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A decana de Coimbra | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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A decana de Coimbra
Expresso 16.04.2005 Aos 106 anos, Maria Virgínia é a mais antiga aluna viva da Universidade de Coimbra, onde ingressou em 1917 em Físico-Química. Fundou a primeira república feminina da cidade e lembra-se bem de Salazar a tirar-lhe «chapeladas» de galanteio
«Perdoe se já não recordo tudo, a minha memória está fraquinha», desculpa-se em antecipação a anciã, desfazendo-se num risinho bem-disposto. Maria Virgínia mantém uma vivacidade inesperada para quem já conheceu três séculos. O ouvido foi sumindo mas a voz permanece firme. Quase tanto quanto as pernas, que se agitam pela sala quando decide mostrar que ainda sabe dançar um minuete, atrapalhada pelas pantufas pouco propensas a bailes. Sobe e desce as escadas, senta-se e levanta-se com agilidade, tanto mostra como toca violão como se exibe ao piano, ao mesmo tempo que canta modas tradicionais, aprendidas na mocidade. Vive sozinha, orgulhosa na sua semi-independência apoiada em duas empregadas - uma de dia, outra à noite - e nos filhos que a acarinham como porcelana fina. É Virgínia quem atende o telefone em casa e nunca precisou de usar o 112 preso a fita-cola no portátil, que guarda junto a si. Ao seu lado reside também o álbum fotográfico, que conhece de cor. Puxa-o para ela, folheia-o e pára a admirar um retrato de família, que o tempo tornou sépia. «É este o meu pai. Foi ele que me deu uma mocidade tão especial.»
É ele a figura tutelar de Maria Virgínia, que perde a mãe aos cinco anos. A orfandade materna desencadeia uma infância de carinho exacerbado - a ela e à irmã Maria Helena -, quer das tias por dever familiar quer das senhoras da sociedade local por interesse casamenteiro no viúvo. «Convivíamos com a fina flor da nobreza beirã», recorda, com uma saudade suspirada dos passeios de «landau» - carruagem com duas capotas de abrir -, puxado a cavalos, conduzido pela baronesa de Palme. Ou das partidas de ténis, em que a elasticidade dos passes era comprometida pelos vestidos compridos. Ou dos banhos no Vouga, tomados longe de olhares indiscretos numa casota de madeira no meio do rio. Mas aos 18 anos disse ao pai que queria mais. Mais do que o piano, a arte de bem cavalgar, os dotes de sociedade, o francês irrepreensível, queria ir aprender inglês para Londres, onde vivia uma tia. Os estudos eram o escape «para fugir da chateza de mesmice daquela terra pequena». O liceu já fora feito em Viseu, no edifício que alberga hoje o Museu Grão Vasco. O progenitor, que a queria por perto, acenou-lhe com a Universidade de Coimbra. Ela concordou e escolheu Medicina. Ele recusou novamente «porque não era bom para uma mulher que quer casar e ter filhos lidar com doenças», recorda Virgínia. «Então optei por Físico-Química, porque tinha laboratório, não era só teoria. Em São Pedro, não me lembro de outra rapariga que tenha ido para o ensino superior».
Em Coimbra, Maria Virgínia partilhava o curso e a casa de caloira - a Casa das Cruzes, nos Palácios Confusos - com Maria Teresa Basto, companheira de Viseu. Passava horas no último andar, onde a janela lhe abria a vista sobre o Mondego. António Salazar, que nesse ano tinha começado a leccionar na Universidade, como assistente de Ciências Económicas, morava perto, na Rua dos Grilos, numa casa partilhada em regime de «república» com o padre - mais tarde cardeal - Cerejeira. «Lembro-me bem quando estava à janela e o Salazar passava. Ele atirava-me cada chapelada. Ai que graça! Depois ficou célebre...», recorda Virgínia num riso envergonhado. Foi fruto desse conhecimento «fenestral» que, ao partir para Lisboa, o professor lhe pediu que guardasse a mobília de jantar. «Eu disse que sim. E aproveitei-me bem. Mais que uma vez lá ofereci jantares a amigos.» O curso de Físico-Química revelou-se difícil. Ao longo de sete anos - cinco de currículo e dois de Escola Normal Superior, para aceder ao magistério secundário -, cadeiras como Desenho de Máquinas, Cálculo Diferencial ou Cristalografia obrigaram Maria Virgínia a decorar fórmulas sem conta dizendo-as bem alto, repetidamente, enquanto caminhava em pêndulo pela casa. Todos os anos havia novos achados: a Teoria da Relatividade Geral de Einstein e a descoberta da Estrutura Molecular ocorreram pouco antes da sua chegada a Coimbra. «Mas licenciei-me com altos valores: 16!»
