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Q4279496 Português
Leia o trecho a seguir:
"A interpretação textual envolve a capacidade de compreender não apenas as informações apresentadas diretamente pelo autor, mas também os sentidos construídos a partir das relações entre diferentes partes do texto. Dessa forma, o leitor participa ativamente do processo de produção de significados."
A partir do trecho apresentado, é CORRETO afirmar que a interpretação textual:
Alternativas
Q4279495 Português
Leia o trecho:
"Em ambientes profissionais, a clareza da comunicação contribui para evitar conflitos e melhorar a execução das atividades. Entretanto, a eficiência comunicativa não depende apenas da transmissão de informações, mas também da compreensão adequada por parte do destinatário."
A partir do trecho, é CORRETO afirmar que a comunicação eficiente:
Alternativas
Q4279494 Português
Leia o trecho: "A comunicação escrita exige planejamento, pois a ausência de elementos presentes na interação oral pode dificultar a compreensão da mensagem. Por essa razão,  a organização das ideias e a escolha adequada das palavras são aspectos fundamentais."
A partir do trecho, é CORRETO afirmar que a comunicação escrita:
Alternativas
Q4279493 Português
Leia o período:
"O servidor apresentou o documento dentro do prazo estabelecido, por isso a análise do processo foi realizada conforme o cronograma previsto."
A expressão "por isso" estabelece uma relação de: 
Alternativas
Q4279492 Português
Assinale a alternativa em que todas as palavras estão grafadas CORRETAMENTE conforme a ortografia oficial da língua portuguesa.
Alternativas
Q4279491 Português
Leia o período:
"O relatório apresentou dados relevantes, contudo algumas informações precisam ser verificadas antes da divulgação oficial."
A palavra "contudo" estabelece uma relação de:
Alternativas
Q4279275 Português
São gêneros textuais que apresentam características do tipo injuntivo, EXCETO:
Alternativas
Q4279274 Literatura
Leia o trecho do soneto “Descreve o que era naquele tempo a cidade da Bahia”, de Gregório de Matos Guerra, e analise as assertivas abaixo acerca do texto. 
A cada canto um grande conselheiro, Que nos quer governar cabana e vinha; Não sabem governar sua cozinha, E podem governar o mundo inteiro. 
Em cada porta um bem frequente olheiro, Que a vida do vizinho e da vizinha Pesquisa, escuta, espreita e esquadrinha, Para o levar à praça e ao terreiro. 
I. Trata-se de poema satírico, tendo em vista a acidez das palavras com que o eu-lírico descreve os moradores da cidade.
II. No segundo quarteto, tem-se a presença de gradação, figura de linguagem cara ao poeta.
III. Os quartetos empregam esquema de rimas emparelhadas e os versos são decassílabos.
Quais estão corretas? 
Alternativas
Q4279273 Português

Para responder à questão, considere o texto abaixo:


    Em plataformas de mídia social e em uma ampla gama de serviços por assinatura, os mecanismos de exclusão costumam ser igualmente pouco claros. Tais equívocos podem ter sérias implicações para o bem-estar dos usuários, expondo-os a vulnerabilidades de segurança e problemas de privacidade. 


    Uma complicação adicional é que muitos usuários temem perder dados, arquivos, fotos e vídeos por meio de exclusão acidental — uma condição apelidada de “diagrafofobia”. Embora não se trate de uma patologia reconhecida, estudos sobre o comportamento de acumulação digital mostram que algumas pessoas ficam muito ansiosas com a ideia de perder ou excluir acidentalmente informações pessoais, como fotos e músicas.  


(Disponível em: https://super.abril.com.br/tecnologia/o-que-realmente-acontece-com-seus-dados-quando-

voce-clica-em-deletar/ – texto adaptado especialmente para esta prova). 

Relacione a Coluna 1 à Coluna 2, associando os tipos de recursos coesivos correspondentes aos termos sublinhados nos trechos a seguir, retirados do texto.

Coluna 1
1. Coesão lexical.
2. Coesão referencial.
3. Coesão sequencial. 

Coluna 2
(  )  “Tais equívocos podem ter sérias implicações para o bem-estar dos usuários, expondo-os a vulnerabilidades de segurança e problemas de privacidade”.
(  ) “Embora não se trate de uma patologia reconhecida”.
(  ) “uma condição apelidada de ‘diagrafofobia’. Embora não se trate de uma patologia reconhecida”.

A ordem correta de preenchimento dos parênteses, de cima para baixo, é: 
Alternativas
Q4279272 Português

Para responder à questão, considere o texto abaixo:


    Em plataformas de mídia social e em uma ampla gama de serviços por assinatura, os mecanismos de exclusão costumam ser igualmente pouco claros. Tais equívocos podem ter sérias implicações para o bem-estar dos usuários, expondo-os a vulnerabilidades de segurança e problemas de privacidade. 


    Uma complicação adicional é que muitos usuários temem perder dados, arquivos, fotos e vídeos por meio de exclusão acidental — uma condição apelidada de “diagrafofobia”. Embora não se trate de uma patologia reconhecida, estudos sobre o comportamento de acumulação digital mostram que algumas pessoas ficam muito ansiosas com a ideia de perder ou excluir acidentalmente informações pessoais, como fotos e músicas.  


(Disponível em: https://super.abril.com.br/tecnologia/o-que-realmente-acontece-com-seus-dados-quando-

voce-clica-em-deletar/ – texto adaptado especialmente para esta prova). 

Analise as assertivas abaixo a respeito da formação de um dos períodos do texto:
I. O segundo período do segundo parágrafo é formado por quatro orações.
II. Este mesmo período apresenta duas orações reduzidas coordenadas.
III. A primeira oração deste mesmo período não é a oração principal.
Quais estão corretas? 
Alternativas
Q4279271 Português
Assinale a alternativa INCORRETA a respeito dos encontros vocálicos.
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
5661: E
5662: C
5663: D
5664: A
5665: D
5666: B
5667: B
5668: A
5669: D
5670: C
5671: C
5672: C
5673: B
5674: E
5675: E
5676: B
5677: B
5678: C
5679: B
5680: D