Academic literature on the topic 'Beach City High School (Beach City, Ohio)'

Role-playing scenarios in science education offer students an active way to engage in learning as well as to discover how their decisions as citizens, voters, or policymakers can affect environmental and public health. In this activity, students take on the role of environmental consultants, helping city planners decide the best location for a new recreation area located on the fictional community's major waterway. The objective of the game is to engage the students in critical thinking to determine the most relevant water tests needed to accept or reject the four proposed locations, given their knowledge of possible pollutants from different land-use activities. Students work in teams to integrate methods used in determining water quality, such as chemical testing, macroinvertebrate surveys, and bacterial monitoring, into a defendable decision for their recommendation. This activity was designed for and tested by high school students enrolled in AP Environmental Sciences and could be modified for undergraduate ecology or biology courses.

West Sumatra Province is one of the provinces in Indonesia that is vulnerable to natural disasters, especially earthquakes and tsunamis. Padang city, as the capital city of West Sumatra, is an area that is included in an area with a high level of vulnerability (High Risk Zone) to tsunamis. Therefore, the construction of public buildings such as hospitals, government offices, and school buildings must have certain technical engineering that is able to anticipate the damage and collapse of buildings due to the earthquake and tsunami. One of the public buildings as an educational facility in Padang city is the Elementary School building of the 23/24 (SD 23/24 Padang), located close to the beach. Based on the evaluation results of the Detail Engineering Design (DED) documents, it is found that this building was designed without taking into account the tsunami loads. Therefore, a building assessment should be carried out to check the capacity of the building to resist the working loads, including the tsunami loads, and to investigate the effect of the tsunami loads on the SD 23/24 Padang building. In this study, the building was analyzed using ETABS v.18 software based on the new Indonesian Seismic Code, SNI 1726-2019 for seismic load and FEMA P646-2019 for calculating tsunami loads. The results show that the SD 23/24 Padang building is strong against earthquake loads, but it doesn’t have enough capacity when tsunami loads are applied, in which there are several structural elements (columns/beams) that do not have sufficient capacity to withstand the combined earthquake and tsunami loads. The effect of tsunami loads on the building structure is also discussed in this paper.

Improving the quality of youth begins with paying attention to reproductive health. Adolescent problems related to reproductive health are child marriages, the number of which increases every year in North Kalimantan. There are several studies showing that there are several factors that can cause differences in knowledge among adolescent students. This study aims to determine the level of knowledge of reproductive health in adolescents in the coastal area of ​​North Kalimantan. This research is a descriptive research, with the research variable being knowledge of adolescent reproductive health in the coastal city of Tarakan (Charity Beach). The population of this study amounted to 100 people. The criteria in this study are; adolescents moving up the middle and high school ladders. In taking the sample is done by using purposive sampling. For young women to know about reproductive health, by providing good information from the school as many as 7 young women (23.3%), then information from parents with a good level of knowledge as many as 6 young women. teenagers (20%), while for information from social media there are only 3 children who have good knowledge (10%). Knowledge about reproductive health in adolescents through parents, schools and social media. When parents, schools and social media are actively involved in providing accurate, supportive and comprehensive information, young women can obtain better knowledge.

Traditional sports are one of Indonesia's treasures that were born from community games and have been preserved to this day. The aim of this community service is to introduce and provide descriptions of traditional sports, especially traditional sports of East Nusa Tenggara among generation Z. The method of service is practice and mentoring. Community service activities were carried out at Pasir Panjang Beach, Kupang City, East Nusa Tenggara. The implementation of service activities with the title introduction of traditional sports among generation Z was attended by 48 generation Z people with different educational backgrounds, knowledge, ages and playing abilities. Details 1). 39 people from high school and 8 from middle school. The service results show that knowledge about traditional sports is very low. This is based on the service results of 48 students, only 3 of whom knew quite well while 45 people did not know at all during the pretest. Then we carried out an introduction followed by a posttest which proved that there were significant changes, only 2 people still experienced problems playing. In this way, the service concludes that traditional sports must be carried out continuously and in stages to maintain the existence of traditional sports among generation Z. Generation Z really hopes that these activities will be carried out in the field of education, especially sports carrying out activities related to traditional sports

1593 Background: Disparities in stage at diagnosis among melanoma patients are often seen between urban and rural communities, with patients in rural areas being diagnosed with more advanced tumors. Factors contributing to the disparities include decreased access to dermatologists in rural areas, and lower socioeconomic status (SES). We investigated urban disparities in melanoma T stage at diagnosis among patients residing in 2 New York City (NYC) neighborhoods of differing SES and receiving care within the NYU Langone Health System. The neighborhoods were: Upper East Side (UES) and Brighton Beach/Coney Island (BB/CI). Methods: We conducted a retrospective chart review (NYU IRB 23-01020) of melanoma patients (N=243) diagnosed from 2018-2022 using ICD-10-CM codes: C43 (malignant melanoma of skin); D03 (melanoma in situ); and Z85.820 (personal history of malignant melanoma of skin). For community-level data we used the American Academy of Dermatology’s “Find a Dermatologist” search function to locate member-dermatologists; New York State Cancer Registry data (2016-2020) to determine annual melanoma incidence; and the United States Census Bureau Public Use Microdata Areas to determine the proportion of Non-Hispanic Whites (NHW), income levels, and educational attainment. The distribution of T stages was compared using a chi-square test. A two-sample test was used to assess equality of proportions. Results: In UES, the annual melanoma incidence was 30.2/100,000 (95% CI: 27.4-33.2); NHW comprised 74.6% of the population; the median household income was $135,820; 78% attained education higher than high school; and there are 190 dermatologists within a 0.5-mile radius. In BB/CI the annual melanoma incidence was 14/100,000 (95% CI: 11.6-16.9); NHW comprised 55.1% of the population; the median household income was $43,118; 46% attained education higher than high school; and there is 1 dermatologist within a 0.5-mile radius. There are 15 dermatologists within a 3.0-mile radius. 155 and 88 patients met inclusion criteria in UES and BB/CI respectively. The distribution of T stages (i.e. Tis to T4) was significantly different between UES and BB/CI with higher proportions of advanced stage tumors in BB/CI (p=0.0002). Specifically, the proportion of (T2+T3+T4) tumors/total melanomas was 35/155 (23%) in UES; and 41/88(47%) in BB/CI (p<0.0001). For reference, the proportion of T2+T3+T4 melanomas in the United States is 30%. Conclusions: We identified substantial disparities in the initial presentation of melanoma in 2 NYC neighborhoods, with proportionately more advanced stage tumors in the community of low educational attainment, less access to dermatologic services, and lesser household income. Neighborhood-based approaches to uncover melanoma disparities can identify areas for community outreach and engagement efforts to improve melanoma awareness and access to dermatologic care.

