Week 6

Reflect on your favorite learning environment from your childhood. This should be a physical place (as opposed to a virtual place, for the purpose of this week’s topic). Using the concepts in the readings, discuss how the elements in your learning environment contributed to your thinking and learning. Post your writing below.

16 thoughts on “Week 6

  1. Reflecting on my favorite learning environment I immediately remember my childhood backyard. Growing up I was privileged to have a large backyard. This was a special space where I could run through the sprinklers on a hot day, pick fruits off our trees, dig in the dirt, do summersaults in the grass, and swing on our old, yellow playground set. This is why I related to Brosterman’s Inventing Kindergarten. In this article, Brosterman discusses Froebel’s appreciation of nature as a place to observe nature, interact with the world, learn with the senses, and apply them these encounters with science, art, math, and physical education (33, 37). By playing in my backyard I was able to learn about different fruits such as oranges, lemons, plums, apples, guavas, and how they grow. I learned that acidic fruits such as lemons have the power to heal (and sting) open cuts and that its’ juice can keep apples fresh. I also learned that salt can kill slugs by removing its’ water and that a soapy liquid can kill aphids off rose bushes. As a curious child, I began to learn about beetles, pill bugs, butterflies, and how to take care of a dove with a hurt wing (with my mom’s help). Not only did I learn about different chemicals and healing solutions, but I also learned about how to make art by using nature. It was outside that I was able to be creative with natural materials, such as making potpourri with rose petals, flattening dead leaves to make a collage on paper, and painting rocks as artistic gifts for my parents. This learning environment allowed my mind and body to stay active and discover new things everyday.

  2. My favorite learning environment happened to be in my brother’s room, which stored all of the LEGO pieces I could ever care to play around with. Even though there might not have been a direct intention to learn, I did learn a lot about structural integrity while having fun with the many LEGO pieces I was able to play around with. In comparing the things that I built to the objects that my brother built, I always wondered why mine seemed to be more fragile than his. Whether it was a building, or a model ‘spaceship,’ I soon learned that the most important part to build a sturdy object was to have a good core or foundation on which you can then build upon. The instructional/educational goals of LEGO seemed to have matched up with those outlined in the article about the ‘topobo’ as the design criteria of the topobo described that of LEGO. It was accessible as it was easy for me to play with and easy for me to get to. It was sophisticated as the ‘topobo’ article defined it as this: require no new skills, but provide the possibility for teaching very new concept. This concept of having a firm, strong core/foundation is undoubtedly stuck with me today in all aspects of life and learning.

  3. Growing up, my favorite learning environment was always the kitchen. It was in there that I learned how to cook, somewhat, and I learned some different skills like time management and organization. After reading Zuckerman’s article, I feel that I can agree with Locke’s idea that knowledge comes from experience. When it comes to cooking, it’s all about trying new things and learning as you go. This also goes to relate to Pestalozzi’s argument that children should learn through activity. I think that this is true because when it comes to cooking, someone can read you a recipe and you can attempt to envision it and create it in your mind, or you can start making it and learn as you go. Also in this article, Dewey states that reality role play is also a good way of learning. When it comes to kids in the kitchen I always found it easy to want to play chef. When I was younger I would make fake menu’s, take them out to my parents, and take their orders. I would then make the food, not allowing them to help at all, and then take it out to them. It was my little game of playing chef, but I was also role playing at the same time and it helped me learn how to be independent in the kitchen. As a child I found that using digital learning objects wasn’t that much fun for me. Most of my learning was using non-digital learning objects. In my kitchen this is understandable, because when you’re cooking, most of the things you use are not digital. You use construction and design to mix ingredients and figure out how everything works. This I think has caused me to be a kinesthetic learner. I have also found that using digital learning objects may be cool for a little while, but to me, that fades fast and I am left bored. I prefer to have something that you can work on constantly, not be limited by due to technology.

