In the Magic School Bus episode In the Arctic, Wanda is trying to keep her cocoa hot. According to the Particle Theory of Matter, what is happening to the cocoa particles as they cool down?

The particles lose kinetic energy and begin to move more slowly.

The particles disappear into the air as the volume decreases.

The particles gain thermal energy from the cold surrounding air.

The particles speed up to try and create more friction to stay warm.

Phoebe tries to stay warm by wearing a heavy coat. Why does a coat keep a person warm in a cold environment?

It serves as an insulator that slows down the transfer of thermal energy away from the body.

It is a conductor that brings heat from the outside air to the skin.

It eliminates the particle motion of the cold air outside.

It generates its own thermal energy through chemical reactions in the fabric.

In the episode, the characters learn that heat always move in a specific direction. Based on your understanding of thermal energy transfer, how does the heat move?

From the warmer object (the cocoa) to the cooler object (the Arctic air).

From the cooler object (the Arctic air) to the warmer object (the cocoa).

Only through solid objects, never through the air or liquids.

Back and forth equally until the particles stop moving entirely.

When the characters are in the freezing Arctic, they discuss how to stop heat from escaping. Which of the following materials would be the best choice for a container to keep cocoa hot by minimizing conduction?

A plastic foam cup, because it is a poor conductor of heat.

A wet wool cloth, because water transfers energy quickly.

A solid copper mug, because metals are excellent conductors.

A thin glass jar, because it allows particles to move freely.

In the Arctic episode, the characters observe that hot air inside the bus rises while cooler air sinks. This movement creates a circular flow known as a convection current. What causes the warmer air to rise according to the Particle Theory?

The particles move faster and spread further apart, making the warm air less dense than the cold air.

The particles in warm air stop moving and allow the cold air to push them upward.

The warm air particles shrink in size, allowing them to float above the larger cold particles.

The warm air particles become lighter in weight and lose their gravity.

In the Arctic environment shown in the Magic School Bus, a thermometer is used to check the temperature of the cocoa. What is the thermometer actually measuring according to science?

The average kinetic energy of the cocoa's particles.

The total amount of thermal energy stored in the liquid.

The rate at which convection currents are moving in the cup.

The weight of the particles as they move through the cocoa.

In the Magic School Bus episode In the Arctic, Liz the lizard starts to get very cold because she is a cold-blooded animal. If Liz sits on a heating pad, thermal energy moves from the pad to her belly. Which statement best describes this process using the Particle Theory of Matter?

Fast-moving particles in the heating pad collide with slower-moving particles in Liz, transferring kinetic energy.

The heating pad particles travel deep into Liz's body to carry the heat themselves.

The cold particles in Liz's body are destroyed by the heat particles from the pad.

The particles in the heating pad create radiation that pushes Liz's particles further apart.

In the Arctic, Ms. Frizzle's class observes that the bus's heating system pushes warm air out of the vents. As the warm air circulates through the bus and cools down, what happens to the spacing between the air particles according to the Particle Theory?

The particles move more slowly and the spaces between them decrease, making the air more dense.

The particles stop moving entirely and group together into a solid ice block inside the air.

The particles stay the same distance apart but grow smaller in size as they lose energy.

The particles move faster and the spaces between them increase, making the air lighter.

I am a grade 7 ontario science teacher. I would like to have students complete a task using the scence terms in our curriclulum for heat (convection, conduction, thermal energy, particle theory, etc) for this task. I would like to play an episode of the magic school bus (here's th elink: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hFvjI_n60k ) and I would like them to have a set of questions that challenge them to explain what is happening in the show with science terms. Could you create a google doc for this.

Phrasal Verb Quiz Instructions: Choose the best meaning for the bold phrasal verb in each sentence. She looked up a word in the dictionary. A) To stare at something B) To find information in a book or online C) To write a new word She looked up at the sky. A) To raise your eyes to see something above B) To search for a specific star C) To feel happy He always tries to get out of doing his chores. A) To leave the house B) To finish work quickly C) To avoid doing something you don't want to do Why didn’t you call me back last night? A) To shout at someone B) To return a phone call C) To remember a name She was bored at the party, so she took off. A) To start dancing B) To leave suddenly C) To remove her coat I can’t figure out the answer to this question. A) To understand or solve something B) To draw a picture C) To forget a fact I am free on Sunday. Do you want to come over? A) To go to a store B) To visit someone’s house C) To call someone on the phone He had to make up a story about a dragon and a princess. A) To read a book aloud B) To invent or create a story C) To fix a mistake After three years in college, she suddenly dropped out. A) To graduate with honors B) To stop attending school before finishing C) To fall down the stairs My manager handed out the reports during the meeting. A) To give something to many people in a group B) To throw something away C) To write a report by hand I had to fill out a form. A) To complete a document by writing information B) To make something bigger C) To throw a paper in the trash I ran into some old friends yesterday. A) To race against someone B) To meet someone by chance (unexpectedly) C) To call someone on purpose We will pick up our parents from the airport tonight. A) To lift something heavy B) To collect someone in a car C) To say goodbye When are you going to give up smoking? A) To start a new habit B) To stop doing something C) To buy something expensive My teacher crossed out my mistakes with a red pen. A) To draw a line through something B) To highlight something important C) To give a good grade I should go over my notes before my presentation. A) To lose your papers B) To review or check something carefully C) To write new notes