A 20 de Janeiro de 1920, porém, decide imiscuir-se num universo até então só masculino. Com Maria Teresa Basto, Dionísia Camões e Elisa Vilares funda a primeira Casa Independente de Raparigas de Coimbra, no nº 28 dos Palácios Confusos. A «república» tinha regras: não era permitida a entrada a homens, a não ser acompanhados de uma senhora; era mantido um diário com a colaboração de todas - que está ainda à guarda da família; e era dever das habitantes fundar uma organização católica para estudantes universitárias - o Círculo Académico Feminino Católico.
Aos 32 anos, Maria Virgínia casa com o capitão Ernesto Pestana, comandante do Quartel de Santa Clara, mais tarde Governador Civil de Coimbra. Antes fora alferes de artilharia no Corpo Expedicionário Português, que participou na I Guerra Mundial. Foi dos poucos que voltou para contar o horror da batalha de La Lys, que vitimou 327 oficiais e 7.098 praças. O gás mostarda usado pelos alemães fragilizou-lhe para sempre a saúde.
Dos tempos em que o marido foi Governador Civil, Virgínia recorda as festas. «Quando veio cá a Princesa Margarida, em 1959, fomos a um almoço no Estoril. Fiquei ao lado do Champalimaud. Que antipático!» Na recepção ao Presidente do Brasil, Café Filho, Salazar reconheceu-a e fez questão de ir cumprimentá-la. Da vida ficou-lhe a pena pelas viagens que não fez. Para compensar, a filha mais nova, Maria Aldegundes, já a levou consigo a Londres e à Grécia, com a provecta idade de 80 anos. Qualquer passeio de carro lhe põe a rir os olhos. Nunca se habituou a ver partir todos os que conheceu. No momento é um choque, que depois aceita com naturalidade.
Texto de Raquel Moleiro | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
A vida em Google | ||||
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Miguel poiares maduro DN 4 Dez 2005 E se
de repente alguém o googalizasse? Quem encontraria? Quem seria você
para o mundo. Googalizar está na voga e significa procurar no Google (o
mais conhecido motor de busca na Internet) informação sobre alguém ou
alguma coisa. Antes falava-se com os tios, os primos e os amigos para
descobrir se uma certa pessoa era de confiança. Hoje confia-se no
Google. O nosso mundo pessoal está mais próximo do tamanho do mundo e o
Google é a forma de conhecer esse mundo. A vida está hoje na Internet. A nossa profissão revelada no site da empresa, um artigo num jornal, a participação numa conferência, alguém que fala de nós num blogue ou site de discussão, o nome que escrevemos num abaixo-assinado. Não interessa se mudámos de ideia ou de profissão, se o que dizem de nós é falso ou verdadeiro ou até se se trata de um homónimo nosso. Com o Google, isso é o que nós somos para o mundo. Talvez antes isto do que ser "Google-excluído", a nova forma de morte. Uma amiga dizia-me, recentemente, que temia tentar contactar os pais de uma amiga a quem tinha perdido o rasto porque, não conseguindo encontrar uma única referência no Google, a presumia morta. O Google é também o local onde hoje se encontra tudo namorada, onde passar a lua-de-mel, como arranjar amante ou descobrir o amante dela e onde comprar Prozac ou Viagra (dependendo da forma como decidir lidar com o anterior). É, igualmente, a medida do que é importante. O número de sites diz-nos da importância de um tema e o número de pesquisas do quanto algo ou alguém são procurados. Mas como define o Google o que é importante sobre nós e sobre o mundo? Ao contrário das formas tradicionais de informação, como a comunicação social, a política ou a publicidade, o Google não edita a informação. Por outras palavras, não faz juízos valorativos para seleccionar o que é mais ou menos importante. Neste sentido, o Google procura evitar a manipulação e apresenta-se como mais democrático e seguramente pós-moderno. Tal como a Wikipedia (uma enciclopédia online, cujas entradas podem ser alteradas por qualquer de nós), o Google deixa a selecção da informação a um processo livre e quase anárquico. No entanto, como os sites são frequentemente milhões