  4. As something of a post-neo-retro-(quasi-ironic)-Romantic, I particularly enjoyed the parts of this week’s readings that traced the Romantic ideology that underpins the philosophies of Froebel and Montessori . Romanticism considered the relationship between the human and Nature. Sometimes this meant figuring Nature as a terrifying Other (cf. Burke’s theory of “the sublime,” or Wordsworth’s harrowing boat excursion I mentioned in my first post). At other times, Nature became much more salutary, a vital source of poetic inspiration. I was pleased to learn of the role of Nature in the original kindergarten: for Froebel, Nature became not only a zone full of objects to be observed scientifically but also a source of the child’s ethical development (through, for instance, caring for plants) and even spiritual awareness (Brosterman 34). Montessori also valorized education by natural exploration. According to Lillard’s evaluation, Montessori believed that children needed “unhurried time in the woods and country to discover oneness with creation” (59).

    I said that I may only be an ironic Romantic. This stems from an ironic question: does Nature—that ideal space, untouched and unspoiled by human intervention—even exist? I am not sure that it does, and I am not sure that this is important. Growing up, I spent lots of time in little strip of woods wedged between the train tracks and the suburbs. It was, I guess you might say, a hybrid Nature, where the artifices and inventions of humanity were never out of sight. What was significant—what allowed for Romantic interaction with the world—was the lack of either spatial organization or parental surveillance. Both Froebel and Montessori reacted against the rigidity of school space, envisioning places where students could move (and learn) freely. Our hidden zone, our little tract of alterity, allowed my friends and me just this sort of freedom. We learned by playing. I remember digging out some grass from one area and re-planting it with care—my ethical self emerged in those woods! I remember turning branches into rings, and linking the rings to larger geometric shapes. I remember the difficult physics of constructing shelters and a rope-swing. My learning was by turns cooperative and individual; this was due, in part, to geographical fact. In that thick bramble, it was not difficult to become suddenly separated from the group and, by extension, the entire world. I cannot speak of “oneness with nature,” but certainly I experienced a feeling of oneness in general, or solitude.

    I also remember the importance of what might be called marking territory. Scratching off a piece of bark, leaving a toy, hanging a piece of rope on a branch, stacking a few stones—each action could become symbolic, territorializing certain spots within the vast-seeming undifferentiated forest. These became tools of navigation (“Let’s meet at that rubber tire”). They were also recording devices or archives, since they left a record of our experiences in the woods. We could remember when we built this or that, played this or that game, and (since the woods were more or less ours alone) our artifacts were preserved as if we had left them on the surface of the moon. Objects became tools for navigating space but also time.

    But, as the archeologist knows, an artifact is only a partial memory, a mystery. I remember one particular rock, so large and flat you could use it as a table. It was stamped with a bronze circle, and the circle itself was stamped with letters—as I recall, it said that it was put there by governmental surveyors. They had stood there in our spot, on our rock. But who were these people? What were their names? What did the forest look like for them?

  5. Growing up, we had a “playroom.” In truth, it is a windowless narrow pantry area between the main house and the garage with dark brown shag carpets and 1970’s era orange mushroom wallpaper. But in my childhood, it was where my two sister and I spent a considerable amount of time. In it were two large cardboard boxes filled with “dress up” clothes acquired from garage sales, old Halloweens, dance recitals, family donations or my mother’s sewing machines. My sisters and the neighborhood kids spent hours of every day playing dress up, changing costumes and characters and designing elaborate plays (when I read Little Women in fifth grade, I was sure Alcott knew all about us). We also kept all our crayons and art materials and my oldest sister, Amanda, would lead Erin and I in “school.” There she taught us how to behave properly as students, raising hands and manipulating our school books and chalkboards even before we could read (incidentally, I think I learned a fair amount about the birds and the bees from Amanda during those school sessions).

    This speaks a great deal to Dewey’s notion of Reality Role Play as identified in Zuckerman’s piece. We were able to imaginatively play out roles of different characters, including learning the important social structures of formal education so that when we did finally have our first day of “real school,” my sister and I knew what to expect and how to behave. These play sessions were also largely unsupervised, despite the fact that the learning environment was prepared by our mother. We were given freedom to do what we wanted and play with our materials how we choose to the extent that the manipulatives would allow. The materials responded to our interests and we could adapt them to our needs, reminiscent of Montessori’s method.

  6. Before my wedding this January, I wanted to give my parents a gift, a “thank-you” for all of their financial and emotional support during the planning process. I settled on a scrapbook, and asked my grandparents to surreptitiously collect pictures of my parents and I together from over the years. Once I had these in my hands, I immediately plopped down on my rug and began sorting them into categories, which formed as I glanced through the images: birthdays and other celebrations, cute pictures of me as a little girl, family vacations, games and activities with my parents, and my parents teaching me a skill – reading, hunting, golfing, driving. The latter category probably comprised the largest proportion of pictures, and it further struck me that many of the learning activities in which we were engaged took place outdoors.