I am teaching science for grade 5 about electromagnet.please make a multple choice type of quiz

Assessment (4th Grade Social Studies and Science) Standards: L.4.1 Demonstrate command of the conventions of standard English grammar and usage when writing or speaking. a. Use relative pronouns (who, whose, whom, which, that) and relative adverbs (where, when, why). b. Form and use the progressive (e.g., I was walking; I am walking; I will be walking) verb tenses. c. Use modal auxiliaries (e.g., can, may, must) to convey various conditions. d. Order adjectives within sentences according to conventional patterns (e.g., a small red bag rather than a red small bag). e. Form and use prepositional phrases. f. Produce complete sentences, recognizing and correcting inappropriate fragments and run-ons. g. Correctly use frequently confused words (e.g., to, too, two; there, their). 4.LS.1: Changes in an organism’s environment are sometimes beneficial to its survival and sometimes harmful.

Tagalog Word English Meaning English Sentence tulad like / similar to This fruit looks like (tulad) an apple. baitang grade / step I am in Grade (baitang) 4 this year. libangan hobby / pastime Reading is my favorite hobby (libangan). kapag when / if I smile when (kapag) I see my dog. nagigising waking up She is waking up (nagigising) early. nagsusuot wearing He is wearing (nagsusuot) a jacket. damit clothes My clothes (damit) are clean. iyon that (far) That (iyon) is my old toy. para for / stop (for jeepney) This gift is for (para) you. almusal breakfast I had rice and eggs for breakfast (almusal). bago before / new I wash my hands before (bago) eating. magsipilyo to brush teeth Don’t forget to brush (magsipilyo) your teeth. ayusin to fix Let’s fix (ayusin) your messy hair. buhok hair Her hair (buhok) is long and curly. ihatid to bring / drop off I will bring (ihatid) you to school. naglalakad walking We are walking (naglalakad) to the park. papuntang going to He is going to (papuntang) the store. kaibigan friend My friend (kaibigan) is kind. pag-uwi going home I rest after going home (pag-uwi). hawakan to hold Please hold (hawakan) my hand. bahay house / home This is our house (bahay). Make a quiz using this gagalog vocabularies

Gr''ade 3 Questions based on this chapter: English Alexander was a king of the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedonia. By the age of thirty, he had created one of the largest empires in the world, stretching from Greece to northwestern India. When Alexander was young, a trader brought a horse which was difficult to mount. Let us read about how Alexander tames the horse. One day King Philip bought a fine horse. He was a strong animal and the king paid a high price for him. But he was wild and no man could mount him, or do anything at all with him. This horse is really wild. It cannot be tamed by the royal men. Many have tried and failed. We tried everything possible, your Majesty. We tried to whip him but that only made him worse. Glossary wild rough/harsh mount a horse to climb onto the back of a horse to tame to control whip to beat using a long rope King Philip asked his men to take the horse away. It is a pity to send such a fine horse away. I think the men do not know how to tame him. I can try taming this beautiful horse. Perhaps you can do better than them. But be careful, my son. You are still very young to mount this violent animal. Alexander wanted to (mount/feed/tame/ ride) the horse. If you would give me the order, I will try. I am sure I can manage this horse better than anyone else. Antonym(s) worse x better young x old fail x succeed If I fail, I will pay you the price of the horse, Father. The courtiers told Alexander that it might be dangerous for a young boy to try taming the wild horse. They laughed at him. Alexander went near the horse and turned his head towards the sun. He had noticed that the horse was afraid of his own shadow. I will name you Bucephalus. Stay calm and I will do no harm. The horse was afraid of his own (body/courtiers/King Philip/shadow). English He then spoke gently to the horse. Bucephalus means 'ox-head'— head of an ox, in Ancient Greek. When he had quietened him a little, he made a quick spring and leapt upon the horse's back. I thought the little prince would be killed by this dangerous animal. What a miracle! The horse has recognized the young prince as his master. Alexander let the horse run. When Bucephalus had become tired of running, Alexander reined him in and rode back to the place where his father was standing. Glossary noticed (here) to see afraid scared/frightened calm quiet gently softly quietened to become calmer and less noisy a miracle a wonder/unusual event to rein to check or guide a horse Look at the young prince! He is mounted well! But the horse is still wild! Antonym(s); laughed x cried afraid x brave. English When he reached the place where his father was standing, he leapt to the ground. His father ran and kissed him. Dear Father! I shall add My son! Macedonia is a small kingdom more territories and bring for you. You must seek a larger kingdom glory to our kingdom. that will be worthy of you. Fascinating Fact(s) Alexandria Bucephalus was a city founded by Alexander in memory of his loyal horse Bucephalus. During Alexander's invasion of India, he had fought against the Indian King, Porus, near the river Hydaspes (modern day river Jhelum, Pakistan). His horse Bucephalus died there and he honoured his horse by naming the city after it. Antonym(s) worthy x unworthy proud x ashamed You have carried me across countries and stood bravely beside me as I fought to win the numerous fierce battles. You have saved my life many times. I am truly proud of you, Bucephalus. (Mesopotamia/Minneapolis/ Macedonia/Minnesota) was a small kingdom for Alexander to rule. Glossary numerous many fierce strong and violent Alexander and Bucephalus were said to be always together, for when one of them was seen, the other was sure to be not far away. Bucephalus would never allow anyone to mount him, but his master. Alexander became the most famous king and warrior, and for that reason, he is called 'Alexander the Great!.

