by Stephen Sagarin, 11th grade advisor - 14 Oct 2004

Warning teenagers about the physiological and even the emotional effects of drug use has little value; who feels more immortal and invincible than a teen?

Over twenty years of teaching, I have come to believe strongly, however, that a description of the spiritual effects of drug experimentation can help teenagers choose not to use mind-altering drugs.

Regardless of points of view and interpretation, we teachers in Waldorf schools and Steiner schools share a unity of purpose and vision, and this centers around an understanding of the existence of a spiritual dimension to our world.

When we experience truth – as in the truth of a geometric proof – or beauty – as in a piece of music – we partake of the non-physical, of the spiritual.

A piano produces vibrations, but a human being hears music. Our perceptions of the world can lead us to understand spiritual perception.

Anything we do, then, that distorts our perception of the world makes it more difficult to follow a path that will lead to understanding of the truly spiritual.

This is especially true if the distortion has the quality of spiritual experience, as it does under the influence of mind-altering drugs.

It is not that hallucinations, mild or profound, are illusory because they are false. They are dangerous precisely because they are unearned, unmoored openings into truth and beauty.

And who, shown an easy path, will choose the harder one, especially if the ends are unknown?

(This brief article is a synopsis of remarks Mr. Sagarin made to the high school in a recent forum.)

by Caitlin Blau and Bryan McManus - 14 Oct 2004

People who suffer through challenging experiences together are always closer when the trial is over.

Our teachers came up with the perfect bonding technique: take us out into the woods, make us climb lots of ropes and hike around in the rain.

So, after a short first day of school orientation at our wonderful new building in town, we piled into three cars and drove to Camp Hi-Rock where we met our instructors who would lead the activities.

“You are going to get wet,” our counselor said..
“Oh” we responded. We weren’t expecting THAT.

It rained. And it rained. But the constant pouring rain didnít stop any of us from having a blast. First, we learned teamwork and trust. Right away, we were led through numerous challenging games before we were allowed to eat.

After dinner, we were instructed to create a shelter that could hold a person, out of masking tape and newspaper. Without talking.

We did both the low and high ropes courses at Camp Hi-Rock.

The low ropes emphasized teamwork and responsibility for each other, using elements like The Wall, which everybody had to get over, ladder not included, and everyoneís favorite, the Spiderweb.

Everyone had to get through, no touching, and no using the same hole twice. If you did touch, back to the beginning again. That one took a while…

The high ropes challenged us to challenge ourselves.

For some the challenge was climbing the ladder to the starting platform, 40 feet in the air; for some it was letting go of the belay rope and walking backwards across the slippery Catwalk.

Everyone pushed personal limits and got to cruise down the zip line. Even Ms. Eliot scampered around the high ropes before we left.

On the last day we were led on a long hike around the outskirts of the camp. We trudged through rivers in the pouring rain but with the reward of hot chocolate at the end. Our last activity was canoeing.

After gloating over his last set of dry clothes, Andrew found himself in the lake, fully clothed, along with Tavish and Toby. Drenched, they came out shivering with no dry clothes left at all.

The lesson learned? Three people in a canoe throwing volleyballs at Bryan are just enough force to tip over said canoe and sink it. Happily, it was almost time to go.

After a goodbye speech from our head instructor and ONE last bonding exercise, we packed up our bags and headed home.

by Emma Franco - 11 Jul 2004

I looked out at the beautiful view of the garden from my bedroom window. I’m actually in Germany, I thought. After months of planning and many fundraisers we had made it to Germany. In the course of eight hours I had gone from 11p.m on Saturday to 7 pm on Sunday. The plane ride from JFK to Amsterdam flew by and the flight from Amsterdam to Munich was even shorter. By then we were all nervous and we couldn’t stop laughing. When we landed our hosts were all waiting for us. The first mix-up of the trip was when my host, Amelie, was asking which one, Caitlin or I, was vegetarian. Caitlin thought Amelie was asking if she played the guitar and started some air strumming.
The next five days went by at Mach speeds. Between numerous churches, each one more beautiful then the next, large castles, a number of museums and food we had a full week.

Monday we all met at the school. The lack of corners and the brightly painted walls made us feel like we were home. That day we went touring around Munich. Every single building in the city is large, beautiful, elaborate, and historical. There were bike paths all over and if you were standing in one you would soon know from the loud honking of the bike horns. We all decided that it would be worse to be hit by a bike in Munich than by a car.

