Bantam Books, 2003. Twain, Mark. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. New York: Collier, 1962. Whittaker, Nicholas. Sweet Talk: The Secret History of Confectionery. London: Phoenix, 1999. Zusak, Markus. The Book Thief. Sydney: Picador, 2005.

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Abstract Resources currently available to the scientific community that may be of interest for endocrinology research are described briefly here. More information is available through The Endocrine Society Home Page (http://www.endo-society.org) or the information provided below. HUMAN TISSUE RESOURCES NCI - Cooperative Human Tissue Network (CHTN) The NCI Cooperative Human Tissue Network (CHTN) provides normal, benign, precancerous, and cancerous human tissue to the scientific community for biomedical research. Specimens are collected according to the investigator’s individual protocol. Information provided with the specimens includes routine histopathologic and demographic data. Contact the CHTN Web site at http://www-chtn.ims.nci.nih.gov, or 1-866-GO2-CHTN (1-866-462-2486). NCI - Cooperative Breast Cancer Tissue Resource (CBCTR) The NCI Cooperative Breast Cancer Tissue Resource (CBCTR) can provide researchers with access to over 9,000 cases of formalin-fixed, paraffin-embedded primary breast cancer specimens, with associated pathologic, clinical, and outcome data. All specimens are evaluated for pathologic diagnosis by CBCTR pathologists using standard diagnostic criteria. The collection is particularly well suited for validation studies of diagnostic and prognostic markers. Researchers can search an online database to determine whether the resource specimens and data meet their needs. Contact CBCTR’s Web site at: http://www-cbctr.ims.nci.nih.gov, or Ms. Sherrill Long, Information Management Services, Inc., (301) 984-3445; e-mail: longs@imsweb.com. NCI - Cooperative Prostate Cancer Tissue Resource (CPCTR) The NCI Cooperative Prostate Cancer Tissue Resource (CPCTR) can provide researchers with access to paraffin-embedded and frozen prostate cancer tissues with associated clinical and outcome data. The collection is particularly useful for validation studies of diagnostic and prognostic markers. Questions about the resource should be directed to ASK-CPCTR-L@LIST.NIH.GOV. Additional information can be obtained from CPCTR’s Web site at http://www.prostatetissues.org, or by contacting Ms. Sherrill Long, Information Management Services, Inc., (301) 984-3445; e-mail: longs@imsweb.com. NCI - AIDS and Cancer Specimen Resource (ACSR) The AIDS and Cancer Specimen Resource (ACSR) provides qualified researchers with tissue, cell, blood, and fluid specimens, as well as clinical data from patients with AIDS and cancer. The specimens and clinical data are available for research studies, particularly those that translate basic research findings to clinical application. Contact the ACSR Web site (http://acsr.ucsf.edu/), or Dr. Jodi Black, (301) 402-6293; e-mail: jb377x@nih.gov. NCI - Breast, Ovarian, and Colorectal Cancer Family Registries (CFRs) The Cancer Family Registries (CFRs) include two international registries: the Cancer Family Registry for Breast Cancer Studies (Breast CFR) and the Cancer Family Registry for Colorectal Cancer Studies (Colon CFR). The Breast CFR provides family history information, biological specimens, and epidemiologic and clinical data from clinic-based and population-based families at risk for breast and ovarian cancers. The Breast CFR infrastructure is particularly suited to support interdisciplinary and translational breast cancer research. Similarly, the Colon CFR collection includes family history information, epidemiologic and clinical data, and related biological specimens from individuals with colorectal cancer and their families. The colon CFR is a resource for population- and clinic-based translational research in the genetic epidemiology of colorectal cancer. For information on these registries, contact the CFR Web site (http://epi.grants.cancer.gov/cfr.html) or (301) 496-9600. NCI - Specimen Resource Locator The NCI Specimen Resource Locator (http://cancer.gov/specimens) is a database that helps researchers locate specimens for research. The database includes resources such as tissue banks and tissue procurement systems with access to normal, benign, precancerous, and/or cancerous human tissue covering a wide variety of organ sites. Researchers specify the types of specimens, number of cases, preservation methods, and associated data they require. The Locator will search the database and return a list of tissue resources most likely to meet their requirements. When no match is obtained, the researcher is referred to the NCI Tissue Expediter [(301) 496-7147; e-mail: tissexp@mail.nih.gov]. The Tissue Expediter is a scientist who can help match researchers with appropriate resources or identify appropriate collaborators when those are necessary. NIDDK - Biologic Samples from Diabetic Study Foundation A portion (1/3) of all stored nonrenewable samples (plasma, serum, urine) from subjects enrolled in the Diabetes Control and Complications Trial (DCCT) is available for use by the scientific community to address questions for which these samples may be invaluable. Announcements for using this resource appear in the NIH Guide for Grants and Contractsperiodically. Inquiries may be addressed to: Catherine C. Cowie, Ph.D., Director, Type I Diabetes Clinical Trials Program, NIDDK, 6707 Democracy Blvd., Room 691, National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases, Bethesda, MD 20814-9692. Phone: (301) 594-8804; fax: (301) 480-3503; e-mail: cowiec@extra.niddk.nih.gov. NICHD - Brain and Tissue Bank for Developmental Disorders The purpose of the Bank is to collect, preserve, and distribute human tissues to investigators interested in autism and developmental disorders; normal tissues may be available for other research purposes. Further information can be obtained at: www.btbank.org. The contact persons are H. Ron Zielke or Sally Wisniewsky, University of Maryland (1-800-847-1539), and Carol Petito or Stephanie Lojko, University of Miami (1-800-592-7246). NCRR - Human Tissues and Organs Resource (HTOR) The Human Tissues and Organs Resource (HTOR) cooperative agreement supports a procurement network developed by the National Disease Research Interchange (NDRI), a not-for-profit organization. By collaborating with various medical centers, hospitals, pathology services, eye banks, tissue banks, and organ procurement organizations, HTOR provides a wide variety of human tissues and organs—both diseased and normal—to researchers for laboratory studies. Such samples include tissues from the central nervous system and brain; cardiovascular system; endocrine system; eyes, bone, and cartilage. For further information, consult the NDRI Web site (www.ndri.com) or contact Ms. Sally Strickler at NDRI, 1880 John F. Kennedy Boulevard, 6th Floor, Philadelphia, PA 19103. Phone: (800) 222-6374, ext. 227; fax: (215) 557-7154; e-mail: sstrickler@ndri.com. NCRR - Islet Cell Resource (ICR) With support from NCRR, 10 Islet Cell Resource (ICR) centers isolate, purify, and characterize human pancreatic islets for subsequent transplantation into patients with type I diabetes. The ICR centers procure whole pancreata and acquire relevant data about donors; improve islet isolation and purification techniques; distribute islets for use in approved clinical protocols; and perfect the methods of storage and shipping. In this way, the centers optimize the viability, function, and availability of islets and help clinical researchers capitalize on the recently reported successes in islet transplantation. Information on submitting requests for islet cells can be obtained from Richard A. Knazek, M.D., Division of Clinical Research, NCRR, NIH, 6705 Rockledge Drive, Bethesda, MD 20892. Phone (301) 435-0790; fax (301) 480-3661; e-mail: richardk@ncrr.nih.gov. NIA - SWAN Repository (longitudinal, multiethnic study of women at midlife including the menopausal transition) The SWAN Repository is a biologic specimen bank of the Study of Women’s Health Across the Nation (SWAN). The SWAN cohort was recruited in 1996/7 and consists of 3302 African-American, Caucasian, Chinese-American, Hispanic, and Japanese-American women. The SWAN Repository contains blood and urine specimens from each study participant’s annual visit, at which time medical and health history, psychosocial measures, biological measures, and anthropometric data are also collected. In addition, a subset of participants provide urine samples over the length of one menstrual cycle each year. All of these samples are in the SWAN Repository and are available to researchers who wish to study the midlife and menopausal transition. A DNA sample repository for SWAN is in development. To learn more about the SWAN Repository and how to apply to use SWAN Repository specimens, contact the Web site at http://www.swanrepository.com or Dr. MaryFran Sowers, University of Michigan, School of Public Health, Epidemiology Dept., (734) 936-3892; e-mail: mfsowers@umich.edu. HUMAN AND ANIMAL CELL AND BIOLOGIC REAGENT RESOURCES NIDDK - National Hormone and Peptide Program The National Hormone and Peptide Program (NHPP) offers peptide hormones and their antisera, tissues (rat hypothalami), and miscellaneous reagents to qualified investigators. These reagents are supplied for research purposes only, not for therapeutic, diagnostic, or commercial uses. These materials can be obtained from Dr. A. F. Parlow of the Harbor-UCLA Medical Center, Research and Education Institute, Torrance, CA. A more complete description of resources within this program is provided in The Endocrine Society journals. Direct scientific-technical inquiry to NHPP Scientific Director, Dr. Al Parlow, at phone: (310) 222-3537; fax: (310) 222-3432; e-mail: parlow@humc.edu. Visit the NHPP Web site at http://www.humc.edu/hormones. NICHD - National Hormone and Pituitary Program (see NIDDK listing) Following is a list of reagents currently available through the resources of NICHD: Androgen receptor and peptide antigen Recombinant monkey (cynomolgus) and baboon luteinizing hormone and follicle-stimulating hormone and antisera NIA - Aging Cell Bank To facilitate aging research on cells in culture, the NIA provides support for the Aging Cell Bank located at the Coriell Institute for Medical Research in Camden, NJ. The Aged Cell Bank provides fibroblast, lymphoblastoid, and differentiated cell lines from a wide range of human age-related conditions and other mammalian species, as well as DNA from a limited subset of cell lines. For further information, the Aged Cell Bank catalog can be accessed at http://locus.umdnj.edu/nia or contact Dr. Donald Coppock at 1-800-752-3805. NCRR - Various Cell Repositories NCRR maintains the following cell repository resources: American Type Culture Collection, National Cell Culture Center, National Stem Cell Resource, and the Yeast Genetic Stock Center. Further information regarding these resources may be obtained through the NCRR Web site at: www.ncrr.nih.gov/ncrrprog/cmpdir/BIOLOG.asp. ANIMAL RESOURCES NIA - Aging Rodent Resources NIA maintains both rat and mouse colonies for use by the scientific community. The animals available range in age from 1 to 36 months. A repository of fresh-frozen tissue from the NIA aged rodent colonies is stocked with tissue from mouse and rat strains, including caloric-restricted BALB/c mice. The NIA also maintains a colony of calorically restricted rodents of selected genotypes, which are available to the scientific community. For further information, please refer to the Aged Rodent information handbook at http://www.nih.gov/nia/research/rodent.htm or contact Dr. Nancy Nadon, Office of Biological Resources and Resource Development, NIA. Phone: (301) 496-0181; fax: (301) 402-5597; e-mail: rodents@nia.nih.gov. NCRR - Mutant Mouse Regional Resource Centers (MMRRC) The Mutant Mouse Regional Resource Center (MMRRC) Program consists of centers that collectively operate as a one-stop shop to serve the biomedical research community. Investigators who have created select mutant mouse models may donate their models to an MMRRC for broad dissemination to other investigators who request them for noncommercial research investigations related to human health, disease, and treatments. The NCRR Division of Comparative Medicine (DCM) supports the MMRRCs, which are electronically linked through the MMRRC Informatics Coordinating Center (ICC) to function as one facility. The ICC, located at The Jackson Laboratory in Bar Harbor, ME, provides database and other informatics support to the MMRRC to give the research community a single entry point to the program. Further information can be obtained from the Web site at http://www.mmrrc.org, or from Franziska Grieder, D.V.M., Ph.D., Division of Comparative Medicine, NCRR. Phone (301) 435-0744; fax: (301) 480-3819; e-mail: griederf@ncrr.nih.gov. NCRR - Induced Mutant Mouse Resource (IMR) The Induced Mutant Mouse Resource (IMR) at The Jackson Laboratory provides researchers with genetically engineered mice (transgenic, targeted mutant, retroviral insertional mutant, and chemically induced mutant mice). The function of the IMR is to select, import, cryopreserve, maintain, and distribute these important strains of mice to the research community. To improve their value for research, the IMR also undertakes genetic development of stocks, such as transferring mutant genes or transgenes to defined genetic backgrounds and combining transgenes and/or targeted mutations to create new mouse models for research. Over 800 mutant stocks have been accepted by the IMR. Current holdings include models for research on cancer, immunological and inflammatory diseases, neurological diseases and behavioral disorders, cardiovascular