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Q4279248 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
Read the excerpt:
"A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany..."
In this passage, the pronoun "they" refers to:
Alternativas
Q4279247 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
An English teacher wants to adapt Anne Young's educational principles to a language lesson. The objective is to help students distinguish phrasal verbs through repeated contextual use, collaborative decision-making, and immediate feedback rather than isolated memorization. Mark the alternative that presents the CORRECT activity design. 
Alternativas
Q4279246 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
Consider the following statements about the chronology described in the article.

I. Anne Young received a royal patent in 1801.
II. She published her companion treatise two years later.
III. The patent had been granted before the treatise appeared.
IV. Her treatise has remained the first British patent ever granted for a game.

Mark the alternative that presents the propositions that are CORRECT. 
Alternativas
Q4279245 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
In the opening paragraph, the author states that educational games "were all the rage" in the early nineteenth century. The same paragraph describes a rapidly expanding market for instructional card, dice, and board games. Considering this context, mark the alternative that presents the CORRECT meaning of the expression "all the rage." 
Alternativas
Q4279244 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
The article contains the expression "The County Gaol," quoted from a British educational game, and later uses the word "laborer" when explaining the price of Anne Young's game set. These forms reflect different spelling traditions. Match the words in Column I with the descriptions in Column II. 

Column I      
1. Gaol.       2. Jail.       3. Laborer.       4. Labourer.      

Column II

I. Traditional British spelling for a place of imprisonment. 
II. Common modern spelling in both American and British  usage. 
III. American spelling without the letter "u." 
IV. British spelling retaining the letter "u." 

Mark the alternative that presents the CORRECT  matching. 
Alternativas
Q4279243 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
The article reconstructs the participation of women in the development of educational games from the late eighteenth century onward. Rather than presenting their work as an isolated curiosity, the author connects game design with access to education, gender restrictions, technological change, and the preservation of historical records. Based on the text, mark the alternative that presents the CORRECT interpretation of its central argument. 
Alternativas
Q4279242 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
The article includes the proverb "she cannot see the wood for the trees" and repeatedly uses the modal verb "would." Although "wood" and "would" differ in spelling and meaning, they are pronounced alike in standard varieties of English. Evaluate the statements and mark them as true (T) or false (F).

( ) "Wood" and "would" form a pair of homophones.
( ) Their pronunciation is generally represented by the same phonemic sequence.
( ) Their grammatical functions are identical because their pronunciation is the same.
( ) Context allows listeners to distinguish their meanings in connected speech.

Mark the alternative that presents the CORRECT sequence. 
Alternativas
Q4279241 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
Women in the period were generally excluded from higher education, yet educational game design created an alternative intellectual outlet. A researcher formulates a counterfactual statement about this historical situation. Mark the alternative that presents a CORRECT third conditional sentence. 
Alternativas
Q4279240 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
The article states: "The first British patent ever granted for a game was awarded to Anne Young." A student rewrites the sentence in the active voice while preserving its meaning and historical focus. Mark the alternative that presents the CORRECT active construction.
Alternativas
Q4279239 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
Read the excerpts below and consider the grammatical functions of the highlighted elements in their original contexts.

I. In "a royal patent," the indefinite article introduces a singular countable noun that has not yet been specified in that clause.
II. In "the fundamental principles of the science of music," the definite article identifies principles presented as a particular conceptual set.
III. In "remarkably well," the word "well" functions as an adjective modifying the noun "gamification."
IV. In "priced originally at seven guineas," the preposition "at" introduces the amount established as the original price.

Mark each statement as true (T) or false (F), and then select the alternative that presents the CORRECT sequence. 
Alternativas
Q4279238 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
The author first acknowledges the sophistication of women's musical games and then explains how Bertha Harrison weakened that recognition by reproducing a gender stereotype. The paragraph begins with the connector "However." Mark the alternative that describes the CORRECT cohesive function of this connector. 
Alternativas
Q4279237 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
The article combines historical narration, present-day commentary, and projections about how past inventions relate to contemporary practices. Considering the tense and temporal functions of the verb forms used in the text, mark each statement as true (T) or false (F).

( ) In "Educational games were all the rage," the simple past situates a completed historical condition in the early nineteenth century.
( ) In "A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found," the simple present indicates a situation that remains valid at the time of writing.
( ) In "Her Fletcher Music Method would later be endorsed," the construction "would + verb" expresses a future event viewed from a past reference point.
( ) In "Many music videogames have become wildly popular," the present perfect presents a past development connected with the present.

Mark the alternative that presents the CORRECT sequence. 
Alternativas
Q4279236 Inglês
The Hidden History of Women Game Designers



Educational games were all the rage in the early ninteenth century. As the narrator of Sir Walter Scott's 1814 novel, Waverley, observed, "the history of England is now reduced to a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles." This bemusement reflects the burgeoning industry of instructional card, dice, and board games that sprang up in the late 1700s, partly in response to changing attitudes towards juvenile education outlined early on by the philosopher John Locke a century before.

Women at the time were, of course, generally barred from attending college and generally discouraged from the pursuit of learning beyond acquiring the skills of a governess. Yet the wave of enthusiasm for educational games nevertheless created an opportunity for some enterprising women—despite significant structural obstacles—to find an intellectual and creative outlet. Standout figures in the history of game design include Margaret Bryan, who directed a girl's school in Blackheath in southeastern London. A writer on science with a particular interest in astronomy, Bryan produced the boardgame Science in Sport, or the Pleasures of Astronomy in collaboration with the well-known game publisher John Wallis.

This game, a variation on the staple of the Game of the Goose (akin to Chutes and Ladders), requires players to spin a teetotum and race their pieces along the board. Most of the squares illustrate scientific phenomena, explained in an accompanying rule booklet, but some depict bad behavior, such as square six, which features "The County Gaol...for those who attend to the motion of Billiard Balls, more than to the motion of the Planets," and square twelve, which features "a blockhead." Landing on these meant losing a turn or worse, a player's place on the board.

Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself to gamification.

Other pioneering game designers include children's author Alicia Catherine Mant, who also published an astronomy-themed board game, while the ludic inventions of the poet and schoolteacher Elizabeth Rowse encompassed A Grammatical Game, in Rhyme, by a Lady (1802) and Mythological Amusement (1804).

Perhaps the most creative arena for female game designers, however, was music, and more specifically, music theory. Among the middle and upper classes, music was generally seen as a female accomplishment, and teaching its rudiments to children was typically left to mothers, governesses, or schoolmistresses. Learning the rules of music theory by rote could seem difficult and tedious. But the subject itself—with its principles, prohibitions, and occasional exceptions—lent itself remarkably well to gamification.

The nineteenth century's best-known musical game designer was the Edinburgh-based pianist and music teacher Anne Young. In 1801, she received a royal patent for a set of games intended to "render familiar and impress upon the memory, the fundamental principles of the science of music." The first British patent ever granted for a game, it was also the only one awarded that year to a female inventor, as David Ghere and Fred Amram have discovered. Two years after the launch of the Musical Games, Young, now the respectably married Mrs. Gunn, published a two-hundred-fifty page companion treatise entitled An Introduction to Music, which explained music theory fundamentals via instructions for playing her Musical Games. The treatise is organized as seven sections, each corresponding to a different set of games, and includes a number of optional variations, outlining twenty-two different games in total.