e o Google não os pode mostrar todos ao mesmo tempo, adoptou dois critérios "neutrais" para hierarquizar os resultados das pesquisas. O primeiro critério é a autodefinição. Para o Google, um site é simplesmente o que diz que é. Os autores dos sites identificam-nos com palavras-chave que permitem ao Google relacioná-los mais facilmente com certos temas e buscas com eles relacionadas. Isto permite que eu crie um site sobre mim e o indexe a palavras como belo, inteligente e sedutor. Alguém que faça uma busca sobre estes temas terá assim mais probabilidade de encontrar o meu site Infelizmente, por vezes, as pessoas são conduzidas para sites que, ao contrário do exemplo anterior (!), podem não corresponder ao desejado para o Google, Deus é uma banda musical belga que dará um concerto na Aula Magna em Dezembro O segundo critério é puramente quantitativo a importância de um site é medida pelo número de "visitas" (hits) que ele recebe. Quanto mais consultado for um site, maior a prioridade que ele obtém nos resultados do Google. Isto criou uma indústria dedicada exclusivamente a consultas artificiais para aumentar a visibilidade de um site. Estes critérios do Google preferem o extraordinário à normalidade, não distinguem muito o antigo do novo e são "despersonalizados" (não são determinados pelas nossas preferências mas sim pelas preferências maioritárias entre os outros). Em consequência, produzem resultados interessantes e por vezes divertidos. Se fizerem uma busca da palavra Portugal, o Google envia-os para o portal do Sapo. Não sei se é uma metáfora do estado do país (somos um sapo que espera a princesa encantada?) ou da importância da PT na economia nacional. Mais divertido ainda é conhecer o mundo através do Google, com base nos números de sites referentes a certos temas e nas pesquisas que são feitas. De acordo com o Google, actualmente, procura-se mais o divórcio (3 milhões de sites) que o casamento (2 milhões) e os filhos gostam mais das mães (7 milhões) que dos pais (2,5 milhões). O Benfica pode ter 6 milhões de adeptos, mas para o Google é bem menos importante que o Sporting e o Porto (este último é o claro vencedor, com referên- cias em mais de 600 mil sites). E, claro, há 14 milhões de sites com a palavra amor e pouco mais de 8 milhões com a palavra sexo. Só que, quando o critério muda para o número de pesquisas, se fazem mais relacionadas com o sexo. Conclusão as pessoas falam de amor mas procuram é o sexo. Para o Google há também mais de um milhão de homens apaixonados, mas apenas pouco mais de 500 mil mulheres: devem existir muitos homens infelizes ou então são os homens que, afinal, são mais abertos na expressão das suas emoções! Para minha enorme desilusão, as mulheres mais "pesquisadas" no Google são Paris Hilton e Britney Spears. Como não as acho belas, só pode ser pela sua inteligência, que desconheço. Entre os homens, a minha desilusão foi ainda maior para além de não me encontrar entre os eleitos, descobri que as mulheres têm preferência por homens com nomes como "50 cent" e "Bob Esponja". Mas as estatísticas das pesquisas mais comuns permitem também caracterizar certos países: no Reino Unido estão obcecados com dietas e em encontrar amigos e namorados ou namoradas perdidos (será que perdem os amigos pela mesma razão por que têm de fazer dieta?); os franceses gostam é de viajar e de top models (não consegui apurar se viajam com as top models); já o passatempo dos russos parece ser agora a decoração de interiores, enquanto os chineses parecem preferir ficar em casa a ver televisão. Eis aquilo a que o mundo atribui mais importância de acordo com o Google. Existirá mundo para além do Google? Vale a pena pesquisar. | ||||
An Unlikely Trendsetter Made Earphones a Way of Life | ||
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The Saturday Profile
An Unlikely Trendsetter Made Earphones a Way of LifeSÃO PAULO, Brazil 
Adriana Zehbrauskas for The New York Times
I pressed the button, and suddenly we were
floating. It was an incredible feeling.