diseases, developmental disorders, metabolic and other diseases, reporter (e.g. GFP) and recombinase (e.g. cre/loxP) strains. About 8 strains a month are being added to the IMR holdings. A list of all strains may be obtained from the IMR Web site: www.jax.org/resources/documents/imr/. Online submission forms are also available on that site. All mice can be ordered by calling The Jackson Laboratory’s Customer Service Department at 1-800-422-MICE or (207) 288-5845 or by faxing (207) 288-6150. NIDDK - Mouse Metabolic Phenotyping Centers The mission of the Mouse Metabolic Phenotyping Centers is to provide the scientific community with standardized, high-quality metabolic and physiologic phenotyping services for mouse models of diabetes, diabetic complications, obesity, and related disorders. Researchers can ship mice to one of the four Centers (University of Cincinnati, University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center, Vanderbilt University, and Yale University) and obtain on a fee-for-service basis a range of complex exams used to characterize mouse metabolism, blood composition, energy balance, eating and exercise, organ function and morphology, physiology, and histology. Many tests are done in living animals and are designed to elucidate the subtle hallmarks of metabolic disease. Information, including a complete list of available tests, can be found at www.mmpc.org, or contact Dr. Maren R. Laughlin, NIDDK, at (301) 594-8802; e-mail: Maren.Laughlin@nih.gov; or Dr. Kristin Abraham, NIDDK, at (301) 451-8048; e-mail: abrahamk@extra.niddk.nih.gov. NCRR - National Primate Research Centers (NPRCs) National Primate Research Centers (NPRCs)* are a network of eight highly specialized facilities for nonhuman primates (NHP) research. Funded by grants through NCRR’s Division of Comparative Medicine (DCM), each center, staffed with experienced research and support staff, provides the appropriate research environment to foster the development of NHP models of human health and disease for biomedical investigations. The NPRCs are affiliated with academic institutions and are accessible to eligible biomedical and behavioral investigators supported by research project grants from the National Institutes of Health and other sources. Further information may be obtained from the notice, Procedures for Accessing Regional Primate Research Centers, published in the NIH Guide for Grants and Contracts at http://grants2.nih.gov/grants/guide/notice-files/not97-014.html, or from Jerry A. Robinson, Ph.D., Director, National Primate Research Centers and AIDS Animal Models Program, Division of Comparative Medicine, NCRR. Phone: (301) 435-0744; fax: (301) 480-3819; e-mail: JerryR@ncrr.nih.gov. *The National Primate Research Centers were formerly called Regional Primate Research Centers. The name was changed in April 2002 to reflect the expanded role of the centers. NIA - Nonhuman Primates, Aging Set-Aside Colony NIA maintains approximately 200 nonhuman primates (M. mulatta) at four National Primate Research Centers (see above) for conducting research on aging. These animals range in age from 18 to 35 years. While these animals are predominantly reserved for non-invasive research, exceptions can be made to this policy. For further information, please contact Dr. Nancy Nadon, Office of Biological Resources and Resource Development, NIA. Phone: (301) 496-0181; fax: (301) 402-0010; e-mail: nadonn@nia.nih.gov. NIA - Obesity, Diabetes and Aging Animal Resource (ODAAR) The NIA supports a colony of aged rhesus macaques, many of which are obese and/or diabetic. This is a long-term colony of monkeys housed at the University of Maryland. They have been extensively and longitudinally characterized for general health variables, blood chemistry, food intake, and body weight. Diabetic monkeys are tested daily for urine glucose and ketone levels, and prediabetic monkeys are tested weekly. Data for some of the monkeys extends as far back as 15 years. This unique resource is available for collaborative studies. ODAAR has a significant amount of stored tissue collected at necropsy and stored blood collected longitudinally. Serial blood collection or tissue collection at necropsy can also be performed prospectively. Testing and imaging can also be performed on the monkeys. Inquiries regarding collaborative studies using the ODAAR colony should be directed to: Barbara C. Hansen, Ph.D., Director, Obesity and Diabetes Research Center, University of Maryland, 10 South Pine St., Baltimore, MD 21201-1192, Phone: (410) 706-3168; fax: (410) 706-7540; e-mail: bchansen@aol.com. NCRR - Various Animal Resources NCRR maintains the following animal resources: Animal Models and Genetic Stocks, Chimpanzee Biomedical Research Program, NIH Animal Genetic Resource, and the Specific Pathogen Free Macaque Breeding and Research Program. Further information regarding these and other resources may be obtained through the NCRR Web site at www.ncrr.nih.gov/comparative_med.asp. MISCELLANEOUS RESOURCES NCRR - National Gene Vector Laboratories (NGVLs) The National Gene Vector Laboratories (NGVLs), with core funding from NCRR, serve as a resource for researchers to obtain adequate quantities of clinical-grade vectors for human gene transfer protocols. The vector types include retrovirus, lentivirus, adenovirus, adeno-associated virus, and herpes-virus. The NGVLs consist of three vector production centers at: Baylor College of Medicine; City of Hope National Medical Center and Beckman Research Institute; and Indiana University, which also serves as the Coordinating Center for all the laboratories. Two additional laboratories conduct toxicology studies for NGVL-approved investigators. These laboratories are located at the Southern Research Institute and the University of Florida. Additional information about the process for requesting vector production and/or pharmacology/toxicology support should be directed to Ms. Lorraine Rubin, NGVL Project Coordinator, Indiana University School of Medicine. Phone: (317) 274-4519; fax: (317) 278-4518; e-mail: lrubin@iupui.edu. The NGVL Coordinating Center at Indiana University also hosts a Web site: http://www.ngvl.org/. NCRR - General Clinical Research Centers (GCRCs) The General Clinical Research Centers (GCRCs) are a national network of 80 centers that provide optimal settings for medical investigators to conduct safe, controlled, state-of-the-art in-patient and out-patient studies of both children and adults. GCRCs also provide infrastructure and resources that support several career development opportunities. Investigators who have research project funding from the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and other peer-reviewed sources may apply to use GCRCs. Because the GCRCs support a full spectrum of patient-oriented scientific inquiry, researchers who use these centers can benefit from collaborative, multidisciplinary research opportunities. To request access to a GCRC facility, eligible investigators should initially contact a GCRC program director, listed in the National Center for Research Resources (NCRR) Clinical Research Resources Directory (www.ncrr.nih.gov/ncrrprog/clindir/crdirectory.asp). Further information can be obtained from Anthony R. Hayward, M.D., Director, Division of Clinical Research, National Center for Research Resources at NIH. Phone: (301) 435-0790; e-mail: haywarda@ncrr.nih.gov.

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Abstract Resources currently available to the scientific community that may be of interest for endocrinology research are described briefly here. More information is available through The Endocrine Society Home Page (http://www.endo-society.org) or the information provided below. HUMAN TISSUE RESOURCES NCI - Cooperative Human Tissue Network (CHTN) The NCI Cooperative Human Tissue Network (CHTN) provides normal, benign, precancerous, and cancerous human tissue to the scientific community for biomedical research. Specimens are collected according to the investigator’s individual protocol. Information provided with the specimens includes routine histopathologic and demographic data. Contact the CHTN Web site at http://www-chtn.ims.nci.nih.gov, or 1-866-GO2-CHTN (1-866-462-2486). NCI - Cooperative Breast Cancer Tissue Resource (CBCTR) The NCI Cooperative Breast Cancer Tissue Resource (CBCTR) can provide researchers with access to over 9,000 cases of formalin-fixed, paraffin-embedded primary breast cancer specimens, with associated pathologic, clinical, and outcome data. All specimens are evaluated for pathologic diagnosis by CBCTR pathologists using standard diagnostic criteria. The collection is particularly well suited for validation studies of diagnostic and prognostic markers. Researchers can search an online database to determine whether the resource specimens and data meet their needs. Contact CBCTR’s Web site at: http://www-cbctr.ims.nci.nih.gov, or Ms. Sherrill Long, Information Management Services, Inc., (301) 984-3445; e-mail: longs@imsweb.com. NCI - Cooperative Prostate Cancer Tissue Resource (CPCTR) The NCI Cooperative Prostate Cancer Tissue Resource (CPCTR) can provide researchers with access to paraffin-embedded and frozen prostate cancer tissues with associated clinical and outcome data. The collection is particularly useful for validation studies of diagnostic and prognostic markers. Questions about the resource should be directed to ASK-CPCTR-L@LIST.NIH.GOV. Additional information can be obtained from CPCTR’s Web site at http://www.prostatetissues.org, or by contacting Ms. Sherrill Long, Information Management Services, Inc., (301) 984-3445; e-mail: longs@imsweb.com. NCI - AIDS and Cancer Specimen Resource (ACSR) The AIDS and Cancer Specimen Resource (ACSR) provides qualified researchers with tissue, cell, blood, and fluid specimens, as well as clinical data from patients with AIDS and cancer. The specimens and clinical data are available for research studies, particularly those that translate basic research findings to clinical application. Contact the ACSR Web site (http://acsr.ucsf.edu/), or Dr. Jodi Black, (301) 402-6293; e-mail: jb377x@nih.gov. NCI - Breast, Ovarian, and Colorectal Cancer Family Registries (CFRs) The Cancer Family Registries (CFRs) include two international registries: the Cancer Family Registry for Breast Cancer Studies (Breast CFR) and the Cancer Family Registry for Colorectal Cancer Studies (Colon CFR). The Breast CFR provides family history information, biological specimens, and epidemiologic and clinical data from clinic-based and population-based families at risk for breast and ovarian cancers. The Breast CFR infrastructure is particularly suited to support interdisciplinary and translational breast cancer research. Similarly, the Colon CFR collection includes family history information, epidemiologic and clinical data, and related biological specimens from individuals with colorectal cancer and their families. The colon CFR is a resource for population- and clinic-based translational research in the genetic epidemiology of colorectal cancer. For information on these registries, contact the CFR Web site (http://epi.grants.cancer.gov/cfr.html) or (301) 496-9600. NCI - Specimen Resource Locator The NCI Specimen Resource Locator (http://cancer.gov/specimens) is a database that helps researchers locate specimens for research. The database includes resources such as tissue banks and tissue procurement systems with access to normal, benign, precancerous, and/or cancerous human tissue covering a wide variety of organ sites. Researchers specify the types of specimens, number of cases, preservation methods, and associated data they require. The Locator will search the database and return a list of tissue resources most likely to meet their requirements. When no match is obtained, the researcher is referred to the NCI Tissue Expediter [(301) 496-7147; e-mail: tissexp@mail.nih.gov]. The Tissue Expediter is a scientist who can help match researchers with appropriate resources or identify appropriate collaborators when those are necessary. NIDDK - Biologic Samples from Diabetic Study Foundation A portion (1/3) of all stored nonrenewable samples (plasma, serum, urine) from subjects enrolled in the Diabetes Control and Complications Trial (DCCT) is available for use by the scientific community to address questions for which these samples may be invaluable. Announcements for using this resource appear in the NIH Guide for Grants and Contracts periodically. Inquiries may be addressed to: Catherine C. Cowie, Ph.D., Director, Type I Diabetes Clinical Trials Program, NIDDK, 6707 Democracy Blvd., Room 691, National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases, Bethesda, MD 20814-9692. Phone: (301) 594-8804; fax: (301) 480-3503; e-mail: cowiec@extra.niddk.nih.gov. NICHD - Brain and Tissue Bank for Developmental Disorders The purpose of the Bank is to collect, preserve, and distribute human tissues to investigators interested in autism and developmental disorders; normal tissues may be available for other research purposes. Further information can be obtained at: www.btbank.org. The contact persons are H. Ron Zielke or Sally Wisniewsky, University of Maryland (1-800-847-1539), and Carol Petito or Stephanie Lojko, University of Miami (1-800-592-7246). NCRR - Human Tissues and Organs Resource (HTOR) The Human Tissues and Organs Resource (HTOR) cooperative agreement supports a procurement network developed by the National Disease Research Interchange (NDRI), a not-for-profit organization. By collaborating with various medical centers, hospitals, pathology services, eye banks, tissue banks, and organ procurement organizations, HTOR provides a wide variety of human tissues and organs—both diseased and normal—to researchers for laboratory studies. Such samples include tissues from the central nervous system and brain; cardiovascular