The federal art programs of the New Deal produced public art in quantities not seen before or since. Historians have studied many aspects of the New Deal's art programs, but few have considered the long-term history of works produced by them. New Deal art programs produced large numbers of public murals—so many that such murals are often thought of as the typical form of New Deal art. They thus provide readily available examples of the long-term experience of New Deal art. San Francisco has a particularly rich collection of these murals. Some of them have been well cared for over the past eight decades, but public officials have proved negligent stewards—and occasionally destructive stewards—of others. Some of San Francisco's murals were considered so controversial at the time they were created that they were modified or even destroyed. Others became controversial later, with calls for modification or destruction. Some of the latter were covered, some were vandalized, and some have deteriorated. Most of the damaged murals have been restored, sometimes more than once. This article looks at the city's New Deal murals at Coit Tower, the Mothers Building at the Zoo, the Beach Chalet, the University of California San Francisco, the Alemany Health Center, Treasure Island/City College, and Rincon Annex/Center, with special attention to the George Washington High School murals that have recently been highly controversial. Controversies over the murals at Coit Tower, Rincon Annex, and George Washington High School also reveal significant changes in the role of the city's political and civic leadership with regard to public art.

Introduction: General population across different countries have shown an overall support for anti-smoking measures that vary significantly by certain population parameters. However, characteristics of the public attitude in a community who has been exposed to prolonged awareness campaigns and smoke-free area legislation is unclear. Consequently, we investigate residents who reside next to Batu Buruk beach in Kuala Terengganu city which has been gazetted as a smoke-free area since 2017. Methods: The cross-sectional study involves self-administered validated questionnaires. Multiple linear regression with forward method was applied to identify significant factors associated with the attitude towards anti-smoking measures. Results: A total of 295 residents participated. Most of them were Malays (96.6%), married (64.4%), attained up to the secondary school level (45.4%) and employed (59.7%). The mean value of the total attitude scores was 181.86 (range: 70-200). Multivariate analyses revealed those having higher monthly income had a higher total attitude scores (adjusted b: 6.91, 95% CI: 2.15, 11.66), while current daily smokers had a lower total attitude scores towards anti-smoking measures than non-smokers (adjusted b: -23.30, 95% CI: -29.55, -17.05). These findings highlight comparatively stronger and more consistent support for anti-smoking measures that may vindicate high-stake investment and legislation against smoking. Conclusion: The novel evidence may also better-inform the strategy to expand the initiatives further through profiling the target population with heightened emphasis on the economic standing and prevalence of current daily smokers. Future research may adopt experimental design to establish causality relationship between predictors and outcomes revealed in this community.

I sat alone on the beach under the shade of a big umbrella. My husband, Bill, and our three children were in the condo taking a break from the Florida sunshine. Dreamily, I gazed at the vast Gulf of Mexico, the brilliant blue sky stretching endlessly above. I was sitting about 50 feet from the surf, but I couldn't actually see the waves hitting the beach; I was almost blind. It was a windy day in late May and I loved feeling the ocean breeze sweeping over me. I imagined I could hear the waves crashing onto the surf, but the sound was only a memory. I was totally deaf. Although I had a cochlear implant and could hear the waves, the cry of sea gulls, and many other sounds with the technology, I wasn't wearing it at the moment and everything I heard was in my mind. As a child, my understanding of speech was better and my vision was clearer. My diagnosis was optic atrophy at age 5 and my vision gradually degenerated over the years. For unknown reasons, nerve damage caused hearing loss and during my teens, my hearing grew worse and worse until by the time I was ready for college, I was profoundly deaf. I chose to attend Gallaudet University because my high school teachers and my parents felt I would receive better services as a deaf and blind student. I feel it was a very good decision; when I entered Gallaudet, it was like entering a new and exhilarating world. Before attending Gallaudet, while I struggled to cope with hearing loss combined with severely low vision, my world grew smaller and smaller, not being able to communicate efficiently with others. At Gallaudet, I suddenly found I could communicate with almost anybody I met on campus using sign language. Thus, my self-confidence and independence grew as I proceeded to get a college education.It wasn't an easy route to follow. I didn't know Braille at the time and depended on using a CCTV (closed captioned television) electronic aid which magnified text, enabling me to read all my college books. I also relied on the assistance of a class aid who interpreted all my teachers' lectures and class discussions because I was unable to see people's signing unless they signed right in front of my face. It was slow going and often frustrating, trying to keep involved socially and keeping up with my coursework but when I was 13 years old, my vision specialist teacher who had worked with me from 5th grade until I graduated from high school, wrote a note for me saying, "Anything worthwhile seldom comes easy." The phrase stuck in my mind and I tried to follow this philosophy. In 1989 after 7 years of persistence, I graduated with a Bachelor's of Arts degree in psychology. With the B.A. in hand and having developed good communication skills with deaf and deaf-blind people using sign language and ASL (American Sign Language), I was ready to face the world. But I wasn't exactly ready; I knew I wanted a professional job working with deaf-blind people and the way to get there was to earn a master's degree. I applied for admission into Gallaudet's graduate school and was accepted into the vocational rehabilitation counselling program. While I thoroughly enjoyed graduate school