IN the late 1960's, Andreas Pavel and his friends gathered regularly at his house here to listen to records, from Bach to Janis Joplin, and talk politics and philosophy. In their flights of fancy, they wondered why it should not be possible to take their music with them wherever they went. Inspired by those discussions, Mr. Pavel invented the device known today as the Walkman. But it took more than 25 years of battling the Sony Corporation and others in courts and patent offices around the world before he finally won the right to say it: Andreas Pavel invented the portable personal stereo player. "I filed my first patent a complete innocent, thinking it would be a simple matter, 12 months or so, to establish my ownership and begin production," he said at the house where he first conceived of the device. "I never imagined that it would end up consuming so much time and taking me away from my real interests in life." In person, Mr. Pavel seems an unlikely protagonist in such an epic struggle. He is an intellectual with a gentle, enthusiastic, earnest demeanor, more interested in ideas and the arts than in commerce, cosmopolitan by nature and upbringing. Born in Germany, Mr. Pavel came to Brazil at age 6, when his father was recruited to work for the Matarazzo industrial group, at the time the most important one here. His mother, Ninca Bordano, an artist, had a house built for the family with a studio for her and an open-air salon with high-end audio equipment, meant for literary and musical gatherings. Except for a period in the mid-1960's when he studied philosophy at a German university, Mr. Pavel, now 59, spent his childhood and early adulthood here in South America's largest city, "to my great advantage," he said. It was a time of creative and intellectual ferment, culminating in the Tropicalist movement, and he was delighted to be part of it. When TV Cultura, a Brazilian station, was licensed to go on the air, Mr. Pavel was hired to be its director of educational programming. After he was forced to leave because of what he says was political pressure, he edited a "Great Thinkers" book series for Brazil's leading publishing house in another effort to "counterbalance the censorship and lack of information" then prevailing. In the end, what drove Mr. Pavel back to Europe was his discontent with the military dictatorship then in power in Brazil. By that time, though, he had already invented the device he initially called the stereobelt, which he saw more as a means to "add a soundtrack to real life" than an item to be mass marketed. "Oh, it was purely aesthetic," he said when asked his motivation in creating a portable personal stereo player. "It took years to discover that I had made a discovery and that I could file a patent." MR. PAVEL still remembers when and where he was the first time he tested his invention and which piece of music he chose for his experiment. It was February 1972, he was in Switzerland with his girlfriend, and the cassette they heard playing on their headphones was "Push Push," a collaboration between the jazz flutist Herbie Mann and the blues-rock guitarist Duane Allman. "I was in the woods in St. Moritz, in the mountains," he recalled. "The snow was falling down. I pressed the button, and suddenly we were floating. It was an incredible feeling, to realize that I now had the means to multiply the aesthetic potential of any situation." Over the next few years, he took his invention to one audio company after another - Grundig, Philips, Yamaha and ITT among them - to see if there was interest in manufacturing his device. But everywhere he went, he said, he met with rejection or ridicule. "They all said they didn't think people would be so crazy as to run around with headphones, that this is just a gadget, a useless gadget of a crazy nut," he said. In New York, where he moved in 1974, and then in Milan, where he relocated in 1976, "people would look at me sometimes on a bus, and you could see they were asking themselves, why is this crazy man running around with headphones?" Ignoring the doors slammed in his face, Mr. Pavel filed a patent in March 1977 in Milan. Over the next year and a half, he took the same step in the United States, Germany, England and Japan. Sony started selling the Walkman in 1979, and in 1980 began negotiating with Mr. Pavel, who was seeking a royalty fee. The company agreed in 1986 to a limited fee arrangement covering sales only in Germany, and then for only a few models.So in 1989 he began new proceedings, this time in British courts, that dragged on and on, eating up his limited financial resources. At one point, Mr. Pavel said, he owed his lawyer hundreds of thousands of dollars and was being followed by private detectives and countersued by Sony. "They had frozen all my assets, I couldn't use checks or credit cards," and the outlook for him was grim. In 1996, the case was dismissed, leaving Mr. Pavel with more than $3 million in court costs to pay. But he persisted, warning Sony that he would file new suits in every country where he had patented his invention, and in 2003, after another round of negotiations, the company agreed to settle out of court. Mr. Pavel declined to say how much Sony was obliged to pay him, citing a confidentiality clause. But European press accounts said Mr. Pavel had received a cash settlement for damages in the low eight figures and was now also receiving royalties on some Walkman sales. THESE days, Mr. Pavel divides his time between Italy and Brazil, and once again considers himself primarily a philosopher. But he is also using some of his money to develop an invention he calls a dreamkit, which he describes as a "hand-held, personal, multimedia, sense-extension device," and to indulge his unflagging interest in music. Recently, he has been promoting the career of Altamiro Carrilho, a flutist whom he regards as the greatest living Brazilian musician. He is also financing a project that he describes as the complete discography of every record ever released in Brazil. Some of his friends have suggested he might have a case against the manufacturers of MP3 players, reasoning that those devices are a direct descendant of the Walkman. Mr. Pavel said that while he saw a kinship, he was not eager to take on another long legal battle. "I have known other inventors in similar predicaments and most of them become that story, which is the most tragic, sad and melancholic thing that can happen," he said. "Somebody becomes a lawsuit, he loses all interest in other things and deals only with the lawsuit. Nobody ever said I was obsessed. I kept my other interests alive, in philosophy and music and literature." "I didn't have time to pursue them, but now I have reconquered my time," he continued. "So, no, I'm not interested anymore in patents or legal fights or anything like that. I don't want to be reduced to the label of being the inventor of the Walkman." | ||
And in This Corner ... The 'High-Tech Heretic'! | ||
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And in This Corner ... The 'High-Tech Heretic'!