    When I read the prompt for this assignment after reading the Brosterman (1997) article, immediately one snapshot from these family photos swam to the surface of my memory – me, aged 6 years old, standing in front of a worn wooden picnic table outside a rugged cabin, dressed in a red, white, and green wind-suit. My finger is poised in the air as if to touch the idea has emerged from my surroundings and will form on my lips, and as if to spin that idea back around in a firm and pedantic manner to my younger brother, who squats on the ground in front of the table, collecting my specimens. These specimens included flora from outside of our Durango, Colorado vacation cabin, arranged meticulously according to category, shape, and size on the table. I vaguely remember (or at least think I do) darting around the grounds of the cabin, thrilling when I found another tree that had spiny needles like the ones already arrayed on the table.

    Like Kathryn, I’ll call my most fruitful learning environment “the backyard.” Growing up, I always had a green space to explore. From towing a wagon full of “rabbit food” (weeds pulled from our family garden) to performing the kinds of near-scientific classification tasks that the snapshot commemorates, my brother and I engaged in, with the help and guidance of our parents, constant exploration of our natural world. Through these un-assessed, self-directed and parent-guided experiences, I believe I gathered some notion of Froebel’s sense of unity, for as I learned about the natural world, I grew closer to my family, and gained confidence in my meaning-making skills that would follow me as I grew (Brosterman 1997, p. 32). I am also convinced that the backyard was a place of symbolic education – as I physically handled numerical and categorical symbols like pine needles, pine cones, and small red berries, I paved the way for a later understanding of mathematical and scientific concepts like addition and classification (Brosterman 1997, p. 34).

    I truly believe that my experience playing outside as a child had fundamental effects on my learning throughout life. But I wonder – did my learning arise, as Froebel argues, because societal relationships and knowledge itself are patterned after the workings of the natural world? Or was it simply that I engaged in free play outside more often than inside, and it was the play itself that led to learning? Or is the cause another factor I haven’t yet conceptualized? These types of questions seem important when we’re discussing how to replicate such learning outcomes in virtual environments, where little of the “natural” world is within reach.

  7. Growing up, my favorite learning environment was my grandparents’ house. Because both of my parents worked, after preschool I would get picked up by my aunt or my grandpa and go to my grandparents’ house for the rest of the day. Days at my grandparents’ house were filled with a variety of activities. I did typical preschool things, such as workbooks and coloring books, and played with a variety of toys in the house. I practiced piano under the watchful eye of my aunt. I learned to swim in the pool in the backyard. But I also had some non-typical childhood experiences, too, since I enjoyed lots of attention from the various adults in the house. As the first grandchild in the family, I was essentially raised by my entire extended family — parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles. As a result, growing up in my grandparents’ house, I learned to interact with adults and learned to speak and read Mandarin Chinese. This complemented what I did in preschool, where I learned to interact with other kids and speak and read English. At preschool, for snack we ate “ants on a log” or PB&J sandwiches. At my grandparents’ house, I watched my grandparents cook various Asian dishes and learned to wrap dumplings. The differences in environment between preschool and my grandparents’ house resulted in different learning experiences for me, and I got to experience the “best of both worlds,” growing up in both American and Asian culture, among both children and adults.

    Given my experiences, I am a little skeptical of the minimal interaction between children and teacher in the Montessori method. I believe that interacting primarily with adults as a child actually helped me to continue to be comfortable interacting with a variety of people, not just my peers. Even now, I often find myself the youngest in a group, but don’t worry too much about it because I’m so used to interacting with people who are older than me. I wonder about the role of the teacher in the Montessori method, because it seems almost like they don’t really converse much with the children, beyond asking them questions about whatever object the child is currently thinking about / playing with. Perhaps I just misunderstand the Montessori method. But in any case, I think that having real conversations with children, treating them like adults (almost), can be beneficial for children’s growth and learning.