experience, I got to work with my class mates one-on-one more often and there were a lot more hands-on activities, it became obvious to me that I wasn't prepared for graduate school. I needed to learn Braille and how to use Braille technology; my vision had worsened a lot since starting college. In addition, I needed a break from school and needed to gain experience in the working world. After completing one and a half years and earning 15 credit hours in the master's program, I left Gallaudet and found a job in Baltimore, Maryland.The job was with a new program for adults who were visually and hearing impaired and mentally disabled. My job was assisting the clients with independent living and work related skills. Most of the other staff were deaf, communicating via ASL. By then, I was skilled using tactile signing, putting my hand on the back of the signer's hand to follow movements by touch, and I made friends with co-workers. I felt grown up and independent working full-time, living in my own apartment, using the subway train and bus to travel to and from work. I didn't have any serious problems living on my own. There was a supermarket up the road to which I could walk or ride a bus. But I needed a taxi ride back to the apartment when I had more groceries than I could carry. I would leave a sign I made out of cardboard and wrote my address in big black numbers, on my apartment door to help the driver find my place. I used a white cane and upon moving to Baltimore, an Orientation and Mobility (O and M) teacher who worked with blind people, showing them how to travel in the city, taught me the route to my work place using the subway and bus. Thus, I was independent and knew my way to work as well as to a nearby shopping mall. One day as I stood on the subway station platform holding my white cane, waiting for my train, the opposite train pulled in. As I stood watching passengers hurrying to board, knowing my train would arrive soon on the other side, a woman ran up to me and started pulling my arm. I handed her my notebook and black marker I used for communicating with people in the public, telling her I couldn't hear and would she please write in large print? She frantically scribbled something, but I couldn't read the note. She then gave me back the pen and pad, grabbed my arm again and started pulling me towards the train. I refused to budge, gesturing towards the opposite tracks, clearly indicating I was waiting for the other train. Finally, she let go, dashed into the train before the doors closed. I watched the train pull away, sadly reflecting that some people who wanted to help, just didn't understand how to approach disabled people. As a deaf-blind traveller, it was my duty to help educate the general public how to assist disabled persons in a humane way. After I established my new life for a few months, Bill was offered a position in the same program and moved to Baltimore to join me. He had worked at the Helen Keller National Centre in New York where I met him while doing a summer internship there three years before. I was thrilled when he got the job working beside me and we got to know each other on a daily basis. We had been dating since we met although I was in college and he was working and living in New York and then Cleveland, Ohio. Bill being hearing and sighted, was skilled in sign language and communication techniques with deaf-blind people. He had a wonderful attitude towards disabled people and made me feel like a normal person who was capable of doing things. We shared a lot and were very comfortable with each other. After nearly six months together in Baltimore, we married in May 1992, several weeks before my 28th birthday.After our first year of marriage living in Maryland, Bill and I moved to Little Rock, Arkansas. We wanted to live closer to my family and parents, Ron and Judy Cummings, who lived in Poplar Bluff, Missouri, 176 miles north of Little Rock. I wanted to go back to school and entered the deaf education program at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock with the goal of becoming a teacher for deaf-blind students. I never dreamed I would have a deaf-blind child of my own one day. My vision and hearing loss were caused by nerve damage and no one else in my family nor Bill's had a similar disability.I was pregnant with our first child when I entered UALR. In spite of my growing belly, I enjoyed the teacher training experience. I worked with a deaf-blind 12-year-old student and her teacher at the Arkansas School for the Deaf; observed two energetic four-year-olds in the pre-school program. But when my son, Joe was born in June 1994, my world changed once again. School became less important and motherhood became the ultimate. As a deaf-blind person, I wanted to be the best mom within my abilities.I decided that establishing good communication with my child was an important aspect of being a deaf-blind mom. Bill was in full agreement and we would set Joe on the kitchen table in his infant carrier, reciting together in sign language, "The three Bears". I could see Joe's tiny fists and feet wave excitedly in the air as he watched us signing children's stories. I would encourage Joe to hold my fingers while I signed to him, trying to establish a tactile signing relationship. But he was almost two years old when he finally understood that he needed to sign into my hands. We were sitting at the table and I had a bag of cookies. I refused to give him one until he made the sign for "cookie" in my hand. I quickly rewarded him with a cookie and he got three or four each time he made the sign in my hand. Today at 16, Joe is an expert finger speller and can effectively communicate with me and his younger deaf-blind brother, Ben.When Joe was two and a half, I decided to explore a cochlear implant. It was 1996 and we were living in Poplar Bluff by then. My cousin, who was studying audiology, told me that people using cochlear implants were able to understand sound so well they didn't need good vision. I made an appointment with the St. Louis cochlear implant program and after being evaluated, I decided to go ahead. I am glad I have a cochlear implant. After months of practice I learned to use the new sound and was eventually able to understand many environmental sounds. I never regained the ability of understanding speech, though, but I could hear people's voices very clearly, the sound of laughter, birds singing, and many more. Being able to hear my children's voices is especially wonderful, even when they get noisy and I get a headache. That fall I went to Leader Dogs