Thoughts from a late night in the Hawkeye State, where a narrow Romney triumph reordered the Republican race.
Updated DES MOINES -- The first voting of the 2012 primary finally occurred on Tuesday, and the result was spellbindingly close -- when the race was finally called in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, Mitt Romney had triumphed over Rick Santorum by just 8 votes. Immediately, the Iowa results reordered the GOP contest, virtually eliminating two candidates and inaugurating a new world order as the caravan moves on to New Hampshire. The New Hampshire primary is January 10, less than a week away, with a debate scheduled for this Saturday, January 7.
Here's what we learned from Iowa.
* The Santorum surge was real after all. By tying the supposedly inevitable Mitt Romney in spectacularly late-breaking fashion, Santorum beat out all the other boom-and-bust candidates to become the official Romney alternative. Even better, he made Mitt Romney look weak, warming the hearts of conservatives everywhere. Wondering what Santorum's all about? Here's an introduction.
* Santorum made the most of his biggest moment yet. The caucus-night speech that will serve as his introduction to the nation was impressive: forceful, populist, heartfelt. He downplayed the cultural issues he's best known for and emphasized the blue-collar message he'll be counting on in New Hampshire.
* Mitt Romney seems nervous. Just like four years ago, Iowa rattled him. Speaking after Santorum, he made a hasty call to ditch his teleprompters, then gave a rushed version of his stump speech that seemed bloodless by comparison.
* It's going to get nasty. Santorum is the most aggressive attack dog of the GOP field, and he won't hesitate to go after Romney. Meanwhile, Santorum, who rose too quickly to really be vetted, is about to face the full force of the barrage Romney and his allies unleashed so effectively against Newt Gingrich and Rick Perry.
* Forget about Ron Paul. The Texas congressman's vaunted Iowa operation got him an impressive 21 percent of the vote, and in his speech Tuesday night, he insisted he had the third proverbial ticket out of Iowa. But the Romney-Santorum tie, and the contrast between the two men, is about to consume the race. Paul's passionate supporters lifted him further than ever before. There just weren't enough of them.
* Newt Gingrich is really bitter. In his speech Tuesday night, the fourth-place finisher harped incessantly on the "negative ads" that destroyed him so efficiently. He pointedly congratulated Santorum and Paul, but not Romney, whom he blames for what he's called his "Romney-boating." (Even as he decried negativity, Gingrich called Paul's foreign policy "stunningly dangerous.")
* Rick Perry is all but certain to drop out. After coming in fifth with 10 percent of the caucus vote, the Texas governor took the stage late Tuesday and announced he would not go on to South Carolina as he'd planned. "I've decided to return to Texas, assess the results and determine whether there is a path forward," he said. The caucus was the first election Perry's ever lost in 27 years and 10 elections.
* Michele Bachmann isn't quitting, but she might as well. Despite widespread predictions that she would call it quits after coming in sixth in Iowa, Bachmann announced Tuesday night only that there were "many more chapters to be written" in the race. She sounded tired.
Forget the Common Core, Finland’s youngsters are in charge of determining what happens in the classroom.
“The changes to kindergarten make me sick,” a veteran teacher in Arkansas recently admitted to me. “Think about what you did in first grade—that’s what my 5-year-old babies are expected to do.”
The difference between first grade and kindergarten may not seem like much, but what I remember about my first-grade experience in the mid-90s doesn’t match the kindergarten she described in her email: three and a half hours of daily literacy instruction, an hour and a half of daily math instruction, 20 minutes of daily “physical activity time” (officially banned from being called “recess”) and two 56-question standardized tests in literacy and math—on the fourth week of school.
That American friend—who teaches 20 students without an aide—has fought to integrate 30 minutes of “station time” into the literacy block, which includes “blocks, science, magnetic letters, play dough with letter stamps to practice words, books, and storytelling.” But the most controversial area of her classroom isn’t the blocks nor the stamps: Rather, it’s the “house station with dolls and toy food”—items her district tried to remove last year. The implication was clear: There’s no time for play in kindergarten anymore.
A new study finds that people today who eat and exercise the same amount as people 20 years ago are still fatter.
There’s a meme aimed at Millennial catharsis called “Old Economy Steve.” It’s a series of pictures of a late-70s teenager, who presumably is now a middle-aged man, that mocks some of the messages Millennials say they hear from older generations—and shows why they’re deeply janky. Old Economy Steve graduates and gets a job right away. Old Economy Steve “worked his way through college” because tuition was $400. And so forth.
We can now add another one to that list: Old Economy Steve ate at McDonald’s almost every day, and he still somehow had a 32-inch waist.
A study published recently in the journal Obesity Research & Clinical Practice found that it’s harder for adults today to maintain the same weight as those 20 to 30 years ago did, even at the same levels of food intake and exercise.
David Hume, the Buddha, and a search for the Eastern roots of the Western Enlightenment
In2006, i was 50—and I was falling apart.
Until then, I had always known exactly who I was: an exceptionally fortunate and happy woman, full of irrational exuberance and everyday joy.
I knew who I was professionally. When I was 16, I’d discovered cognitive science and analytic philosophy, and knew at once that I wanted the tough-minded, rigorous, intellectual life they could offer me. I’d gotten my doctorate at 25 and had gone on to become a professor of psychology and philosophy at UC Berkeley.
