Questões de Concurso Para professor - inglês

Foram encontradas 30.998 questões

Resolva questões gratuitamente!

Junte-se a mais de 4 milhões de concurseiros!

Q4285346 Português
Leia o texto a seguir e responda a questão.

Além do tempo de tela: o que os mais jovens têm feito no celular?

Qualidade da interação e dos conteúdos acessados precisa estar no centro do debate sobre saúde mental entre crianças e adolescentes

Por Luiz Zoldan*

        Reduzir a crise de saúde mental entre jovens ao “tempo de tela” é uma explicação confortável – e perigosamente insuficiente. O debate público precisa de um ajuste urgente: mais do que contar horas, é preciso entender a qualidade da interação desses adolescentes com os dispositivos digitais. 

        Em consultórios, escolas e ambientes de trabalho, a constatação é recorrente: a forma como os jovens se relacionam consigo mesmos, com os outros e com o mundo mudou profundamente. E as telas ocupam um papel central nessa transformação. 

        Vivemos em uma realidade na qual nunca estivemos tão conectados e, paradoxalmente, tão expostos a fatores que afetam a saúde mental, especialmente entre crianças e adolescentes.

        A Organização Mundial da Saúde (OMS) estima que mais de um em cada dez adolescentes já manifesta um uso problemático de redes sociais, com perda de controle e consequências negativas no dia a dia. 

        Estudos consistentes associam o uso excessivo de telas à piora nos indicadores de saúde mental. Cerca de 25% dos adolescentes que passam mais de 4 horas diárias em frente a telas apresentam sintomas recentes de ansiedade ou depressão. Evidências longitudinais também confirmam que o aumento do tempo de exposição está ligado a um maior risco de sofrimento emocional a longo prazo. 

        O Brasil figura entre os países com maior tempo de tela no mundo, ultrapassando 5 horas diárias apenas em smartphones. Entre os adolescentes brasileiros, os números são ainda mais alarmantes, chegando a quase 6 horas em dias de semana e ultrapassando 8 horas nos fins de semana.

        O cenário nacional é marcado por três desafios: o acesso a smartphones em idades cada vez mais precoces, a desigualdade no acesso à educação digital e a fragilidade na mediação por parte de famílias e escolas. Diante disso, cresce a percepção entre os próprios jovens de que algo não vai bem: quase metade deles já considera que as redes sociais impactam negativamente pessoas da sua idade. 

        Ainda assim, é crucial qualificar a leitura desses dados. A própria ciência mostra que o impacto não é uniforme. O uso passivo, caracterizado pela rolagem infinita e pela comparação social, está mais associado ao malestar. Por outro lado, usos mais ativos e focados na conexão podem ter um efeito protetor. O problema central, portanto, não é apenas o tempo, mas o padrão de uso. Comportamentos compulsivos e de dependência estão mais ligados a desfechos negativos do que o número absoluto de horas.

        Nesse contexto, avanços como a atualização do Estatuto da Criança e do Adolescente (ECA) e a aplicação da Lei Geral de Proteção de Dados (LGPD) ao ambiente digital são essenciais, pois reconhecem a vulnerabilidade de crianças e adolescentes nesse ecossistema. Essas iniciativas buscam responsabilizar as plataformas, proteger dados e reduzir a exposição a conteúdos nocivos. Contudo, a regulação, sozinha, não resolve. Ela cria um ambiente mais seguro, mas não substitui a educação, o vínculo afetivo e o desenvolvimento de repertório emocional.

        Durante anos, a principal recomendação foi limitar o tempo de tela. Embora essa abordagem continue relevante, especialmente para crianças mais novas, hoje sabemos que é insuficiente. O verdadeiro problema não é apenas o que acontece nas telas, mas o que deixa de acontecer fora delas: sono de qualidade, atividade física, convivência e a própria construção da identidade são processos insubstituíveis para o desenvolvimento psíquico. 

        O uso excessivo de telas, por exemplo, está diretamente ligado a um sono mais curto e de pior qualidade – um dos principais gatilhos para o sofrimento mental. Idealmente, um uso de qualidade envolve interações sociais reais, consumo de conteúdos educativos ou criativos e intencionalidade, sem prejudicar o sono. Em contrapartida, a utilização de risco é aquela em que há comportamento compulsivo, comparação social constante, exposição a conteúdos negativos e a substituição de experiências presenciais por virtuais.

        Com base em evidências científicas e na prática clínica, algumas medidas são fundamentais. Para as famílias, é preciso estabelecer acordos claros, evitar o uso de aparelhos antes de dormir (especialmente porque um terço dos adolescentes os utiliza depois da meia-noite), acompanhar os conteúdos acessados e, acima de tudo, dar o exemplo. Isso implica reconhecer que muitos adultos também mantêm uma relação excessiva, distraída e pouco saudável com as telas, o que compromete o ensino da autorregulação.