This is the e-interview that every educator will want to read! Clifford Stoll is the author of High-Tech Heretic: Why Computers Don't Belong in the Classroom and Other Reflections by a Computer Contrarian. He is also an MSNBC commentator, a Berkeley astronomer, an Internet pioneer, and a "full time, stay-at-home dad." Stoll shares with Education World readers his controversial thoughts about computers in the classroom. Education World: The premise of your book High-Tech Heretic: Why Computers Don't Belong in the Classroom and Other Reflections by a Computer Contrarian is that computers don't belong in schools-- Clifford Stoll: Part of the premise. EW: A good part of your book focuses on the idea that computers don't belong in classrooms. Education World is a Web site that, among other things, helps teachers integrate computers into their curriculum. I'm interested in why you think we shouldn't be doing that. Stoll: Your teachers believe in using computers in the classroom? EW: Many of them. Others are required to use computers in their classrooms, and they want to do it in the best way possible. Stoll: What about the old-line teachers who don't want to use computers, who are being pushed aside and marginalized because of the techno-hucksters' view of what should go on in classrooms? EW: Teachers are charged with preparing students for the future. Don't students need to learn how to use computers? Stoll: In my visits to schools, I don't find children who are ill at ease behind a computer screen. I do find lots of kids who cannot read analytically, who do not read books, who cannot write legibly, who cannot assemble a 250-word essay. But I do not see many kids who can't use a computer. Do you think children don't have enough exposure to electronic messages? Children have too much exposure to electronic messages. Is the problem that they don't watch enough TV? That they don't get enough media? The problem is that they get too much media already! ... If I ask a student to tell me about Huckleberry Finn, I want that student to read the book. If he simply goes to the computer and finds information about Huckleberry Finn, what has he learned? Computers provide kids with information. They don't help them learn. EW: But don't kids always look for the easy way out? Before computers, we used Cliffs Notes. Don't good teachers make sure that students-- Stoll: Where did you get your Ph.D.? I got mine honestly. I didn't use Cliffs Notes.
Stoll: You mean the "city kids who haven't seen a cow" argument? Do you really think those children exist who don't know what a cow looks like? Do you think kids look at a frog on a Budweiser billboard and don't know what it is? Computers cannot provide experiences. Think about the things you've "experienced" on a computer. Then think about the things you've experienced in real life. How do they compare? ... How much does a field trip cost? $100? $200? How much does a computer lab cost? Thousands of dollars? How many field trips can you take for that amount of money? EW: What about those kids in inner city schools who, even if they go on those field trips, will need computer skills to compete in the job market? Stoll: I live very near an inner city school, and I can tell you that the main problem in inner city schools is horrible discipline. In what way is that helped by a large computer budget? Often, computers in inner city schools are wrecked or stolen very quickly anyway. Even if the computers can be secured, the schools cannot. If the computers aren't wrecked by the kids, they're stolen by the neighbors. If the computers themselves aren't stolen, the cables are. In a nearby city high school, only about 5 of 35 computers in the computer lab are working. Educational technologists like to sit in their offices and dream of computers in idealized city schools, but that's not what really happens. EW: In most classrooms, teachers need to work with individual students or with small groups of students. During those times, isn't it more valuable for other students to be working at the computer than to be doing traditional seat work? Stoll: Working on the computer is seat work. The children aren't moving. They aren't doing anything active. They're sitting in their seats. EW: They're doing more than simply filling in information on a work sheet. Stoll: There is no reason for any student to use a work sheet in his or her entire school career.