“On this night, we share a roof protecting us from fleets of inequity. Our unification promises a better tomorrow. Those larger than myself, sitting on their marble thrones, sipping blood from cups composed of human skin and singing songs of so-called virtue, grow weaker each moment. Their caravans are revolting. There is hope yet. There is progress! Though tonight may mark a countdown, it is still a celebration. Look at all we have done, not just for Trials but for Palatium Infra as a whole. In four years, when I’m no longer Sovereignty, the Spoiled Purity and his people will continue to strive. So drink! Smoke! Crush up those exotic plants and snort them! We will not falter, weaken, or wane. Our influence is expanding, and somebody new opens their eyes every day. Even the Silbys of Aculeus have reached alarming potentials despite their embittered minds. So long as you relish in tonight, dance, and pray to your “dead” Gods, our revolution shall rise beyond the bounds of class, and when I’m only a commoner, we shall rise again beyond our brainwashed adversaries! Cheers, my people. Cheers!” Followers raised their cups. Some clinked theirs together. Others stood still and screamed breathlessly in agreement. I smiled with courtesy, then stepped off my platform. My voice still rang across the cellar. Speeches before were grander. Those displays were supposed to be emptying, and yet this one left me bloated, swollen tight. I watched as they popped the corks of their bottles and chanted in the name of Purity. Maybe the quality of my words wasn’t what mattered to them anyway, so long as I screamed loud enough. There’s no merit in attacking your people, a voice corrected me. “That’s right,” I said aloud. “Knox, my-my Sovereign!” squealed a nearby devotee, jittering as he stuffed his face with catered pastries. He was one I’d never seen before or had failed to remember. “Look what I’ve found! It’s wine, and not the shoddy Infran kind, either. Earth-made with good fruit! I don’t know how anyone managed to get their hands on this. Maybe some space travel mischief.” He giggled and held up a small glass bottle. “How neat.” “I want you to have it, Sir.” I nodded my head. “Yes, of course. Thank you.” Backing off into the midst of rowdy disciples, I clutched the bottle. What a waste of grapes. It could have been jam instead. Earthly food had a superior taste, ripe with delicate intricacies and nostalgia, but Palatium Infra had mastered the art of alcohol. Why waste your time with a drunkenness so sad and sickening? The booze of trash. Not many more followers approached me. The barren peroration must have upset them. My hands itched to submerge into my suit pockets, and my legs stood suddenly numb, wobbling. Four more years until I’m nothing. But tonight, you are nothing. “Shut up,” I told myself. Tightly packed together in the corner of the dwelling sat the Sibyls. A mound of writhing fabric and tones of skin made up their unified silhouette. I snapped the strap of the nearest gown, balancing on my hands and knees, waving the bottle before them. In their almost rodent nature, narrow noses prodded my way. Their dresses wrinkled and fell to their ankles. Knees dropped, and eyes widened. Many grumbled at me like hungry she-beasts. Those newer ones with faded curtains for hair, sunken eyes, and dirtied nails looked, hid their face, then sobbed. I imagined them in a pack together, fighting wildly against the Spoiled Purity in their rat decorum–biting down with square teeth laced with rabies. “I’ve got you all something,” I said. “Go back off to your pedestal and yap some more. We don’t want it.” A woman rose from the pile and spat. “You don’t even know what it is yet. It's Earth hooch, or more likely a near-flawless replica. I figured you girls would also like a chance to enjoy yourselves tonight.” “Your playmates have been harassing us since the moment you hung the banners and opened the cellar door.” The youngest, with a striking cyan mop upon her head, uncoiled from the mass. What was she now? 20, 21? We celebrated a birthday recently, I thought as she spun around me. “I remember something about a promise. Multiple promises, actually. Are you trying to bribe us into just shutting up and taking it? Because if another sticky, 40-year-old, Earth-born virgin gropes my shoulder, I’m going to have an aneurysm!” the girl continued. “Why not an Infran follower? Do you like it when they touch you?” I returned her accusing tone. “I’m sorry, sweet prophets, that you feel I’ve neglected my duties. I’ll keep a better eye out. Remember, you can always just holler if somebody is bothering you. And Anwen, friend, if I’ve ever tried to bribe you with anything, it was certainly the hair dye. I mean, look at you! Such handsomeness!” I exclaimed. The