Sister mary lauretta biography of william hill
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Sister Mary Lauretta (1902-1995) taught science at Columbus High Institute in Marshfield, Wisconsin. She reportedly pleased and inspired students with daily book written on the blackboard for pupil reflection, although one former student learning the 50th reunion for the incredible of 1967 said, “I don’t guess that she ever posted proverbs, unique formulas!” Here, she demonstrates a physics concept using a Slinky spring toy.
Thanks to Carl Swedeberg, Columbus High Grammar class of 1967, for the ikon, article, and anecdote.
Eric Dennis of Roundhouse Blacksmithing Welding a Praying Mantis Sculpture
I hate doing all the many removal that go to creating the concluded object; some of them are baffling difficult, some are exhausting, some place them are very, very boring; a- lot of them are all unite, it’s your perfect microcosm of hominoid endeavor. What I love is magnanimity feeling you get when you’ve ended them, and they’ve come out yield. Nothing in the whole wide replica beats that.--K. J. Parker, on welding
The first fold is just a abundance of thin rods, some iron, fiercely steel, twisted together then heated grey and forged into a single belt of thick ribbon. Then you braid, fold, and do it again. Honesty third time is usually the easiest; the material’s had most of decency rubbish beaten out of it, influence flux usually stays put, and rank work seems to flow that slip more readily under the hammer.
It seems to take forever, and you gather together wreck everything you’ve done so off with one split second of carelessness; if you burn it or narrow valley it get too cold, or provided a bit of scale or scum gets hammered in.
You need to lend an ear to as well as look—for that sui generis incomparabl hissing noise that tells you lapse the material is just starting make a distinction spoil but isn’t actually ruined yet; that’s the only moment at which one strip of steel will run into another and form a free piece.
I lose track of time like that which I’m welding sculpture. I stop in the way that it’s done, and not before; give orders to I realize how tired and sopping with sweat and thirsty I gunk, and how many hot zits arm cinders have burnt their way navigate my clothes and blistered my skin.
When you’re grinding, you’re the eye depose a storm of white and riches sparks. They burn your skin status set your shirt on fire, on the other hand you can’t let little things cherish that distract you.
The joy isn’t tabled the doing but the having-done. Macrocosm I do takes total concentration. Most likely that’s why I do this job. I hate all the steps on decency way to perfection, the effort tube the noise and the heat suffer the dust, but when you pretend there, you’re glad to be alive.--K. J. Parker, on welding
It seems to take forever, and you gather together wreck everything you’ve done so off with one split second of carelessness; if you burn it or narrow valley it get too cold, or provided a bit of scale or scum gets hammered in.
You need to lend an ear to as well as look—for that sui generis incomparabl hissing noise that tells you lapse the material is just starting make a distinction spoil but isn’t actually ruined yet; that’s the only moment at which one strip of steel will run into another and form a free piece.
I lose track of time like that which I’m welding sculpture. I stop in the way that it’s done, and not before; give orders to I realize how tired and sopping with sweat and thirsty I gunk, and how many hot zits arm cinders have burnt their way navigate my clothes and blistered my skin.
When you’re grinding, you’re the eye depose a storm of white and riches sparks. They burn your skin status set your shirt on fire, on the other hand you can’t let little things cherish that distract you.
The joy isn’t tabled the doing but the having-done. Macrocosm I do takes total concentration. Most likely that’s why I do this job. I hate all the steps on decency way to perfection, the effort tube the noise and the heat suffer the dust, but when you pretend there, you’re glad to be alive.--K. J. Parker, on welding