Stoll: It would be bad enough if computers simply didn't add to a child's education. The problem is that the use of computers subtracts from the student-to-teacher contact hours. It directs attention away from the student-teacher relationship and directs it toward the student-computer relationship. It teaches students to focus on getting information rather than on exploring and creating. Which is more interactive-- a student and a teacher or a student and a computer? ... Suppose we wanted to create a nation without social skills? Can you think of a better way to do that than to tell students, "Don't interact with the teacher. Interact with a computer?" Suppose we wanted to create a nation that can't read? Can you think of a better way to do that than to say to students, "Don't get your information from a book. Look it up on the Web?" If we wanted to discourage students from exploration, what better way than to search for answers on a computer? "Suppose we wanted to create a nation that can't read? Can you think of a better way to do that than to say to students, 'Don't get your information from a book. Look it up on the Web?'" EW: So you believe that computer use actually detracts from the educational process? Stoll: There's a cost to bringing computers into a school. And I'm not talking about just the initial costs-- which can be substantial-- or the upkeep-- which can be many times the initial cost. The real cost is what you are not going to be teaching. ... I've talked to a former kindergarten teacher who stopped teaching because the school replaced sandboxes with computers. You can't have sand or dirt or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in a classroom with computers. I've talked to a second-grade teacher who can't have real magnets in her classroom because they erase the software that goes with the seven computers in her room. So instead she has a software program about magnets, and kids learn about magnets on the computer. Which will help kids learn about magnets better-- real magnets or a computer program that simulates magnets? ... I go into a lot of schools and usually the first thing the principal does is bring me into the computer lab. The first question I always ask is, "What did this room use to be?" Often the answer I get is, "Oh, this was the music room, but we don't teach music anymore," or "This was the art room, but we don't teach much art anymore," or "This used to be the library, but now it's the media center. We keep the books in the closet. If a student wants one, we can probably find it." EW: Problems existed in schools long before computers. Why blame them all on computers? Stoll: The central issue is What problem is solved by bringing computers into the classroom? Do they provide a higher quality of education? Let me tell you what I see as the main problems in public schools, and you tell me how those problems can be solved by computers.
EW: Don't computers have a place in the classroom, then, if merely as a source of information? Stoll: Is a lack of information a problem in schools? I've never once had a teacher say to me "I don't have enough information." Teachers say they don't have enough time. The problem in classrooms is not a lack of information. It's too much information. EW: Where do you think the money that's being spent on technology should be spent? Stoll: The money should be spent on reducing class size, on providing teachers with more prep time, on improving school grounds so that students have the ability to study nature in nature, on providing lessons in the humanities and in other technologies, such as plumbing, woodworking, auto mechanics, home economics. ... Why are there so many pilot projects specific to computers, while so many other things go unfunded? I say this in my book, but I'll say it again. Imagine you have two millionaires and each one is donating $1 million to a local school. The first millionaire says, "You have to spend the money on technology." The second millionaire says, "You can spend the money on whatever you need." Which donation will benefit the kids more? EW: Can't the computer be looked at as just one more tool for teachers? Stoll: Saying the computer is just a tool makes it seem too neutral. It ignores how this tool changes our educational system. I have no doubt that though we're teaching our children how to use computers, we're also teaching them that when you have a problem, the first thing you should do is turn to a computer to solve it. High-Tech Heretic: Why Computers Don't Belong in the Classroom and Other Reflections by a Computer Contrarian, written by Clifford Stoll, is published by Doubleday, 1540 Broadway, New York, NY 10036. Linda Starr | ||
EW: In your book, you talk about a student "watching a monarch
chrysalis in a field of milkweed." What about the students who might never
see a field of milkweed? Can't technology expose children to things they
would not ordinarily experience?
EW: Don't computers have any value, in any
classroom?
Arthur C Clarke e os satélites | ||
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Arthur C Clarke e os satélites | ||
AS PALAVRAS VENENO DO SEMANÁRIO EXPRESSO CONTRA A ADMINISTRAÇÃO PUBLICA | ||
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AS PALAVRAS VENENO DO SEMANÁRIO EXPRESSO CONTRA A ADMINISTRAÇÃO PUBLICA A % de TRABALHADORES NA ADMINISTRAÇÃO PUBLICA EM PORTUGAL REPRESENTA APENAS />58% DA MÉDIA DOS PAISES DA UNIÃO EUROPEIA O semanário Expresso de 5 de Maio 2005, caracterizou a situação da Administração Pública em Portugal nos seguintes termos: retrato ainda mais negro, crescimento imparável, o prometido emagrecimento da Função Pública não teve quaisquer resultados, etc., ou seja, utilizou termos que na ciência da comunicação se chamam palavras veneno com o intuito de provocar sentimentos negativos no leitor relativamente à Administração Pública e aos seus trabalhadores. ... | ||