other Siblys began to encircle her, uttering compliments or even announcements of their envy. Anwen disappeared in a wink with flushed cheeks back into the mound. “I’ll just leave this here.” Smiling, I set down the bottle. ** “141, 143. . .” I counted each step as I trekked the staircase. There was no doubt I lost track somewhere. The ledges kept spawning under my feet, infinitely multiplying until I wasn’t moving at all–swallowing me up in a whirlpool of stone. My tie still hung around my neck, and my blazer remained tied around my hips as a skirt. Streaks of red dribbled off from the cavity in my chest. It was a gorgeous marking, sensual to my fingertips as I traced its edges. Purity, oh, Purity. Purity and his wings of burnt skin. Purity and his many faces. Purity the spoiled. Purity the mutilated. The Silbys did not bother waiting for me. On bare feet, they stormed up the stairs to their room. A trail of red, though in paint unlike mine, streamed after them. None looked remotely near me as they squeaked and gossiped intangibly. I saved them, those Infran broads, enlightened them. As much as they liked to deny it, spit at me, and bask in the thought of their victimhood, in this home, they stood empowered. You’ve done well, my thoughts affirmed, though in the manner of an insincere commentator rather than a hype man. Teeth grace in tile violin goes laundry paper when. It dissolved into an intruding drivel. I rubbed my head and sniveled. “Do you need help, Knox?” called a Silby. Fattened by my coddling, her shadow fell upon me from the doorway steps ahead. I attempted counting again. There must’ve been at least another hundred between me and her. “I’m hallucinating some,” I said, breathing deeply to suppress a burp as I struggled to recall her name. Two syllables. Typically Latin, though sometimes English. Drops of slobber leaked from my mouth. “I’m hallucinating some, Tybal. Do you like your name, Tybal? I would have named you something better. Ty-Tyballinia. No, we’d have to eliminate the ‘ball’ aspect. It sounds too crude.” “One foot in front of the other,” she said. So I walked. Mess greeted me at the doorway. Dirtied culinary obscured the dark wooden countertops, and the sink lay running. I approached the kitchen table, sat, and set my face down upon its cool wooden surface. Assaulting my nose was the smell of neglected flowers, like soil mixed with the kind of sweet cough medicine that would have left me gagging as a child. Open windows whispered songs of the twilight hour through the vessels of busy trolleys and shooting guns. My mouth strained to vomit, but there was nothing in my stomach to regurgitate except the petals of Stulto’s bloom, which came out effortlessly in little sputters. Teetering, I stood up and brushed disgorged plant parts off the tabletop. “Love,” I said as I slogged up yet another staircase. “Are you awake?” She said she’d wait. Somebody’s gotten her. No, she always misses movie night. That sleepyhead, I assured myself. There was a stirring amidst the manor’s cloak of dusk. Portraits of myself, my wife, and my daughter turned to face me as the hallway lights flickered, escaping their quartz frames to penetrate my ears with nonsense. The taxidermied heads of Infran creatures bared their teeth. I stopped to stare at my favorite, an adabactor with daunting spiked tusks poking out from its forehead. Its nose remained black and sharp, and its eyes wide with malice. “Where is my Spes, Adaba-boy? Is she sleepy?” There’s someone in the house. The sounds of the stirring rose along with my blood pressure. Footsteps orbited around me, drawing near and far and then near again, little dancers in the dark. The carpet immersed me in its mass of purples and blues, leaving my skin stained indigo and my vision abstracted. I toiled to reach the master bedroom across the aisle as it stretched out to me with bright lights and celestial howling, like a dove struggling in a pool of oil. Never again with Stulto’s bloom. Never again on what was already a bad night. My hand brushed the doorknob, and the high abruptly faded into only a persistent hum-buzz twirling around my brain. The portraits returned to their typical depression–Spes posing with her ax, Ari’s school photo, and myself in the cap I wore when addressing the military with the Verbis emblem embroidered in its center. All lifeless shots. Who were they for when they captured not the subject’s essence but only some fragment of their identity? They used to feel personal, not advertisements of some supposed characters. Servants, babysitters, and likewise civilian guests, I reminded myself, mustn’t forget whose home they’re in. Yet my body moved independently, taking Ari’s from its hook and laying it backward against the wall to hide her distant grin