The food in Munich alone is worth the trip. As Andrew describes it, “I ate asparagus, and liked it!” In Marianplatz Caitlin and I shared the most delicious potato salad one could imagine and Mat, Bryan and I discovered the chocolate croissant.

Tuesday we visited the Deusches Museum and later went to a Bavarian Market. Here we paid Andrew 5 euros to dance around a man playing a musical box. The afternoon was one of the most fun times on the trip. We all met up with our hosts after school and went to the Olympic tower. Spending time with our new German friends was fun and some of us went to play soccer. All of them were shocked by the fact that I was the first girl they had ever seen play soccer. This distressed me.

On Wednesday we went to Neuschwanstein, one of the many castles of King Ludwig, who was insane and in love with Richard Wagner. The castle was built in the Alps with a view of beautiful snow-capped mountain peaks in the distance. The castle was large and the walls inside were painted with scenes from Wagner operas. There was also a built-in cave.

Thursday we attended English classes and played a game of basketball outside. Afterwards we went to the long awaited Englischer Garten. The Garden was full of activity. People played Frisbee, soccer or sunbathed.

Friday was our last day in Munich. We all agreed the trip had gone by too fast. We visited three museums in the morning then spent the afternoon shopping. We met in the Englischer Garten for dinner with all the families. After this we went to the greatest part of the trip: Fruhlings Fest. Mat Inglis has written an account of the evening:

Emma came zooming around the corner of the miniature racetrack in her go-kart. She swerved back and forth because of her inability to steer. As she entered the straightaway she jerked the steering wheel and slammed into a parked car at the side of the track. Unfazed, she kept on going around the next corner with an ear-to-ear grin plastered on her face. Although she left the German spectators shaking their heads she was having fun and to her that was all that mattered. I would like to warn all non-suicidal people to stay at least 100 feet away from Emma when she is driving a vehicle, which should be soon seeing as she can technically get her driving permit right now in Massachusetts. In any event, this was just one small part of a night in the life of Emma.î

Next our group (consisting of the GBRSS German students and our hosts) decided to go on a ride called ìTop Spinî. This ride consisted of a few sets of various flips, being sprayed in the face by a water fountain and being held upside down 20 feet above the ground. When Emma paid the few Euros that the ride cost and went and sat down in one of the rows of seats, you could see her glowing with excitement. However, as soon as the ride commenced, this excitement turned to fear. After the first few sets of back flips were finished, Emma looked ready to throw up, and when the ride kept on going I was quite positive that she would. Somehow she managed to get through that ride and apparently took a liking to exchanging money for becoming scared to death, because she rushed over to the next ride with just as much enthusiasm as the first. This one was called ìFrisbeeî. Then we went on the bumper cars, where Emmaís insanely bad driving skills came to use, however I donít think she managed to hit any one as hard as she would have liked to.

That night there was a fire works show at 10:00 p.m., which we all scrambled up onto a hill to watch. After the fireworks show we all said goodbye and went home for the night. Fruhlings Fest was an experience that Emma (and the rest of us) would remember for a long time.

by Stephen Sagarin, Tenth Grade Advisor - 11 Jul 2004

Part of Ninth Grade History of the Modern World addresses this question: how does the world change? Not the natural, forest fire-earthquake-volcano part of the world, but the world of ideas and events, the human world. The simple answer is that change comes through the work of human beings. This is not to deny the effects of unintended consequences. Louis XIV centralized power in France, drawing nobles away from the provinces and their fiefdoms to serve him at Versailles. One effect of this policy? Nobility itself became trivial and weak, laying part of the groundwork for the French Revolution. On the other hand, the bureaucracy that Louis and his cardinals furthered is still in place in France despite the Revolution.

Another example shows the place of genius in history. Galileo altered our view of the heavens, cementing in place Copernicusís heliocentric model of the solar system and demonstrating the power of a scientific, mathematical worldview. He, and others, provided the raw material from which Isaac Newton, for example, fashioned his description of gravity. But hereís the rub: Knowing everything that Galileo and his contemporaries knew, could you or I have become Newton? Could we have built Newtonís edifice? Unlikely. Newton famously said, ìif I have seen farther, it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants.î Well, those shoulders were available to many people, but only one was Newton. To use outdated language, paradigm shifts require two things. The first is a necessary history. Without Galileo, no Newton. The second is a necessary innovator.

by Andrew Sagarin - 11 Jul 2004

Should pro athletes be kids’ role models? The answer is no. Many athletes such as Allen Iverson, Randy Moss, and Jeremy Shockey, are big babies who have let their celebrity go to their heads. They have bad attitudes and believe that the world revolves around them.

