By I. Asimov. Margie even wrote abo

By I. Asimov.
Margie even wrote about it that night in her diary.
On the page headed May 17, 2157,, she wrote, "Today Tommy found a real book!"
It was a very old book. Margie's grandfather told her that there was a time when all stories where printed on paper.
They turned the pages, which were yellow and crinkly, and it was awfully funny to read words that stood still instead of moving the way they were supposed to - on a screen, you know. And then, when they turned back to the page before, it has been the same words on it that it had been when they read it the first time.
"Gee", said Tommy, "What a waste. When you're through with the book, you just throw it away, I guess. Our television screen must have had a million books on it and it's good for plenty more. I wouldn't throw it away".
"Same with mine", said Margie. She was eleven and hadn't seen as many telebooks as Tommy had. He was thirteen.
She said, "Where did you find it?"
"In my house". He pointed without looking, because he was busy reading. "In the attic".
"What's it about?"
"School".
Margie was scornful. "School? What's there to write about school? I hate school".
Margie always hated school, but now she hated it more than ever. The mechanical teacher had been giving her test after test in geography and she had been doing worse and worse until her mother had shaken her head sorrowfully and sent for the County Inspector. He was a round little man with a red face and a whole box of tools with dials and wires. He smiled at Margie and gave her an apple, then took the teacher apart. Margie had hoped he wouldn't know how to put it together again, but he knew all right, and, after an hour or so, there it was again, large and black and ugly, with a big screen on which all the lessons were shown and the questions were asked. That wasn't so bad. The part Margie hated most was the slot where she had to put homework and test papers. She always had to write them out in a punch code they made her learn when she was six years old and the mechanical teacher calculated the mark in no time.
The Inspector had smiled after he was finished and patted Margie's head. He said to her mother. "It's not the little girl's fault, Mrs. Jones, I think the geography sector was geared a little too quick. Those things happen sometimes. I've slowed it up to an average ten year level. Actually, the overall pattern of her progress is quite satisfactory". And he patted Margie's head again. Margie was disappointed. She had been hoping they would take the teacher away altogether. They had once taken Tommy's teacher away for nearly a month because the history sector had blanked out completely. So she said to Tommy. "Why would anyone write about school?" Tommy looked at her with very superior eyes. "Because it's not our kind of school, stupid. This is the old kind of school that they had hundreds and hundreds years ago". He added loftily, pronouncing the word carefully, "Centuries ago".
Margie was hurt. "Well, I don't know what kind of school they had all that time ago". She read the book over his shoulder for a while, then said, "Anyway, they had a teacher".
"Sure, they had a teacher, but it wasn't a regular teacher. It was a man".
"A man? How could a man be a teacher?"
"Well, he just told the boys and girls things and gave them homework and asked them questions".
"A man isn't smart enough".
"Sure he is. My father knows as much as my teacher".
"He can't. A man can't know as much as a teacher".
"He knows almost as much, I betcha". Margie wasn't prepared to dispute that. She said, "I wouldn't want a strange man in my house to teach me".
Tommy screamed with laughter. "You don't know much, Margie. The teachers didn't live in the house. They had a special building and all the kids went there".
"And all the kids learned the same things?"
"Sure, if they were the same age".
"But my mother says a teacher has to be adjusted to fit the mind of each boy and girl it teaches and that each kid has to be taught differently".
"Just the same they didn't do it that way then. If you don't like it, you don't have to read the book".
"I didn't say I didn't like it", Margie said quickly. She wanted to read about those funny schools.
They weren't even half-finished, when Margie's mother called, "Margie! School!"
Margie looked up. "Not yet, Mamma".
"Now!" said Mrs. Jones. "And it's probably time for Tommy, too". Margie said to Tommy, "Can I read the book some more with you after school?" "Maybe", he said nonchalantly. He walked away, whistling, the dusty old book tucked beneath his arm.
Margie went into the schoolroom. It was right next to her bedroom and the mechanical teacher was on and waiting for her. It was always on at the same time every day, except Saturday and Sunday, because her mother said little girls learned better if they learned at regular hours.
The screen lit up, and it said:
"Today's arithmetic lesson is on the addition of proper fractions. Please insert yesterday's homework in the proper slot". Margie did so with a sigh. She was thinking about the old schools they had when her grandfather's grandfather was a little boy. All the kinds from the whole neighborhood came laughing and shouting in the schoolyard, sitting together in the schoolroom, going home together at the end of the day. They learned the same things, so they could help one another on the homework and talk about it.
And the teachers were people...
The mechanical teacher was flashing on the screen:
"When we add the fraction 1/2 and 1/4" Margie was thinking about how the kids must have loved it in the old days. She was thinking about the fun they had.

Результаты (датский) 2:

Af I. Asimov.
Margie selv skrev om det den aften i sin dagbog.
På siden ledet maj 17, 2157 ,, hun skrev, "I dag Tommy fundet en rigtig bog!"
Det var en meget gammel bog. Margie bedstefar fortalte hende, at der var en tid, hvor alle historier, hvor trykt på papir.
De vendte de sider, som var gul og krøllede, og det var frygtelig morsomt at læse ord, der stod stadig stedet for at flytte den måde, de skulle - på en skærm, du ved. Og så, da de vendte tilbage til den side før, har det været de samme ord på det, at det havde været, når de læser det første gang.
"Gee" sagde Tommy, "Sikke et spild. Når du er færdig med bogen, du bare smide det væk, jeg gætte. Vores tv-skærmen må have haft en million bøger om det, og det er godt for meget mere. Jeg ville ikke smide det væk ".
"Samme med mine", siger Margie. Hun var elleve og ikke havde set så mange telebooks som Tommy havde. Han var tretten.
Hun sagde: "Hvor har du det?"
"I mit hus". Han pegede uden at se, fordi han havde travlt læsning. "På loftet".
"Hvad er det om?"
"skolen".
Margie var hånlig. "Skolen? Hvad er der at skrive om skolen? Jeg hader skole".
Margie altid hadet skolen, men nu er hun hadede det mere end nogensinde. Den mekaniske lærer havde været at give hendes test efter test i geografi og hun havde gjort værre og værre, indtil hendes mor havde rystet hovedet bedrøvet og sendes til County Inspector. Han var en rund lille mand med et rødt ansigt og en hel kasse med værktøjer med skiver og ledninger. Han smilede til Margie og gav hende et æble, derefter tog læreren fra hinanden. Margie havde håbet, han ville ikke vide, hvordan man sætte det sammen igen, men han vidste det godt, og efter en times tid, der var det igen, store og sorte og grimme, med en stor skærm, hvor alle de lektioner var vist og spørgsmålene blev stillet. Det var ikke så slemt. Den del Margie hadede mest var slot, hvor hun måtte lægge lektier og test papirer. Hun havde altid at skrive dem i en punch kode, de fik hende at lære, da hun var seks år gammel, og den mekaniske lærer beregnede mærket på ingen tid.
Den Inspector havde smilet efter han var færdig og klappede Margie hoved. Han sagde til sin mor. "Det er ikke den lille piges skyld, fru Jones, jeg tror, ​​at geografi sektoren var gearet lidt for hurtig. Disse ting sker nogle gange. Jeg har bremset det op til et gennemsnit ti år niveau. Faktisk er den overordnede mønster af hendes fremskridt er ganske tilfredsstillende ". Og han klappede Margie hoved igen. Margie var skuffet. Hun havde håbet, at de ville tage læreren væk helt. De havde engang taget Tommys lærer væk i næsten en måned, fordi historien sektoren havde slettet helt ud. Så sagde hun til Tommy. "Hvorfor skulle nogen skrive om skole?" Tommy så på hende med meget overlegne øjne. "Fordi det ikke er vores slags skole, dum. Det er den gamle slags skole, at de havde hundreder og atter hundreder år siden." Han tilføjede hjv'rdighed, udtale ordet omhyggeligt, "Århundreder siden."
Margie blev såret. "Nå, jeg ved ikke, hvilken slags skole, de havde al den tid siden". Hun læste bogen over skulderen i et stykke tid, og derefter sagde, "Anyway, de havde en lærer".
"Selvfølgelig, de havde en lærer, men det var ikke en almindelig lærer. Det var en mand".
"En mand? Hvordan kunne en mand være lærer? "
"Nå, han bare fortalte drenge og piger ting og gav dem hjemmearbejde og stillede dem spørgsmål".
"En mand er ikke smart nok".
"Selvfølgelig er han. Min far kender så meget som min lærer ".
"Han kan ikke. En mand kan ikke vide så meget som en lærer".
"Han ved næsten lige så meget, jeg betcha". Margie ikke var parat til at bestride det. Hun sagde: "Jeg ønsker ikke en fremmed mand i mit hus for at lære mig."
Tommy skreg af grin. "Du kender ikke meget, Margie. Lærerne har ikke bor i huset. De havde en særlig bygning, og alle børnene gik der".
"Og alle børnene lærte de samme ting?"
"Ja, hvis de var samme alder ".
"Men min mor siger en lærer skal tilpasses sindet af hver dreng og pige det lærer, og at hver barn har til at blive undervist anderledes".
"Netop det samme de ikke gjorde det på den måde derefter. Hvis du ikke kan lide det, behøver du ikke at læse bogen ".
"Jeg vidste ikke, at jeg ikke kunne lide det", siger Margie hurtigt. Hun ønskede at læse om de sjove skoler.
De var ikke engang halvt færdig, da Margie mor kaldte, "Margie! Skole!"
Margie kiggede op. "Ikke endnu, Mamma".
"Nu!" sagde fru Jones. "Og det er nok tid til Tommy, også". Margie sagde til Tommy, "Kan jeg læste bogen nogle mere med dig efter skole?" "Måske," sagde han nonchalant. Han gik væk, fløjtende, den støvede gamle bog gemt under armen.
Margie gik ind i skolestuen. Det var lige ved siden af hendes soveværelse og den mekaniske lærer var på og venter på hende. . Det var altid på samme tidspunkt hver dag, undtagen lørdag og søndag, fordi hendes mor sagde små piger lærte bedre, hvis de har lært med jævne timer
Skærmen lyser op, og det sagde:
"Dagens aritmetiske lektion er om tilsætning af korrekt fraktioner. Indsæt gårsdagens hjemmearbejde i den rigtige slot. " Margie gjorde det med et suk. Hun tænkte de gamle skoler, de havde, da hendes bedstefar bedstefar var en lille dreng. Alle former fra hele nabolaget kom griner og råbe i skolegården, sidder sammen i skolestuen, gå hjem sammen i slutningen af dagen. De lærte de samme ting, så de kunne hjælpe hinanden på lektier og tale om det.
Og lærerne var folk ...
Den mekaniske Læreren var blinkende på skærmen:
"Når vi tilføjer fraktionen 1/2 og 1/4 "Margie tænkte over, hvordan børnene skal have elsket det i gamle dage. Hun tænkte det sjove, de havde.

Результаты (датский) 3:

Ved I. Asimov.
Margie selv skrev om den aften i hendes dagbog.
på siden ledet 17. maj, 2157" skrev hun, "i dag Tommy fandt en rigtig bog! "
Det var en meget gammel bog. Margie's bedstefar fortalte hende, at der var en tid, hvor alle historierne er udskrevet på papir.
De tændte de sider, som er gule og crinkly,