I knew who I was personally, too. For one thing, I liked men. I was never pretty, but the heterosexual dance of attraction and flirtation had always been an important part of my life, a background thrum that brightened and sharpened all the rest. My closest friends and colleagues had all been men.
Meaning comes from the pursuit of more complex things than happiness
"It is the very pursuit of happiness that thwarts happiness."
In September 1942, Viktor Frankl, a prominent Jewish psychiatrist and neurologist in Vienna, was arrested and transported to a Nazi concentration camp with his wife and parents. Three years later, when his camp was liberated, most of his family, including his pregnant wife, had perished -- but he, prisoner number 119104, had lived. In his bestselling 1946 book, Man's Search for Meaning, which he wrote in nine days about his experiences in the camps, Frankl concluded that the difference between those who had lived and those who had died came down to one thing: Meaning, an insight he came to early in life. When he was a high school student, one of his science teachers declared to the class, "Life is nothing more than a combustion process, a process of oxidation." Frankl jumped out of his chair and responded, "Sir, if this is so, then what can be the meaning of life?"
Even in big cities like Tokyo, small children take the subway and run errands by themselves. The reason has a lot to do with group dynamics.
It’s a common sight on Japanese mass transit: Children troop through train cars, singly or in small groups, looking for seats.
They wear knee socks, polished patent-leather shoes, and plaid jumpers, with wide-brimmed hats fastened under the chin and train passes pinned to their backpacks. The kids are as young as 6 or 7, on their way to and from school, and there is nary a guardian in sight.
A popular television show called Hajimete no Otsukai, or My First Errand, features children as young as two or three being sent out to do a task for their family. As they tentatively make their way to the greengrocer or bakery, their progress is secretly filmed by a camera crew. The show has been running for more than 25 years.
What happens when a father, alarmed by his 13-year-old daughter's nightly workload, tries to do her homework for a week
Memorization, not rationalization. That is the advice of my 13-year-old daughter, Esmee, as I struggle to make sense of a paragraph of notes for an upcoming Earth Science test on minerals. “Minerals have crystal systems which are defined by the # of axis and the length of the axis that intersect the crystal faces.” That’s how the notes start, and they only get murkier after that. When I ask Esmee what this actually means, she gives me her homework credo.
Esmee is in the eighth grade at the NYC Lab Middle School for Collaborative Studies, a selective public school in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan. My wife and I have noticed since she started there in February of last year that she has a lot of homework. We moved from Pacific Palisades, California, where Esmee also had a great deal of homework at Paul Revere Charter Middle School in Brentwood. I have found, at both schools, that whenever I bring up the homework issue with teachers or administrators, their response is that they are required by the state to cover a certain amount of material. There are standardized tests, and everyone—students, teachers, schools—is being evaluated on those tests. I’m not interested in the debates over teaching to the test or No Child Left Behind. What I am interested in is what my daughter is doing during those nightly hours between 8 o’clock and midnight, when she finally gets to bed. During the school week, she averages three to four hours of homework a night and six and a half hours of sleep.
There are many Americas. There is an America of white picket fences. There is an America of towering skyscrapers. There is the America of dusty plains, cowboys, and ranches. There is an America of cliffs and beaches and sun-kissed surfers. And then there is the America just beyond these postcards, idyllic in its landscape but largely unfamiliar. It is not a land of plenty, nor opportunity, yet it is America nonetheless.
Photographer Danny Ghitis happened upon one of these regions in 2012: Dutchess County. Just a few miles north of New York City, Dutchess was once a thriving area with successful iron mining and dairy-farming industries that have long since gone. “There are small pockets of wealth exported from the big city ... and feeble attempts at small-town tourism,” Ghitis said, noting the economic divide between the western and eastern sides, the latter of which he photographed. “Mostly, the Harlem Valley exists in between the past and future.”
The Islamic State is no mere collection of psychopaths. It is a religious group with carefully considered beliefs, among them that it is a key agent of the coming apocalypse. Here’s what that means for its strategy—and for how to stop it.
What is the Islamic State?
Where did it come from, and what are its intentions? The simplicity of these questions can be deceiving, and few Western leaders seem to know the answers. In December, The New York Times published confidential comments by Major General Michael K. Nagata, the Special Operations commander for the United States in the Middle East, admitting that he had hardly begun figuring out the Islamic State’s appeal. “We have not defeated the idea,” he said. “We do not even understand the idea.” In the past year, President Obama has referred to the Islamic State, variously, as “not Islamic” and as al-Qaeda’s “jayvee team,” statements that reflected confusion about the group, and may have contributed to significant strategic errors.
Fifty years after its passage, it’s clear that the law’s ultimate effects are at odds with its original intent.
The 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act, whose 50th anniversary comes on October 3, officially committed the United States, for the first time, to accepting immigrants of all nationalities on a roughly equal basis. The law eliminated the use of national-origin quotas, under which the overwhelming majority of immigrant visas were set aside for people coming from northern and western Europe.
In the subsequent half century, the pattern of U.S. immigration changed dramatically. The share of the U.S. population born outside the country tripled and became far more diverse. Seven out of every eight immigrants in 1960 were from Europe; by 2010, nine out of ten were coming from other parts of the world. The 1965 Immigration Act was largely responsible for that shift. No law passed in the 20th century altered the country’s demographic character quite so thoroughly. But its effects were largely inadvertent. The law’s biggest impact on immigration patterns resulted from provisions meant to thwart its ability to change much at all.