        Nas escolas, o desafio vai além da simples restrição: passa pela promoção da alfabetização digital e midiática, pelo desenvolvimento de competências socioemocionais e pela criação de espaços de convivência offline que favoreçam o pertencimento, o diálogo e a construção da identidade. Isso inclui a promoção de conversas qualificadas sobre corpo, gênero, autoestima e relações sociais, temas profundamente atravessados pela lógica das redes. 

        Para os profissionais de saúde, investigar o padrão de uso digital tornou-se parte indispensável da avaliação clínica, assim como sono, alimentação e atividade física. Ainda assim, o enfrentamento desse problema não é responsabilidade somente de indivíduos, famílias e consultórios. O desafio exige que empresas de tecnologia e políticas públicas atuem de forma mais firme na limitação de mecanismos de design viciantes e persuasivos e na implementação de estratégias integradas entre saúde, educação e regulação digital.

        A relação entre os jovens e a tecnologia não é um “problema” a ser eliminado, mas uma realidade a ser gerenciada com inteligência. É preciso superar a lógica simplista de “mais ou menos tempo de tela” e adotar uma abordagem mais sistêmica e que considere o  contexto, o conteúdo e a intenção de cada interação. No fim das contas, o maior indicador de sucesso não é quantas horas um jovem passa conectado, mas sua capacidade de se desconectar com liberdade, propósito e, acima de tudo, saúde mental.

*Luiz Zoldan é psiquiatra e gerente médico do Espaço Einstein Bem-Estar e Saúde Mental

Fonte: https://veja.abril.com.br/coluna/letra-de-medico/alem-dotempo-de-tela-o-que-os-mais-jovens-tem-feito-no-celular/.
Nos trechos: “O uso excessivo de telas, por exemplo, está diretamente ligado a um sono mais curto e de pior” e “Nas escolas, o desafio vai além da simples restrição” o uso da vírgula se justifica, respectivamente, por:
Alternativas
Q4285345 Português
Leia o texto a seguir e responda a questão.

Além do tempo de tela: o que os mais jovens têm feito no celular?

Qualidade da interação e dos conteúdos acessados precisa estar no centro do debate sobre saúde mental entre crianças e adolescentes

Por Luiz Zoldan*

        Reduzir a crise de saúde mental entre jovens ao “tempo de tela” é uma explicação confortável – e perigosamente insuficiente. O debate público precisa de um ajuste urgente: mais do que contar horas, é preciso entender a qualidade da interação desses adolescentes com os dispositivos digitais. 

        Em consultórios, escolas e ambientes de trabalho, a constatação é recorrente: a forma como os jovens se relacionam consigo mesmos, com os outros e com o mundo mudou profundamente. E as telas ocupam um papel central nessa transformação. 

        Vivemos em uma realidade na qual nunca estivemos tão conectados e, paradoxalmente, tão expostos a fatores que afetam a saúde mental, especialmente entre crianças e adolescentes.

        A Organização Mundial da Saúde (OMS) estima que mais de um em cada dez adolescentes já manifesta um uso problemático de redes sociais, com perda de controle e consequências negativas no dia a dia. 

        Estudos consistentes associam o uso excessivo de telas à piora nos indicadores de saúde mental. Cerca de 25% dos adolescentes que passam mais de 4 horas diárias em frente a telas apresentam sintomas recentes de ansiedade ou depressão. Evidências longitudinais também confirmam que o aumento do tempo de exposição está ligado a um maior risco de sofrimento emocional a longo prazo. 

        O Brasil figura entre os países com maior tempo de tela no mundo, ultrapassando 5 horas diárias apenas em smartphones. Entre os adolescentes brasileiros, os números são ainda mais alarmantes, chegando a quase 6 horas em dias de semana e ultrapassando 8 horas nos fins de semana.

        O cenário nacional é marcado por três desafios: o acesso a smartphones em idades cada vez mais precoces, a desigualdade no acesso à educação digital e a fragilidade na mediação por parte de famílias e escolas. Diante disso, cresce a percepção entre os próprios jovens de que algo não vai bem: quase metade deles já considera que as redes sociais impactam negativamente pessoas da sua idade. 

        Ainda assim, é crucial qualificar a leitura desses dados. A própria ciência mostra que o impacto não é uniforme. O uso passivo, caracterizado pela rolagem infinita e pela comparação social, está mais associado ao malestar. Por outro lado, usos mais ativos e focados na conexão podem ter um efeito protetor. O problema central, portanto, não é apenas o tempo, mas o padrão de uso. Comportamentos compulsivos e de dependência estão mais ligados a desfechos negativos do que o número absoluto de horas.

        Nesse contexto, avanços como a atualização do Estatuto da Criança e do Adolescente (ECA) e a aplicação da Lei Geral de Proteção de Dados (LGPD) ao ambiente digital são essenciais, pois reconhecem a vulnerabilidade de crianças e adolescentes nesse ecossistema. Essas iniciativas buscam responsabilizar as plataformas, proteger dados e reduzir a exposição a conteúdos nocivos. Contudo, a regulação, sozinha, não resolve. Ela cria um ambiente mais seguro, mas não substitui a educação, o vínculo afetivo e o desenvolvimento de repertório emocional.