Then there is the unnecessary violence. In the past couple years three incidents come to mind. There was Marty McSorely using his hockey stick as a bat and Donald Brashear’s head as the ball. 350 pound Warren Sapp blindsided Chad Clifton at full speed, landing Clifton in the hospital with serious injuries. Most recently Todd Bertuzzi nearly killed Steve Moore by skating up behind him and violently tackling him to the ice.

Then there are the guys who are in trouble with the law. There’s Kobe Bryant, star of two courts, the Staples Center in Los Angeles and the Judicial Court in Eagle County, Colorado where he is on trial for rape. For every Jason Williams, who’s a nut case, it seems like there’s a Jayson Williams, who’s an FBI case. The former Nets star is on trial for manslaughter. It could be said that the best player in each of the three biggest sports leagues in America is in legal trouble. Along with Kobe from the NBA, the NFL’s Jamal Lewis has been charged with major drug trafficing, and Major League Baseball’s Barry Bonds has testified and may be involved in the BALCO steroids case. Then there’s Mike Danton who is charged with hiring a hitman to kill his agent and Michael Pittman who is charged with aggraveated domestic assault and reckless endangerment. And those are just the ones that make the headlines. Crack open any sports magazine and you’ll find a paragraph stating that an NFL star is doing 50 hours of community service for DUI, a baseball player was arrested for hitting his wife, or an NBA player is on probation for possesion of marijuana. Granted, for every Darryl Strawberry and Mike Tyson there are guys like Tim Duncan and Bret Favre who play the game with class and are model citizens and they don’t get publicity for it, but kids should be selective about whom they model themselves after.

by Emma Franco - 11 Jul 2004

“So – does everyone know what the Odyssey is about?”Ms. Eliot asked us on the first day of our Odyssey seminar.

Some answers were drastically off, others accurate but inaudible, and I blurted out: ì Isnít it about Odysseus?î

In a more descriptive way, the Odyssey is about the adventures Odysseus has on his long journey home to Ithaka, where his wife, Penelope, and his now grown son wait for him.

This journey he takes is no mere long journey; this is the mother of all long journeys. Twenty-one years Odysseus sailed around, meeting up with cannibals, shades, Cyclopes and the occasional goddess. Yet his faithful wife, who is being hounded by suitors, waits, never giving up hope, while her husband is off having a 7-year rendezvous with an immortal nymph.

Finally Odysseus makes it home and goes on a bloody and exciting killing rampage before finally revealing himself to the ever patient Penelope.

Through the entire 21 years, Athena, who has a soft spot for resourceful, strong, handsome men, guides Odysseus, disguised as a mortal, to help him reach home. And yet, although there are several gods who help Odysseus, there are also some gods who fight him, making it as difficult as they can for him.

We were thrown into a mythical world, created by Homer, of gods and goddesses, underworlds, storm-ridden seas, strange creatures, returning warriors haggard from the battle of Troy, and beautiful nymphs.

This captivating tale inspired us, and Ms. Eliot brought to life a world that has been dead for thousands of years, a world as magical as the legends that surround it, an entire civilization that we discovered and understood through this magnificent epic.

The best part of this block was writing my report for the course. In a Ms. Eliot block you have more creative freedom than usual. You are encouraged to stray from the usual report format and make it into something more fun and original.

One student ended up writing 20 pages instead of 3-5. Iím sure you will see our beautiful maps hanging up around the school.

And always remember: ìDonít kill the man, donít touch his wife, or face a reckoning with Orestes.îñ Homer

by Rick Shrum - 11 Jul 2004

As we wrap up the last couple of weeks of this school year, we look forward with great anticipation to the opening of the new Great Barrington Waldorf High School in September. During the summer months we will begin to transform the spaces of our new downtown location, making some renovations, touching up the paint, and making it look and feel like a Waldorf school.