A handful of Young's Musical Games can be found in libraries, museums, and private collections today. They're luxury items: the boards were made of mahogany, while most of the nearly two hundred parts in each game—pins, dice, plates, and counters—were carved out of ivory and ebony. Priced originally at seven guineas, which was more than the annual wages of a laborer at the time, this game set would have been affordable only for the very wealthy.

Unlike earlier musical dice games, which were designed to encourage composition, Musical Games aimed to teach the rudiments of theory. Some of the games that can be played on the set involve racing, with players competing to move their pieces up and down various configurations on the board. Others involve the acquisition of points for correct answers, tallied with delicate ivory counters. A child following the treatise's progression of games would engage many of the fundamentals of music theory, ranging from notation through more advanced topics in harmony including chord resolution and modulation.

Young's invention haunted musical journals throughout the nineteenth century, resurfacing from time to time in newspaper queries, sometimes from readers intrigued by the warm endorsement it got from her husband John Gunn, a distinguished Scottish music pedagogue who wroteinstructional treatises. (In his writings, Gunn protested "without having ever previously heard the name of the ingenious and scientific Inventor, I was struck with the merits of these Games.") Interestingly, the Musical Games reappear nearly a century later in the essay "Games of Music," published in 1907 in the London-based magazine The Musical Times by Bertha Harrison, who was very likely the anti-suffrage activist also known as Ethel Bertha Harrison. Harrison was interested in music history—her earlier writings in The Musical Times had treated topics such as child prodigies and historic concert venues—but it was only in her essay on musical games that she revealed her political leanings.

In what may be one of the earliest pieces of ludomusicology, the study of music and games, Harrison's essay surveys the role of musical games from the eighteenth century to her present day. Although she ostensibly examines musical games in general, most of her article is dedicated to Young, whom she characterizes as a woman "possessed of an uncommon order of mind." Harrison describes Young's games as "so clever and ingenious, so full of nice detail, that all the music games of the present day seem poor in design and clumsy in execution in comparison with it."

However, the crux of Harrison's argument appears in a subsequent paragraph, where she struggles to put a positive spin on the striking disparity in the quality of games designed by women and men, writing that "is a curious and interesting fact that, among musical games, those invented by women are very complicated and extraordinarily full of detail, while those invented by men are, with very rare exceptions, quite simple and generally adaptations from other games. From this we may draw one of two conclusions: either that in this particular line woman has more originality than man, or that when she begins to invent, her mind becomes so engrossed with details as to lose sight of the main issue, and, in the words of the proverb, she cannot see the wood for the trees."

Conceding that women might be intrinsically better at musical game design, Harrison immediately undercuts this notion with the claim that women are overly concerned with details, and that is why their games tend to be more complex. The stereotype of the detail-oriented woman, as exemplified in this example, is a trope that, as Naomi Schor reminds us, has informed and limited understandings of female ability for centuries.

Harrison's critique notwithstanding, the nineteenth century saw many impressive music educational games invented by women. The 1851 Great Exhibition in London featured Gioco di Euterpe, (a game whose name invokes the Greek goddess of music) designed by Abelinde Prince and "intended to assist beginners in the knowledge of the relative value of musical characters, and to render them good timeists." The editor of The Girl's Own Book (1869) described a game developed by an anonymous female friend, entitled "Sir Samuel Semibreve," which taught sight-singing and could be ordered from a music shop in Middlesex.

Across the Atlantic, Abbie T. Hays, principal of a music school in Wichita, Kansas, filed a patent in 1895 for a "musical game device" designed to teach notation with pictures depicting the words spelled out by note-names (think B-A-G or B-E-E). Later that year, Sarah W. Featherstone, a schoolteacher in Toledo, Ohio, filed a patent for Nota Bene, which used a spinning wheel to teach children rhythm. And in 1897, the enterpreneurial Evelyn Fletcher of Toronto filed both Canadian and US patents for a Music Block Game. Her "Fletcher Music Method" would later be endorsed by luminaries such as John Philip Sousa and Hugo Riemann, and it was highly popular with schoolteachers. This is just a small selection of the names and devices that pop out of the archive. In my experience searching historical patent records, one is more likely to come across games designed by women than by men. Bertha Harrison seems to have gotten that right, at least!

Today, using gamification to teach music seems like a no-brainer. Indeed, many music videogames have become wildly popular—think instrument-based rhythm games like Guitar Hero. While these games generally teach synchronization, there are also plenty of music theory games available to try online, such as ToneGym, Solfege Story, or Chet — Ear Training. Although these modern creations would have been unthinkable a hundred years ago, these games are still part of an unusual—and unusually female—tradition.

https://daily.jstor.org/the-hidden-history-of-women-game-designers/
During the editorial revision of the article, a proofreader identifies the phrase "the early ninteenth century." The intended adjective refers to the century following the eighteenth and preceding the twentieth. Mark the alternative that presents the CORRECT spelling of the word. 
Alternativas
Q4277124 Inglês