        Durante anos, a principal recomendação foi limitar o tempo de tela. Embora essa abordagem continue relevante, especialmente para crianças mais novas, hoje sabemos que é insuficiente. O verdadeiro problema não é apenas o que acontece nas telas, mas o que deixa de acontecer fora delas: sono de qualidade, atividade física, convivência e a própria construção da identidade são processos insubstituíveis para o desenvolvimento psíquico. 

        O uso excessivo de telas, por exemplo, está diretamente ligado a um sono mais curto e de pior qualidade – um dos principais gatilhos para o sofrimento mental. Idealmente, um uso de qualidade envolve interações sociais reais, consumo de conteúdos educativos ou criativos e intencionalidade, sem prejudicar o sono. Em contrapartida, a utilização de risco é aquela em que há comportamento compulsivo, comparação social constante, exposição a conteúdos negativos e a substituição de experiências presenciais por virtuais.

        Com base em evidências científicas e na prática clínica, algumas medidas são fundamentais. Para as famílias, é preciso estabelecer acordos claros, evitar o uso de aparelhos antes de dormir (especialmente porque um terço dos adolescentes os utiliza depois da meia-noite), acompanhar os conteúdos acessados e, acima de tudo, dar o exemplo. Isso implica reconhecer que muitos adultos também mantêm uma relação excessiva, distraída e pouco saudável com as telas, o que compromete o ensino da autorregulação.

        Nas escolas, o desafio vai além da simples restrição: passa pela promoção da alfabetização digital e midiática, pelo desenvolvimento de competências socioemocionais e pela criação de espaços de convivência offline que favoreçam o pertencimento, o diálogo e a construção da identidade. Isso inclui a promoção de conversas qualificadas sobre corpo, gênero, autoestima e relações sociais, temas profundamente atravessados pela lógica das redes. 

        Para os profissionais de saúde, investigar o padrão de uso digital tornou-se parte indispensável da avaliação clínica, assim como sono, alimentação e atividade física. Ainda assim, o enfrentamento desse problema não é responsabilidade somente de indivíduos, famílias e consultórios. O desafio exige que empresas de tecnologia e políticas públicas atuem de forma mais firme na limitação de mecanismos de design viciantes e persuasivos e na implementação de estratégias integradas entre saúde, educação e regulação digital.

        A relação entre os jovens e a tecnologia não é um “problema” a ser eliminado, mas uma realidade a ser gerenciada com inteligência. É preciso superar a lógica simplista de “mais ou menos tempo de tela” e adotar uma abordagem mais sistêmica e que considere o  contexto, o conteúdo e a intenção de cada interação. No fim das contas, o maior indicador de sucesso não é quantas horas um jovem passa conectado, mas sua capacidade de se desconectar com liberdade, propósito e, acima de tudo, saúde mental.

*Luiz Zoldan é psiquiatra e gerente médico do Espaço Einstein Bem-Estar e Saúde Mental

Fonte: https://veja.abril.com.br/coluna/letra-de-medico/alem-dotempo-de-tela-o-que-os-mais-jovens-tem-feito-no-celular/.
Analise o uso da vírgula após “clínica” em “Com base em evidências científicas e na prática clínica, algumas medidas são fundamentais.” De acordo com as regras de pontuação, a vírgula presente imediatamente após o termo “clínica” no trecho anterior é de uso:
Alternativas
Q4285344 Português
Leia o texto a seguir e responda a questão.

Além do tempo de tela: o que os mais jovens têm feito no celular?

Qualidade da interação e dos conteúdos acessados precisa estar no centro do debate sobre saúde mental entre crianças e adolescentes

Por Luiz Zoldan*

        Reduzir a crise de saúde mental entre jovens ao “tempo de tela” é uma explicação confortável – e perigosamente insuficiente. O debate público precisa de um ajuste urgente: mais do que contar horas, é preciso entender a qualidade da interação desses adolescentes com os dispositivos digitais. 

        Em consultórios, escolas e ambientes de trabalho, a constatação é recorrente: a forma como os jovens se relacionam consigo mesmos, com os outros e com o mundo mudou profundamente. E as telas ocupam um papel central nessa transformação. 

        Vivemos em uma realidade na qual nunca estivemos tão conectados e, paradoxalmente, tão expostos a fatores que afetam a saúde mental, especialmente entre crianças e adolescentes.

        A Organização Mundial da Saúde (OMS) estima que mais de um em cada dez adolescentes já manifesta um uso problemático de redes sociais, com perda de controle e consequências negativas no dia a dia. 

        Estudos consistentes associam o uso excessivo de telas à piora nos indicadores de saúde mental. Cerca de 25% dos adolescentes que passam mais de 4 horas diárias em frente a telas apresentam sintomas recentes de ansiedade ou depressão. Evidências longitudinais também confirmam que o aumento do tempo de exposição está ligado a um maior risco de sofrimento emocional a longo prazo. 