system; endocrine system; eyes, bone, and cartilage. For further information, consult the NDRI Web site (www.ndri.com) or contact Ms. Sally Strickler at NDRI, 1880 John F. Kennedy Boulevard, 6th Floor, Philadelphia, PA 19103. Phone: (800) 222-6374, ext. 227; fax: (215) 557-7154; e-mail: sstrickler@ndri.com. NCRR - Islet Cell Resource (ICR) With support from NCRR, 10 Islet Cell Resource (ICR) centers isolate, purify, and characterize human pancreatic islets for subsequent transplantation into patients with type I diabetes. The ICR centers procure whole pancreata and acquire relevant data about donors; improve islet isolation and purification techniques; distribute islets for use in approved clinical protocols; and perfect the methods of storage and shipping. In this way, the centers optimize the viability, function, and availability of islets and help clinical researchers capitalize on the recently reported successes in islet transplantation. Information on submitting requests for islet cells can be obtained from Richard A. Knazek, M.D., Division of Clinical Research, NCRR, NIH, 6705 Rockledge Drive, Bethesda, MD 20892. Phone (301) 435-0790; fax (301) 480-3661; e-mail: richardk@ncrr.nih.gov. NIA - SWAN Repository (longitudinal, multiethnic study of women at midlife including the menopausal transition) The SWAN Repository is a biologic specimen bank of the Study of Women’s Health Across the Nation (SWAN). The SWAN cohort was recruited in 1996/7 and consists of 3302 African-American, Caucasian, Chinese-American, Hispanic, and Japanese-American women.144.9.4215http://www.swanrepository.com or Dr. MaryFran Sowers, University of Michigan, School of Public Health, Epidemiology Dept., (734) 936-3892; e-mail: mfsowers@umich.edu. HUMAN AND ANIMAL CELL AND BIOLOGIC REAGENT RESOURCES NIDDK - National Hormone and Peptide Program The National Hormone and Peptide Program (NHPP) offers peptide hormones and their antisera, tissues (rat hypothalami), and miscellaneous reagents to qualified investigators. These reagents are supplied for research purposes only, not for therapeutic, diagnostic, or commercial uses. These materials can be obtained from Dr. A. F. Parlow of the Harbor-UCLA Medical Center, Research and Education Institute, Torrance, CA. A more complete description of resources within this program is provided in The Endocrine Society journals. Direct scientific-technical inquiry to NHPP Scientific Director, Dr. Al Parlow, at phone: (310) 222-3537; fax: (310) 222-3432; e-mail: parlow@humc.edu. Visit the NHPP Web site at http://www.humc.edu/hormones. NICHD - National Hormone and Pituitary Program (see NIDDK listing) Following is a list of reagents currently available through the resources of NICHD: Androgen receptor and peptide antigen Recombinant monkey (cynomolgus) and baboon luteinizing hormone and follicle-stimulating hormone and antisera NIA - Aging Cell Bank To facilitate aging research on cells in culture, the NIA provides support for the Aging Cell Bank located at the Coriell Institute for Medical Research in Camden, NJ. The Aged Cell Bank provides fibroblast, lymphoblastoid, and differentiated cell lines from a wide range of human age-related conditions and other mammalian species, as well as DNA from a limited subset of cell lines. For further information, the Aged Cell Bank catalog can be accessed at http://locus.umdnj.edu/nia or contact Dr. Donald Coppock at 1-800-752-3805. NCRR - Various Cell Repositories NCRR maintains the following cell repository resources: American Type Culture Collection, National Cell Culture Center, National Stem Cell Resource, and the Yeast Genetic Stock Center. Further information regarding these resources may be obtained through the NCRR Web site at: www.ncrr.nih.gov/ncrrprog/cmpdir/BIOLOG.asp. ANIMAL RESOURCES NIA - Aging Rodent Resources NIA maintains both rat and mouse colonies for use by the scientific community. The animals available range in age from 1 to 36 months. A repository of fresh-frozen tissue from the NIA aged rodent colonies is stocked with tissue from mouse and rat strains, including caloric-restricted BALB/c mice. The NIA also maintains a colony of calorically restricted rodents of selected genotypes, which are available to the scientific community. For further information, please refer to the Aged Rodent information handbook at http://www.nih.gov/nia/research/rodent.htm or contact Dr. Nancy Nadon, Office of Biological Resources and Resource Development, NIA. Phone: (301) 496-0181; fax: (301) 402-5597; e-mail: rodents@nia.nih.gov. NCRR - Mutant Mouse Regional Resource Centers (MMRRC) The Mutant Mouse Regional Resource Center (MMRRC) Program consists of centers that collectively operate as a one-stop shop to serve the biomedical research community. Investigators who have created select mutant mouse models may donate their models to an MMRRC for broad dissemination to other investigators who request them for noncommercial research investigations related to human health, disease, and treatments. The NCRR Division of Comparative Medicine (DCM) supports the MMRRCs, which are electronically linked through the MMRRC Informatics Coordinating Center (ICC) to function as one facility. The ICC, located at The Jackson Laboratory in Bar Harbor, ME, provides database and other informatics support to the MMRRC to give the research community a single entry point to the program. Further information can be obtained from the Web site at http://www.mmrrc.org, or from Franziska Grieder, D.V.M., Ph.D., Division of Comparative Medicine, NCRR. Phone (301) 435-0744; fax: (301) 480-3819; e-mail: griederf@ncrr.nih.gov. NCRR - Induced Mutant Mouse Resource (IMR) The Induced Mutant Mouse Resource (IMR) at The Jackson Laboratory provides researchers with genetically engineered mice (transgenic, targeted mutant, retroviral insertional mutant, and chemically induced mutant mice). The function of the IMR is to select, import, cryopreserve, maintain, and distribute these important strains of mice to the research community. To improve their value for research, the IMR also undertakes genetic development of stocks, such as transferring mutant genes or transgenes to defined genetic backgrounds and combining transgenes and/or targeted mutations to create new mouse models for research. Over 800 mutant stocks have been accepted by the IMR. Current holdings include models for research on cancer, immunological and inflammatory diseases, neurological diseases and behavioral disorders, cardiovascular diseases, developmental disorders, metabolic and other diseases, reporter (e.g. GFP) and recombinase (e.g. cre/loxP) strains. About 8 strains a month are being added to the IMR holdings. A list of all strains may be obtained from the IMR Web site: www.jax.org/resources/documents/imr/. Online submission forms are also available on that site. All mice can be ordered by calling The Jackson Laboratory’s Customer Service Department at 1-800-422-MICE or (207) 288-5845 or by faxing (207) 288-6150. NIDDK - Mouse Metabolic Phenotyping Centers The mission of the Mouse Metabolic Phenotyping Centers is to provide the scientific community with standardized, high-quality metabolic and physiologic phenotyping services for mouse models of diabetes, diabetic complications, obesity, and related disorders. Researchers can ship mice to one of the four Centers (University of Cincinnati, University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center, Vanderbilt University, and Yale University) and obtain on a fee-for-service basis a range of complex exams used to characterize mouse metabolism, blood composition, energy balance, eating and exercise, organ function and morphology, physiology, and histology. Many tests are done in living animals and are designed to elucidate the subtle hallmarks of metabolic disease. Information, including a complete list of available tests, can be found at www.mmpc.org, or contact Dr. Maren R. Laughlin, NIDDK, at (301) 594-8802; e-mail: Maren.Laughlin@nih.gov; or Dr. Kristin Abraham, NIDDK, at (301) 451-8048; e-mail: abrahamk@extra.niddk.nih.gov. NCRR - National Primate Research Centers (NPRCs) National Primate Research Centers (NPRCs)* are a network of eight highly specialized facilities for nonhuman primates (NHP) research. Funded by grants through NCRR’s Division of Comparative Medicine (DCM), each center, staffed with experienced research and support staff, provides the appropriate research environment to foster the development of NHP models of human health and disease for biomedical investigations. The NPRCs are affiliated with academic institutions and are accessible to eligible biomedical and behavioral investigators supported by research project grants from the National Institutes of Health and other sources. Further information may be obtained from the notice, Procedures for Accessing Regional Primate Research Centers, published in the NIH Guide for Grants and Contracts at http://grants2.nih.gov/grants/guide/notice-files/not97-014.html, or from Jerry A. Robinson, Ph.D., Director, National Primate Research Centers and AIDS Animal Models Program, Division of Comparative Medicine, NCRR. Phone: (301) 435-0744; fax: (301) 480-3819; e-mail: JerryR@ncrr.nih.gov. *The National Primate Research Centers were formerly called Regional Primate Research Centers. The name was changed in April 2002 to reflect the expanded role of the centers. NIA - Nonhuman Primates, Aging Set-Aside Colony NIA maintains approximately 200 nonhuman primates (M. mulatta) at four National Primate Research Centers (see above) for conducting research on aging. These animals range in age from 18 to 35 years. While these animals are predominantly reserved for non-invasive research, exceptions can be made to this policy. For further information, please contact Dr. Nancy Nadon, Office of Biological Resources and Resource Development, NIA. Phone: (301) 496-0181; fax: (301) 402-0010; e-mail: nadonn@nia.nih.gov. NIA - Obesity, Diabetes and Aging Animal Resource (ODAAR) The NIA supports a colony of aged rhesus macaques, many of which are obese and/or diabetic. This is a long-term colony of monkeys housed at the University of Maryland. They have been extensively and longitudinally characterized for general health variables, blood chemistry, food intake, and body weight. Diabetic monkeys are tested daily for urine glucose and ketone levels, and prediabetic monkeys are tested weekly. Data for some of the monkeys extends as far back as 15 years. This unique resource is available for collaborative studies. ODAAR has a significant amount of stored tissue collected at necropsy and stored blood collected longitudinally. Serial blood collection or tissue collection at necropsy can also be performed prospectively. Testing and imaging can also be performed on the monkeys. Inquiries regarding collaborative studies using the ODAAR colony should be directed to: Barbara C. Hansen, Ph.D., Director, Obesity and Diabetes Research Center, University of Maryland, 10 South Pine St., Baltimore, MD 21201-1192, Phone: (410) 706-3168; fax: (410) 706-7540; e-mail: bchansen@aol.com. NCRR - Various Animal Resources NCRR maintains the following animal resources: Animal Models and Genetic Stocks, Chimpanzee Biomedical Research Program, NIH Animal Genetic Resource, and the Specific Pathogen Free Macaque Breeding and Research Program. Further information regarding these and other resources may be obtained through the NCRR Web site at www.ncrr.nih.gov/comparative_med.asp. MISCELLANEOUS RESOURCES NCRR - National Gene Vector Laboratories (NGVLs) The National Gene Vector Laboratories (NGVLs), with core funding from NCRR, serve as a resource for researchers to obtain adequate quantities of clinical-grade vectors for human gene transfer protocols. The vector types include retrovirus, lentivirus, adenovirus, adeno-associated virus, and herpes-virus. The NGVLs consist of three vector production centers at: Baylor College of Medicine; City of Hope National Medical Center and Beckman Research Institute; and Indiana University, which also serves as the Coordinating Center for all the laboratories. Two additional laboratories conduct toxicology studies for NGVL-approved investigators. These laboratories are located at the Southern Research Institute and the University of Florida. Additional information about the process for requesting vector production and/or pharmacology/toxicology support should be directed to Ms. Lorraine Rubin, NGVL Project Coordinator, Indiana University School of Medicine. Phone: (317) 274-4519; fax: (317) 278-4518; e-mail: lrubin@iupui.edu. The NGVL Coordinating Center at Indiana University also hosts a Web site: http://www.ngvl.org/. NCRR - General Clinical Research Centers (GCRCs) The General Clinical Research Centers (GCRCs) are a national network of 80 centers that provide optimal settings for medical investigators to conduct safe, controlled, state-of-the-art in-patient and out-patient studies of both children and adults. GCRCs also provide infrastructure and resources that support several career development opportunities. Investigators who have research project funding from the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and other peer-reviewed sources may apply to use GCRCs. Because the GCRCs support a full spectrum of patient-oriented scientific inquiry, researchers who use these centers can benefit from collaborative, multidisciplinary research opportunities. To request access to a GCRC facility, eligible investigators should initially contact a GCRC program director, listed in the National Center for Research Resources (NCRR) Clinical Research Resources Directory (www.ncrr.nih.gov/ncrrprog/clindir/crdirectory.asp). Further information can be obtained from Anthony R. Hayward, M.D., Director, Division of Clinical Research, National Center for Research Resources at NIH. Phone: (301) 435-0790; e-mail: haywarda@ncrr.nih.gov.