and tamed posture. It was time for new pictures. Sweet ones, real ones; time was ticking. I approached my own when the stirring began again. Groans and squeals erupted from the vents as if someone had set a pen of pigs loose in my crawlspace. No, not the crawlspace, my bedroom door. I turned the ruby knob. Underneath a blanket wrestled my two squealing piglets, their skins melting together beneath the layer of duvet. Fishnet leggings and manicured nails outstretched and scraped at the sheet beneath them. One raised its head, a salmon-colored man with sweat running down his forehead. Through the crack in the door, we met eyes, his Infran Dr. Sesuss nose flaring its narrow nostrils. No mark of the Spoiled Purity existed carved onto his naked body. My chest felt tight. I stepped back. I was suffocating. Spes emerged from the linens, her hair flowing down her back and her dark skin glistening in front of the bedroom window. She giggled and held the man, the blanket falling and revealing inches of her body I had not seen in months. “Darling,” whispered the rosy-faced man, “look.” He was unfathomably ugly and grotesquely young, with beady, lifeless pupils that dilated when he faced me. The excess flesh on his face sagged while he bit down on his thin lips. My wife faced me, gasped, and strained to cover herself. Suddenly, I was a stranger. A small child who had walked into his parents having sex. I unfurled the door completely. “Get out of my house,” I said. The man stayed in place. “Get out of my house,” I repeated. “Knox,” Spes began. Tears ran down her round cheeks. “Shut up!” I turned to the man, picking up a marble trophy from on top of my dresser. “Get out of my house! I’ll kill you!” “Knox!” Spes sobbed. “God damn it! I hate you! You barely look at me. Every day, there’s less passion. God, God, God, I don’t want to fuck a dead man!” she screamed, “You get out! Get! Get!” My hands wrapped tighter around the statue. That pig of a man was attached to her at the side, his face equipped with a scowl that challenged mine. He thought I was weak; frail like a decaying dementia-ridden senior. I imagined his skull bashed in, his scowl gone, and the feist and confidence in his face beaten into numbness. A new portrait was in order of such brutality, him as a splintered slab of wood, rashed and beaten, a carcass licking my boot. The churning in my brain had come back. Every wall shook. Clock faces came to life and rang in alarm. Indescribable noises caressed my eardrum before breaking into sorrowful weeps. Was it my own? I stared at Spes in motionless frenzy, clenched my teeth, and screamed like a siren. Passionless. What a lie! An excuse, more like. One that erased all my ventures, reducing me to a nobody. But I was not a nobody. I thought of my sect, my campaigns, my endurance through the political brutality of my empty hive-mind world–even my collection of literature, maps, and artifacts. I thought of daring nights alone with Spes when we were young, ravaging each other, two sardonic eggheads suddenly overcome with desire. The veins in my neck throbbed as I gasped for air. It was all I had. I threw the figurine at the man’s head. Eye shut, I heard the thud. A million singing voices of victory flooded out of the cracks in the floorboard. Proving myself a man to the woman I loved in a display of fervent violence was passion. I strained my ears for his cries, though I did not look yet. There had to be a pause, a moment of relief, where I stood tall as a skyscraper and seemingly fought to stay contained in front of my wife and her wounded, quivering paramour. Frantic footsteps rushed off the bed and past my side. I turned and grappled against myself to seize my wife’s shoulder. “Spes!” My eyelids lifted. Escaping was the man with that same numb expression in which I had imagined him. “You’re insane,” he said. I swiveled back towards the bed. With her curly locks flowing over her breasts and her limbs bent at her sides, Spes sat limp pressed against the headboard, her forehead bludgeoned and the statue resting on her stomach. Lips pursed and sweet, my Renaissance beauty reclined there in the guise of a squashed bug. But she was not dead. The desk ornament I flung was only the size of my shoe. Spes, that dramatist, may have been slightly hurt but was far from dead. She only wanted me to think she was to observe me at my most distraught, like a leech feeding on misery. “Get up.” Staggering toward the bed, I said. “You wanted passion? I showed you passion. ‘Shoved it right into your head. Of course, we both know who that gesture was meant for. . .” I fumbled to find my wit. Cold skin met my hands as I stroked her face, unable to resist checking her pulse, even though she was not dead. “I love you, Spes,” I said. Rain pelted