  8. My most memorable learning environment from childhood was the basement of our house.

    Unlike my best friend Mandy’s from up the street – furbished with green-shag carpet, pool table and refrigerator (always stocked with Hawaiian Punch) – our basement was an empty shell. Its cold, grey concrete floor, exposed pipework and non-existent lighting wasn’t exactly what one imagines when one thinks of a nurturing learning environment for children. In fact it was fairly empty save my father’s workbench – bestrewed with tools and wood blocks, a few shelves – some painting materials and a few folding chairs. Yet the basement had what no other space in our house could claim – it was virtually adult-free.

    The basement is where I felt completely free to explore almost entirely on my own. The lack of flooring and room made it a perfect space to roller skate (usually to Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” record*), or build things using the tools my father gave me**, bring my Lincoln Logs to try and reconstruct Lincoln’s log cabin (I thought this was the object of the set), or simply act out some scenario from the mise en scenes of adulthood hovering over my head (making dinner, playing bridge, concocting the perfect whisky sour, etc.). Often I got into the cans of paint and found random objects strewn about to foil. I spent hundreds of hours in this temple of my familiar – a place where I felt free to explore, discover and experiment.

    In essence, my basement and the materials therein were populated with elements from of the Froebel, Montessori, and Dewey schools of schools. The tools of the workbench and of my own were available to construct and design with, the record player, music and space provided conceptual outlets, while the freedom to roam unsupervised engendered this setting where I felt comfortable re-enacting scenarios from the adult world around me.

    Yet unlike the Montessori or Kindergarten classroom, the basement was almost always absent of adults. There were no “guides” to instruct in “object teaching: (Froebel) or a “directess” to help establish the six essential methods (Montessori), but simply the space and objects themselves. Indeed as I read through some of the responses posted here already, it is in interesting to note how few of them refer to a house of education or institution (after-school center, sports club) as a favored learning environment. Even though I attended a Montessori school until the age of six, I suppose I still always remember it as a place where I was forced to go, every day, away from the comfort of my home. Though in this “free” space, the classroom still felt like a place of confinement. Perhaps we can never relinquish this stigma of prescribed learning, no matter what type of banner it operates under.

    *Why my parent’s felt comfortable buying this for a second grader I’ll never know.
    ** My father presented me with my first small hammer (which I still have) and a saw when I was around six. He certainly wasn’t influenced by Montessori’s belief that the classroom must be populated by “authentic equipment”, but perhaps living under the assumption that like a spider, my limbs would grow back if severed (Lillard, p. 58).

  9. My favorite learning environment was my grandparent’s house. As I read the Montessori piece, I made many links between the two. First, as an indoor space, the environment both free and controlled. My grandmother always had supplies for my sister and I to play with and she would show us the supplies in the cupboard and explain what they were. For example, She always made image catalogs for us to play with. These were folders of images she cut from magazines and then categorized by things like “food” or “animals.” When we were young we played with snap blocks and when we got older, she gave us all the supplies we needed for art projects and science experiments. We had access to the three categories of physical learning objects as stated in Zuckerman’s piece like costumes for role playing, puzzles for conceptual manipulation and we even did weaving projects relating to construction and design. Second, we spent a lot of time in nature. My grandma’s house was built in the 50’s right smack dab on Laguna Beach. During the summer, we spent most of our time on the beach. We played in the surf and she took us to the tide pools. She taught us how to feed muscles to the anemones on the rocks. We took the bamboo that washed up on shore after storms and built houses with it in the sand. Whether we were inside or out of the house, we were always building, exploring and playing. Sure, we watched TV and played games but most of our time was spent left to our own devices. I feel so lucky to have had such wonderful experiences at my grandparents house and I’ve often credited my grandma and the environment she created for teaching me so much of what I know today.

  10. My mother signed my sister and I up for an elementry summer school experience. As I reflect over the readings, especially Brosterman’s Inventing Kindergarten, I realize that some of my current sensibilities of “natural curiosity, engaging in observing, examining, comparing” stem from my childhood summer experiences.

    The summer experiences include crisp memories of spending all my time with my face in several holes carved out in a wall. These entrances were the viewing portals into a magic troll [http://cdn.thegloss.com/files/2011/07/trolls.jpg] lair, a magical place and home of the trolls that lived in the walls. Everyday, the interiors of the troll lair changed. The school staff were able to access this space after-hours and during breaks and would re-arranged the troll to do different things. We were told that the trolls would freeze anytime a human spotted them. The scenes changed after our naps break, or arriving to school each morning. At any any point we were allowed to wonder over and ‘observe’ the trolls. Sometimes the mom troll would be cooking in the troll kitchen where everything was a perfect miniature. Sometimes the grandpa was lounging in a recliner. Sometimes the kid trolls would be playing a game of checkers on the floor. Sometimes they would leave messes. Sometimes there would be no trolls around.