School for the Blind (LDSB) where I met Milo, a large yellow Labrador retriever. At LDSB I learned how to care for and work with a dog guide. Having Milo as my companion and guide was like stepping into another new and wonderful world of independence. With Milo, I could walk briskly and feel secure. Milo was a big help as a deaf-blind mom, too. With Milo's guiding help, it was wonderful following my children while they rode tricycles or bikes and the whole family enjoyed going out for walks together. Our second son, Ben, was born in February 1999. He was a perfectly healthy little boy and Bill and I were looking forward to raising two sons. Joe was four and a half years old when Ben was born and was fascinated in his new brother. But when Ben was 5 months old, he was diagnosed with Langerhans Cell Histiocytosis (LCH), a rare childhood disease and in some cases, fatal. It was a long, scary road we followed as Ben received treatment at the children's hospital in St. Louis which involved making the 150 mile trip almost weekly for chemotherapy and doctor check-ups. Through it all, Ben was a happy little boy, in spite of the terrible rash that affected his scalp and diaper area, a symptom of LCH. Bill and I knew that we had to do everything possible to help Ben. When he was a year old, his condition seemed stable enough for me to feel comfortable leaving my family for two months to study Braille and learn new technology skills at a program in Kansas City. My vision had deteriorated to a point where I could no longer use a CCTV.Bill's mom, Marie Reid, who lived in Cleveland, Ohio, made a special trip to stay at our home in Poplar Bluff to help Bill with the boys while I was gone. I was successful at the program, learning Braille, making a change from magnification to Braille technology. Upon returning home, I began looking for a job and found employment as a deaf-blind specialist in a new project in Mississippi. The job was in Tupelo and we moved to northern Mississippi, settling into a new life. We transferred Ben's treatment to St. Judes Children's hospital located in Memphis, 94 miles west of Tupelo. I went to work and Bill stayed home with the boys, which worked well. When Ben had to go to St. Judes every three weeks for chemotherapy, Bill was able to drive him. The treatment was successful, the rash had disappeared and there were no traces of LCH in Ben's blood tests. But when he was almost 3 years old, he was diagnosed with optic atrophy, the same eye disease I suffered from and an audiologist detected signs of inner ear hearing loss.Shocked at the news that our little son would grow up legally blind and perhaps become deaf, Bill and I had to rethink our future. We knew we wanted Ben to have a good life and as a deaf-blind child, he needed quality services. We chose to move to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania because I knew there were good services for deaf-blind people and I could function independently as a stay-home mom. In addition, Cleveland, Ohio, where Marie Reid and several of Bill's siblings lived, was a two hour's drive from Pittsburgh and living near family was important to us. With regret, I left my job opportunity and new friends and we re-located to Pittsburgh. We lived on a quiet street near Squirrel Hill and enrolled Joe into a near-by Catholic school. Ben received excellent early intervention services through the Pittsburgh public school, beginning Braille, using a white cane and tactile signing. The Pennsylvania services for the blind generously purchased a wonderful computer system and Braille display for me to use at home. I was able to communicate with Joe's and Ben's teachers and other contacts using e-mail. Ben's Braille teacher provided us with several print/Braille books which I read to the boys while Ben touched the tactile pictures. I made friends in the deaf and deaf-blind community and our family attended social events. Besides the social benefits of a deaf community, Pittsburgh offered a wonderful interpreting service and I was able to take Ben to doctor appointments knowing an interpreter would meet me at the hospital to assist with communication. I also found people who were willing to help me as volunteer SSPs (support Service Providers), persons whose role is to assist a deaf-blind person in any way, such as shopping, going to the bank, etc. Thus, I was able to function quite independently while Bill worked. Perhaps Bill and I were a bit crazy; after all, we had enough on our plate with a deaf-blind son and a deaf-blind mom, but love is a mysterious thing. In October 2003, Tim was born and our family was complete. Having two school-aged children and a baby on my hands was too much for me to handle alone. Bill was working and busy with culinary arts school. We realized we needed more help with the children, plus the high cost of living in the city was a struggle for us. We decided for the family's best interest, it would be better to move back to Poplar Bluff. After Joe and Ben were out of school in June, my mom flew out to Pittsburgh to escort them back to her home while Bill finished his externship for his culinary arts degree and in the late summer of 2004, we packed up our apartment, said good-bye to Pittsburgh, and drove to Missouri. The move was a good decision in many ways. Poplar Bluff, a rural town in south-eastern Missouri, has been my hometown since I was 10 years old. My extended family live there and the boys are thriving growing up among their cousins. Ben is receiving Braille and sign language services at public school and reads Braille faster than me!While both Bill and I are deeply satisfied knowing our children are happy, we have made personal sacrifices. Bill has given up his career satisfaction as a professional cook, needing to help look after the children and house. I have given up the benefits of city life such as interpreting and SSP services, not to mention the social benefits of a deaf community. But the children's well-being comes first, and I have found ways to fulfil my needs by getting involved with on-line groups for deaf-blind people, including writers and poets. I have taken a great interest in writing, especially children's stories and hope to establish a career as a writer. While I work on my computer, Bill keeps busy engaging the boys in various projects. They have built a screened-in tree house in the backyard where Ben and Tim like to sleep during warm summer nights.“It's almost 5 o'clock," Bill signed into my hand, rousing me from my thoughts. Time to prepare for our homeward journey the next day to Poplar Bluff, Missouri.Christy and Family