        O Brasil figura entre os países com maior tempo de tela no mundo, ultrapassando 5 horas diárias apenas em smartphones. Entre os adolescentes brasileiros, os números são ainda mais alarmantes, chegando a quase 6 horas em dias de semana e ultrapassando 8 horas nos fins de semana.

        O cenário nacional é marcado por três desafios: o acesso a smartphones em idades cada vez mais precoces, a desigualdade no acesso à educação digital e a fragilidade na mediação por parte de famílias e escolas. Diante disso, cresce a percepção entre os próprios jovens de que algo não vai bem: quase metade deles já considera que as redes sociais impactam negativamente pessoas da sua idade. 

        Ainda assim, é crucial qualificar a leitura desses dados. A própria ciência mostra que o impacto não é uniforme. O uso passivo, caracterizado pela rolagem infinita e pela comparação social, está mais associado ao malestar. Por outro lado, usos mais ativos e focados na conexão podem ter um efeito protetor. O problema central, portanto, não é apenas o tempo, mas o padrão de uso. Comportamentos compulsivos e de dependência estão mais ligados a desfechos negativos do que o número absoluto de horas.

        Nesse contexto, avanços como a atualização do Estatuto da Criança e do Adolescente (ECA) e a aplicação da Lei Geral de Proteção de Dados (LGPD) ao ambiente digital são essenciais, pois reconhecem a vulnerabilidade de crianças e adolescentes nesse ecossistema. Essas iniciativas buscam responsabilizar as plataformas, proteger dados e reduzir a exposição a conteúdos nocivos. Contudo, a regulação, sozinha, não resolve. Ela cria um ambiente mais seguro, mas não substitui a educação, o vínculo afetivo e o desenvolvimento de repertório emocional.

        Durante anos, a principal recomendação foi limitar o tempo de tela. Embora essa abordagem continue relevante, especialmente para crianças mais novas, hoje sabemos que é insuficiente. O verdadeiro problema não é apenas o que acontece nas telas, mas o que deixa de acontecer fora delas: sono de qualidade, atividade física, convivência e a própria construção da identidade são processos insubstituíveis para o desenvolvimento psíquico. 

        O uso excessivo de telas, por exemplo, está diretamente ligado a um sono mais curto e de pior qualidade – um dos principais gatilhos para o sofrimento mental. Idealmente, um uso de qualidade envolve interações sociais reais, consumo de conteúdos educativos ou criativos e intencionalidade, sem prejudicar o sono. Em contrapartida, a utilização de risco é aquela em que há comportamento compulsivo, comparação social constante, exposição a conteúdos negativos e a substituição de experiências presenciais por virtuais.

        Com base em evidências científicas e na prática clínica, algumas medidas são fundamentais. Para as famílias, é preciso estabelecer acordos claros, evitar o uso de aparelhos antes de dormir (especialmente porque um terço dos adolescentes os utiliza depois da meia-noite), acompanhar os conteúdos acessados e, acima de tudo, dar o exemplo. Isso implica reconhecer que muitos adultos também mantêm uma relação excessiva, distraída e pouco saudável com as telas, o que compromete o ensino da autorregulação.

        Nas escolas, o desafio vai além da simples restrição: passa pela promoção da alfabetização digital e midiática, pelo desenvolvimento de competências socioemocionais e pela criação de espaços de convivência offline que favoreçam o pertencimento, o diálogo e a construção da identidade. Isso inclui a promoção de conversas qualificadas sobre corpo, gênero, autoestima e relações sociais, temas profundamente atravessados pela lógica das redes. 

        Para os profissionais de saúde, investigar o padrão de uso digital tornou-se parte indispensável da avaliação clínica, assim como sono, alimentação e atividade física. Ainda assim, o enfrentamento desse problema não é responsabilidade somente de indivíduos, famílias e consultórios. O desafio exige que empresas de tecnologia e políticas públicas atuem de forma mais firme na limitação de mecanismos de design viciantes e persuasivos e na implementação de estratégias integradas entre saúde, educação e regulação digital.

        A relação entre os jovens e a tecnologia não é um “problema” a ser eliminado, mas uma realidade a ser gerenciada com inteligência. É preciso superar a lógica simplista de “mais ou menos tempo de tela” e adotar uma abordagem mais sistêmica e que considere o  contexto, o conteúdo e a intenção de cada interação. No fim das contas, o maior indicador de sucesso não é quantas horas um jovem passa conectado, mas sua capacidade de se desconectar com liberdade, propósito e, acima de tudo, saúde mental.

*Luiz Zoldan é psiquiatra e gerente médico do Espaço Einstein Bem-Estar e Saúde Mental

Fonte: https://veja.abril.com.br/coluna/letra-de-medico/alem-dotempo-de-tela-o-que-os-mais-jovens-tem-feito-no-celular/.
Assinale a alternativa em que o termo destacado em negrito introduz uma oração subordinada adjetiva.
Alternativas
Q4285343 Português
Leia o texto a seguir e responda a questão.

Além do tempo de tela: o que os mais jovens têm feito no celular?