The quest to understand the fundamental nature of light has sparked debate for centuries and ultimately played a pivotal role in the development of quantum physics. Even the earliest recorded speculations about light contained the seeds of concepts that would, centuries later, be woven into our quantum understanding of reality. Some of the earliest recorded ideas about the nature of light appeared in the 6th century BCE. In India, for instance, the Vaisheshika school of philosophy described light as consisting of fire-like particles moving at a high speed. In ancient Greece, the Pythagoreans (6th 5th century BCE) and later Euclid (c. 300 BCE) advocated the emission theory of vision, suggesting that rays of light emanate from the eyes toward objects. In contrast, Epicurus (341 270 BCE) proposed an intromission theory, arguing that light consists of material images or "eidola" emitted by objects that travel to the eyes. Further insights into the nature of light emerged in Egypt, where Ptolemy (c. AD 90 168), working in Alexandria, conducted experiments showing that light reflects off smooth surfaces and bends when passing through transparent materials of different optical densities. Building on these concepts, Arab scholars made significant contributions to the understanding of light by establishing foundational principles governing its behavior in lenses, mirrors, and prisms. The most influential among them was the 11th-century scholar Ibn al-Haytham, who lived in present-day Iraq. Ibn al-Haytham corrected the emission theory, stating thatvision results from light entering the eye rather thanemanating from it. By the 17th century, European scientists were dividedbetween two competing theories about the fundamentalnature of light: whether it behaved as a wave or as aparticle. Dutch physicist Christiaan Huygens argued thatlight propagates as waves according to his wave-frontprinciple, which explains how waves evolve when theyencounter obstacles. In contrast, Isaac Newton proposeda corpuscular theory, suggesting that light consists ofparticles traveling in straight paths, capable of reflectingoff surfaces like mirrors. Newton's prism experiments,which showed white light splitting into colors with distinctrefraction angles, supported his corpuscular theory bysuggesting that light consists of particles of differentsizes, each corresponding to a different color, whichbend by different amounts. Both theories, however, were incomplete. Huygens' wavetheory struggled to fully explain why light travels in astraight path, and Newton's particle theory couldn'taccount for diffraction, the spreading of light as it passesaround edges or through narrow openings. Nevertheless,Newton's theory gained significant influence not onlybecause of his clever prism experiments, but alsobecause he was highly revered in the scientificcommunity, making his ideas difficult to challenge foryears. But science doesn't bow to reputation. As RichardFeynman famously pointed out in his 1964 MessengerLectures at Cornell University, "It doesn't matter howbeautiful your theory is, it doesn't matter how smart youare. If it doesn't agree with the experiment, it's wrong."Indeed, nearly a century after Newton's corpusculartheory of 1704, the scientific consensus gradually shiftedtoward the wave theory of light through decades ofexperiments, modeling, and debates. One of the keycontributors to this shift was Thomas Young, an Englishpolymath. In 1801, Young passed sunlight through anarrow slit to produce a coherent light beam. He thenplaced a thin obstacle, such as a hair or a narrow strip,across the beam, splitting it into two waves that spreadout and overlapped. When these waves recombined on ascreen, they produced a pattern of bright and dark bands.This interference pattern provided clear and compellingevidence that light behaves as a wave rather than as aparticle. A familiar example of this phenomenon is when waves onthe surface of water either combine to form larger peaksor cancel each other out. Later, in 1845, another Englishphysicist Michael Faraday showed that magnetic fieldscould alter the polarization plane of light, revealing aconnection between light and electromagnetism. In the1860s, Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell built onthis connection by formulating the theory ofelectromagnetism, describing light as an electromagneticwave composed of oscillating electric and magnetic fields at right angles to each other and to the wave's direction of travel. Heinrich Hertz's experimental confirmation of Maxwell's predictions in the 1880s provided further validation of the electromagnetic wave theory of light. By the 1890s, Maxwell's mathematical description of electromagnetic waves was considered so successful, particularly for its predictive power, that many physicists believed the fundamental nature of light was fully understood. But in the early 20th century, experimental discoveries began to challenge this consensus. The electromagnetic wave theory failed to predict how matter emits and absorbs radiation at thermal equilibrium. To address this question, German physicist Max Planck introduced a revolutionary idea known as energy quantization. He proposed that electromagnetic radiation is emitted or absorbed in discrete amounts, now called quanta, with higher frequency light corresponding to larger quanta. His theory accurately matched experimental results and earned him the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1918. Another major blow to the wave theory of light came from the photoelectric effect, first observed by Heinrich Hertz in 1887, when ultraviolet light caused electric charge to be emitted from a metal surface. By 1900, Philipp Lenard conducted detailed experiments to show that the energy of ejected electrons depended on light frequency, not intensity, an observation that classical wave theory struggled to explain. In 1905, Albert Einstein addressed this by proposing that light is made of discrete energy packets, now called photons, each carrying an energy proportional to its frequency according to Planck's quantization rule. This idea successfully explained the photoelectric effect and was later confirmed by Robert Millikan's experiments in 1915, which verified that the energy of the ejected electrons depends on light frequency and that intensity affects only the number of ejected electrons. Einstein's explanation earned him the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics. The existence of the photon was further reinforced in 1923 by American physicist Arthur Compton, who showed that X-rays scatter off electrons and emerge with smaller frequencies. The photoelectric effect showed that light interacts with matter through discrete, fundamental processes, behaving as if it were made up of particles known as photons. On the other hand, Young's double-slit experiment provided convincing evidence that light also exhibits wave-like behavior through interference. These seemingly contradictory findings reveal the dual nature of light, a concept known as wave-particle duality. Today, this principle is central to quantum physics, which describes light as a quantum electromagnetic field. This field has discrete energy excitations called photons that can produce particle-like effects, while also exhibiting wave-like behavior depending on how light interacts with its environment. https://quantum2025.org/news-link/the-history-of-light-and-the-birth-of-q uantum-physics/ (adapted)

Consider the following excerpt:

"Nevertheless, Newton's theory gained significantinfluence not only because of his clever prismexperiments, but also because he was highly revered inthe scientific community, making his ideas difficult tochallenge for years."

Regarding the cohesive and argumentative relationsestablished in the sentence, judge the statements below.

I."Nevertheless" introduces a relation of contrast betweenthe previously mentioned limitations of Newton's theoryand its subsequent influence.
II.The correlative structure "not only... but also" links twofactors presented as contributing to the historicalinfluence of Newton's theory.
III.The clause "making his ideas difficult to challenge foryears" presents a development associated with Newton'sprestige within the scientific community.