against a nearby window. “Spes, please. Please.” No vibration answered my plea. I lifted my hand, sitting next to her now. Tears did not come. There was not any blood on the trophy, but when I picked it up, it felt to be now only a cruel instrument. It depicted a younger me in white marble, with my glasses and collared shirt being the only things painted. Both were in pink. It was a favorable color. I scrambled from the bed to vomit pure digestive bile on the rug. My stomach heaved. I ran my nails along every piece of myself I saw, a dog chasing my tail. As I slammed myself against walls and convulsed, my own heart grew ever louder in my chest. “Dad? I heard–” Ari’s slippered feet hammered across the floor. “Mom? Mom?” I kept my eyes on the storm. Silence fell. “She-She isn’t—your—.” Gasps interrupted every syllable she spoke. “You’re a murderer. Bad. Like they said,” she breathed, “ You beat her!” The words became mush, alphabet soup. Ari ran back down the hall. “My-My mom is dead. . . .Yes. . . Manor of the Trials Sovereignty. . .Ari Sorkin. . . I’m afraid he’s going to hurt me,” she said, presumably over the phone. It was all too fast. I crawled onto the windowsill, opened the glass, and let myself plummet into the alley below. Gusts of wind howled. The lack of motion or sensation informed me I had passed and again lived. Another Palatium Infra, another strange planet in which the celestial endowed rotting men with the opportunity to inhabit. Was this it? Was it all just an impossible limbo of galactic traveling? My surroundings were overwhelmingly gray, an abyss of clouds. Perhaps I had now met the real coming world, and my family and old friends lived here, ready to rush to my sides, lift me up, and jump for joy. Spes would be there. She would be enraged, but at least she’d be there. You are a bad man. You are a bad man. My eyelashes fluttered. There was a tugging sensation in my leg. The fog was wavering along with my ascendance. “No,” I yearned, trying to grip the clouds and stick them in place. “Stay with me.” But the peace was fleeting. I felt the cement under me and the moist garments clinging to my figure. My leg burned. Carefully, I craned my neck, only to observe the promenade as my surroundings. The most underwhelming of filth and danger, individually Infran. Forever my coming world. What a fool I was, having forgotten my blessing. Those idiot Gods could not tell the difference between assassination and self-infliction; a faulty insurance plan. The urge to cry at last set over me, and so I sat and wailed hot salvia into my palm, shielding my mouth to muffle the noise. Thunder echoed my hushed howling. Raindrops turned to pebbles. Under the ambiance of the stormy night, I could have sworn I heard troops stomping, guns cocking, and the chanting of my name. They had all been waiting for this. Billboards came to life, and I could only sit and spectate as the scenery flashed red. I inhaled fear and sobriety through runny nostrils. “Trials Sovereign Vsevolod “Knox” Sorkin is currently at large for the suspected homicide of Spes Sorkin, breaking the first term of the Sovereignty Charter. We now instruct you to report any sightings of the Earth-born, caucasian, roughly 195 centimeters tall, brown-haired, and brown-eyed man to your local Guard post. One can identify the suspected convict specifically by an occult tattoo of Purity’s Coronet on his lower back. No attempted execution or elongated punishment will take place until our Guards conduct an autopsy proving his guilt, per Life’s 1238 commandment. We cannot be sure when or if the Gods will revoke his blessing. Remember, when Gods frown upon strife, opt for a peaceful life. We permit all grieving festivities until Cagidus 4th. Good year!” towering buildings sang out in broadcast, repeating that same convoluted message quicker the instant it ended. Sometimes, the announcer spoke in Latin for the Infran children, other times in Chinese, Hindi, or Spanish to cater to those of irrelevant tongues. You aren’t a bad man. You are a stupid boy. Puddles sloshed. Somebody was approaching. I didn’t dare waste any remaining energy avoiding the Guards and their prodding blades. How did that phrase go? You dug your grave. Now lie in it. And so I embraced the cement. “Knox?” said the Guard. No, her tone was too sincere, and no authority would proceed in such a manner. There wasn’t confirmation on whether or not I was armed, and it wasn’t as if she could shoot me first. She was a partygoer, having just left from the cellar’s backdoor. I shooed her away with my hand. She hovered, and I discerned her shadow hesitating over my body. A man could not rot in peace. “Come on, get up! They’re after you!” Hands reached around my torso, struggling to handle my weight as they urged