    It was all so intricate and their activities had this fantastical nature as well as realism. The idea that this troll civilization lived behind the walls and carried on with their own business while we played in this world made me so excited to peep in next. The major concept drawn from the Brosterman’s reading was that students were allowed to be guided through skills of concrete observation. By observing the patterns of daily troll life one would notice small differences and to begin to ask questions. What are the troll children like? What is the troll grandfather like? How are they the same / different then us. We were given the tools and abilities to see analogies and draw conclusions by comparison.

  11. One of my favorite places to learn was the beach. I’m from Orange County – so my parents had the opportunity to take my brothers and I out to the beach fairly often when we were kids. The beach is an excellent place to experiment with many different things from the structural integrity of a sand castle – to understanding the flow of water and the nature of waves.
    I really enjoyed building sand castles and creating structures in the sand. Sand is very malleable and adhesive when its wet. It’s easy to shape it into many different forms because you can add and subtract with ease. My brothers and I would see who could build the coolest sand castles. I remember distinctly putting a water canal that went through my central tower and around the “city” I constructed. I think seeing how the water would hit the side of my castle walls made me think of how to create better barriers to prevent my buildings from crashing down.
    This experience directly relates to Pestalozzi’s theory of meaningful information, that all human activity must be self-generated, and the child learns through an active engagement with the environment. The beach exists an environment that allows for children to explore and formulate questions about its landscape. The plasticity and variety of building materials are just like the earth’s natural LEGOs – it begs children to play with them and to become curious. I’m thankful to have been raised by the beach and the opportunity I had playing with it as I’m sure it affected me and the way I think today.

  12. Reflecting back on my childhood, my favorite learning environment was my uncle’s farm in Taiwan. My uncle owns a huge farm, which consists of a variety of fruits and vegetables, unique flowers, and many different farm animals. Having the privilege to explore and play in my uncle’s farm every time I visited him, I was able to learn new things about nature. I was able to observe how my uncle grew and fertilized the crops and how he raised and cared for the farm animals. My uncle would also take me around the farm and explain what every plant and animal was. I also remember exploring and playing around in the farm with my brother and cousins. We would play with the cats, birds, dogs, hens, chicken, geese, and many more animals. We would also study different types of wild flowers, crops, and trees, and make flower necklaces. Through these adventures and play in the farm, I was able to learn about different crops, fruits, vegetables, flowers, trees, and animals.

    My uncle’s farm was a learning environment for me because it gave me the opportunity to explore and appreciate how to care for, and respond to the environment. Not only did my experience at my uncle’s farm increase my knowledge of nature, but it also allowed me to be creative with nature by making art out of it. It was this type of free play environment that gave me the freedom to explore and to discover so many new things about nature that I would not be able to experience if I was cooped-up in a classroom or if I was reading a textbook. This free play experience at my uncle’s farm relates to Brosterman’s idea that play is an important aspect of kindergarten learning as young children have a curious nature. Because I was able to play, explore, and experience my uncle’s farm, it allowed me to develop a stronger grasp of skills and knowledge pertaining to our natural environment.

  13. One of my favorite physical environments from my childhood was my grandparents courtyard. This was in a small town in South India and some of the bigger houses where extended families lived together had spaces for performances or a mini stage, and spaces that were decorated every day with patterns on the ground made with rice powder, also meant to be food for ants and small insects. My favorite “reality role play” object was a miniature version of the house that was built with concrete right outside the main door. This was child size and was the exact layout of my grandparents house. The mini kitchen had a mock stove and these models usually had tiny cups and plates made out of mud beside them. My cousins and I would add our dolls and role play what the adults were doing inside the actual house, including the norms around which family members occupied which spaces and how women had their own areas. I enjoyed these interactions quite a bit and it allowed us to examine spaces we lived in from a different perspective that mirrored architectural and interior design layouts, and the ways in which spaces are used socially and also play out the power dynamics of the household through our interaction with this learning object. I didn’t think this was a significant object for me till I wrote this blog post and realized I later went on to study environmental psychology and examine how physical spaces influence social dynamics and mental health at university 🙂

  14. My most effective learning environment and close to favorite learning environment was the winery I spent a lot of time at when I was growing up. When I was a kid, my best-friend’s family owned a small winery in Gilroy (they still do).