Which proposition(s) is/are CORRECT?
Alternativas
Q4277122 Inglês

The quest to understand the fundamental nature of light has sparked debate for centuries and ultimately played a pivotal role in the development of quantum physics. Even the earliest recorded speculations about light contained the seeds of concepts that would, centuries later, be woven into our quantum understanding of reality. Some of the earliest recorded ideas about the nature of light appeared in the 6th century BCE. In India, for instance, the Vaisheshika school of philosophy described light as consisting of fire-like particles moving at a high speed. In ancient Greece, the Pythagoreans (6th 5th century BCE) and later Euclid (c. 300 BCE) advocated the emission theory of vision, suggesting that rays of light emanate from the eyes toward objects. In contrast, Epicurus (341 270 BCE) proposed an intromission theory, arguing that light consists of material images or "eidola" emitted by objects that travel to the eyes. Further insights into the nature of light emerged in Egypt, where Ptolemy (c. AD 90 168), working in Alexandria, conducted experiments showing that light reflects off smooth surfaces and bends when passing through transparent materials of different optical densities. Building on these concepts, Arab scholars made significant contributions to the understanding of light by establishing foundational principles governing its behavior in lenses, mirrors, and prisms. The most influential among them was the 11th-century scholar Ibn al-Haytham, who lived in present-day Iraq. Ibn al-Haytham corrected the emission theory, stating thatvision results from light entering the eye rather thanemanating from it. By the 17th century, European scientists were dividedbetween two competing theories about the fundamentalnature of light: whether it behaved as a wave or as aparticle. Dutch physicist Christiaan Huygens argued thatlight propagates as waves according to his wave-frontprinciple, which explains how waves evolve when theyencounter obstacles. In contrast, Isaac Newton proposeda corpuscular theory, suggesting that light consists ofparticles traveling in straight paths, capable of reflectingoff surfaces like mirrors. Newton's prism experiments,which showed white light splitting into colors with distinctrefraction angles, supported his corpuscular theory bysuggesting that light consists of particles of differentsizes, each corresponding to a different color, whichbend by different amounts. Both theories, however, were incomplete. Huygens' wavetheory struggled to fully explain why light travels in astraight path, and Newton's particle theory couldn'taccount for diffraction, the spreading of light as it passesaround edges or through narrow openings. Nevertheless,Newton's theory gained significant influence not onlybecause of his clever prism experiments, but alsobecause he was highly revered in the scientificcommunity, making his ideas difficult to challenge foryears. But science doesn't bow to reputation. As RichardFeynman famously pointed out in his 1964 MessengerLectures at Cornell University, "It doesn't matter howbeautiful your theory is, it doesn't matter how smart youare. If it doesn't agree with the experiment, it's wrong."Indeed, nearly a century after Newton's corpusculartheory of 1704, the scientific consensus gradually shiftedtoward the wave theory of light through decades ofexperiments, modeling, and debates. One of the keycontributors to this shift was Thomas Young, an Englishpolymath. In 1801, Young passed sunlight through anarrow slit to produce a coherent light beam. He thenplaced a thin obstacle, such as a hair or a narrow strip,across the beam, splitting it into two waves that spreadout and overlapped. When these waves recombined on ascreen, they produced a pattern of bright and dark bands.This interference pattern provided clear and compellingevidence that light behaves as a wave rather than as aparticle. A familiar example of this phenomenon is when waves onthe surface of water either combine to form larger peaksor cancel each other out. Later, in 1845, another Englishphysicist Michael Faraday showed that magnetic fieldscould alter the polarization plane of light, revealing aconnection between light and electromagnetism. In the1860s, Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell built onthis connection by formulating the theory ofelectromagnetism, describing light as an electromagneticwave composed of oscillating electric and magnetic fields at right angles to each other and to the wave's direction of travel. Heinrich Hertz's experimental confirmation of Maxwell's predictions in the 1880s provided further validation of the electromagnetic wave theory of light. By the 1890s, Maxwell's mathematical description of electromagnetic waves was considered so successful, particularly for its predictive power, that many physicists believed the fundamental nature of light was fully understood. But in the early 20th century, experimental discoveries began to challenge this consensus. The electromagnetic wave theory failed to predict how matter emits and absorbs radiation at thermal equilibrium. To address this question, German physicist Max Planck introduced a revolutionary idea known as energy quantization. He proposed that electromagnetic radiation is emitted or absorbed in discrete amounts, now called quanta, with higher frequency light corresponding to larger quanta. His theory accurately matched experimental results and earned him the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1918. Another major blow to the wave theory of light came from the photoelectric effect, first observed by Heinrich Hertz in 1887, when ultraviolet light caused electric charge to be emitted from a metal surface. By 1900, Philipp Lenard conducted detailed experiments to show that the energy of ejected electrons depended on light frequency, not intensity, an observation that classical wave theory struggled to explain. In 1905, Albert Einstein addressed this by proposing that light is made of discrete energy packets, now called photons, each carrying an energy proportional to its frequency according to Planck's quantization rule. This idea successfully explained the photoelectric effect and was later confirmed by Robert Millikan's experiments in 1915, which verified that the energy of the ejected electrons depends on light frequency and that intensity affects only the number of ejected electrons. Einstein's explanation earned him the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics. The existence of the photon was further reinforced in 1923 by American physicist Arthur Compton, who showed that X-rays scatter off electrons and emerge with smaller frequencies. The photoelectric effect showed that light interacts with matter through discrete, fundamental processes, behaving as if it were made up of particles known as photons. On the other hand, Young's double-slit experiment provided convincing evidence that light also exhibits wave-like behavior through interference. These seemingly contradictory findings reveal the dual nature of light, a concept known as wave-particle duality. Today, this principle is central to quantum physics, which describes light as a quantum electromagnetic field. This field has discrete energy excitations called photons that can produce particle-like effects, while also exhibiting wave-like behavior depending on how light interacts with its environment. https://quantum2025.org/news-link/the-history-of-light-and-the-birth-of-q uantum-physics/ (adapted)

Consider the sentence:

"If it doesn't agree with the experiment, it's wrong."

The conditional construction in this statement is best interpreted as:
Alternativas
Q4277121 Inglês

The quest to understand the fundamental nature of light has sparked debate for centuries and ultimately played a pivotal role in the development of quantum physics. Even the earliest recorded speculations about light contained the seeds of concepts that would, centuries later, be woven into our quantum understanding of reality. Some of the earliest recorded ideas about the nature of light appeared in the 6th century BCE. In India, for instance, the Vaisheshika school of philosophy described light as consisting of fire-like particles moving at a high speed. In ancient Greece, the Pythagoreans (6th 5th century BCE) and later Euclid (c. 300 BCE) advocated the emission theory of vision, suggesting that rays of light emanate from the eyes toward objects. In contrast, Epicurus (341 270 BCE) proposed an intromission theory, arguing that light consists of material images or "eidola" emitted by objects that travel to the eyes. Further insights into the nature of light emerged in Egypt, where Ptolemy (c. AD 90 168), working in Alexandria, conducted experiments showing that light reflects off smooth surfaces and bends when passing through transparent materials of different optical densities. Building on these concepts, Arab scholars made significant contributions to the understanding of light by establishing foundational principles governing its behavior in lenses, mirrors, and prisms. The most influential among them was the 11th-century scholar Ibn al-Haytham, who lived in present-day Iraq. Ibn al-Haytham corrected the emission theory, stating thatvision results from light entering the eye rather thanemanating from it. By the 17th century, European scientists were dividedbetween two competing theories about the fundamentalnature of light: whether it behaved as a wave or as aparticle. Dutch physicist Christiaan Huygens argued thatlight propagates as waves according to his wave-frontprinciple, which explains how waves evolve when theyencounter obstacles. In contrast, Isaac Newton proposeda corpuscular theory, suggesting that light consists ofparticles traveling in straight paths, capable of reflectingoff surfaces like mirrors. Newton's prism experiments,which showed white light splitting into colors with distinctrefraction angles, supported his corpuscular theory bysuggesting that light consists of particles of differentsizes, each corresponding to a different color, whichbend by different amounts. Both theories, however, were incomplete. Huygens' wavetheory struggled to fully explain why light travels in astraight path, and Newton's particle theory couldn'taccount for diffraction, the spreading of light as it passesaround edges or through narrow openings. Nevertheless,Newton's theory gained significant influence not onlybecause of his clever prism experiments, but alsobecause he was highly revered in the scientificcommunity, making his ideas difficult to challenge foryears. But science doesn't bow to reputation. As RichardFeynman famously pointed out in his 1964 MessengerLectures at Cornell University, "It doesn't matter howbeautiful your theory is, it doesn't matter how smart youare. If it doesn't agree with the experiment, it's wrong."Indeed, nearly a century after Newton's corpusculartheory of 1704, the scientific consensus gradually shiftedtoward the wave theory of light through decades ofexperiments, modeling, and debates. One of the keycontributors to this shift was Thomas Young, an Englishpolymath. In 1801, Young passed sunlight through anarrow slit to produce a coherent light beam. He thenplaced a thin obstacle, such as a hair or a narrow strip,across the beam, splitting it into two waves that spreadout and overlapped. When these waves recombined on ascreen, they produced a pattern of bright and dark bands.This interference pattern provided clear and compellingevidence that light behaves as a wave rather than as aparticle. A familiar example of this phenomenon is when waves onthe surface of water either combine to form larger peaksor cancel each other out. Later, in 1845, another Englishphysicist Michael Faraday showed that magnetic fieldscould alter the polarization plane of light, revealing aconnection between light and electromagnetism. In the1860s, Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell built onthis connection by formulating the theory ofelectromagnetism, describing light as an electromagneticwave composed of oscillating electric and magnetic fields at right angles to each other and to the wave's direction of travel. Heinrich Hertz's experimental confirmation of Maxwell's predictions in the 1880s provided further validation of the electromagnetic wave theory of light. By the 1890s, Maxwell's mathematical description of electromagnetic waves was considered so successful, particularly for its predictive power, that many physicists believed the fundamental nature of light was fully understood. But in the early 20th century, experimental discoveries began to challenge this consensus. The electromagnetic wave theory failed to predict how matter emits and absorbs radiation at thermal equilibrium. To address this question, German physicist Max Planck introduced a revolutionary idea known as energy quantization. He proposed that electromagnetic radiation is emitted or absorbed in discrete amounts, now called quanta, with higher frequency light corresponding to larger quanta. His theory accurately matched experimental results and earned him the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1918. Another major blow to the wave theory of light came from the photoelectric effect, first observed by Heinrich Hertz in 1887, when ultraviolet light caused electric charge to be emitted from a metal surface. By 1900, Philipp Lenard conducted detailed experiments to show that the energy of ejected electrons depended on light frequency, not intensity, an observation that classical wave theory struggled to explain. In 1905, Albert Einstein addressed this by proposing that light is made of discrete energy packets, now called photons, each carrying an energy proportional to its frequency according to Planck's quantization rule. This idea successfully explained the photoelectric effect and was later confirmed by Robert Millikan's experiments in 1915, which verified that the energy of the ejected electrons depends on light frequency and that intensity affects only the number of ejected electrons. Einstein's explanation earned him the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics. The existence of the photon was further reinforced in 1923 by American physicist Arthur Compton, who showed that X-rays scatter off electrons and emerge with smaller frequencies. The photoelectric effect showed that light interacts with matter through discrete, fundamental processes, behaving as if it were made up of particles known as photons. On the other hand, Young's double-slit experiment provided convincing evidence that light also exhibits wave-like behavior through interference. These seemingly contradictory findings reveal the dual nature of light, a concept known as wave-particle duality. Today, this principle is central to quantum physics, which describes light as a quantum electromagnetic field. This field has discrete energy excitations called photons that can produce particle-like effects, while also exhibiting wave-like behavior depending on how light interacts with its environment. https://quantum2025.org/news-link/the-history-of-light-and-the-birth-of-q uantum-physics/ (adapted)