The objective of this work was to engage students from public schools of São Paulo coast (Brazil) in the study and control of litter on beaches. Two public schools from coastal cities of São Paulo State (Peruíbe and Ubatuba) had students trained to sample and quantify marine litter on beaches. After this training, using Google Earth images, two beaches of each city were chosen to be studied. On each beach, samples were taken in the 100 meters of the selected stretch. The residues were classified by type of material and type of item (seeking to associate to sources). After the sampling surveys, the students were oriented to the data analysis. The students prepared a presentation with sampling results, hypotheses to explain the possible origin of the marine litter and measures that could be taken to reduce the problem on the studied beach. For both schools, this workshop revealed great students’ involvement during all process, from the field-work and data analysis, to the development of hypothesis and solution propositions. The beaches of Peruíbe were more isolated and in one of them most of the waste was coming from the sea, which carried litter from boats and nearby villages. Meanwhile, the beaches of Ubatuba were urbaner and had high occurrence of construction materials, indicating a miss-managed discard of litter by local residents. The main outputs of these workshops were: (1) giving the students an experience of how a scientific project is developed, (2) generating reliable data on marine litter in the school areas, (3) stimulating discussion about sources and proposing solutions and (4) establishing a cooperation network between the school and the university.Keywords: marine litter, monitoring, beaches, citizen science

Conurbation [f. CON- + L. urb- and urbs city + -ation] An aggregation of urban areas. (OED) Beyond the urban, further and lower even than the suburban, lies the con-urban. The conurban: with the urban, partaking of the urbane, lying against but also perhaps pushing against or being contra the urban. Conurbations stretch littorally from Australian cities, along coastlines to other cities, joining cities through the passage of previously outlying rural areas. Joining the dots between cities, towns, and villages. Providing corridors between the city and what lies outside. The conurban is an accretion, an aggregation, a piling up, or superfluity of the city: Greater London, for instance. It is the urban plus, filling the gaps between cities, as Los Angeles oozing urbanity does for the dry, desert areas abutting it (Davis 1990; Soja 1996). I wish to propose that the conurban imaginary is a different space from its suburban counterpart. The suburban has provided a binary opposition to what is not the city, what lies beneath its feet, outside its ken. Yet it is also what is greater than the urban, what exceeds it. In modernism, the city and its denizens define themselves outside what is arrayed around the centre, ringing it in concentric circles. In stark relief to the modernist lines of the skyscraper, contrasting with the central business district, central art galleries and museums, is to be found the masses in the suburbs. The suburban as a maligned yet enabling trope of modernism has been long revalued, in the art of Howard Arkeley, and in photography of suburban Gothic. It comes as no surprise to read a favourable newspaper article on the Liverpool Regional Art Gallery, in Sydney's Western Suburbs, with its exhibition on local chicken empires, Liverpool sheds, or gay and lesbians living on the city fringe. Nor to hear in the third way posturing of Australian Labor Party parliamentarian Mark Latham, the suburbs rhetorically wielded, like a Victa lawn mover, to cut down to size his chardonnay-set inner-city policy adversaries. The politics of suburbia subtends urban revisionism, reformism, revanchism, and recidivism. Yet there is another less exhausted, and perhaps exhaustible, way of playing the urban, of studying the metropolis, of punning on the city's proper name: the con-urban. World cities, as Saskia Sassen has taught us, have peculiar features: the juxtaposition of high finance and high technology alongside subaltern, feminized, informal economy (Sassen 1998). The Australian city proudly declared to be a world city is, of course, Sydney while a long way from the world's largest city by population, it is believed to be the largest in area. A recent newspaper article on Brisbane's real estate boom, drew comparisons with Sydney only to dismiss them, according to one quoted commentator, because as a world city, Sydney was sui generis in Australia, fairly requiring comparison with other world cities. One form of conurbanity, I would suggest, is the desire of other settled areas to be with the world city. Consider in this regard, the fate of Byron Bay a fate which lies very much in the balance. Byron Bay is sign that circulates in the field of the conurban. Craig MacGregor has claimed Byron as the first real urban culture outside an Australian city (MacGregor 1995). Local residents hope to keep the alternative cultural feel of Byron, but to provide it with a more buoyant economic outlook. The traditional pastoral, fishing, and whaling industries are well displaced by niche handicrafts, niche arts and craft, niche food and vegetables, a flourishing mind, body and spirit industry, and a booming film industry. Creative arts and cultural industries are blurring into creative industries. The Byron Bay area at the opening of the twenty-first century is attracting many people fugitive from the city who wish not to drop out exactly; rather to be contra wishes rather to be gently contrary marked as distinct from the city, enjoying a wonderful lifestyle, but able to persist with the civilizing values of an urban culture. The contemporary figure of Byron Bay, if such a hybrid chimera may be represented, wishes for a conurbanity. Citizens relocate from Melbourne, Canberra, and Sydney, seeking an alternative country and coastal lifestyle and, if at all possible, a city job (though without stress) (on internal migration in Australia see Kijas 2002): Hippies and hip rub shoulders as a sleepy town awakes (Still Wild About Byron, (Sydney Morning Herald, 1 January 2002). Forerunners of Byron's conurbanity leave, while others take their place: A sprawling $6.5 million Byron Bay mansion could be the ultimate piece of memorabilia for a wealthy fan of larrikin Australian actor Paul Hogan (Hoges to sell up at Byron Bay, Illawarra Mercury, 14 February 2002). The ABC series Seachange is one