Qualidade da interação e dos conteúdos acessados precisa estar no centro do debate sobre saúde mental entre crianças e adolescentes

Por Luiz Zoldan*

        Reduzir a crise de saúde mental entre jovens ao “tempo de tela” é uma explicação confortável – e perigosamente insuficiente. O debate público precisa de um ajuste urgente: mais do que contar horas, é preciso entender a qualidade da interação desses adolescentes com os dispositivos digitais. 

        Em consultórios, escolas e ambientes de trabalho, a constatação é recorrente: a forma como os jovens se relacionam consigo mesmos, com os outros e com o mundo mudou profundamente. E as telas ocupam um papel central nessa transformação. 

        Vivemos em uma realidade na qual nunca estivemos tão conectados e, paradoxalmente, tão expostos a fatores que afetam a saúde mental, especialmente entre crianças e adolescentes.

        A Organização Mundial da Saúde (OMS) estima que mais de um em cada dez adolescentes já manifesta um uso problemático de redes sociais, com perda de controle e consequências negativas no dia a dia. 

        Estudos consistentes associam o uso excessivo de telas à piora nos indicadores de saúde mental. Cerca de 25% dos adolescentes que passam mais de 4 horas diárias em frente a telas apresentam sintomas recentes de ansiedade ou depressão. Evidências longitudinais também confirmam que o aumento do tempo de exposição está ligado a um maior risco de sofrimento emocional a longo prazo. 

        O Brasil figura entre os países com maior tempo de tela no mundo, ultrapassando 5 horas diárias apenas em smartphones. Entre os adolescentes brasileiros, os números são ainda mais alarmantes, chegando a quase 6 horas em dias de semana e ultrapassando 8 horas nos fins de semana.

        O cenário nacional é marcado por três desafios: o acesso a smartphones em idades cada vez mais precoces, a desigualdade no acesso à educação digital e a fragilidade na mediação por parte de famílias e escolas. Diante disso, cresce a percepção entre os próprios jovens de que algo não vai bem: quase metade deles já considera que as redes sociais impactam negativamente pessoas da sua idade. 

        Ainda assim, é crucial qualificar a leitura desses dados. A própria ciência mostra que o impacto não é uniforme. O uso passivo, caracterizado pela rolagem infinita e pela comparação social, está mais associado ao malestar. Por outro lado, usos mais ativos e focados na conexão podem ter um efeito protetor. O problema central, portanto, não é apenas o tempo, mas o padrão de uso. Comportamentos compulsivos e de dependência estão mais ligados a desfechos negativos do que o número absoluto de horas.

        Nesse contexto, avanços como a atualização do Estatuto da Criança e do Adolescente (ECA) e a aplicação da Lei Geral de Proteção de Dados (LGPD) ao ambiente digital são essenciais, pois reconhecem a vulnerabilidade de crianças e adolescentes nesse ecossistema. Essas iniciativas buscam responsabilizar as plataformas, proteger dados e reduzir a exposição a conteúdos nocivos. Contudo, a regulação, sozinha, não resolve. Ela cria um ambiente mais seguro, mas não substitui a educação, o vínculo afetivo e o desenvolvimento de repertório emocional.

        Durante anos, a principal recomendação foi limitar o tempo de tela. Embora essa abordagem continue relevante, especialmente para crianças mais novas, hoje sabemos que é insuficiente. O verdadeiro problema não é apenas o que acontece nas telas, mas o que deixa de acontecer fora delas: sono de qualidade, atividade física, convivência e a própria construção da identidade são processos insubstituíveis para o desenvolvimento psíquico. 

        O uso excessivo de telas, por exemplo, está diretamente ligado a um sono mais curto e de pior qualidade – um dos principais gatilhos para o sofrimento mental. Idealmente, um uso de qualidade envolve interações sociais reais, consumo de conteúdos educativos ou criativos e intencionalidade, sem prejudicar o sono. Em contrapartida, a utilização de risco é aquela em que há comportamento compulsivo, comparação social constante, exposição a conteúdos negativos e a substituição de experiências presenciais por virtuais.

        Com base em evidências científicas e na prática clínica, algumas medidas são fundamentais. Para as famílias, é preciso estabelecer acordos claros, evitar o uso de aparelhos antes de dormir (especialmente porque um terço dos adolescentes os utiliza depois da meia-noite), acompanhar os conteúdos acessados e, acima de tudo, dar o exemplo. Isso implica reconhecer que muitos adultos também mantêm uma relação excessiva, distraída e pouco saudável com as telas, o que compromete o ensino da autorregulação.

        Nas escolas, o desafio vai além da simples restrição: passa pela promoção da alfabetização digital e midiática, pelo desenvolvimento de competências socioemocionais e pela criação de espaços de convivência offline que favoreçam o pertencimento, o diálogo e a construção da identidade. Isso inclui a promoção de conversas qualificadas sobre corpo, gênero, autoestima e relações sociais, temas profundamente atravessados pela lógica das redes. 