The text develops a historical account from ancient theories of vision to contemporary quantum physics. Throughout this progression, the author repeatedly presents explanatory models, introduces observations or experiments that expose their limitations, and shows how later proposals respond to unresolved problems. Considering this pattern of textual construction, the predominant organizational strategy is:
Alternativas
Q4277119 Inglês

The quest to understand the fundamental nature of light has sparked debate for centuries and ultimately played a pivotal role in the development of quantum physics. Even the earliest recorded speculations about light contained the seeds of concepts that would, centuries later, be woven into our quantum understanding of reality. Some of the earliest recorded ideas about the nature of light appeared in the 6th century BCE. In India, for instance, the Vaisheshika school of philosophy described light as consisting of fire-like particles moving at a high speed. In ancient Greece, the Pythagoreans (6th 5th century BCE) and later Euclid (c. 300 BCE) advocated the emission theory of vision, suggesting that rays of light emanate from the eyes toward objects. In contrast, Epicurus (341 270 BCE) proposed an intromission theory, arguing that light consists of material images or "eidola" emitted by objects that travel to the eyes. Further insights into the nature of light emerged in Egypt, where Ptolemy (c. AD 90 168), working in Alexandria, conducted experiments showing that light reflects off smooth surfaces and bends when passing through transparent materials of different optical densities. Building on these concepts, Arab scholars made significant contributions to the understanding of light by establishing foundational principles governing its behavior in lenses, mirrors, and prisms. The most influential among them was the 11th-century scholar Ibn al-Haytham, who lived in present-day Iraq. Ibn al-Haytham corrected the emission theory, stating thatvision results from light entering the eye rather thanemanating from it. By the 17th century, European scientists were dividedbetween two competing theories about the fundamentalnature of light: whether it behaved as a wave or as aparticle. Dutch physicist Christiaan Huygens argued thatlight propagates as waves according to his wave-frontprinciple, which explains how waves evolve when theyencounter obstacles. In contrast, Isaac Newton proposeda corpuscular theory, suggesting that light consists ofparticles traveling in straight paths, capable of reflectingoff surfaces like mirrors. Newton's prism experiments,which showed white light splitting into colors with distinctrefraction angles, supported his corpuscular theory bysuggesting that light consists of particles of differentsizes, each corresponding to a different color, whichbend by different amounts. Both theories, however, were incomplete. Huygens' wavetheory struggled to fully explain why light travels in astraight path, and Newton's particle theory couldn'taccount for diffraction, the spreading of light as it passesaround edges or through narrow openings. Nevertheless,Newton's theory gained significant influence not onlybecause of his clever prism experiments, but alsobecause he was highly revered in the scientificcommunity, making his ideas difficult to challenge foryears. But science doesn't bow to reputation. As RichardFeynman famously pointed out in his 1964 MessengerLectures at Cornell University, "It doesn't matter howbeautiful your theory is, it doesn't matter how smart youare. If it doesn't agree with the experiment, it's wrong."Indeed, nearly a century after Newton's corpusculartheory of 1704, the scientific consensus gradually shiftedtoward the wave theory of light through decades ofexperiments, modeling, and debates. One of the keycontributors to this shift was Thomas Young, an Englishpolymath. In 1801, Young passed sunlight through anarrow slit to produce a coherent light beam. He thenplaced a thin obstacle, such as a hair or a narrow strip,across the beam, splitting it into two waves that spreadout and overlapped. When these waves recombined on ascreen, they produced a pattern of bright and dark bands.This interference pattern provided clear and compellingevidence that light behaves as a wave rather than as aparticle. A familiar example of this phenomenon is when waves onthe surface of water either combine to form larger peaksor cancel each other out. Later, in 1845, another Englishphysicist Michael Faraday showed that magnetic fieldscould alter the polarization plane of light, revealing aconnection between light and electromagnetism. In the1860s, Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell built onthis connection by formulating the theory ofelectromagnetism, describing light as an electromagneticwave composed of oscillating electric and magnetic fields at right angles to each other and to the wave's direction of travel. Heinrich Hertz's experimental confirmation of Maxwell's predictions in the 1880s provided further validation of the electromagnetic wave theory of light. By the 1890s, Maxwell's mathematical description of electromagnetic waves was considered so successful, particularly for its predictive power, that many physicists believed the fundamental nature of light was fully understood. But in the early 20th century, experimental discoveries began to challenge this consensus. The electromagnetic wave theory failed to predict how matter emits and absorbs radiation at thermal equilibrium. To address this question, German physicist Max Planck introduced a revolutionary idea known as energy quantization. He proposed that electromagnetic radiation is emitted or absorbed in discrete amounts, now called quanta, with higher frequency light corresponding to larger quanta. His theory accurately matched experimental results and earned him the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1918. Another major blow to the wave theory of light came from the photoelectric effect, first observed by Heinrich Hertz in 1887, when ultraviolet light caused electric charge to be emitted from a metal surface. By 1900, Philipp Lenard conducted detailed experiments to show that the energy of ejected electrons depended on light frequency, not intensity, an observation that classical wave theory struggled to explain. In 1905, Albert Einstein addressed this by proposing that light is made of discrete energy packets, now called photons, each carrying an energy proportional to its frequency according to Planck's quantization rule. This idea successfully explained the photoelectric effect and was later confirmed by Robert Millikan's experiments in 1915, which verified that the energy of the ejected electrons depends on light frequency and that intensity affects only the number of ejected electrons. Einstein's explanation earned him the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics. The existence of the photon was further reinforced in 1923 by American physicist Arthur Compton, who showed that X-rays scatter off electrons and emerge with smaller frequencies. The photoelectric effect showed that light interacts with matter through discrete, fundamental processes, behaving as if it were made up of particles known as photons. On the other hand, Young's double-slit experiment provided convincing evidence that light also exhibits wave-like behavior through interference. These seemingly contradictory findings reveal the dual nature of light, a concept known as wave-particle duality. Today, this principle is central to quantum physics, which describes light as a quantum electromagnetic field. This field has discrete energy excitations called photons that can produce particle-like effects, while also exhibiting wave-like behavior depending on how light interacts with its environment. https://quantum2025.org/news-link/the-history-of-light-and-the-birth-of-q uantum-physics/ (adapted)