key text of conurbanity: Laura Gibson has something of a city job she can ply the tools of her trade as a magistrate while living in an idyllic rural location, a nice spot for a theme park of contemporary Australian manners and nostalgia for community (on Sea Change see Murphy 2002). Conurban designates a desire to have it both ways: cityscape and pastoral mode. Worth noting is that the Byron Shire has its own independent, vibrant media public sphere, as symbolized by the Byron Shire Echo founded in 1986, one of the great newspapers outside a capital city (Martin & Ellis 2002): <http://www.echo.net.au>. Yet the textual repository in city-based media of such exilic narratives is the supplement to the Saturday broadsheet papers. A case in point is journalist Ruth Ostrow, who lives in hills in the Byron Shire, and provides a weekly column in the Saturday Australian newspaper, its style gently evocative of just one degree of separation from a self-parody of New Age mores: Having permanently relocated to the hills behind Byron Bay from Sydney, it's interesting for me to watch friends who come up here on holiday over Christmas… (Ostrow 2002). The Sydney Morning Herald regards Byron Bay as another one of its Northern beaches, conceptually somewhere between Palm Beach and Pearl Beach, or should one say Pearl Bay. The Herald's fascination for Byron Bay real estate is coeval with its obsession with Sydney's rising prices: Byron Bay's hefty price tags haven't deterred beach-lovin' boomers (East Enders, Sydney Morning Herald 17 January 2002). The Australian is not immune from this either, evidence 'Boom Times in Byron', special advertising report, Weekend Australia, Saturday 2 March 2002. And plaudits from The Financial Review confirm it: Prices for seafront spots in the enclave on the NSW north coast are red hot (Smart Property, The Financial Review, 19 January 2002). Wacky North Coast customs are regularly covered by capital city press, the region functioning as a metonym for drugs. This is so with Nimbin especially, with regular coverage of the Nimbin Mardi Grass: Mardi Grass 2001, Nimbin's famous cannabis festival, began, as they say, in high spirits in perfect autumn weather on Saturday (Oh, how they danced a high old time was had by all at the Dope Pickers' Ball, Sydney Morning Herald, 7 May 2001). See too coverage of protests over sniffer dogs in Byron Bay in Easter 2001 showed (Peatling 2001). Byron's agony over its identity attracts wider audiences, as with its quest to differentiate itself from the ordinariness of Ballina as a typical Aussie seaside town (Buttrose 2000). There are national metropolitan audiences for Byron stories, readers who are familiar with the Shire's places and habits: Lismore-reared Emma Tom's 2002 piece on the politics of perving at King's beach north of Byron occasioned quite some debate from readers arguing the toss over whether wanking on the beach was perverse or par for the course: Public masturbation is a funny old thing. On one hand, it's ace that some blokes feel sexually liberated enough to slap the salami any old time… (Tom 2002). Brisbane, of course, has its own designs upon Byron, from across the state border. Brisbane has perhaps the best-known conurbation: its northern reaches bleed into the Sunshine Coast, while its southern ones salute the skyscrapers of Australia's fourth largest city, the Gold Coast (on Gold Coast and hinterland see Griffin 2002). And then the conburbating continues unabated, as settlement stretches across the state divide to the Tweed Coast, with its mimicking of Sanctuary Cove, down to the coastal towns of Ocean Shores, Brunswick Heads, Byron, and through to Ballina. Here another type of infrastructure is key: the road. Once the road has massively overcome the topography of rainforest and mountain, there will be freeway conditions from Byron to Brisbane, accelerating conurbanity. The caf is often the short-hand signifier of the urban, but in Byron Bay, it is film that gives the urban flavour. Byron Bay has its own International Film Festival (held in the near-by boutique town of Bangalow, itself conurban with Byron.), and a new triple screen complex in Byron: Up north, film buffs Geraldine Hilton and Pete Castaldi have been busy. Last month, the pair announced a joint venture with Dendy to build a three-screen cinema in the heart of Byron Bay, scheduled to open mid-2002. Meanwhile, Hilton and Castaldi have been busy organising the second Byron All Screen Celebration Film Festival (BASC), after last year's inaugural event drew 4000 visitors to more than 50 sessions, seminars and workshops. Set in Bangalow (10 minutes from Byron by car, less if you astral travel)… (Cape Crusaders, Sydney Morning Herald, 15 February 2002). The film industry is growing steadily, and claims to be the largest concentration of film-makers outside of an Australian capital city (Henkel 2000 & 2002). With its intimate relationship with the modern city, film in its Byron incarnation from high art to short video, from IMAX to multimedia may be seen as the harbinger of the conurban. If the case of Byron has something further to tell us about the transformation of the urban, we might consider the twenty-first century links between digital communications networks and conurbanity. It might be proposed that telecommunications networks make it very difficult to tell where the city starts and ends; as they interactively disperse information and entertainment formerly associated with the cultural institutions of the metropolis (though this digitization of urbanity is more complex than hyping the virtual suggest; see Graham & Marvin 1996). The bureau comes not just to the 'burbs, but to the backblocks as government offices are closed in country towns, to be replaced by online access. The cinema is distributed across computer networks, with video-on-demand soon to become a reality. Film as a cultural form in the process of being reconceived with broadband culture (Jacka 2001). Global movements of music flow as media through the North Coast, with dance music culture and the doof (Gibson 2002). Culture and identity becomes content for the information age (Castells 1996-1998; Cunningham & Hartley 2001; OECD 1998; Trotter 2001). On e-mail, no-one knows, as the conceit of internet theory goes, where you work or live; the proverbial refashioning of subjectivity by the internet affords a conurbanity all of its own, a city of bits wherever one resides (Mitchell 1995). To render the digital conurban possible, Byron dreams of broadband. In one of those bizarre yet recurring twists of Australian media