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She leant lazily across the picnic hamper and reached for my hearing aid in my open-palmed hand. I jerked away from her, batting her hand away from mine. The glare of the summer sun blinded me. I struck empty air. Her tendril-fingers seized the beige seashell curve of my hearing aid and she lifted the cargo of sound towards her eyes. She peered at the empty battery-cage before flicking it open and shut as if it was a cigarette lighter, as if she could spark hearing-life into this trick of plastic and metal that held no meaning outside of my ear. I stared at her. A band of horror tightened around my throat, strangling my shout: ‘Don’t do that!’ I clenched my fist around the new battery that I had been about to insert into my hearing aid and imagined it speeding like a bullet towards her heart. This dream arrived as I researched my anthology of memoir-style essays on deafness, The Art of Being. I had already been reflecting and writing for several years about my relationship with my deaf-self and the impact of my deafness on my life, but I remained uneasy about writing about my deaf-life. I’ve lived all my adult life entirely in the hearing world, and so recasting myself as a deaf woman with something pressing to say about deaf people’s lives felt disturbing. The urgency to tell my story and my anxiety to contest certain assumptions about deafness were real, but I was hampered by diffidence. The dream felt potent, as if my deaf-self was asserting itself, challenging my hearing persona. I was the sole deaf child in a family of five muddling along in a weatherboard war commission house at The Grange in Brisbane during the nineteen fifties and nineteen sixties. My father’s resume included being in the army during World War Two, an official for the boxing events at the 1956 Melbourne Olympic Games and a bookie with a gift for telling stories. My mother had spent her childhood on a cherry orchard in Young, worked as a nurse in war-time Sydney and married my father in Townsville after a whirlwind romance on Magnetic Island before setting up home in Brisbane. My older sister wore her dark hair in thick Annie-Oakley style plaits and my brother took me on a hike along the Kedron Brook one summer morning before lunchtime. My parents did not know of any deaf relatives in their families, and my sister and brother did not have any friends with deaf siblings. There was just me, the little deaf girl. Most children are curious about where they come from. Such curiosity marks their first foray into sexual development and sense of identity. I don’t remember expressing such curiosity. Instead, I was diverted by my mother’s story of her discovery that I was deaf. The way my mother tells the story, it is as if I had two births with the date of the diagnosis of my deafness marking my real arrival, over-riding the false start of my physical birth three years earlier. Once my mother realized that I was deaf, she was able to get on with it, the ‘it’ being to defy the inevitability of a constrained life for her deaf child. My mother came out swinging; by hook or by crook, her deaf daughter was going to learn to speak and to be educated and to take her place in the hearing world and to live a normal life and that was that. She found out about the Commonwealth Acoustics Laboratory (now known as Australian Hearing Services) where, after I completed a battery of auditory tests, I was fitted with a hearing aid. This was a small metal box, to be worn in a harness around my body, with a long looping plastic cord connected to a beige ear-mould. An instrument for piercing silence, it absorbed and conveyed sounds, with those sounds eventually separating themselves out into patterns of words and finally into strings of sentences. Without my hearing aid, if I am concentrating, and if the sounds are made loudly, I am aware of the sounds at the deeper end of the scale. Sometimes, it’s not so much that I can hear them; it’s more that I know that those sounds are happening. My aural memory of the deep-register sounds helps me to “hear” them, much like the recollection of any tune replays itself in your imagination. With and without my hearing aids, if I am not watching the source of those sounds – for example, if the sounds are taking place in another room or even just behind me – I am not immediately able to distinguish whether the sounds are conversational or musical or happy or angry. I can only discriminate once I’ve established the rhythm of the sounds; if the rhythm is at a tearing, jagged pace with an exaggerated rise and fall in the volume, I might reasonably assume that angry words are being had. I cannot hear high-pitched sounds at all, with and without my hearing aids: I cannot hear sibilants, the “cees” and “esses” and “zeds”. I cannot hear those sounds which bounce or puff off from your lips, such as the letters “b” and “p”; I cannot hear that sound which trampolines from the press of your tongue against the back of your front teeth, the letter “t”. With a hearing-aid I can hear and discriminate among the braying, hee-hawing, lilting, oohing and twanging sounds of the vowels ... but only if I am concentrating, and if I am watching the source of the sounds. Without my hearing aid, I might also hear sharp and sudden sounds like the clap of hands or crash of plates, depending on the volume of the noise. But I cannot hear the ring of the telephone, or the chime of the door bell, or the urgent siren of an ambulance speeding down the street. My hearing aid helps me to hear some of these sounds. I was a pupil in an oral-deaf education program for five years until the end of 1962. During those years, I was variously coaxed, dragooned and persuaded into the world of hearing. I was introduced to a world of bubbles, balloons and fingers placed on lips to learn the shape, taste and feel of sounds, their push and pull of air through tongue and lips. By these mechanics, I gained entry to the portal of spoken, rather than signed, speech. When I was eight years old, my parents moved me from the Gladstone Road School for the Deaf in Dutton Park to All Hallows, an inner-city girls’ school, for the start of Grade Three. I did not know, of course, that I was also leaving my world of deaf friends to begin a new life immersed in the hearing world. I had no way of understanding that this act of transferring me from one school to another was a profound statement of my parents’ hopes for me. They wanted me to have a life in which I would enjoy all the advantages and opportunities routinely available to hearing people. Like so many parents before them, ‘they had to find answers that might not, for all they knew, exist . . . How far would I be able to lead a ‘normal’ life? . . . How would I earn a living? You can imagine what forebodings weighed on them. They could not know that things might work out better than they feared’ (Wright, 22). Now, forty-four years later, I have been reflecting on the impact of that long-ago decision made on my behalf by my parents. They made the right decision for me. The quality of my life reflects the rightness of their decision. I have enjoyed a satisfying career in social work and public policy embedded in a life of love and friendships. This does not mean that I believe that my parents’ decision to remove me from one world to another would necessarily be the right decision for another deaf child. I am not a zealot for the cause of oralism despite its obvious benefits. I am, however, stirred by the Gemini-like duality within me, the deaf girl who is twin to the hearing persona I show to the world, to tell my story of deafness as precisely as I can. Before I can do this, I have to find that story because it is not as apparent to me as might be expected. In an early published memoir-essay about my deaf girlhood, I Hear with My Eyes (in Schulz), I wrote about my mother’s persistence in making sure that I learnt to speak rather than sign, the assumed communication strategy for most deaf people back in the 1950s. I crafted a selection of anecdotes, ranging in tone, I hoped, from sad to tender to laugh-out-loud funny. I speculated on the meaning of certain incidents in defining who I am and the successes I have enjoyed as a deaf woman in a hearing world. When I wrote this essay, I searched for what I wanted to say. I thought, by the end of it, that I’d said everything that I wanted to say. I was ready to move on, to write about other things. However, I was delayed by readers’ responses to that essay and to subsequent public speaking engagements. Some people who read my essay told me that they liked its fresh, direct approach. Others said that they were moved by it. Friends were curious and fascinated to get the inside story of my life as a deaf person as it has not been a topic of conversation or inquiry among us. They felt that they’d learnt something about what it means to be deaf. Many responses to my essay and public presentations had relief and surprise as their emotional core. Parents have cried on hearing me talk about the fullness of my life and seem to regard me as having given them permission to hope for their own deaf children. Educators have invited me to speak at parent education evenings because ‘to have an adult who has a hearing impairment and who has developed great spoken language and is able to communicate in the community at large – that would be a great encouragement and inspiration for our families’ (Email, April 2007). I became uncomfortable about these responses because I was not sure that I had been as honest or direct as I could have been. What lessons on being deaf have people absorbed by reading my essay and listening to my presentations? I did not set out to be duplicitous, but I may have embraced the writer’s aim for the neatly curved narrative arc at the cost of the flinty self-regarding eye and the uncertain conclusion. * * * Let me start again. I was born deaf at a time, in the mid 1950s, when people still spoke of the ‘deaf-mute’ or the ‘deaf and dumb.’ I belonged to a category of children who attracted the gaze of the curious, the kind, and the cruel with mixed results. We were bombarded with questions we could either not hear and so could not answer, or that made us feel we were objects for exploration. We were the patronized beneficiaries of charitable picnics organized for ‘the disadvantaged and the handicapped.’ Occasionally, we were the subject of taunts, with words such as ‘spastic’ being speared towards us as if to be called such a name was a bad thing. I glossed over this muddled social response to deafness in my published essay. I cannot claim innocence as my defence. I knew I was glossing over it but I thought this was right and proper: after all, why stir up jagged memories? Aren’t some things better left unexpressed? Besides, keep the conversation nice, I thought. The nature of readers’ responses to my essay provoked me into a deeper exploration of deafness. I was shocked by the intensity of so many parents’ grief and anxiety about their children’s deafness, and frustrated by the notion that I am an inspiration because I am deaf but oral. I wondered what this implied about my childhood deaf friends who may not speak orally as well as I do, but who nevertheless enjoy fulfilling lives. I was stunned by the admission of a mother of a five year old deaf son who, despite not being able to speak, has not been taught how to Sign. She said, ‘Now that I’ve met you, I’m not so frightened of deaf people anymore.’ My shock may strike the average hearing person as naïve, but I was unnerved that so many parents of children newly diagnosed with deafness were grasping my words with the relief of people who have long ago lost hope in the possibilities for their deaf sons and daughters. My shock is not directed at these parents but at some unnameable ‘thing out there.’ What is going on out there in the big world that, 52 years after my mother experienced her own grief, bewilderment, anxiety and quest to forge a good life for her little deaf daughter, contemporary parents are still experiencing those very same fears and asking the same questions? Why do parents still receive the news of their child’s deafness as a death sentence of sorts, the death of hope and prospects for their child, when the facts show – based on my own life experiences and observations of my deaf school friends’ lives – that far from being a death sentence, the diagnosis of deafness simply propels a child into a different life, not a lesser life? Evidently, a different sort of silence has been created over the years; not the silence of hearing loss but the silence of lost stories, invisible stories, unspoken stories. I have contributed to that silence. For as long as I can remember, and certainly for all of my adult life, I have been careful to avoid being identified as ‘a deaf person.’ Although much of my career was taken up with considering the equity dilemmas of people with a disability, I had never assumed the mantle of advocacy for deaf people or deaf rights. Some of my early silence about deaf identity politics was consistent with my desire not to shine the torch on myself in this way. I did not want to draw attention to myself by what I did not have, that is, less hearing than other people. I thought that if I lived my life as fully as possible in the hearing world and with as little fuss as possible, then my success in blending in would be eloquence enough. If I was going to attract attention, I wanted it to be on the basis of merit, on what I achieved. Others would draw the conclusions that needed to be drawn, that is, that deaf people can take their place fully in the hearing world. I also accepted that if I was to be fully ‘successful’ – and I didn’t investigate the meaning of that word for many years – in the hearing world, then I ought to isolate myself from my deaf friends and from the deaf culture. I continued to miss them, particularly one childhood friend, but I was resolute. I never seriously explored the possibility of straddling both worlds, despite the occasional invitation to do so. For example, one of my childhood deaf friends, Damien, visited me at my parents’ home once, when we were both still in our teens. He was keen for me to join him in the Deaf Theatre, but I couldn’t muster the emotional dexterity that I felt this required. Instead, I let myself to be content to hear news of my childhood deaf friends through the grape-vine. This was, inevitably, a patchy process that lent itself to caricature. Single snippets of information about this person or that person ballooned into portrait-size depictions of their lives as I sketched the remaining blanks of their history with my imagination as my only tool. My capacity to be content with my imagination faltered. * * * Despite the construction of public images of deafness around the highly visible performance of hand-signed communication, the ‘how-small-can-we-go?’ advertorials of hearing aids and the cochlear implant with its head-worn speech processor, deafness is often described as ‘the invisible disability.’ My own experience bore this out. I became increasingly self-conscious about the singularity of my particular success, moderate in the big scheme of things though that may be. I looked around me and wondered ‘Why don’t I bump into more deaf people during the course of my daily life?’ After all, I am not a recluse. I have broad interests. I have travelled a lot, and have enjoyed a policy career for some thirty years, spanning the three tiers of government and scaling the competitive ladder with a reasonable degree of nimbleness. Such a career has got me out and about quite a bit: up and down the Queensland coast and out west, down to Sydney, Melbourne, Canberra, Adelaide and Hobart, and to the United Kingdom. And yet, not once in those thirty years did I get to share an office or a chance meeting or a lunch break with another deaf person. The one exception took place in the United Kingdom when I attended a national conference in which the keynote speaker was the Chairman of the Audit Commission, a man whose charisma outshines his profound deafness. After my return to Australia from the United Kingdom, a newspaper article about an education centre for deaf children in a leafy suburb of Brisbane, prompted me into action. I decided to investigate what was going on in the world of education for deaf children and so, one warm morning in 2006, I found myself waiting in the foyer for the centre’s clinical director. I flicked through a bundle of brochures and newsletters. They were loaded with images of smiling children wearing cochlear implants. Their message was clear: a cochlear implant brought joy, communication and participation in all that the world has to offer. This seemed an easy miracle. I had arrived with an open mind but now found myself feeling unexpectedly tense, as if I was about to walk a high-wire without the benefit of a safety net. Not knowing the reason for my fear, I swallowed it and smiled at the director in greeting upon her arrival. She is physically a small person but her energy is large. Her passion is bracing. That morning, she was quick to assert the power of cochlear implants by simply asking me, ‘Have you ever considered having an implant?’ When I shook my head, she looked at me appraisingly, ‘I’m sure you’d benefit from it’ before ushering me into a room shining with sun-dappled colour and crowded with a mess of little boys and girls. The children were arrayed in a democracy of shorts, shirts, and sandals. Only the occasional hair-ribbon or newly pressed skirt separated this girl from that boy. Some young mothers and fathers, their faces stretched with tension, stood or sat around the room’s perimeter watching their infant children. The noise in the room was orchestral, rising and falling to a mash of shouts, cries and squeals. A table had been set with several plastic plates in which diced pieces of browning apple, orange slices and melon chunks swam in a pond of juice. Some small children clustered around it, waiting to be served. When they finished their morning fruit, they were rounded up to sit at the front of the room, before a teacher poised with finger-puppets of ducks. I tripped over a red plastic chair – its tiny size designed to accommodate an infant’s bottom and small-sausage legs – and lowered myself onto it to take in the events going on around me. The little boys and girls laughed merrily as they watched their teacher narrate the story of a mother duck and her five baby ducks. Her hands moved in a flurry of duck-billed mimicry. ‘“Quack! Quack! Quack!” said the mother duck!’ The parents trilled along in time with the teacher. As I watched the children at the education centre that sunny morning, I saw that my silence had acted as a brake of sorts. I had, for too long, buried the chance to understand better the complex lives of deaf people as we negotiate the claims and demands of the hearing world. While it is true that actions speak louder than words, the occasional spoken and written word must surely help things along a little. I also began to reflect on the apparent absence of the inter-generational transfer of wisdom and insights born of experience rather than academic studies. Why does each new generation of parents approach the diagnosis of their newborn child’s disability or deafness with such intensity of fear, helplessness and dread for their child’s fate? I am not querying the inevitability of parents experiencing disappointment and shock at receiving unexpected news. I accept that to be born deaf means to be born with less than perfect hearing. All the same, it ought not to be inevitable that parents endure sustained grief about their child’s prospects. They ought to be illuminated as quickly as possible about all that is possible for their child. In particular, they ought to be encouraged to enjoy great hopes for their child. I mused about the power of story-telling to influence attitudes. G. Thomas Couser claims that ‘life writing can play a significant role in changing public attitudes about deafness’ (221) but then proceeds to cast doubt on his own assertion by later asking, ‘to what degree and how do the extant narratives of deafness rewrite the discourse of disability? Indeed, to what degree and how do they manage to represent the experience of deafness at all?’ (225). Certainly, stories from the Deaf community do not speak for me as my life has not been shaped by the framing of deafness as a separate linguistic and cultural entity. Nor am I drawn to the militancy of identity politics that uses terms such as ‘oppression’ and ‘oppressors’ to deride the efforts of parents and educators to teach deaf children to speak (Lane; Padden and Humphries). This seems to be unhelpfully hostile and assumes that deafness is the sole arbitrating reason that deaf people struggle with understanding who they are. It is the nature of being human to struggle with who we are. Whether we are deaf, migrants, black, gay, mentally ill – or none of these things – we are all answerable to the questions: ‘who am I and what is my place in the world?’ As I cast around for stories of deafness and deaf people with which I could relate, I pondered on the relative infrequency of deaf characters in literature, and the scarcity of autobiographies by deaf writers or biographies of deaf people by either deaf or hearing people. I also wondered whether written stories of deafness, memoirs and fiction, shape public perceptions or do they simply respond to existing public perceptions of deafness? As Susan DeGaia, a deaf academic at California State University writes, ‘Analysing the way stories are told can show us a lot about who is most powerful, most heard, whose perspective matters most to society. I think if we polled deaf/Deaf people, we would find many things missing from the stories that are told about them’ (DeGaia). Fighting my diffidence in staking out my persona as a ‘deaf woman’ and mustering the ‘conviction as to the importance of what [I have] to say, [my] right to say it’ (Olsen 27), I decided to write The Art of Being Deaf, an anthology of personal essays in the manner of reflective memoirs on deafness drawing on my own life experiences and supported by additional research. This presented me with a narrative dilemma because my deafness is just one of several life-events by which I understand myself. I wanted to find fresh ways of telling stories of deaf experiences while fashioning my memoir essays to show the texture of my life in all its variousness. A.N.Wilson’s observation about the precarious insensitivity of biographical writing was my guiding pole-star: the sense of our own identity is fluid and tolerant, whereas our sense of the identity of others is always more fixed and quite often edges towards caricature. We know within ourselves that we can be twenty different persons in a single day and that the attempt to explain our personality is doomed to become a falsehood after only a few words ... . And yet ... works of literature, novels and biographies depend for their aesthetic success precisely on this insensitive ability to simplify, to describe, to draw lines around another person and say, ‘This is she’ or ‘This is he.’ I have chosen to explore my relationship with my deafness through the multiple-threads of writing several personal essays as my story-telling vehicle rather than as a single-thread autobiography. The multiple-thread approach to telling my stories also sought to avoid the pitfalls of identity narrative in which I might unwittingly set myself up as an exemplar of one sort or another, be it as a ‘successful deaf person’ or as an ‘angry militant deaf activist’ or as ‘a deaf individual in denial attempting to pass as hearing.’ But in seeking to avoid these sorts of stories, what autobiographical story am I trying to tell? Because, other than being deaf, my life is not otherwise especially unusual. It is pitted here with sadness and lifted there with joy, but it is mostly a plateau held stable by the grist of daily life. Christopher Jon Heuer recognises this dilemma when he writes, ‘neither autobiography nor biography nor fiction can survive without discord. Without it, we are left with boredom. Without it, what we have is the lack of a point, a theme and a plot’ (Heuer 196). By writing The Art of Being Deaf, I am learning more than I have to teach. In the absence of deaf friends or mentors, and in the climate of my own reluctance to discuss my concerns with hearing people who, when I do flag any anxieties about issues arising from my deafness tend to be hearty and upbeat in their responses, I have had to work things out for myself. In hindsight, I suspect that I have simply ignored most of my deafness-related difficulties, leaving the heavy lifting work to my parents, teachers, and friends – ‘for it is the non-deaf who absorb a large part of the disability’ (Wright, 5) – and just got on with things by complying with what was expected of me, usually to good practical effect but at the cost of enriching my understanding of myself and possibly at the cost of intimacy. Reading deaf fiction and memoirs during the course of this writing project is proving to be helpful for me. I enjoy the companionability of it, but not until I got over my fright at seeing so many documented versions of deaf experiences, and it was a fright. For a while there, it was like walking through the Hall of Mirrors in Luna Park. Did I really look like that? Or no, perhaps I was like that? But no, here’s another turn, another mirror, another face. Spinning, twisting, turning. It was only when I stopped searching for the right mirror, the single defining portrait, that I began to enjoy seeing my deaf-self/hearing-persona experiences reflected in, or challenged by, what I read. Other deaf writers’ recollections are stirring into fresh life my own buried memories, prompting me to re-imagine them so that I can examine my responses to those experiences more contemplatively and less reactively than I might have done originally. We can learn about the diversity of deaf experiences and the nuances of deaf identity that rise above the stock symbolic scripts by reading authentic, well-crafted stories by memoirists and novelists. Whether they are hearing or deaf writers, by providing different perspectives on deafness, they have something useful to say, demonstrate and illustrate about deafness and deaf people. I imagine the possibility of my book, The Art of Being Deaf, providing a similar mentoring role to other deaf people and families.References Couser, G. Thomas. Recovering Bodies: Illness, Disablity, and Life Writing. Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 1997. Heuer, Christopher Jon. ‘Deafness as Conflict and Conflict Component.’ Sign Language Studies 7.2 (Winter 2007): 195-199. Lane, Harlan. When the Mind Hears: A History of the Deaf. New York: Random House, 1984 Olsen, Tillie. Silences. New York: Delta/Seymour Lawrence. 1978. Padden, Carol, and Tom Humphries. Deaf in America: Voices from a Culture. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1998. Schulz, J. (ed). A Revealed Life. Sydney: ABC Books and Griffith Review. 2007 Wilson, A.N. Incline Our Hearts. London: Penguin Books. 1988. Wright, David. Deafness: An Autobiography. New York: Stein and Day, 1969.

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Resources currently available to the scientific community that may be of interest for endocrinology research are described briefly here. More information is available through The Endocrine Society Home Page (http://www.endo-society.org) or the information provided below. HUMAN TISSUE AND BIOLOGIC SPECIMEN RESOURCES NCI - Cooperative Human Tissue Network (CHTN) The NCI Cooperative Human Tissue Network (CHTN) provides normal, benign, precancerous, and cancerous human tissue to the scientific community for biomedical research. Specimens are collected according to the investigator’s individual protocol. Information provided with the specimens includes routine histopathologic and demographic data. The CHTN can also provide a variety of tissue microarrays. Contact the CHTN Web site at http://www-chtn.ims.nci.nih.gov, or 1-866-GO2-CHTN (1-866-462-2486). NCI - Cooperative Breast Cancer Tissue Resource (CBCTR) The NCI Cooperative Breast Cancer Tissue Resource (CBCTR) can provide researchers with access to formalin-fixed, paraffin-embedded primary breast cancer specimens, with associated pathologic, clinical, and outcome data. All specimens are evaluated for pathologic diagnosis by CBCTR pathologists using standard diagnostic criteria. The collection is particularly well suited for validation studies of diagnostic and prognostic markers. The CBCTR also makes available breast cancer tissue microarrays designed by NCI statisticians to provide high statistical power for studies of stage-specific markers of breast cancer. Contact CBCTR’s Web site at http://cbctr.nci.nih.gov, or contact Steve Marroulis at Information Management Services, Inc.: telephone: (301) 680-9770; e-mail: marrouliss@imsweb.com NCI - Cooperative Prostate Cancer Tissue Resource (CPCTR) The NCI Cooperative Prostate Cancer Tissue Resource (CPCTR) can provide access to over 4,000 cases of formalin-fixed, paraffin-embedded primary prostate cancer specimens, with associated pathology and clinical data. Fresh-frozen tissue is also available with limited clinical follow-up information. In addition, slides from prostate cancer tissue microarrays with associated pathology and clinical data are now available. Contact the CPCTR Web site at http://www.prostatetissues.org, or contact Steve Marroulis at Information Management Services, Inc.: telephone: (301) 680-9770; e-mail: marrouliss@imsweb.com NCI - AIDS and Cancer Specimen Resource (ACSR) The AIDS and Cancer Specimen Resource (ACSR) provides qualified researchers with tissue, cell, blood, and fluid specimens, as well as clinical data from patients with AIDS and cancer. The specimens and clinical data are available for research studies, particularly those that translate basic research findings to clinical application. Contact the ACSR Web site (http://acsr.ucsf.edu/) or Dr. Kishor Bhatia, (301) 496-7147; e-mail: bhatiak@mail.nih.gov NCI - Breast and Ovarian Cancer Family Registries (CFRs) The Breast and Ovarian CFRs facilitate and support interdisciplinary and population-based research on the identification and characterization of