    My friend and I would play and work in this environment all day in the summer. We would be given small but serious tasks (cleaning glasses behind the bar, bagging bottles of wine, dropping foils over new bottles of wine during a bottling session…) that were both fun and essential to running the winery. I learned how to speak in public by guiding groups of people through the winery rooms at the tender age of 10, explaining how the wine was stored (I can recite the tour even now in my head), how it was picked, crushed, bottled and sold. I learned simple algebra through working at the cash register (before there were calculators…we had to actually count back change). I learned how to read people’s faces and keep them talking and smiling as I worked behind the bar (from the time I was 9 years old). I learned concepts of cooperative work through participating in the conveyor belt system of bottling the wine: each person along a conveyor belt keeping the bottles upright, monitoring the labels as they were pasted on, packing the bottles in cases and packing them into the intricate patten they required to stay on a pallet. I think the most prevalent element in that environment was other people, adults, who treated me as an equal member of their team as long as I was useful and did my job.

    This was all Dewey and reality role play, but in a very real world (perhaps it doesn’t count because it was actually real?). The work was gentle enough, and we could stop whenever we wanted to and go play, but it was so much more interesting to work with everybody and be in the mix.

  15. It took me a while to come up with a favorite learning environment. The first thing I thought about right after I read the blog’s prompt, was what my kindergarten years had been like and what environments I had enjoyed the most while being there. Surprisingly – and sadly- no particular learning environments came to mind. The only place that came to my mind was the school’s backyard. That was the place I liked the most.

    It was not only the school’s backyard that I enjoyed. I was lucky to grow up in a house with an amazing garden. I loved my house’s garden. It had small hills that I thought were going to lead me to secret places; fruit trees and bushes that I would visit every day to see when they were going to bloom; a little fountain where I would see tadpoles becoming frogs; and a great lawn where I would run and play and catch grasshoppers (my favorite activity for a while). More importantly though, every time I was there, I was surrounded by people: my cousins, my neighbors, my friends from school, my mom’s friend’s children that I had just met. It did not matter who they were, I just love the memories of experimenting that garden, with others.

    In retrospective, I can identify in my “garden” memories the power of Montessori’s concept of independence and Froebel’s concept of understanding nature and social interactions, but I wonder how the presence of an instructor would have enhanced those learning experiences. Although both approaches emphasize the importance of the teacher, they seem to leave children a lot on their own, considering learning an almost exclusively personal experience. I wonder what the effect of a more present teacher, who interacts more with the children while they are experimenting as Reggio Emilia’s approach suggests, could change the outcome of the experience.

  16. My favorite learning environment growing up was the public library. We would go once every one or two weeks. I’m thinking about how Rousseau would already disapprove of this, with his advice that children stay away from books. However, I think that if Rousseau were placed in the late 20th/21st century, he would probably feel differently. So much of everyday life runs on information nowadays that it’s part of the experiences that children learn about through observation and practice. I don’t know what Rousseau would have said about TV, much less the Internet.

    What I liked about the library was that I had considerable freedom there. Growing up in an age and place where parents didn’t let their kids wander too far from home for long periods of time, I didn’t spend that much time outside by myself growing up. For me, the library was like a place of solitude. Though there were people around, they were people I didn’t know and for the most part didn’t interact with me, and meanwhile my mother was off somewhere with her own business. I could choose where to direct my attention, like the children in the Montessori classroom, and how to arrange my time – which was usually less than two hours. The library was large, so it felt like there were places to be explored, as well as places that had become familiar. I usually stayed in the children’s section, where there was brightly colored furniture and books I was interested in.

    Later on at home I would read the books I’d selected and reenact stories with my friends using our Beanie Babies, which led to eventually creating our own. These Beanie Babies lived immensely more interesting and dramatic lives than our own, perhaps as a form of secondhand reality role play. I enjoyed the library because it felt like a portal into a larger reality, one that was more adult but also safe from the dangers adults warned us against.

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