        Para os profissionais de saúde, investigar o padrão de uso digital tornou-se parte indispensável da avaliação clínica, assim como sono, alimentação e atividade física. Ainda assim, o enfrentamento desse problema não é responsabilidade somente de indivíduos, famílias e consultórios. O desafio exige que empresas de tecnologia e políticas públicas atuem de forma mais firme na limitação de mecanismos de design viciantes e persuasivos e na implementação de estratégias integradas entre saúde, educação e regulação digital.

        A relação entre os jovens e a tecnologia não é um “problema” a ser eliminado, mas uma realidade a ser gerenciada com inteligência. É preciso superar a lógica simplista de “mais ou menos tempo de tela” e adotar uma abordagem mais sistêmica e que considere o  contexto, o conteúdo e a intenção de cada interação. No fim das contas, o maior indicador de sucesso não é quantas horas um jovem passa conectado, mas sua capacidade de se desconectar com liberdade, propósito e, acima de tudo, saúde mental.

*Luiz Zoldan é psiquiatra e gerente médico do Espaço Einstein Bem-Estar e Saúde Mental

Fonte: https://veja.abril.com.br/coluna/letra-de-medico/alem-dotempo-de-tela-o-que-os-mais-jovens-tem-feito-no-celular/.
Assinale a alternativa em que se justifica corretamente o uso do acento grave no seguinte período: Estudos consistentes associam o uso excessivo de telas à piora nos indicadores de saúde mental. 
Alternativas
Q4285342 Português
Leia o texto a seguir e responda a questão.

Além do tempo de tela: o que os mais jovens têm feito no celular?

Qualidade da interação e dos conteúdos acessados precisa estar no centro do debate sobre saúde mental entre crianças e adolescentes

Por Luiz Zoldan*

        Reduzir a crise de saúde mental entre jovens ao “tempo de tela” é uma explicação confortável – e perigosamente insuficiente. O debate público precisa de um ajuste urgente: mais do que contar horas, é preciso entender a qualidade da interação desses adolescentes com os dispositivos digitais. 

        Em consultórios, escolas e ambientes de trabalho, a constatação é recorrente: a forma como os jovens se relacionam consigo mesmos, com os outros e com o mundo mudou profundamente. E as telas ocupam um papel central nessa transformação. 

        Vivemos em uma realidade na qual nunca estivemos tão conectados e, paradoxalmente, tão expostos a fatores que afetam a saúde mental, especialmente entre crianças e adolescentes.

        A Organização Mundial da Saúde (OMS) estima que mais de um em cada dez adolescentes já manifesta um uso problemático de redes sociais, com perda de controle e consequências negativas no dia a dia. 

        Estudos consistentes associam o uso excessivo de telas à piora nos indicadores de saúde mental. Cerca de 25% dos adolescentes que passam mais de 4 horas diárias em frente a telas apresentam sintomas recentes de ansiedade ou depressão. Evidências longitudinais também confirmam que o aumento do tempo de exposição está ligado a um maior risco de sofrimento emocional a longo prazo. 

        O Brasil figura entre os países com maior tempo de tela no mundo, ultrapassando 5 horas diárias apenas em smartphones. Entre os adolescentes brasileiros, os números são ainda mais alarmantes, chegando a quase 6 horas em dias de semana e ultrapassando 8 horas nos fins de semana.

        O cenário nacional é marcado por três desafios: o acesso a smartphones em idades cada vez mais precoces, a desigualdade no acesso à educação digital e a fragilidade na mediação por parte de famílias e escolas. Diante disso, cresce a percepção entre os próprios jovens de que algo não vai bem: quase metade deles já considera que as redes sociais impactam negativamente pessoas da sua idade. 

        Ainda assim, é crucial qualificar a leitura desses dados. A própria ciência mostra que o impacto não é uniforme. O uso passivo, caracterizado pela rolagem infinita e pela comparação social, está mais associado ao malestar. Por outro lado, usos mais ativos e focados na conexão podem ter um efeito protetor. O problema central, portanto, não é apenas o tempo, mas o padrão de uso. Comportamentos compulsivos e de dependência estão mais ligados a desfechos negativos do que o número absoluto de horas.

        Nesse contexto, avanços como a atualização do Estatuto da Criança e do Adolescente (ECA) e a aplicação da Lei Geral de Proteção de Dados (LGPD) ao ambiente digital são essenciais, pois reconhecem a vulnerabilidade de crianças e adolescentes nesse ecossistema. Essas iniciativas buscam responsabilizar as plataformas, proteger dados e reduzir a exposição a conteúdos nocivos. Contudo, a regulação, sozinha, não resolve. Ela cria um ambiente mais seguro, mas não substitui a educação, o vínculo afetivo e o desenvolvimento de repertório emocional.

        Durante anos, a principal recomendação foi limitar o tempo de tela. Embora essa abordagem continue relevante, especialmente para crianças mais novas, hoje sabemos que é insuficiente. O verdadeiro problema não é apenas o que acontece nas telas, mas o que deixa de acontecer fora delas: sono de qualidade, atividade física, convivência e a própria construção da identidade são processos insubstituíveis para o desenvolvimento psíquico. 