me onto my feet. That leg, the burning one, my right, trembled and bent unnaturally upon impact with the ground. The partygoer slung my arm over her shoulder, balancing me. My eyes caught a glimpse of a cyan mop. “Anwen?” I rasped, “hu-who let you out?” Keys jangled in her hands–my keys. “I escaped,” she said casually, coercing me to walk beside her. “Quicken your pace. I just heard somebody on your front porch. ‘You see that compost bin down the alley? We’re gonna burrow right down into the depth of that. If they open it and uncover us, I’ll be on top, and I can hide you and act like I’m just a homeless amica trying to take a nap.” With a tightening grip, she led me like livestock to the stinking crate. “I don’t understand, Anwen,” I said. “They’re going to torture and kill you, stupid. You know they’ve been wanting to, and you just handed the opportunity to them!” “I understand that.” It was becoming increasingly challenging to hide the fragility emerging in my voice. “You said you were escaping. Why stop and help your captor?” “What else could I do? Leave you there?” Attempts to shove my wounded body inside its mass of discarded fruits and vegetables began. She yanked down upon my head and submerged me in the fertilizer sea. The evidence grows indisputable, I thought as I stared at the abruptly humane Infran girl, diving in after me, that I belong here. “Damn me to hell! I’ve killed her! My love is dead!” an uncontrollable cry leaped from my mouth. “Shut up! Soon you’ll be, too, if you don’t quiet down.” The actual noise of the Guards darted past us: disorientated marching, guns clanking against each other, cluttered belts rattling, the Latin squawking. One paused to open the bin’s lid, though only rummaged through the surface layer of peat before carrying on. “What are they talking about? I struggle with my Latin,” I whispered. “The search, mainly.” Aggression remained firey in Anwen’s clenched jaw. Though she sat on top of me, there was a monumental distance between our rain-soaked forms. I curled up into a ball, ducked my head between my knees, and dreamt of Spes, ignoring the stench of spoiled food rising from every crevice of my dwelling. The next coming world was due to adopt me again as I forced sleep. I prayed for a canyon of fluffy haze, where I waltzed with pale memories but found nothing but the petrifying stillness of my mind. Killed and ran. Violent as a Guard just to prove a point and watch it backfire. Why would any heaven want to welcome me? I clung to the picture of Spes in my head like it was the last ember of an extinguished flame. “Did you mean to kill her?” Anwen interrogated. “Someone like you would immutably believe yes.” “And who is someone like me? You can’t even treat me like a person for a moment, can you?” grating drama decorated her words. “You know my opinions. I have not seen much of your or your breed’s faces besides that of cruelty and ignorance.” I retorted. “I just saved you! Does that make me cruel and ignorant?” “It makes you an idiot, which is another word for somebody ignorant.” “And why am I an idiot?” She asked. “Because you helping me does no good. Thank you anyhow. Now, do yourself a favor and scram.” As she bent her leg in anticipation, preparing to strike me on the forehead, I sensed an invisible withdrawal widening the gap between us. “You never answered my question,” Anwen took me by the end of my tattered tie suddenly and started her game of shepherd and sheep over again, pulling me back up to the crate’s exit. It appeared as a shining light at the end of a maze of rubbish and mold. “No. Of course not. Spes was my everything,” I sniffled. “I knew it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hit us, let alone murder your wife. The girls and I always figured you were sensitive.” My heart rate quickened. Today was one of humbling and misery–one to pray a hail spike would fall from the sky as sharp as a needle, pierce into my eyelid, and lobotomize me. I wished I could have merely died or hit my head hard enough not to have to deal with it all. No, I wished I was Anwen with her snarky, careless glow and lack of depth in her eyes. As we emerged from the compost bin together, I fantasized about strangling her until her face turned purple, her weakening spirit no longer categorizing me as “sensitive”, but the thought could only remind me of wielding that trophy and the microscopic traces of my wife’s tender skin tainting it, which turned my guts inside out. “That’s why I think you could use a little help,” Anwen said, “It seems like you can’t walk, either. Your leg is all twisted up.” She undid one of her trim pigtails and handed me the band. “Take off your tie and put up your hair. ‘Will make you less recognizable. Then swallow your pride and stick with me.”

