“If you think education is expensive, try ignorance.”

Schools of Thought

By Donna Krache, CNN

(CNN) Scholar, inventor, statesman, author of the Declaration of Independence … blogger?

Only in recent years has the third president of the United States added that achievement to his many credits.

To mark the 250th anniversary of Thomas Jefferson’s completion of studies at the College of William and Mary, the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation  decided it was time to take his views on education into the blogosphere.

“We have our own Thomas Jefferson, Bill Barker, who’s been interpreting Jefferson for more than 20 years,” said Robyn Eoff, director of the Internet for Colonial Williamsburg. Barker gives visitors a chance to hear from and see this multitalented Founding Father.

Eoff told CNN that Jefferson is “so popular with visitors that we decided to put up his quotes.”

The foundation launched its first Thomas Jefferson blog ahead of the 2008 presidential election. Back then, Jefferson “blogged” about all…

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Schools of Thought

Courtesy Ruth DavisBy Steve Nicholls, Special to CNN

Editor’s note: Steve Nicholls is the author of Social Media in Business. He is a social media strategist hired by business executives to teach them how to implement a winning social media strategy into their organization.

The New York Education Department recently stated that in the first 11 months of 2011 there were 69 cases where teachers were accused of inappropriate conduct with students on Facebook. Some were fired as a result, and there is a growing trend by schools across the country to put a ban on social media.

This raises a question: Is prohibiting social media in schools the right way to protect children?

In my view, if the answer is yes then that would mean that as technology grows, schools are forbidden to grow with it, and that would somewhat be of a contradiction to what a school is…

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Well fought might well be

The highest compliment

Anyone can bestow upon another.

To accept the challenge

Not to mime but to learn,

For this challenge remains the purest endeavor.

If we but accept the responsibility

Bestowed upon us by the divine

To pick up the gauntlet dropped at our feet.

Our minds need the exercise at all levels

For knowledge and wisdom

Can never be too shallow nor deep.

Some fall by the side

As understanding is not their forte

And their fears belie their course with dangers fraught.

But for those who pick up the challenge

To approach their fears with knowledge

Shall be rewarded in the end with the words

‘Well fought’.




What to do

What is thy will

As I study and brood

The question’s there still

Where should I go

Your guidance I need

Must be careful I know

As your hands guide this deed

Should I cast care aside

And in faith go my way

My fate in your hands abide

For concerning your will I’ve no say

Your slave am I

With no right to speak

But I breathe a sigh

As viewing the future I seek

So to do your will

I have no choice

Though I’m ignorant still

And without a voice

I’ll continue the way

And if it be right

Then as I pray

You’ll be my light

Enemy Revealed


I saw the Chimera last night.

Seductive and pleasing to the eye.

Then it was revealed to me behind the veil;

Fat bloated and ugly it was.

A feaster of souls, it was ripe and plump,

Ready for the eternal flame.

It was many armed like the Kraken;

With only the tips penetrating into this reality.

Each tip taking on a different appearance,

To appeal to the various prides of man.

It was an obscenity for such beauty

To be attached to such a loathsome trunk.

Yet, how true to its nature.

To be pleasing here and maybe a distraction there,

All seeming so innocent.

Yes, I’ve seen one of my enemies,

And now I know what to be on guard against.    




What is this thing called honor?

Is it not rooted deep in trust?

Or was it merely just a concept:

Through generations turned to dust?

Why was it held so high?

Where none could reach if spirit’s weak.

Held only where the pure in heart,

Could find if they would seek.

Why do people who hold it dear

Seem so out of place?

Everywhere they’re treated harshly

And seem to vanish without a trace.

The deceitful, however, will regard

Those with honor with disgrace,

But seem to know without a doubt

That they’re the ones out of place.





Man in his ignorance believes what he sees and naught else. He plays and toys with the unspeakable; never suspecting what awaits beyond the shade. He sees peace and ignores the tribulation, believing himself out of reach.

The serpent, however, awaits the moment most opportune. While man peacefully smells the flowers and praises himself, his foe, the serpent, waits in the rough, just out of sight.

A master of tactics, he watches for the man who wanders from the path. It’s when the man feels safest that it happens.

The serpent strikes. The victims’ feeble thrashing attracts no attention.

After the serpent consumes his prey he is all too soon seeking the next.


Through the Veil


This is not my world,

Everything here is strange.

Have I passed through the veil?

How did everything change?

Where now is my world?

How did I cross to here?

Was I replaced by another?

What of  she, whom I held so dear?

Perhaps this occurrence is common,

As with others, this time with me.

Trapping one and then another,

Slipping beyond, ne’er to be free.

Wandering alone in an alien environ,

Longing for my home to see.

My desire is for that, which was,

As emptiness engulfs me.

Hostility and pain to those as I,

Beset upon as by a beast.

Never again to receive rest,

Missing always my angel of the east.

But the time will come,

Or so it is I pray.

My love will whisper in my ear,

Time to wake, for dawning is the day.


I am the bird with no feet, no place have I to rest, no inheritance for me to claim. My place is in service to those whom fate has blessed with position.


But hold, what manner of blessing is that; to have your life squandered on luxuries and softness?

To hear the continual tittering of voices, to be deprived of their own time. Never to know the honor of a life well spent; hard and short as it may be. For is it not the brand burning twice as bright that lasts but half as long?

Is it not the warrior rather than the noble who learns to die? Whereby is able to live a life fuller and richer in honor? Is it not the servitude rather than nobility that our divine providence is most likely to smile upon?

How much greater, then, is the servant?




What is this thing called heart?

Is it the spirit or essence?

As intangible as it is, how can it be lost?

Does it have weight or mass?

Why does it pain one when it is lost?

Why does one feel so empty?

Why, oh why, can it never be replaced?