policy, large Australian cities are replete with broadband infrastructure, even if by 2002 city-dwellers are not rushing to take up the services. Telstra's Foxtel and Optus's Optus Vision raced each other down streets of large Australian cities in the mid-1990s to lay fibre-coaxial cable to provide fast data (broadband) capacity. Cable modems and quick downloading of video, graphics, and large files have been a reality for some years. Now the Asymmetrical Digital Subscriber Line (ADSL) technology is allowing people in densely populated areas close to their telephone exchanges to also avail themselves of broadband Australia. In rural Australia, broadband has not been delivered to most areas, much to the frustration of the conurbanites. Byron Bay holds an important place in the history of the internet in Australia, because it was there that one of Australia's earliest and most important internet service providers, Pegasus Network, was established in the late 1980s. Yet Pegasus relocated to Brisbane in 1993, because of poor quality telecommunications networks (Peters 1998). As we rethink the urban in the shadow of modernity, we can no longer ignore or recuse ourselves from reflecting upon its para-urban modes. As we deconstruct the urban, showing how the formerly pejorative margins actually define the centre the suburban for instance being more citified than the grand arcades, plazas, piazzas, or malls; we may find that it is the conurban that provides the cultural imaginary for the urban of the present century. Work remains to be done on the specific modalities of the conurban. The conurban has distinct temporal and spatial coordinates: citizens of Sydney fled to Manly earlier in the twentieth century, as they do to Byron at the beginning of the twenty-first. With its resistance to the transnational commercialization and mass culture that Club Med, McDonalds, and tall buildings represent, and with its strict environment planning regulation which produce a litigious reaction (and an editorial rebuke from the Sydney Morning Herald [SMH 2002]), Byron recuperates the counter-cultural as counterpoint to the Gold Coast. Subtle differences may be discerned too between Byron and, say, Nimbin and Maleny (in Queensland), with the two latter communities promoting self-sufficient hippy community infused by new agricultural classes still connected to the city, but pushing the boundaries of conurbanity by more forceful rejection of the urban. Through such mapping we may discover the endless attenuation of the urban in front and beyond our very eyes; the virtual replication and invocation of the urban around the circuits of contemporary communications networks; the refiguring of the urban in popular and elite culture, along littoral lines of flight, further domesticating the country; the road movies of twenty-first century freeways; the perpetuation and worsening of inequality and democracy (Stilwell 1992) through the action of the conurban. Cities without bounds: is the conurban one of the faces of the postmetropolis (Soja 2000), the urban without end, with no possibility for or need of closure? My thinking on Byron Bay, and the Rainbow Region in which it is situated, has been shaped by a number of people with whom I had many conversations during my four years living there in 1998-2001. My friends in the School of Humanities, Media, and Cultural Studies, Southern Cross University, Lismore, provided focus for theorizing our ex-centric place, of whom I owe particular debts of gratitude to Baden Offord (Offord 2002), who commented upon this piece, and Helen Wilson (Wilson 2002). Thanks also to an anonymous referee for helpful comments. References Buttrose, L. (2000). Betray Byron at Your Peril. Sydney Morning Herald 7 September 2000. Castells, M. (1996-98). The Information Age. 3 vols. Blackwell, Oxford. Cunningham, S., & Hartley, J. (2001). Creative Industries from Blue Poles to Fat Pipes. Address to the National Humanities and Social Sciences Summit, National Museum of Canberra. July 2001. Davis, M. (1990). City of Quartz: Excavating the Future in Los Angeles. Verso, London. Gibson, C. (2002). Migration, Music and Social Relations on the NSW Far North Coast. Transformations, no. 2. <http://www.ahs.cqu.edu.au/transformation...>. Graham, S., and Marvin, S. (1996). Telecommunications and the City: Electronic Spaces, Urban Places. Routledge, London & New York. Griffin, Graham. (2002). Where Green Turns to Gold: Strip Cultivation and the Gold Coast Hinterland. Transformations, no. 2. <http://www.ahs.cqu.edu.au/transformation...> Henkel, C. (2002). Development of Audiovisual Industries in the Northern Rivers Region of NSW. Master thesis. Queensland University of Technology. . (2000). Imagining the Future: Strategies for the Development of 'Creative Industries' in the Northern Rivers Region of NSW. Northern Rivers Regional Development Board in association with the Northern Rivers Area Consultative Committee, Lismore, NSW. Jacka, M. (2001). Broadband Media in Australia Tales from the Frontier, Australian Film Commission, Sydney. Kijas, J. (2002). A place at the coast: Internal migration and the shift to the coastal-countryside. Transformations, no. 2. <http://www.ahs.cqu.edu.au/transformation...>. MacGregor, Craig. (1995). The Feral Signifier and the North Coast. In The Abundant Culture: Meaning And Significance in Everyday Australia, ed. Donald Horne & Jill Hooten. Allen and Unwin, Sydney. Martin, F., & Ellis, R. (2002). Dropping in, not out: the evolution of the alternative press in Byron Shire 1970-2001. Transformations, no. 2. <http://www.ahs.cqu.edu.au/transformation...>. Mitchell, W.J. (1995). City of Bits: Space, Place, and the Infobahn. MIT Press, Cambridge, Mass. Molnar, Helen. (1998). 'National Convergence or Localism?: Rural and Remote Communications.' Media International Australia 88: 5-9. Moyal, A. (1984). Clear Across Australia: A History of Telecommunications. Thomas Nelson, Melbourne. Murphy, P. (2002). Sea Change: Re-Inventing Rural and Regional Australia. Transformations, no. 2. <http://www.ahs.cqu.edu.au/transformation...>. Offord, B. (2002). Mapping the Rainbow Region: Fields of belonging and sites of confluence. Transformations, no. 2. <http://www.ahs.cqu.edu.au/transformation...>. Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD). (1998). Content as a New Growth Industry: Working Party for the Information Economy. OECD, Paris. Ostrow, R. (2002). Joyous Days, Childish Ways. The Australian, 9 February. Peatling, S. (2001). Keep Off Our Grass: Byron stirs the pot over sniffer dogs. Sydney Morning Herald. 