The students are excited about the prospect of venturing into a new routine and entering into the life of the town. Most of our current students are returning and others are joining from other schools. One of the most exciting developments is the interest expressed by several German students from the Steiner School in Munich to spend between three weeks and three months with us as exchange students. Our own students who traveled to Germany last month made such a good impression on the German students and the faculty that they are now eager to come and experience American life.

In fact, the Munich school has expressed interest in developing a sister school relationship with us. We will make arrangements to board these students with families in our community and incorporate them into all of our classes and activities.

Our curriculum will be rich with riveting pictures of history, challenging math and science, a stimulating literature and writing program, a variety of opportunities in the arts, several elective courses, and a wide range of physical education. One of the key experiences for the 11th grade students will be their participation in a one-week internship in a field of their choice. In addition to gaining valuable insights into possible career goals, this will also involve learning how to write a resume and cover letter as part of the application process for their internship.

Given our location in town, we also plan to take full advantage of the facilities and opportunities that Great Barrington has to offer, such as Mason Library for student research, St.Peterís rectory for our drama work, and the Town Hall for municipal studies. We are planning to offer an inter-disciplinary seminar course in local history and culture next year, in which students may study local politics, environmental concerns, demographic issues, or important historical events in Great Barringtonís past. Of course we will maintain our vital connection with Simonís Rock for use of their science labs, gym facilities, craft studios, and library.

It is going to be an exciting year for all of us involved in this new venture and one that we think will be richly rewarding for all. We are looking forward to doing more high school lectures and workshops in the fall to help next yearís 8th grade parents and students gain an appreciation for the importance of completing the journey begun in first grade.

by Samantha Stier - 11 Jul 2004

On Friday, April 16, 2004, the Spanish students of the Great Barrington Rudolf Steiner School sped off in a van to New York City. Destination: JFK. Well, not yet.

First, we went to Paulís friendís house. At about 1:30 am, after we hadnít slept at all, it was time to head to the airport.

Within an hour or two, we were on a flight to Costa Rica. We stopped in San Juan for lunch. After a large, delicious lunch, we went to a museum that used to be an airport and then went for a stroll in the park, where there were about ten soccer games going on right next to each other.

We returned to the airport, and continued our flight to Lima, Peru.

On the plane, during our descent into Lima, none of us could believe that we were actually in Peru.

Weíd been planning this trip for about a year, and now it had become a reality.

Full of excitement, we left the airport and went out into Lima.

It was a city like any other city, full of buildings (though nowhere near as tall as the buildings in the cities of America), traffic, and stores.

Right away we could see American influence. There were Burger Kings, McDonalds, and other American stores.

We spent the night in a nice hotel, though the lobby had an eerie green light and no roof, and the next day we left early to catch the one-hour flight to Cusco.

The high altitude in Cusco caused some of us to get altitude sickness. When we left the airport, we bought bags of some local remedies to help with altitude. Once at the hotel we were given coca tea, which, during the course of the trip, became a common beverage.

For a few days during that first week, Julio Hererras, a Waldorf teacher, came over to our hotel. He has started a project, Projecto Qíewar, to help the indigenous women of the village to support their children and give them hope for the future.

Here is my account of our time in Andahuallilas:

ìOn Tuesday, we all went to Julio Herreraís house, which was in the Village of Andahuaylillas. Julio had a beautiful, large stone house with an amazing view of the mountains and the village.

On the bus ride to his home we passed many poverty-stricken communities, where there were no roofs on some of the houses, which had dirt floors, and the people can barely afford to live there.

Julio has been doing a tremendous amount to help these people. Several of the indigenous women work everyday at his house to make Waldorf dolls to sell in order to make money for their families. We brought back some of the dolls to sell here.

If you are interested in buying a doll to support Julioís work, please contact a Spanish student in the 9th or 10th Grade.

That evening, after working with the doll-making, we were all separated to go to stay with the indigenous families. I went home with a friendly woman called Maria Elena.

Night had fallen when we left, so it was dark and hard to see. The women we were to stay with chattered among themselves in Quechau. None of them spoke English. We walked down dirt and cobblestone roads, past donkeys and other animals.

Maria Elena and I stopped at a small, dirty, rotting door in a falling down wall. She opened it, and I followed her in. Though I canít exactly call it ìinî since we were still outside; there was
no roof.