Read the excerpt below:

"Both theories, however, were incomplete. Huygens'wave theory struggled to fully explain why light travels ina straight path, and Newton's particle theory couldn'taccount for diffraction, the spreading of light as it passesaround edges or through narrow openings."

Considering the role of this passage in the developmentof the text's argument, it primarily:
Alternativas
Q4277118 Inglês

The quest to understand the fundamental nature of light has sparked debate for centuries and ultimately played a pivotal role in the development of quantum physics. Even the earliest recorded speculations about light contained the seeds of concepts that would, centuries later, be woven into our quantum understanding of reality. Some of the earliest recorded ideas about the nature of light appeared in the 6th century BCE. In India, for instance, the Vaisheshika school of philosophy described light as consisting of fire-like particles moving at a high speed. In ancient Greece, the Pythagoreans (6th 5th century BCE) and later Euclid (c. 300 BCE) advocated the emission theory of vision, suggesting that rays of light emanate from the eyes toward objects. In contrast, Epicurus (341 270 BCE) proposed an intromission theory, arguing that light consists of material images or "eidola" emitted by objects that travel to the eyes. Further insights into the nature of light emerged in Egypt, where Ptolemy (c. AD 90 168), working in Alexandria, conducted experiments showing that light reflects off smooth surfaces and bends when passing through transparent materials of different optical densities. Building on these concepts, Arab scholars made significant contributions to the understanding of light by establishing foundational principles governing its behavior in lenses, mirrors, and prisms. The most influential among them was the 11th-century scholar Ibn al-Haytham, who lived in present-day Iraq. Ibn al-Haytham corrected the emission theory, stating thatvision results from light entering the eye rather thanemanating from it. By the 17th century, European scientists were dividedbetween two competing theories about the fundamentalnature of light: whether it behaved as a wave or as aparticle. Dutch physicist Christiaan Huygens argued thatlight propagates as waves according to his wave-frontprinciple, which explains how waves evolve when theyencounter obstacles. In contrast, Isaac Newton proposeda corpuscular theory, suggesting that light consists ofparticles traveling in straight paths, capable of reflectingoff surfaces like mirrors. Newton's prism experiments,which showed white light splitting into colors with distinctrefraction angles, supported his corpuscular theory bysuggesting that light consists of particles of differentsizes, each corresponding to a different color, whichbend by different amounts. Both theories, however, were incomplete. Huygens' wavetheory struggled to fully explain why light travels in astraight path, and Newton's particle theory couldn'taccount for diffraction, the spreading of light as it passesaround edges or through narrow openings. Nevertheless,Newton's theory gained significant influence not onlybecause of his clever prism experiments, but alsobecause he was highly revered in the scientificcommunity, making his ideas difficult to challenge foryears. But science doesn't bow to reputation. As RichardFeynman famously pointed out in his 1964 MessengerLectures at Cornell University, "It doesn't matter howbeautiful your theory is, it doesn't matter how smart youare. If it doesn't agree with the experiment, it's wrong."Indeed, nearly a century after Newton's corpusculartheory of 1704, the scientific consensus gradually shiftedtoward the wave theory of light through decades ofexperiments, modeling, and debates. One of the keycontributors to this shift was Thomas Young, an Englishpolymath. In 1801, Young passed sunlight through anarrow slit to produce a coherent light beam. He thenplaced a thin obstacle, such as a hair or a narrow strip,across the beam, splitting it into two waves that spreadout and overlapped. When these waves recombined on ascreen, they produced a pattern of bright and dark bands.This interference pattern provided clear and compellingevidence that light behaves as a wave rather than as aparticle. A familiar example of this phenomenon is when waves onthe surface of water either combine to form larger peaksor cancel each other out. Later, in 1845, another Englishphysicist Michael Faraday showed that magnetic fieldscould alter the polarization plane of light, revealing aconnection between light and electromagnetism. In the1860s, Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell built onthis connection by formulating the theory ofelectromagnetism, describing light as an electromagneticwave composed of oscillating electric and magnetic fields at right angles to each other and to the wave's direction of travel. Heinrich Hertz's experimental confirmation of Maxwell's predictions in the 1880s provided further validation of the electromagnetic wave theory of light. By the 1890s, Maxwell's mathematical description of electromagnetic waves was considered so successful, particularly for its predictive power, that many physicists believed the fundamental nature of light was fully understood. But in the early 20th century, experimental discoveries began to challenge this consensus. The electromagnetic wave theory failed to predict how matter emits and absorbs radiation at thermal equilibrium. To address this question, German physicist Max Planck introduced a revolutionary idea known as energy quantization. He proposed that electromagnetic radiation is emitted or absorbed in discrete amounts, now called quanta, with higher frequency light corresponding to larger quanta. His theory accurately matched experimental results and earned him the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1918. Another major blow to the wave theory of light came from the photoelectric effect, first observed by Heinrich Hertz in 1887, when ultraviolet light caused electric charge to be emitted from a metal surface. By 1900, Philipp Lenard conducted detailed experiments to show that the energy of ejected electrons depended on light frequency, not intensity, an observation that classical wave theory struggled to explain. In 1905, Albert Einstein addressed this by proposing that light is made of discrete energy packets, now called photons, each carrying an energy proportional to its frequency according to Planck's quantization rule. This idea successfully explained the photoelectric effect and was later confirmed by Robert Millikan's experiments in 1915, which verified that the energy of the ejected electrons depends on light frequency and that intensity affects only the number of ejected electrons. Einstein's explanation earned him the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics. The existence of the photon was further reinforced in 1923 by American physicist Arthur Compton, who showed that X-rays scatter off electrons and emerge with smaller frequencies. The photoelectric effect showed that light interacts with matter through discrete, fundamental processes, behaving as if it were made up of particles known as photons. On the other hand, Young's double-slit experiment provided convincing evidence that light also exhibits wave-like behavior through interference. These seemingly contradictory findings reveal the dual nature of light, a concept known as wave-particle duality. Today, this principle is central to quantum physics, which describes light as a quantum electromagnetic field. This field has discrete energy excitations called photons that can produce particle-like effects, while also exhibiting wave-like behavior depending on how light interacts with its environment. https://quantum2025.org/news-link/the-history-of-light-and-the-birth-of-q uantum-physics/ (adapted)