breast and ovarian cancer susceptibility genes, with particular emphasis on gene-gene and gene-environment interaction research. Available from the registries are: a) family history, epidemiologic and clinical data, b) updates on cancer recurrence, morbidity and mortality in participating families, and c) biospecimens, including plasma, lymphocytes, serum, DNA, Guthrie cards or buccal smears, and paraffin blocks of tumor tissue. For further information on these registries, contact the CFR Web site (http://epi.grants.cancer.gov/BCFR) or (301) 496-9600. NCI - Specimen Resource Locator The NCI Specimen Resource Locator (http://cancer.gov/specimens) is a database that helps researchers locate specimens for research. The database includes resources such as tissue banks and tissue procurement systems with access to normal, benign, precancerous, and/or cancerous human tissue covering a wide variety of organ sites. Researchers specify the types of specimens, number of cases, preservation methods, and associated data they require. The Locator will search the database and return a list of tissue resources most likely to meet their requirements. When no match is obtained, the researcher is referred to the NCI Tissue Expediter [(301) 496-7147; e-mail: tissexp@mail.nih.gov]. The Tissue Expediter is a scientist who can help match researchers with appropriate resources or identify appropriate collaborators when those are necessary. NIDDK - Biologic Samples from Diabetic Study Foundation A portion (1/3) of all stored nonrenewable samples (plasma, serum, urine) from subjects enrolled in the Diabetes Control and Complications Trial (DCCT) is available for use by the scientific community to address questions for which these samples may be invaluable. Announcements for using this resource appear in the NIH Guide for Grants and Contracts periodically. Inquiries may be addressed to: Catherine C. Cowie, Ph.D., Director, Diabetes Epidemiology Program, NIDDK, 6707 Democracy Blvd., Room 691, MSC 5460, National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases, Bethesda, MD 20892-5460. Phone: (301) 594-8804; fax: (301) 480-3503; e-mail: cowiec@extra.niddk.nih.gov NIDDK - NIDDK Central Repositories (Diabetes Prevention Study) The NIDDK Central Repositories have selected biosamples from the DPT-1 (The Diabetes Prevention Type 1) study that are available to qualified investigators through an application process. These samples are supplied for research purposes only, not for therapeutic, diagnostic, or commercial uses. Information about how to apply for these materials can be obtained from the NIDDK Central Repositories by contacting Ms. Helen Ray of RTI, 1-919-316-3418, or hmp@rti.org. Direct scientific-technical inquiry to the Project Officer of the NIDDK Central Repositories, Dr. Rebekah Rasooly, at phone: (301) 594-6007; e-mail: rr185i@nih.gov Visit the Repositories Web site at http://www.niddkrepository.org. NICHD - Brain and Tissue Bank for Developmental Disorders The purpose of the Bank is to collect, preserve, and distribute human tissues to investigators interested in autism and developmental disorders; normal tissues may be available for other research purposes. Further information can be obtained at www.btbank.org. The contact persons are H. Ron Zielke or Sally Wisniewsky, University of Maryland (1-800-847-1539), and Carol Petito or Stephanie Lojko, University of Miami (1-800-592-7246). NICHD - Reproductive Tissue Sample Repository (RTSaR) The Reproductive Tissue Sample Repository (RTSaR) is a virtual repository with online tissue sample acquisition capabilities. The RTSaR provides investigators with real-time access to human and nonhuman primate tissue and fluid inventories from four tissue bank facilities that are supported through the Specialized Cooperative Centers Program in Reproduction Research. The tissue banks are located at the University of California, San Diego (human ovary bank), Stanford University (human endometrium and DNA bank), Johns Hopkins University (male reproductive tissues and fluids), and the Oregon National Primate Research Center (nonhuman primate tissues). The web site for the RTSaR is https://rtsar.nichd.nih.gov/rtsar/login. If you wish to access the RTSaR, you can request an id and password to access the system by contacting the network administrator at RTSaR@mail.nih.gov Once you access the system, contact information for each bank is provided. Access is open to all investigators living in North America who are supported by research and research training grants from the NIH. One id and password will be provided to each principal investigator that can be utilized by any person working in the P.I.’s laboratory, or, in the case of institutional training grants (T32) and institutional career development award programs (K12), any person supported by the aforementioned awards. NCRR - Human Tissues and Organs Resource (HTOR) The Human Tissues and Organs Resource (HTOR) cooperative agreement supports a procurement network developed by the National Disease Research Interchange (NDRI), a not-for-profit organization. By collaborating with various medical centers, hospitals, pathology services, eye banks, tissue banks, and organ procurement organizations, HTOR provides a wide variety of human tissues and organs—both diseased and normal—to researchers for laboratory studies. Such samples include tissues from the central nervous system and brain, cardiovascular system, endocrine system, eyes, bone, and cartilage. For further information, consult the NDRI Web site (www.ndri.com) or contact Dr. John T. Lonsdale at NDRI, 8 Penn Center, 8th Floor, 1628 JFK Boulevard, Philadelphia, PA 19103. Phone: (800) 222-6374, ext. 271; fax: (215) 557-7154; e-mail: jlonsdale@ndriresource.org The NDRI Web site is http://www.ndri.com. NCRR - Islet Cell Resource (ICR) With support from NCRR, 10 Islet Cell Resource (ICR) centers isolate, purify, and characterize human pancreatic islets for subsequent transplantation into patients with type I diabetes. The ICR centers procure whole pancreata and acquire relevant data about donors; improve islet isolation and purification techniques; distribute islets for use in approved clinical protocols; and perfect the methods of storage and shipping. In this way, the centers optimize the viability, function, and availability of islets and help clinical researchers capitalize on the recently reported successes in islet transplantation. Information on submitting requests for islet cells can be obtained from Mr. John Kaddis, ICR Coordinating Center Project Manager, City of Hope National Medical Center, 1500 E. Duarte Road, Duarte, California 91010. Phone (626) 359-8111, ext. 63377; fax: (626) 471-7106; e-mail: jkaddis@coh.org The Coordinating Center hosts a Web site at http://icr.coh.org. NIA - SWAN Repository (longitudinal, multiethnic study of women at midlife including the menopausal transition) The SWAN Repository is a biologic specimen bank of the Study of Women’s Health Across the Nation (SWAN). The SWAN cohort was recruited in 1996/1997 and consists of 3302 African-American, Caucasian, Chinese, Hispanic, and Japanese women. The SWAN Repository contains more than 350,000 blood and urine specimens generated from the study participants’ annual visits (8 visits to date), at which time medical and health history, psychosocial measures, biological measures, and anthropometric data were and are being collected. In addition, a subset of the participants are providing urine samples, collected daily over the length of one menstrual cycle, each year. More than 900,000 of these samples are in the SWAN Repository and are available to researchers who wish to study the midlife and menopausal transition. Additionally, a DNA sample repository is also available and includes DNA as well as transformed B-lymphoblastoid cell lines from more than 1800 of the participants. To learn more about the SWAN Repository and how to apply to use SWAN Repository specimens, contact the Web site at http://www. swanrepository.com or Dr. MaryFran Sowers, University of Michigan, School of Public Health, Epidemiology Dept., (734) 936-3892; e-mail: mfsowers@umich.edu HUMAN AND ANIMAL CELL AND BIOLOGIC REAGENT RESOURCES NIDDK - National Hormone and Peptide Program The National Hormone and Peptide Program (NHPP) offers peptide hormones and their antisera, tissues (rat hypothalami), and miscellaneous reagents to qualified investigators. These reagents are supplied for research purposes only, not for therapeutic, diagnostic, or commercial uses. These materials can be obtained from Dr. A. F. Parlow of the Harbor-UCLA Medical Center, Research and Education Institute, Torrance, CA. A more complete description of resources within this program is provided in The Endocrine Society journals. Direct scientific-technical inquiry to NHPP Scientific Director, Dr. Al Parlow, at phone: (310) 222-3537; fax: (310) 222-3432; e-mail: parlow@humc.edu Visit the NHPP Web site at http://www.humc.edu/hormones. NICHD - National Hormone and Pituitary Program (see NIDDK listing) Following is a list of reagents currently available through the resources of NICHD: Androgen receptor and peptide antigen Recombinant monkey (cynomolgus) and baboon luteinizing hormone and follicle-stimulating hormone and antisera. NIA - Aging Cell Bank To facilitate aging research on cells in culture, the NIA provides support for the Aging Cell Bank located at the Coriell Institute for Medical Research in Camden, NJ. The Aged Cell Bank provides fibroblast, lymphoblastoid, and differentiated cell lines from a wide range of human age-related conditions and other mammalian species, as well as DNA from a limited subset of cell lines. For further information, the Aged Cell Bank catalog can be accessed at http://locus.umdnj.edu/nia or contact Dr. Donald Coppock at 1-800-752-3805. NCRR - Various Cell Repositories NCRR maintains the following cell repository resources: National Cell Culture Center, National Stem Cell Resource, and the Yeast Genetic Stock Center. Further information regarding these resources may be obtained through the NCRR Web site at: www.ncrr.nih.gov/ncrrprog/cmpdir/BIOLOG.asp. ANIMAL RESOURCES NIA - Aging Rodent Resources NIA maintains both rat and mouse colonies for use by the scientific community. The animals available range in age from 1 to 36 months. A repository of fresh-frozen tissue from the NIA aged rodent colonies is stocked with tissue from mouse and rat strains, including caloric-restricted BALB/c mice. The NIA also maintains a colony of calorically restricted rodents of selected genotypes, which are available to the scientific community. For further information, please refer to the Aged Rodent information handbook at http://www.nia.nih.gov/ResearchInformation/ScientificResources/AgedRodentColoniesHandbook/ or contact the Office of Biological Resources and Resource Development order desk. Phone: (301) 496-0181; fax: (301) 402-5597; e-mail: rodents@nia.nih.gov NIA - Aged Rodent Tissue Bank The rodent tissue bank contains flash-frozen tissues from rodents in the NIA aged rodent colonies. Tissue is collected from rodents at 4 or 5 age points throughout the lifespan. Tissue arrays are also available. Information is available at http://www.nia.nih.gov/ResearchInformation/ScientificResources/AgedRodentTissueBankHandbook/. NCRR - Mutant Mouse Regional Resource Centers (MMRRC) The Mutant Mouse Regional Resource Center (MMRRC) Program consists of centers that collectively operate as a one-stop shop to serve the biomedical research community. Investigators who have created select mutant mouse models may donate their models to an MMRRC for broad dissemination to other investigators who request them for noncommercial research investigations related to human health, disease, and treatments. The NCRR Division of Comparative Medicine (DCM) supports the MMRRCs, which are electronically linked through the MMRRC Informatics Coordinating Center (ICC) to function as one facility. The ICC, located at The Jackson Laboratory in Bar Harbor, ME, provides database and other informatics support to the MMRRC to give the research community a single entry point to the program. Further information can be obtained from the Web site at http://www.mmrrc.org, or from Franziska Grieder, D.V.M., Ph.D., Division of Comparative Medicine, NCRR. Phone (301) 435-0744; fax: (301) 480-3819; e-mail: griederf@ncrr.nih.gov NCRR - Induced Mutant Mouse Resource (IMR) The Induced Mutant Mouse Resource (IMR) at The Jackson Laboratory provides researchers with genetically engineered mice (transgenic, targeted mutant, retroviral insertional mutant, and chemically induced mutant mice). The function of the IMR is to select, import, cryopreserve, maintain, and distribute these important strains of mice to the research community. To improve their value for research, the IMR also undertakes genetic development of stocks, such as transferring mutant genes or transgenes to defined genetic backgrounds and combining transgenes and/or targeted mutations to create new mouse models for research. Over 800 mutant stocks have been accepted by the IMR. Current holdings include models for research on cancer, immunological and inflammatory diseases, neurological diseases and behavioral disorders, cardiovascular diseases, developmental disorders, metabolic and other diseases, reporter (e.g. GFP) and recombinase (e.g. cre/loxP) strains. About 8 strains a month are being added to the IMR holdings. A list of all strains may be obtained from the IMR Web site: www.jax.org/resources/documents/imr/. Online submission forms are also available on that site. All mice can be ordered by calling The Jackson Laboratory’s Customer Service Department at 1-800-422-MICE or (207) 288-5845 or by faxing (207) 288-6150. NIDDK - Mouse Metabolic Phenotyping Centers The mission of the Mouse Metabolic Phenotyping Centers is to provide the scientific community with standardized, high-quality metabolic and physiologic phenotyping services for mouse models of diabetes, diabetic complications, obesity, and related disorders. Researchers can ship mice to one of the four Centers (University of Cincinnati, University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center, Vanderbilt University, and Yale University) and obtain on a fee-for-service basis a range of complex exams used to characterize mouse metabolism, blood composition, energy balance, eating and exercise, organ function and morphology, physiology, and histology. Many tests are done in living animals and are designed to elucidate the subtle hallmarks of metabolic disease. Information, including a complete list of available tests, can be found at www.mmpc.org, or contact Dr. Maren R. Laughlin, NIDDK, at (301) 594-8802; e-mail: Maren.Laughlin@nih.gov; or Dr. Kristin Abraham, NIDDK, at (301) 451-8048; e-mail: abrahamk@extra.niddk.nih.gov NCRR - National Primate Research Centers (NPRCs) National Primate Research Centers (NPRCs) are a network of eight highly specialized facilities for nonhuman primates (NHP) research. Funded by grants through NCRR’s Division of Comparative Medicine (DCM), each center, staffed with experienced research and support staff, provides the appropriate research environment to foster the development