To my right was a large blue tarp and it was so dark I could hardly see anything. I stumbled through animal droppings and who knows what else to another door, passed a few pots and stumps on the ground (which, I later found out, was the kitchen) and went inside.

It was a tiny room, with a dirt floor, half-painted walls, and a straw ceiling. There were two ratty beds, an old, broken desk, and a table with a television on it.

Maria Elena bade me sit on one of the beds. Someone was asleep in the other one. Maria Elena was sweet, gentle and kind, but I could tell she was nervous.

In came her two little children. The boy was twelve and the girl was nine. I donít remember their names, but they were adorable. Maria Elena went out to the kitchen to make dinner, and the two children began to talk to me. I had no idea what they were saying.

We played chess, cards, and tops. They always let me win. The entire time they watched the TV. It seemed like the TV was the only thing they had that they could be proud of. The children watched some horrible, bloody, violent death scene, and Maria Elena didnít even try to stop them or turn it off.

I let the kids go through the things in my backpack. Even though Iíd only brought a simple toothbrush, change of clothes, hairbrush, and contact solution, they were fascinated and acted as though it was incredibly glamorous.

They kept touching my sleeping mat because it was shiny, and I wanted to give it to them because I hardly ever use it, but I needed it for Machu Picchu.

The woman in the other bed woke up, and it turned out she was Maria Elenaís mother. She was sweet and quiet, with long braided dark hair. Maria Elenaís sister came over to meet me, too.

They all acted nervous and pampered me as much as they could. Then Maria Elena brought out my meal. First she gave me a cup of pink gloppy stuff with three raisins floating in it, accompanied by bread. After I forced down as much as I could, she brought me another plate with a thick, greasy omelette on top of rice.

I couldnít breathe well while I ate it. I didnít want to be rude, because theyíd spent so long making it for me. The rest of them barely ate anything. I felt terrible eating their food. I was afraid Iíd be sick if I ate anymore, so finally I set down the plate. Then they brought out a cup of tea. After that, I had to go to the bathroom.

Iíve never seen a more miserable, bathroom. I donít think it can be called a bathroom.

The little boy took me back outside to the blue tarp and pulled back a side. It was heavy with darkness, and so at first I thought the boy was joking. But he wasnít.

He left me there, and I realized there was a dip in the grotesque ground. It was disgusting. But it did make me much more thankful for my own bathroom, which I used to think small.

Then it was time for bed. I tried to communicate to them that I had contacts in my eyes, but they didnít understand. So I just asked for clean water and they all crowded around to watch me as I brushed my teeth and took out my contacts. I felt like I was a magician , the way they were staring at me.

I woke up at around 8:00 a.m. They brought me water to wash with and put in my contacts. Unfortunately, Maria Elena made me more eggs on rice. Then she took me back up to Julioís.

I felt so sad that such nice, sweet people were living in such poverty. More than anything Iíd like to help all of them, in some way.î

The next day at Julioís, we made adobe bricks and picked lima beans in a cornfield. After a delicious lunch at Julioís lovely house, we returned to the hotel in Cusco.

We went by taxi, and then it was time to prepare for the climb up Machu Picchu.

From Gabrielle Meyerowitzís journal:

ìThe real physical challenges I experienced were on the second day while climbing Machu Picchu. It was hot and the weather brought no wind. The sun beat down so the air was thick and yellow. I stopped constantly on the trail and eventually fell behind.

Then there was a time when it seemed we were walking through the Amazon jungle. It was beautiful and wide and there was a river far below.

Around me were moss-covered rocks, trees with vines of all differences and flowers ñ giant yellow Cinderella slippers, purple, red, orange.
But I could hardly go on.

Mentally, I was not ready, so I stopped over and over again. That day was the most challenging, but when I got to the top it was exhilarating.î

It was hard for all of us, but we all did finally make it to the top.

In Cusco we took many trips to markets, museums, cathedrals and Incan ruins. It has been said that Peru is like a beggar sitting on a gold bench. At all of the cathedrals in Cusco, we would walk past starving indigenous women, sometimes with children, and into a cathedral coated in pure gold, covered with elaborate designs.

When it was time to return to Lima, all of us were sad and missed Cusco already. We spent one day at Colegio Waldorf de Lima and spent the night with the families.

There was a drastic difference between staying with these people and the people in Andahuallilas. We all stayed with wealthy families.