In the section entitled "Resurgence of particle theory (1900 1923)", the author writes:

"By the 1890s, Maxwell's mathematical description of electromagnetic waves was considered so successful, particularly for its predictive power, that many physicists believed the fundamental nature of light was fully understood. But in the early 20th century, experimental discoveries began to challenge this consensus."

In this context, the discourse marker "But" contributes to the progression of the argument by:
Alternativas
Q4277117 Inglês

The quest to understand the fundamental nature of light has sparked debate for centuries and ultimately played a pivotal role in the development of quantum physics. Even the earliest recorded speculations about light contained the seeds of concepts that would, centuries later, be woven into our quantum understanding of reality. Some of the earliest recorded ideas about the nature of light appeared in the 6th century BCE. In India, for instance, the Vaisheshika school of philosophy described light as consisting of fire-like particles moving at a high speed. In ancient Greece, the Pythagoreans (6th 5th century BCE) and later Euclid (c. 300 BCE) advocated the emission theory of vision, suggesting that rays of light emanate from the eyes toward objects. In contrast, Epicurus (341 270 BCE) proposed an intromission theory, arguing that light consists of material images or "eidola" emitted by objects that travel to the eyes. Further insights into the nature of light emerged in Egypt, where Ptolemy (c. AD 90 168), working in Alexandria, conducted experiments showing that light reflects off smooth surfaces and bends when passing through transparent materials of different optical densities. Building on these concepts, Arab scholars made significant contributions to the understanding of light by establishing foundational principles governing its behavior in lenses, mirrors, and prisms. The most influential among them was the 11th-century scholar Ibn al-Haytham, who lived in present-day Iraq. Ibn al-Haytham corrected the emission theory, stating thatvision results from light entering the eye rather thanemanating from it. By the 17th century, European scientists were dividedbetween two competing theories about the fundamentalnature of light: whether it behaved as a wave or as aparticle. Dutch physicist Christiaan Huygens argued thatlight propagates as waves according to his wave-frontprinciple, which explains how waves evolve when theyencounter obstacles. In contrast, Isaac Newton proposeda corpuscular theory, suggesting that light consists ofparticles traveling in straight paths, capable of reflectingoff surfaces like mirrors. Newton's prism experiments,which showed white light splitting into colors with distinctrefraction angles, supported his corpuscular theory bysuggesting that light consists of particles of differentsizes, each corresponding to a different color, whichbend by different amounts. Both theories, however, were incomplete. Huygens' wavetheory struggled to fully explain why light travels in astraight path, and Newton's particle theory couldn'taccount for diffraction, the spreading of light as it passesaround edges or through narrow openings. Nevertheless,Newton's theory gained significant influence not onlybecause of his clever prism experiments, but alsobecause he was highly revered in the scientificcommunity, making his ideas difficult to challenge foryears. But science doesn't bow to reputation. As RichardFeynman famously pointed out in his 1964 MessengerLectures at Cornell University, "It doesn't matter howbeautiful your theory is, it doesn't matter how smart youare. If it doesn't agree with the experiment, it's wrong."Indeed, nearly a century after Newton's corpusculartheory of 1704, the scientific consensus gradually shiftedtoward the wave theory of light through decades ofexperiments, modeling, and debates. One of the keycontributors to this shift was Thomas Young, an Englishpolymath. In 1801, Young passed sunlight through anarrow slit to produce a coherent light beam. He thenplaced a thin obstacle, such as a hair or a narrow strip,across the beam, splitting it into two waves that spreadout and overlapped. When these waves recombined on ascreen, they produced a pattern of bright and dark bands.This interference pattern provided clear and compellingevidence that light behaves as a wave rather than as aparticle. A familiar example of this phenomenon is when waves onthe surface of water either combine to form larger peaksor cancel each other out. Later, in 1845, another Englishphysicist Michael Faraday showed that magnetic fieldscould alter the polarization plane of light, revealing aconnection between light and electromagnetism. In the1860s, Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell built onthis connection by formulating the theory ofelectromagnetism, describing light as an electromagneticwave composed of oscillating electric and magnetic fields at right angles to each other and to the wave's direction of travel. Heinrich Hertz's experimental confirmation of Maxwell's predictions in the 1880s provided further validation of the electromagnetic wave theory of light. By the 1890s, Maxwell's mathematical description of electromagnetic waves was considered so successful, particularly for its predictive power, that many physicists believed the fundamental nature of light was fully understood. But in the early 20th century, experimental discoveries began to challenge this consensus. The electromagnetic wave theory failed to predict how matter emits and absorbs radiation at thermal equilibrium. To address this question, German physicist Max Planck introduced a revolutionary idea known as energy quantization. He proposed that electromagnetic radiation is emitted or absorbed in discrete amounts, now called quanta, with higher frequency light corresponding to larger quanta. His theory accurately matched experimental results and earned him the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1918. Another major blow to the wave theory of light came from the photoelectric effect, first observed by Heinrich Hertz in 1887, when ultraviolet light caused electric charge to be emitted from a metal surface. By 1900, Philipp Lenard conducted detailed experiments to show that the energy of ejected electrons depended on light frequency, not intensity, an observation that classical wave theory struggled to explain. In 1905, Albert Einstein addressed this by proposing that light is made of discrete energy packets, now called photons, each carrying an energy proportional to its frequency according to Planck's quantization rule. This idea successfully explained the photoelectric effect and was later confirmed by Robert Millikan's experiments in 1915, which verified that the energy of the ejected electrons depends on light frequency and that intensity affects only the number of ejected electrons. Einstein's explanation earned him the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics. The existence of the photon was further reinforced in 1923 by American physicist Arthur Compton, who showed that X-rays scatter off electrons and emerge with smaller frequencies. The photoelectric effect showed that light interacts with matter through discrete, fundamental processes, behaving as if it were made up of particles known as photons. On the other hand, Young's double-slit experiment provided convincing evidence that light also exhibits wave-like behavior through interference. These seemingly contradictory findings reveal the dual nature of light, a concept known as wave-particle duality. Today, this principle is central to quantum physics, which describes light as a quantum electromagnetic field. This field has discrete energy excitations called photons that can produce particle-like effects, while also exhibiting wave-like behavior depending on how light interacts with its environment. https://quantum2025.org/news-link/the-history-of-light-and-the-birth-of-q uantum-physics/ (adapted)

Read the sentence below:

"He then placed a thin obstacle, such as a hair or a narrow strip, across the beam, splitting it into two waves that spread out and overlapped."