of NHP models of human health and disease for biomedical investigations. The NPRCs are affiliated with academic institutions and are accessible to eligible biomedical and behavioral investigators supported by research project grants from the National Institutes of Health and other sources. Further information may be obtained from the notice, Procedures for Accessing Regional Primate Research Centers, published in the NIH Guide for Grants and Contracts at http://grants2.nih.gov/grants/guide/notice-files/not97-014.html, or from John Harding, Ph.D., National Primate Research Centers and AIDS Animal Models Program, Division of Comparative Medicine, NCRR. Phone: (301) 435-0744; fax: (301) 480-3819; e-mail: hardingj@mail.nih.gov NIA - Nonhuman Primates, Aging Set-Aside Colony NIA maintains approximately 200 nonhuman primates (M. mulatta) at four National Primate Research Centers (see above) for conducting research on aging. These animals range in age from 18 to 35 years. While these animals are predominantly reserved for non-invasive research, exceptions can be made to this policy. For further information, please contact Dr. Nancy Nadon, Office of Biological Resources and Resource Development, NIA. Phone: (301) 402-7744; fax: (301) 402-0010; e-mail: nadonn@nia.nih.gov NIA - Nonhuman Primate (NHP) Tissue Bank and Aging Database The NIA developed two new resources to facilitate research in the NHP model. The NHP tissue bank contains fresh-frozen and fixed tissue donated by primate centers around the country. Information is available at http://www.nia.nih.gov/ResearchInformation/ScientificResources/NHPTissueBankHandbook.htm. The Primate Aging Database provides an internet accessible database with data from thousands of primates around the country. It can be used to investigate the effect of age on a variety of parameters, predominantly blood chemistry and husbandry measurements. The site is password protected. The URL is http://ipad.primate.wisc.edu. NIA - Obesity, Diabetes and Aging Animal Resource (USF-ODARC) The NIA supports a colony of aged rhesus macaques, many of which are obese and/or diabetic. This is a long-term colony of monkeys housed at the University of South Florida’s Obesity, Diabetes and Aging Research Center. They have been extensively and longitudinally characterized for general health variables, blood chemistry, food intake, and body weight. Diabetic monkeys are tested daily for urine glucose and ketone levels, and prediabetic monkeys are tested weekly. Data for some of the monkeys extend as far back as 15 years. This unique resource is available for collaborative studies. ODARC has a significant amount of stored tissue collected at necropsy and stored blood/plasma collected longitudinally. Serial blood collection or tissue collection at necropsy can also be performed prospectively. Testing and imaging can also be performed on the monkeys. Inquiries regarding collaborative studies using the ODARC colony should be directed to: Barbara C. Hansen, Ph.D., Director, Obesity, Diabetes and Aging Research Center, University of South Florida, All Children’s Hospital, 801 6th Street South #9340, St. Petersburg, FL 33701. Phone: (727) 767-6993; fax: (727) 767-7443; e-mail: bchansen@aol.com NCRR - Various Animal Resources NCRR maintains the following animal resources: Animal Models and Genetic Stocks, Chimpanzee Biomedical Research Program, NIH Animal Genetic Resource, and the Specific Pathogen Free Macaque Breeding and Research Program. Further information regarding these and other resources may be obtained through the NCRR Web site at www.ncrr.nih.gov/comparative_med.asp. MISCELLANEOUS RESOURCES NCRR - National Gene Vector Laboratories (NGVLs) The National Gene Vector Laboratories (NGVLs), with core funding from NCRR, serve as a resource for researchers to obtain adequate quantities of clinical-grade vectors for human gene transfer protocols. The vector types include retrovirus, lentivirus, adenovirus, adeno-associated virus, herpes-virus, and DNA plasmids. The NGVLs consist of three vector production centers at: Baylor College of Medicine; City of Hope National Medical Center and Beckman Research Institute; and Indiana University, which also serves as the Coordinating Center for all the laboratories. Two additional laboratories conduct toxicology studies for NGVL-approved investigators. These laboratories are located at the Southern Research Institute and the University of Florida. Additional information about the process for requesting vector production and/or pharmacology/toxicology support should be directed to Ms. Lorraine Matheson, NGVL Project Coordinator, Indiana University School of Medicine. Phone: (317) 274-4519; fax: (317) 278-4518; e-mail: lrubin@iupui.edu The NGVL Coordinating Center at Indiana University also hosts a Web site at http://www.ngvl.org. NCRR - General Clinical Research Centers (GCRCs) The General Clinical Research Centers (GCRCs) are a national network of 82 centers that provide optimal settings for medical investigators to conduct safe, controlled, state-of-the-art in-patient and out-patient studies of both children and adults. GCRCs also provide infrastructure and resources that support several career development opportunities. Investigators who have research project funding from the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and other peer-reviewed sources may apply to use GCRCs. Because the GCRCs support a full spectrum of patient-oriented scientific inquiry, researchers who use these centers can benefit from collaborative, multidisciplinary research opportunities. To request access to a GCRC facility, eligible investigators should initially contact a GCRC program director, listed in the National Center for Research Resources (NCRR) Clinical Research Resources Directory (www.ncrr.nih.gov/ncrrprog/clindir/crdirectory.asp). Further information can be obtained from Anthony R. Hayward, M.D., Director, Division for Clinical Research Resources, National Center for Research Resources at NIH. Phone: (301) 435-0790; e-mail: haywarda@ncrr.nih.gov

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Abstract Resources currently available to the scientific community that may be of interest for endocrinology research are described briefly here. More information is available through The Endocrine Society Home Page (http://www.endo-society.org) or the information provided below. HUMAN TISSUE AND BIOLOGIC SPECIMEN RESOURCES NCI - Cooperative Human Tissue Network (CHTN) The NCI Cooperative Human Tissue Network (CHTN) provides normal, benign, precancerous, and cancerous human tissue to the scientific community for biomedical research. Specimens are collected according to the investigator’s individual protocol. Information provided with the specimens includes routine histopathologic and demographic data. The CHTN can also provide a variety of tissue microarrays. Contact the CHTN Web site at http://www-chtn.ims.nci.nih.gov, or 1-866-GO2-CHTN (1-866-462-2486). NCI - Cooperative Breast Cancer Tissue Resource (CBCTR) The NCI Cooperative Breast Cancer Tissue Resource (CBCTR) can provide researchers with access to formalin-fixed, paraffin-embedded primary breast cancer specimens, with associated pathologic, clinical, and outcome data. All specimens are evaluated for pathologic diagnosis by CBCTR pathologists using standard diagnostic criteria. The collection is particularly well suited for validation studies of diagnostic and prognostic markers. The CBCTR also makes available breast cancer tissue microarrays designed by NCI statisticians to provide high statistical power for studies of stage-specific markers of breast cancer. Contact CBCTR’s Web site at http://cbctr.nci.nih.gov, or contact Steve Marroulis at Information Management Services, Inc.: telephone: (301) 680-9770; e-mail: marrouliss@imsweb.com. NCI - Cooperative Prostate Cancer Tissue Resource (CPCTR) The NCI Cooperative Prostate Cancer Tissue Resource (CPCTR) can provide access to over 4,000 cases of formalin-fixed, paraffin-embedded primary prostate cancer specimens, with associated pathology and clinical data. Fresh-frozen tissue is also available with limited clinical follow-up information. In addition, slides from prostate cancer tissue microarrays with associated pathology and clinical data are now available. Contact the CPCTR Web site at http://www.prostatetissues.org, or contact Steve Marroulis at Information Management Services, Inc.: telephone: (301) 680-9770; e-mail: marrouliss@imsweb.com. NCI - AIDS and Cancer Specimen Resource (ACSR) The AIDS and Cancer Specimen Resource (ACSR) provides qualified researchers with tissue, cell, blood, and fluid specimens, as well as clinical data from patients with AIDS and cancer. The specimens and clinical data are available for research studies, particularly those that translate basic research findings to clinical application. Contact the ACSR Web site (http://acsr.ucsf.edu/) or Dr. Kishor Bhatia, (301) 496-7147; e-mail: bhatiak@mail.nih.gov. NCI - Breast and Ovarian Cancer Family Registries (CFRs) The Breast and Ovarian CFRs facilitate and support interdisciplinary and population-based research on the identification and characterization of breast and ovarian cancer susceptibility genes, with particular emphasis on gene-gene and gene-environment interaction research. Available from the registries are: a) family history, epidemiologic and clinical data, b) updates on cancer recurrence, morbidity and mortality in participating families, and c) biospecimens, including plasma, lymphocytes, serum, DNA, Guthrie cards or buccal smears, and paraffin blocks of tumor tissue. For further information on these registries, contact the CFR Web site (http://epi.grants.cancer.gov/BCFR) or (301) 496-9600. NCI - Specimen Resource Locator The NCI Specimen Resource Locator (http://cancer.gov/specimens) is a database that helps researchers locate specimens for research. The database includes resources such as tissue banks and tissue procurement systems with access to normal, benign, precancerous, and/or cancerous human tissue covering a wide variety of organ sites. Researchers specify the types of specimens, number of cases, preservation methods, and associated data they require. The Locator will search the database and return a list of tissue resources most likely to meet their requirements. When no match is obtained, the researcher is referred to the NCI Tissue Expediter [(301) 496-7147; e-mail: tissexp@mail.nih.gov]. The Tissue Expediter is a scientist who can help match researchers with appropriate resources or identify appropriate collaborators when those are necessary. NIDDK - Biologic Samples from Diabetic Study Foundation A portion (1/3) of all stored nonrenewable samples (plasma, serum, urine) from subjects enrolled in the Diabetes Control and Complications Trial (DCCT) is available for use by the scientific community to address questions for which these samples may be invaluable. Announcements for using this resource appear in the NIH Guide for Grants and Contracts periodically. Inquiries may be addressed to: Catherine C. Cowie, Ph.D., Director, Diabetes Epidemiology Program, NIDDK, 6707 Democracy Blvd., Room 691, MSC 5460, National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases, Bethesda, MD 20892-5460. Phone: (301) 594-8804; fax: (301) 480-3503; e-mail: cowiec@extra.niddk.nih.gov. NIDDK - NIDDK Central Repositories (Diabetes Prevention Study) The NIDDK Central Repositories have selected biosamples from the DPT-1 (The Diabetes Prevention Type 1) study that are available to qualified investigators through an application process. These samples are supplied for research purposes only, not for therapeutic, diagnostic, or commercial uses. Information about how to apply for these materials can be obtained from the NIDDK Central Repositories by contacting Ms. Helen Ray of RTI, 1-919-316-3418, or hmp@rti.org. Direct scientific-technical inquiry to the Project Officer of the NIDDK Central Repositories, Dr. Rebekah Rasooly, at phone: (301) 594-6007; e-mail: rr185i@nih.gov. Visit the Repositories Web site at http://www.niddkrepository.org. NICHD - Brain and Tissue Bank for Developmental Disorders The purpose of the Bank is to collect, preserve, and distribute human tissues to investigators interested in autism and developmental disorders; normal tissues may be available for other research purposes. Further information can be obtained at www.btbank.org. The contact persons are H. Ron Zielke or Sally Wisniewsky, University of Maryland (1-800-847-1539), and Carol Petito or Stephanie Lojko, University of Miami (1-800-592-7246). NICHD - Reproductive Tissue Sample Repository (RTSaR) The Reproductive Tissue Sample Repository (RTSaR) is a virtual repository with online tissue sample acquisition capabilities. The RTSaR provides investigators with real-time access to human and nonhuman primate tissue and fluid inventories from four tissue bank facilities that are supported through the Specialized Cooperative Centers Program in Reproduction Research. The tissue banks are located at the University of California, San Diego (human ovary bank), Stanford University (human endometrium and DNA bank), Johns Hopkins University (male reproductive tissues and fluids), and the Oregon National Primate Research Center (nonhuman primate tissues). The web site for the RTSaR is https://rtsar.nichd.nih.gov/rtsar/login. If you wish to access the RTSaR, you can request an id and password to access the system by contacting the network administrator at RTSaR@mail.nih.gov. Once you access the system, contact information for each bank is provided. Access is open to all investigators living in North America who are supported by research and research training grants from the NIH. One id and password will be provided to each principal investigator that can be utilized by any person working in the P.I.’s laboratory, or, in the case of institutional training grants (T32) and institutional career development award programs (K12), any person supported by the aforementioned awards. NCRR - Human Tissues and Organs Resource (HTOR) The Human Tissues and Organs Resource (HTOR) cooperative agreement supports a procurement network developed by the National Disease Research Interchange (NDRI), a not-for-profit organization. By collaborating with various medical centers, hospitals, pathology services, eye banks, tissue banks, and organ procurement organizations, HTOR provides a wide variety of human tissues and organs—both diseased and normal—to researchers for laboratory studies. Such samples include tissues from the central nervous system and brain, cardiovascular system, endocrine system, eyes, bone, and cartilage. For further information, consult the NDRI Web site (www.ndri.com) or contact Dr. John T. Lonsdale at NDRI, 8 Penn Center, 8th Floor, 1628 JFK Boulevard, Philadelphia, PA 19103. Phone: (800) 222-6374, ext. 271; fax: (215) 557-7154; e-mail: jlonsdale@ndriresource.org. The NDRI Web site is http://www.ndri.com. NCRR - Islet Cell Resource (ICR) With support from NCRR, 10 Islet Cell Resource (ICR) centers isolate, purify, and characterize human pancreatic islets for subsequent transplantation into patients with type I diabetes. The ICR centers procure whole pancreata