The girl I stayed with, Jocelyn, knew English almost fluently, and she and her family were hospitable. The next day we spent in classes. The following day, we returned to the US.

All of us had a different experience on this trip. Everyone learned new things, and saw how differently people live in this country.

We saw the drastic contrast between poverty and wealth. Within two weeks, we were immersed in an entire civilization, the Ancient Incan world, we met people whom we will never see again and never forget, we ate food that weíve never eaten in America, and we were all fulfilled in some way or other.

We give countless thanks to Senora Nunez, who was the inspiration behind this entire trip, Yezid Valdez, without whose guidance we could not have survived, all our parents, who gave up hours of their time to help us fundraise, everyone who donated clothes or money, and everyone in Peru who made our trip such an amazing experience.

by Rick Shrum for the Board of Trustees - 29 Apr 2004

The Board of Trustees of the new Great Barrington Waldorf High School would like to thank you for your enthusiasm and perseverance regarding the initiation of this high school. Your bold determination to have a Waldorf high school experience in the Berkshires has been the driving force behind our work. It takes courage to step forward, ask for what you want, and to be willing to blaze the trail as pioneers. You have also done well in representing yourselves to this community and demonstrating that adolescents may be big and boisterous, but can also be responsible, caring, young adults who have much to offer.

This Board has dedicated itself to providing you and those who follow in your footsteps with the finest and most inspired education possible. Our goal is to continue to create a unique program that meets your needs as developing individuals, and challenges you to reach for your highest virtues. We are gathering a team of experienced high school teachers who will guide you along your path of self-discovery and encourage you to do your best.

Our new location will be at the First Church of Christ, Scientist on Main Street in Great Barrington, a building filled with light, beauty and inviting spaces. We know you will be pleased with the site, for in addition to its loveliness, its location offers the opportunity to become more involved with the life of the town, and to feel as though you are a part of it.

Remember that you are not alone in this endeavor; this Board and your school community stands behind you and supports you as you take these important first steps into your new high school.

Rick Shrum for the Board of Trustees of the Great Barrington Waldorf High School
Matt Sagarin, President
Jim Toner, Treasurer
Maria Fili, Secreatary and Adminsitrator
Hilda Banks Shapiro, Jamie Cooper, Patricia Livingston, Christine Sierau, Tom Sierau.

by Stephen Sagarin, 10th grade advisor - 09 Mar 2004

Teaching ancient history to the Tenth Grade followed immediately by Modern History to the Ninth Grade, I was struck as I have not been in the past by the recurrence of dialectics in history. Perfected by Socrates as the true ìSocratic methodî (not simply asking questions, which can be as tedious as any other teacher-centered form of education), dialectics is a striving toward truth in conversation. The ìconversationî may be a friendly discussion, an argument, or a war. It may involve one personóThomas Aquinas studying alone in a room, positing imagined responses to statements or questions. It may involve two peopleóSocrates and Glaucon discussing education in the Republic. Or it may involve a nation divided against itselfóadvocates of slavery at war with opponents of slavery in the newspapers, the courts, and the battlefield. Dialectic begins with a statement, a thesis. Luther wrote 95 theses, in Latin, to provoke conversation among his colleagues at the University of Wittenberg; these were translated into vernacular German by an unknown person, kicking the Protestant Reformation outside university walls. Dialectic continues with an antithesis, an apparent contradiction of the thesis. It proceeds until a new statement, a synthesis, arises. This synthesis becomes a new thesis, enters a new dialectic, and the conversation continues.
In Karl Marxís dialectical materialism there is a lifeless assumption of inevitability; history proceeds like a chemistry experiment through to equilibriumóthe dictatorship of the proletariat. But true dialectics involve contingencies, points of view, modes of expression, accidents, coincidences, unintended consequences, and differences of interpretation. These inevitably lead to living conversation and novelty. They allow for change, innovation, and inspiration. Looking back, the past can rush toward our present with the apparent force of an avalanche. But, despite all our knowledge and learning, who in 1988 could have predicted, and on what evidence, the fall of the Berlin Wall the next year, and the death of soviet socialism soon after? Living in the conversation of the present, we must know that we provide the possibility for the future to be what we imagine it can be. As Joseph Wiezenbaum of MIT says, ìwe must live as if the future of the world depends on us. To do less is to abdicate responsibility for our actions.