        O uso excessivo de telas, por exemplo, está diretamente ligado a um sono mais curto e de pior qualidade – um dos principais gatilhos para o sofrimento mental. Idealmente, um uso de qualidade envolve interações sociais reais, consumo de conteúdos educativos ou criativos e intencionalidade, sem prejudicar o sono. Em contrapartida, a utilização de risco é aquela em que há comportamento compulsivo, comparação social constante, exposição a conteúdos negativos e a substituição de experiências presenciais por virtuais.

        Com base em evidências científicas e na prática clínica, algumas medidas são fundamentais. Para as famílias, é preciso estabelecer acordos claros, evitar o uso de aparelhos antes de dormir (especialmente porque um terço dos adolescentes os utiliza depois da meia-noite), acompanhar os conteúdos acessados e, acima de tudo, dar o exemplo. Isso implica reconhecer que muitos adultos também mantêm uma relação excessiva, distraída e pouco saudável com as telas, o que compromete o ensino da autorregulação.

        Nas escolas, o desafio vai além da simples restrição: passa pela promoção da alfabetização digital e midiática, pelo desenvolvimento de competências socioemocionais e pela criação de espaços de convivência offline que favoreçam o pertencimento, o diálogo e a construção da identidade. Isso inclui a promoção de conversas qualificadas sobre corpo, gênero, autoestima e relações sociais, temas profundamente atravessados pela lógica das redes. 

        Para os profissionais de saúde, investigar o padrão de uso digital tornou-se parte indispensável da avaliação clínica, assim como sono, alimentação e atividade física. Ainda assim, o enfrentamento desse problema não é responsabilidade somente de indivíduos, famílias e consultórios. O desafio exige que empresas de tecnologia e políticas públicas atuem de forma mais firme na limitação de mecanismos de design viciantes e persuasivos e na implementação de estratégias integradas entre saúde, educação e regulação digital.

        A relação entre os jovens e a tecnologia não é um “problema” a ser eliminado, mas uma realidade a ser gerenciada com inteligência. É preciso superar a lógica simplista de “mais ou menos tempo de tela” e adotar uma abordagem mais sistêmica e que considere o  contexto, o conteúdo e a intenção de cada interação. No fim das contas, o maior indicador de sucesso não é quantas horas um jovem passa conectado, mas sua capacidade de se desconectar com liberdade, propósito e, acima de tudo, saúde mental.

*Luiz Zoldan é psiquiatra e gerente médico do Espaço Einstein Bem-Estar e Saúde Mental

Fonte: https://veja.abril.com.br/coluna/letra-de-medico/alem-dotempo-de-tela-o-que-os-mais-jovens-tem-feito-no-celular/.
No trecho: "A Organização Mundial da Saúde (OMS) estima que mais de um em cada dez adolescentes já manifesta um uso problemático de redes sociais.", do ponto de vista da estrutura do período e da análise sintática, é corretor afirmar que:
Alternativas
Q4285339 Português
Leia o texto a seguir e responda à questão.

À instabilidade das coisas do mundo

Gregório de Matos

Nasce o Sol e não dura mais que um dia,
Depois da luz se segue a noite escura,
Em tristes sombras morre a formosura,
Em contínuas tristezas a alegria.

Porém se acaba o sol, por que nascia?
Se é tão formosa a luz, por que não dura?
Como a beleza assim se transfigura?
Como o gosto da pena assim se fia?

Mas no sol e na luz BBfalta a firmeza,
Na formosura não se dê constância,
E na alegria sinta-se tristeza.

Começa o mundo enfim pela ignorância,
E tem qualquer dos bens por natureza
A firmeza somente na inconstância.

Fonte: MATOS, Gregório. Gregório de Matos: poemas. 2. Ed. São Paulo: Martin Claret, 2013.
No verso "Em tristes sombras morre a formosura.", os elementos destacados em negrito, no âmbito da gramática normativa da língua portuguesa, classificam-se, morfológica e sintaticamente, respectivamente, como:
Alternativas
Q4285338 Português
Leia o texto a seguir e responda à questão.

À instabilidade das coisas do mundo

Gregório de Matos

Nasce o Sol e não dura mais que um dia,
Depois da luz se segue a noite escura,
Em tristes sombras morre a formosura,
Em contínuas tristezas a alegria.

Porém se acaba o sol, por que nascia?
Se é tão formosa a luz, por que não dura?
Como a beleza assim se transfigura?
Como o gosto da pena assim se fia?

Mas no sol e na luz BBfalta a firmeza,
Na formosura não se dê constância,
E na alegria sinta-se tristeza.

Começa o mundo enfim pela ignorância,
E tem qualquer dos bens por natureza
A firmeza somente na inconstância.