and acquire relevant data about donors; improve islet isolation and purification techniques; distribute islets for use in approved clinical protocols; and perfect the methods of storage and shipping. In this way, the centers optimize the viability, function, and availability of islets and help clinical researchers capitalize on the recently reported successes in islet transplantation. Information on submitting requests for islet cells can be obtained from Mr. John Kaddis, ICR Coordinating Center Project Manager, City of Hope National Medical Center, 1500 E. Duarte Road, Duarte, California 91010. Phone (626) 359-8111, ext. 63377; fax: (626) 471-7106; e-mail: jkaddis@coh.org. The Coordinating Center hosts a Web site at http://icr.coh.org. NIA - SWAN Repository (longitudinal, multiethnic study of women at midlife including the menopausal transition) The SWAN Repository is a biologic specimen bank of the Study of Women’s Health Across the Nation (SWAN). The SWAN cohort was recruited in 1996/1997 and consists of 3302 African-American, Caucasian, Chinese, Hispanic, and Japanese women. The SWAN Repository contains more than 350,000 blood and urine specimens generated from the study participants’ annual visits (8 visits to date), at which time medical and health history, psychosocial measures, biological measures, and anthropometric data were and are being collected. In addition, a subset of the participants are providing urine samples, collected daily over the length of one menstrual cycle, each year. More than 900,000 of these samples are in the SWAN Repository and are available to researchers who wish to study the midlife and menopausal transition. Additionally, a DNA sample repository is also available and includes DNA as well as transformed B-lymphoblastoid cell lines from more than 1800 of the participants. To learn more about the SWAN Repository and how to apply to use SWAN Repository specimens, contact the Web site at http://www.swanrepository.com or Dr. MaryFran Sowers, University of Michigan, School of Public Health, Epidemiology Dept., (734) 936-3892; e-mail: mfsowers@umich.edu. HUMAN AND ANIMAL CELL AND BIOLOGIC REAGENT RESOURCES NIDDK - National Hormone and Peptide Program The National Hormone and Peptide Program (NHPP) offers peptide hormones and their antisera, tissues (rat hypothalami), and miscellaneous reagents to qualified investigators. These reagents are supplied for research purposes only, not for therapeutic, diagnostic, or commercial uses. These materials can be obtained from Dr. A. F. Parlow of the Harbor-UCLA Medical Center, Research and Education Institute, Torrance, CA. A more complete description of resources within this program is provided in The Endocrine Society journals. Direct scientific-technical inquiry to NHPP Scientific Director, Dr. Al Parlow, at phone: (310) 222-3537; fax: (310) 222-3432; e-mail: parlow@humc.edu. Visit the NHPP Web site at http://www.humc.edu/hormones. NICHD - National Hormone and Pituitary Program (see NIDDK listing) Following is a list of reagents currently available through the resources of NICHD: Androgen receptor and peptide antigen Recombinant monkey (cynomolgus) and baboon luteinizing hormone and follicle-stimulating hormone and antisera. NIA - Aging Cell Bank To facilitate aging research on cells in culture, the NIA provides support for the Aging Cell Bank located at the Coriell Institute for Medical Research in Camden, NJ. The Aged Cell Bank provides fibroblast, lymphoblastoid, and differentiated cell lines from a wide range of human age-related conditions and other mammalian species, as well as DNA from a limited subset of cell lines. For further information, the Aged Cell Bank catalog can be accessed at http://locus.umdnj.edu/nia or contact Dr. Donald Coppock at 1-800-752-3805. NCRR - Various Cell Repositories NCRR maintains the following cell repository resources: National Cell Culture Center, National Stem Cell Resource, and the Yeast Genetic Stock Center. Further information regarding these resources may be obtained through the NCRR Web site at: www.ncrr.nih.gov/ncrrprog/cmpdir/BIOLOG.asp. ANIMAL RESOURCES NIA - Aging Rodent Resources NIA maintains both rat and mouse colonies for use by the scientific community. The animals available range in age from 1 to 36 months. A repository of fresh-frozen tissue from the NIA aged rodent colonies is stocked with tissue from mouse and rat strains, including caloric-restricted BALB/c mice. The NIA also maintains a colony of calorically restricted rodents of selected genotypes, which are available to the scientific community. For further information, please refer to the Aged Rodent information handbook at http://www.nia.nih.gov/ResearchInformation/ScientificResources/AgedRodentColoniesHandbook/ or contact the Office of Biological Resources and Resource Development order desk. Phone: (301) 496-0181; fax: (301) 402-5597; e-mail: rodents@nia.nih.gov. NIA - Aged Rodent Tissue Bank The rodent tissue bank contains flash-frozen tissues from rodents in the NIA aged rodent colonies. Tissue is collected from rodents at 4 or 5 age points throughout the lifespan. Tissue arrays are also available. Information is available at http://www.nia.nih.gov/ResearchInformation/ScientificResources/AgedRodentTissueBankHandbook/. NCRR - Mutant Mouse Regional Resource Centers (MMRRC) The Mutant Mouse Regional Resource Center (MMRRC) Program consists of centers that collectively operate as a one-stop shop to serve the biomedical research community. Investigators who have created select mutant mouse models may donate their models to an MMRRC for broad dissemination to other investigators who request them for noncommercial research investigations related to human health, disease, and treatments. The NCRR Division of Comparative Medicine (DCM) supports the MMRRCs, which are electronically linked through the MMRRC Informatics Coordinating Center (ICC) to function as one facility. The ICC, located at The Jackson Laboratory in Bar Harbor, ME, provides database and other informatics support to the MMRRC to give the research community a single entry point to the program. Further information can be obtained from the Web site at http://www.mmrrc.org, or from Franziska Grieder, D.V.M., Ph.D., Division of Comparative Medicine, NCRR. Phone (301) 435-0744; fax: (301) 480-3819; e-mail: griederf@ncrr.nih.gov. NCRR - Induced Mutant Mouse Resource (IMR) The Induced Mutant Mouse Resource (IMR) at The Jackson Laboratory provides researchers with genetically engineered mice (transgenic, targeted mutant, retroviral insertional mutant, and chemically induced mutant mice). The function of the IMR is to select, import, cryopreserve, maintain, and distribute these important strains of mice to the research community. To improve their value for research, the IMR also undertakes genetic development of stocks, such as transferring mutant genes or transgenes to defined genetic backgrounds and combining transgenes and/or targeted mutations to create new mouse models for research. Over 800 mutant stocks have been accepted by the IMR. Current holdings include models for research on cancer, immunological and inflammatory diseases, neurological diseases and behavioral disorders, cardiovascular diseases, developmental disorders, metabolic and other diseases, reporter (e.g. GFP) and recombinase (e.g. cre/loxP) strains. About 8 strains a month are being added to the IMR holdings. A list of all strains may be obtained from the IMR Web site: www.jax.org/resources/documents/imr/. Online submission forms are also available on that site. All mice can be ordered by calling The Jackson Laboratory’s Customer Service Department at 1-800-422-MICE or (207) 288-5845 or by faxing (207) 288-6150. NIDDK - Mouse Metabolic Phenotyping Centers The mission of the Mouse Metabolic Phenotyping Centers is to provide the scientific community with standardized, high-quality metabolic and physiologic phenotyping services for mouse models of diabetes, diabetic complications, obesity, and related disorders. Researchers can ship mice to one of the four Centers (University of Cincinnati, University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center, Vanderbilt University, and Yale University) and obtain on a fee-for-service basis a range of complex exams used to characterize mouse metabolism, blood composition, energy balance, eating and exercise, organ function and morphology, physiology, and histology. Many tests are done in living animals and are designed to elucidate the subtle hallmarks of metabolic disease. Information, including a complete list of available tests, can be found at www.mmpc.org, or contact Dr. Maren R. Laughlin, NIDDK, at (301) 594-8802; e-mail: Maren.Laughlin@nih.gov; or Dr. Kristin Abraham, NIDDK, at (301) 451-8048; e-mail: abrahamk@extra.niddk.nih.gov. NCRR - National Primate Research Centers (NPRCs) National Primate Research Centers (NPRCs) are a network of eight highly specialized facilities for nonhuman primates (NHP) research. Funded by grants through NCRR’s Division of Comparative Medicine (DCM), each center, staffed with experienced research and support staff, provides the appropriate research environment to foster the development of NHP models of human health and disease for biomedical investigations. The NPRCs are affiliated with academic institutions and are accessible to eligible biomedical and behavioral investigators supported by research project grants from the National Institutes of Health and other sources. Further information may be obtained from the notice, Procedures for Accessing Regional Primate Research Centers, published in the NIH Guide for Grants and Contracts at http://grants2.nih.gov/grants/guide/notice-files/not97-014.html, or from John Harding, Ph.D., National Primate Research Centers and AIDS Animal Models Program, Division of Comparative Medicine, NCRR. Phone: (301) 435-0744; fax: (301) 480-3819; e-mail: hardingj@mail.nih.gov. NIA - Nonhuman Primates, Aging Set-Aside Colony NIA maintains approximately 200 nonhuman primates (M. mulatta) at four National Primate Research Centers (see above) for conducting research on aging. These animals range in age from 18 to 35 years. While these animals are predominantly reserved for non-invasive research, exceptions can be made to this policy. For further information, please contact Dr. Nancy Nadon, Office of Biological Resources and Resource Development, NIA. Phone: (301) 402-7744; fax: (301) 402-0010; e-mail: nadonn@nia.nih.gov. NIA - Nonhuman Primate (NHP) Tissue Bank and Aging Database The NIA developed two new resources to facilitate research in the NHP model. The NHP tissue bank contains fresh-frozen and fixed tissue donated by primate centers around the country. Information is available at http://www.nia.nih.gov/ResearchInformation/ScientificResources/NHPTissueBankHandbook.htm. The Primate Aging Database provides an internet accessible database with data from thousands of primates around the country. It can be used to investigate the effect of age on a variety of parameters, predominantly blood chemistry and husbandry measurements. The site is password protected. The URL is http://ipad.primate.wisc.edu. NIA - Obesity, Diabetes and Aging Animal Resource (USF-ODARC) The NIA supports a colony of aged rhesus macaques, many of which are obese and/or diabetic. This is a long-term colony of monkeys housed at the University of South Florida’s Obesity, Diabetes and Aging Research Center. They have been extensively and longitudinally characterized for general health variables, blood chemistry, food intake, and body weight. Diabetic monkeys are tested daily for urine glucose and ketone levels, and prediabetic monkeys are tested weekly. Data for some of the monkeys extend as far back as 15 years. This unique resource is available for collaborative studies. ODARC has a significant amount of stored tissue collected at necropsy and stored blood/plasma collected longitudinally. Serial blood collection or tissue collection at necropsy can also be performed prospectively. Testing and imaging can also be performed on the monkeys. Inquiries regarding collaborative studies using the ODARC colony should be directed to: Barbara C. Hansen, Ph.D., Director, Obesity, Diabetes and Aging Research Center, University of South Florida, All Children’s Hospital, 801 6th Street South #9340, St. Petersburg, FL 33701. Phone: (727) 767-6993; fax: (727) 767-7443; e-mail: bchansen@aol.com. NCRR - Various Animal Resources NCRR maintains the following animal resources: Animal Models and Genetic Stocks, Chimpanzee Biomedical Research Program, NIH Animal Genetic Resource, and the Specific Pathogen Free Macaque Breeding and Research Program. Further information regarding these and other resources may be obtained through the NCRR Web site at www.ncrr.nih.gov/comparative_med.asp. MISCELLANEOUS RESOURCES NCRR - National Gene Vector Laboratories (NGVLs) The National Gene Vector Laboratories (NGVLs), with core funding from NCRR, serve as a resource for researchers to obtain adequate quantities of clinical-grade vectors for human gene transfer protocols. The vector types include retrovirus, lentivirus, adenovirus, adeno-associated virus, herpes-virus, and DNA plasmids. The NGVLs consist of three vector production centers at: Baylor College of Medicine; City of Hope National Medical Center and Beckman Research Institute; and Indiana University, which also serves as the Coordinating Center for all the laboratories. Two additional laboratories conduct toxicology studies for NGVL-approved investigators. These laboratories are located at the Southern Research Institute and the University of Florida. Additional information about the process for requesting vector production and/or pharmacology/toxicology support should be directed to Ms. Lorraine Matheson, NGVL Project Coordinator, Indiana University School of Medicine. Phone: (317) 274-4519; fax: (317) 278-4518; e-mail: lrubin@iupui.edu. The NGVL Coordinating Center at Indiana University also hosts a Web site at http://www.ngvl.org. NCRR - General Clinical Research Centers (GCRCs) The General Clinical Research Centers (GCRCs) are a national network of 82 centers that provide optimal settings for medical investigators to conduct safe, controlled, state-of-the-art in-patient and out-patient studies of both children and adults. GCRCs also provide infrastructure and resources that support several career development opportunities. Investigators who have research project funding from the National Institutes of Health (NIH) and other peer-reviewed sources may apply to use GCRCs. Because the GCRCs support a full spectrum of patient-oriented scientific inquiry, researchers who use these centers can benefit from collaborative, multidisciplinary research opportunities. To request access to a GCRC facility, eligible investigators should initially contact a GCRC program director, listed in the National Center for Research Resources (NCRR) Clinical Research Resources Directory (www.ncrr.nih.gov/ncrrprog/clindir/crdirectory.asp). Further information can be obtained from Anthony R. Hayward, M.D., Director, Division for Clinical Research Resources, National Center for Research Resources at NIH. Phone: (301) 435-0790; e-mail: haywarda@ncrr.nih.gov.