In the sentence, the pronoun "it" and the relative pronoun "that" refer, respectively, to:
Alternativas
Q4277116 Inglês

The quest to understand the fundamental nature of light has sparked debate for centuries and ultimately played a pivotal role in the development of quantum physics. Even the earliest recorded speculations about light contained the seeds of concepts that would, centuries later, be woven into our quantum understanding of reality. Some of the earliest recorded ideas about the nature of light appeared in the 6th century BCE. In India, for instance, the Vaisheshika school of philosophy described light as consisting of fire-like particles moving at a high speed. In ancient Greece, the Pythagoreans (6th 5th century BCE) and later Euclid (c. 300 BCE) advocated the emission theory of vision, suggesting that rays of light emanate from the eyes toward objects. In contrast, Epicurus (341 270 BCE) proposed an intromission theory, arguing that light consists of material images or "eidola" emitted by objects that travel to the eyes. Further insights into the nature of light emerged in Egypt, where Ptolemy (c. AD 90 168), working in Alexandria, conducted experiments showing that light reflects off smooth surfaces and bends when passing through transparent materials of different optical densities. Building on these concepts, Arab scholars made significant contributions to the understanding of light by establishing foundational principles governing its behavior in lenses, mirrors, and prisms. The most influential among them was the 11th-century scholar Ibn al-Haytham, who lived in present-day Iraq. Ibn al-Haytham corrected the emission theory, stating thatvision results from light entering the eye rather thanemanating from it. By the 17th century, European scientists were dividedbetween two competing theories about the fundamentalnature of light: whether it behaved as a wave or as aparticle. Dutch physicist Christiaan Huygens argued thatlight propagates as waves according to his wave-frontprinciple, which explains how waves evolve when theyencounter obstacles. In contrast, Isaac Newton proposeda corpuscular theory, suggesting that light consists ofparticles traveling in straight paths, capable of reflectingoff surfaces like mirrors. Newton's prism experiments,which showed white light splitting into colors with distinctrefraction angles, supported his corpuscular theory bysuggesting that light consists of particles of differentsizes, each corresponding to a different color, whichbend by different amounts. Both theories, however, were incomplete. Huygens' wavetheory struggled to fully explain why light travels in astraight path, and Newton's particle theory couldn'taccount for diffraction, the spreading of light as it passesaround edges or through narrow openings. Nevertheless,Newton's theory gained significant influence not onlybecause of his clever prism experiments, but alsobecause he was highly revered in the scientificcommunity, making his ideas difficult to challenge foryears. But science doesn't bow to reputation. As RichardFeynman famously pointed out in his 1964 MessengerLectures at Cornell University, "It doesn't matter howbeautiful your theory is, it doesn't matter how smart youare. If it doesn't agree with the experiment, it's wrong."Indeed, nearly a century after Newton's corpusculartheory of 1704, the scientific consensus gradually shiftedtoward the wave theory of light through decades ofexperiments, modeling, and debates. One of the keycontributors to this shift was Thomas Young, an Englishpolymath. In 1801, Young passed sunlight through anarrow slit to produce a coherent light beam. He thenplaced a thin obstacle, such as a hair or a narrow strip,across the beam, splitting it into two waves that spreadout and overlapped. When these waves recombined on ascreen, they produced a pattern of bright and dark bands.This interference pattern provided clear and compellingevidence that light behaves as a wave rather than as aparticle. A familiar example of this phenomenon is when waves onthe surface of water either combine to form larger peaksor cancel each other out. Later, in 1845, another Englishphysicist Michael Faraday showed that magnetic fieldscould alter the polarization plane of light, revealing aconnection between light and electromagnetism. In the1860s, Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell built onthis connection by formulating the theory ofelectromagnetism, describing light as an electromagneticwave composed of oscillating electric and magnetic fields at right angles to each other and to the wave's direction of travel. Heinrich Hertz's experimental confirmation of Maxwell's predictions in the 1880s provided further validation of the electromagnetic wave theory of light. By the 1890s, Maxwell's mathematical description of electromagnetic waves was considered so successful, particularly for its predictive power, that many physicists believed the fundamental nature of light was fully understood. But in the early 20th century, experimental discoveries began to challenge this consensus. The electromagnetic wave theory failed to predict how matter emits and absorbs radiation at thermal equilibrium. To address this question, German physicist Max Planck introduced a revolutionary idea known as energy quantization. He proposed that electromagnetic radiation is emitted or absorbed in discrete amounts, now called quanta, with higher frequency light corresponding to larger quanta. His theory accurately matched experimental results and earned him the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1918. Another major blow to the wave theory of light came from the photoelectric effect, first observed by Heinrich Hertz in 1887, when ultraviolet light caused electric charge to be emitted from a metal surface. By 1900, Philipp Lenard conducted detailed experiments to show that the energy of ejected electrons depended on light frequency, not intensity, an observation that classical wave theory struggled to explain. In 1905, Albert Einstein addressed this by proposing that light is made of discrete energy packets, now called photons, each carrying an energy proportional to its frequency according to Planck's quantization rule. This idea successfully explained the photoelectric effect and was later confirmed by Robert Millikan's experiments in 1915, which verified that the energy of the ejected electrons depends on light frequency and that intensity affects only the number of ejected electrons. Einstein's explanation earned him the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics. The existence of the photon was further reinforced in 1923 by American physicist Arthur Compton, who showed that X-rays scatter off electrons and emerge with smaller frequencies. The photoelectric effect showed that light interacts with matter through discrete, fundamental processes, behaving as if it were made up of particles known as photons. On the other hand, Young's double-slit experiment provided convincing evidence that light also exhibits wave-like behavior through interference. These seemingly contradictory findings reveal the dual nature of light, a concept known as wave-particle duality. Today, this principle is central to quantum physics, which describes light as a quantum electromagnetic field. This field has discrete energy excitations called photons that can produce particle-like effects, while also exhibiting wave-like behavior depending on how light interacts with its environment. https://quantum2025.org/news-link/the-history-of-light-and-the-birth-of-q uantum-physics/ (adapted)

The text incorporates the following statement attributed toRichard Feynman:

"It doesn't matter how beautiful your theory is, it doesn'tmatter how smart you are. If it doesn't agree with theexperiment, it's wrong."

When inserted into the written historical-scientificexplanation, the quoted statement:
Alternativas
Respostas
441: E
442: E
443: B
444: B
445: C
446: B
447: D
448: E
449: C
450: E
451: C
452: C
453: A
454: C
455: C
456: C
457: E
458: A
459: A
460: B