Fonte: MATOS, Gregório. Gregório de Matos: poemas. 2. Ed. São Paulo: Martin Claret, 2013.
No verso "Começa o mundo enfim pela ignorância", observa-se uma figura de linguagem decorrente da inversão da ordem direta dos termos da oração. Essa figura é denominada de: 
Alternativas
Q4285336 Português
Leia o texto a seguir e responda à questão.

À instabilidade das coisas do mundo

Gregório de Matos

Nasce o Sol e não dura mais que um dia,
Depois da luz se segue a noite escura,
Em tristes sombras morre a formosura,
Em contínuas tristezas a alegria.

Porém se acaba o sol, por que nascia?
Se é tão formosa a luz, por que não dura?
Como a beleza assim se transfigura?
Como o gosto da pena assim se fia?

Mas no sol e na luz BBfalta a firmeza,
Na formosura não se dê constância,
E na alegria sinta-se tristeza.

Começa o mundo enfim pela ignorância,
E tem qualquer dos bens por natureza
A firmeza somente na inconstância.

Fonte: MATOS, Gregório. Gregório de Matos: poemas. 2. Ed. São Paulo: Martin Claret, 2013.
O vocábulo “contínuas” foi acentuado de forma adequada à gramática normativa da Língua Portuguesa no verso “Em contínuas tristezas a alegria”. Assinale a alternativa em que todas as palavras estão acentuadas de forma adequada à gramática normativa.
Alternativas
Q4285334 Português
Leia o texto a seguir e responda à questão.

À instabilidade das coisas do mundo

Gregório de Matos

Nasce o Sol e não dura mais que um dia,
Depois da luz se segue a noite escura,
Em tristes sombras morre a formosura,
Em contínuas tristezas a alegria.

Porém se acaba o sol, por que nascia?
Se é tão formosa a luz, por que não dura?
Como a beleza assim se transfigura?
Como o gosto da pena assim se fia?

Mas no sol e na luz BBfalta a firmeza,
Na formosura não se dê constância,
E na alegria sinta-se tristeza.

Começa o mundo enfim pela ignorância,
E tem qualquer dos bens por natureza
A firmeza somente na inconstância.

Fonte: MATOS, Gregório. Gregório de Matos: poemas. 2. Ed. São Paulo: Martin Claret, 2013.
Considerando o contexto em que se encontra dentro do poema e observando a ordem sintática e a estrutura do verso, o termo "a alegria", em “Em contínuas tristezas a alegria”, exerce a função sintática de:
Alternativas
Q4285332 Português
Leia o texto a seguir e responda à questão.

À instabilidade das coisas do mundo

Gregório de Matos

Nasce o Sol e não dura mais que um dia,
Depois da luz se segue a noite escura,
Em tristes sombras morre a formosura,
Em contínuas tristezas a alegria.

Porém se acaba o sol, por que nascia?
Se é tão formosa a luz, por que não dura?
Como a beleza assim se transfigura?
Como o gosto da pena assim se fia?

Mas no sol e na luz BBfalta a firmeza,
Na formosura não se dê constância,
E na alegria sinta-se tristeza.

Começa o mundo enfim pela ignorância,
E tem qualquer dos bens por natureza
A firmeza somente na inconstância.

Fonte: MATOS, Gregório. Gregório de Matos: poemas. 2. Ed. São Paulo: Martin Claret, 2013.
A respeito da análise sintática do poema, assinale a afirmativa correta segundo a gramática normativa da língua portuguesa.
Alternativas
Q4285330 Literatura
Leia o texto a seguir e responda à questão.

À instabilidade das coisas do mundo

Gregório de Matos

Nasce o Sol e não dura mais que um dia,
Depois da luz se segue a noite escura,
Em tristes sombras morre a formosura,
Em contínuas tristezas a alegria.

Porém se acaba o sol, por que nascia?
Se é tão formosa a luz, por que não dura?
Como a beleza assim se transfigura?
Como o gosto da pena assim se fia?

Mas no sol e na luz BBfalta a firmeza,
Na formosura não se dê constância,
E na alegria sinta-se tristeza.

Começa o mundo enfim pela ignorância,
E tem qualquer dos bens por natureza
A firmeza somente na inconstância.

Fonte: MATOS, Gregório. Gregório de Matos: poemas. 2. Ed. São Paulo: Martin Claret, 2013.
Sobre o poema “À instabilidade das coisas do mundo”, é correto afirmar que:
Alternativas
Q4279250 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 that Anne Young's game set cost more than a laborer's annual wages and "would have been affordable only for the very wealthy." The modal construction expresses a conclusion based on historical economic evidence. Mark the alternative that presents the CORRECT interpretation of "would have been affordable." 
Alternativas
Q4279249 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 explains that an industry of instructional games "sprang up" in the late eighteenth century. The verb phrase describes the appearance of a new commercial and educational activity in response to changing ideas about childhood education. Mark the alternative that replaces "sprang up" without changing the meaning of the passage. 
Alternativas
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
Respostas
701: A
702: D
703: B
704: D
705: A
706: C
707: A
708: B
709: C
710: A
711: C
712: C
713: B
714: E
715: E
716: B
717: B
718: C
719: B
720: D