16 April. <http://www.smh.com.au/news/0104/14/natio...> Peters, I. (1998). Ian Peter's History of the Internet. Lecture at Southern Cross University, Lismore. CD-ROM. Produced by Christina Spurgeon. Faculty of Creative Industries, Queensland University of Technology, Brisbane. Productivity Commission. (2000). Broadcasting Inquiry: Final Report, Melbourne, Productivity Commission. Sassen, S. (1998). Globalisation and its Contents: Essays on the New Mobility of People and Money. New Press, New York. Soja, E. (2000). Postmetropolis: critical studies of cities and regions. Blackwell, Oxford. . (1996). Thirdspace: journeys to Los Angeles and other real-and-imagined places. Blackwell, Cambridge, Mass. Stilwell, F. (1992). Understanding Cities and Regions: Spatial Political Economy. Pluto Press, Sydney. Sydney Morning Herald (SMH). (2002). Byron Should Fix its own Money Mess. Editorial. 5 April. Tom, E. (2002). Flashing a Problem at Hand. The Weekend Australian, Saturday 12 January. Trotter, R. (2001). Regions, Regionalism and Cultural Development. Culture in Australia: Policies, Publics and Programs. Ed. Tony Bennett and David Carter. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 334-355. Wilson, H., ed. (2002). Fleeing the City. Special Issue of Transformations journal, no. 2. < http://www.ahs.cqu.edu.au/transformation...>. Links http://www.echo.net.au http://www.smh.com.au/news/0104/14/national/national3.html http://www.ahs.cqu.edu.au/transformations/journal/issue2/issue.htm Citation reference for this article MLA Style Goggin, Gerard. "Conurban" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.2 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0205/conurban.php>. Chicago Style Goggin, Gerard, "Conurban" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 2 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0205/conurban.php> ([your date of access]). APA Style Goggin, Gerard. (2002) Conurban. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(2). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0205/conurban.php> ([your date of access]).

Abstract When she was a blonde, doe-eyed teenager, Carol Doda’s future was not bright. A high-school dropout from Napa County, she landed in the Tenderloin in the early 1960s, where she quickly found a roommate and friend in a male hairstylist who shared his makeup tips with her. Doda fell in love with her roommate and became inconsolably jealous about his mysterious preference for male company. Her love unrequited, Doda took a job as a dancing cocktail waitress at the Condor go-go bar in North Beach and moved into the district. “Big” Davey Rosenberg, a corpulent, hard-nosed club promoter, saw great profit potential in Doda and encouraged her to perform her dance in one of designer Rudi Gernreich’s new “topless” bathing suits. On June 22, 1964, the twenty-year-old Doda metamorphosed from ingénue to internationally renowned sexual spectacle when she took to the stage at the Condor and revolutionized the local burlesque show circuit by baring her breasts in their entirety during her performance of the “swim” dance. She brazenly tossed aside the pasties that striptease dancers had worn for most of the century. Shortly thereafter—also at Rosenberg’s urging—Doda received one of the first silicone breast augmentations, increasing her modest bust size to a double D. Doda’s likeness, depicted on a forty-foot sign complete with red, illuminated nipples, towered over the intersection of Columbus Avenue and Broadway Street and became a landmark, drawing throngs of locals and tourists alike.

Abstract Toward The End Of Her Life, Beach looked back gratefully to her early years in Boston, that “happy period” in a city that was “very musical indeed.” 1 It is hard to imagine another city-or indeed another time-that would have been as supportive of her as a woman and a musician. The special bonding that took place between patrons and artists, the high value that its Brahmin aristocracy placed on music as an art, and the support its individuals and musical institutions offered to its resident composers and performers resulted in a thriving community of musicians and helped create America’s first school of high art music. When George Whitefield Chadwick called Amy Beach “one of the boys,” he was welcoming her into that school. When the leading performing organizations in Boston-the Boston Symphony, the Handel and Haydn Society, and the Kneisel Quartet-presented her as a pianist and gave the premieres of her compositions, they were providing a woman a level of support that few, if any, other cities began to match.

Abstract I had two brief flirtations with New York City before I moved east to stay. There was that three-day pass from the Army in 1948, and an earlier visit in 1945, after my youthful love of the theater brought me to Massachusetts at the end of my senior year in high school. I won a summer scholarship to the Priscilla Beach Theater in Plymouth, and my parents scraped together the money for my train fare from Seattle. I lived all summer in an old Victorian house at Priscilla Beach with seventy-five or eighty other young actors and actresses from all over the country. We studied theater crafts during the day and put on plays at night in a barn theater. Our training was supervised and our plays were directed by two impressive New York thespians, Dr. A. Franklin Trask and his wife, Allison Hawley.

With the increasing advancement of the Internet and Computing, digital information and communication technologies (DICTs) are increasingly present in everyone's life, whether at work, at home, in cars, or even in clothing, using wearable devices. Then comes the concept Internet of Things (IoT) which aims to interconnect objects with each other and with people through data transmission technologies and various sensors and actuators. With an infrastructure capable of managing them, these objects become "smart". In recent years, there have been increasing efforts to introduce IoT in schools, modifying not only its physical structure but also inserting it as a tool that can enhance interdisciplinary teaching in various activities. Thus, this paper aims to present basic IoT concepts for high school students from a public school in the city of Jandaia do Sul. For this, a didactic sequence was developed, using a smart home model, to demonstrate such concepts. With the sensors of the house, it is possible to demonstrate physics concepts, related to the students' daily life. At the end of the didactic sequence, a questionnaire will be applied to verify the learning process of the students.