Figlio di un decurione, Patricio, ancora pagano, e della cristiana Monnica, fu iscritto tra i catecumeni; compì gli studi in patria, a Madaura, poi a Cartagine: periodo da lui descritto come di abbandono alle passioni amorose. Da una concubina ebbe nel 372 un figlio, Adeodato. La lettura dell'Hortensius ciceroniano lo attrasse, diciannovenne, alla filosofia, e aderì presto al manicheismo, presentatogli come spiegazione scientifica dell'universo. Se ne fece anzi propagandista a Tagaste, dopo la morte del padre, e a Cartagine ove ottenne qualche successo come retore, e scrisse il suo primo libro, De pulchro et apto (perduto), in cui pare si sforzasse a dare veste filosofica al manicheismo, nel quale era però rimasto semplice uditore. Passò poi, abbandonando la madre, a Roma; quindi, su raccomandazione di Simmaco, come professore ufficiale di retorica (autunno 384), a Milano, ove maturò la crisi spirituale, in seguito alla quale, dimessa la concubina e rinunciando al matrimonio vantaggioso per cui insisteva Monnica, si decise ad abbracciare il cristianesimo, che gli si palesava, allora, come in pieno e perfetto accordo con la filosofia neoplatonica e la predicazione di s. Ambrogio. A Cassiciacum (probabilmente Cassago, in Brianza), dimessosi dalla cattedra, scrisse le prime opere pervenuteci (i dialoghi Contra academicos, De vita beata, De ordine e Soliloquia) e cominciò a comporre una serie di manuali delle arti liberali; fu battezzato da s. Ambrogio la notte del sabato santo (24-25 aprile) del 387. Trascorse a Roma l'inverno (Monnica morì ad Ostia nel novembre) e tornò a Tagaste, continuando, nella vita monastica, la sua attività di scrittore. Nel 391 fu ordinato sacerdote a Ippona, ove, tra la fine del 395 e il 396, fu consacrato come successore dal vescovo Valerio già prossimo a morte; lo stesso fece poi (426) A. col prete Eraclio. Le reliquie, portate in Sardegna da s. Fulgenzio e altri vescovi esuli nel 486, furono dopo l'invasione saracena trasportate, per opera del re Liutprando, a Pavia ove gli fu eretto il monumento: ma che fossero di lui quelle ritrovate nel 1695 fu contrastato dal Muratori e da altri. Nei 34 anni di episcopato lo tennero occupato, oltre le cure costanti dedicate alla sua chiesa, la copiosa corrispondenza (ci sono giunte 218 lettere di A., oltre i trattatelli in forma epistolare, e 53 dirette a lui), la predicazione (i sermoni conservati e noti finora sono più di 500), i concilî e le eresie e scismi, la lotta contro i quali assorbì grandissima parte dell'attività letteraria, che ha reso A. proverbiale come uno non solo dei più dotti e profondi, ma dei più fecondi scrittori mai esistiti. Appunto le polemiche, insieme con la conversione, l'ordinazione e la consacrazione, contrassegnano, all'ingrosso, anche periodi dello svolgimento del pensiero di lui. Con la conversione comincia la polemica contro i manichei, già accennata nei "Dialoghi di Cassiciaco" e continuata in una serie di scritti per lo più filosofico-religiosi (per es. De quantitate animae, De libero arbitrio, il libro VI De musica, De magistro, De vera religione, De utilitate credendi), in cui vediamo A. passare gradatamente dall'affermazione della superiorità essenziale della ragione sulla fede, a quella dell'utilità e ragionevolezza dell'affidarsi all'auctoritas fondata sulla rivelazione e universalmente riconosciuta, della Chiesa; ed elaborare insieme la sua caratteristica dottrina della conoscenza. La felicità, cui gli uomini aspirano, non si consegue senza il possesso della verità. Contro gli scettici, egli usa l'argomento principe: se dubito, so di dubitare, dunque di essere; se sbaglio, sono (motivo che da taluni storici della filosofia viene indicato tra gli antecedenti del dubbio cartesiano: non sfugge comunque il diverso contesto). Ma la verità va cercata in me stesso: è la dottrina neoplatonica del ritorno su sé stessa dell'anima, che, riconosciuta la mutevolezza del mondo esteriore, percepito dai sensi, e la sua propria, si avvia a ricercare la verità immutabile, per cui è vero ogni ragionamento vero, e che è Dio medesimo. I sensi, dunque, e anche le parole del maestro, non fanno se non ridestare idee, che sono già nell'anima: non però nel senso della dottrina platonica della reminiscenza, ma in quanto in interiore homine habitat veritas, parla cioè, in fondo all'anima, il Maestro interiore, il Verbo divino; nell'uomo (in interiore homine) brilla la luce del vero che dona a ciascuno le rationes aeternae, principio e fondamento di ogni giudizio. È questa la teoria detta dell'illuminazione, che, non del tutto chiarita da A., si presta a varie interpretazioni (secondo che le rationes aeternae si intendano come "idee innate", o come "categorie" del giudizio); essa si collega alla dottrina del "maestro interiore", il Verbo, il solo vero maestro: sicché l'insegnare degli uomini è solo un preparare ad ascoltare la voce del Verbo divino. Queste dottrine furono da A. mantenute anche in opere posteriori ma il primitivo entusiasmo per Platone, Plotino e i "platonici" (che, se fossero vissuti ora, - dice - si sarebbero fatti cristiani) e per i neoplatonici si affievolì col tempo. La polemica antimanichea venne continuata in altri scritti (per es. Contra Adimantum, Contra epistolam Manichaei quam vocant fundamenti) fino al voluminoso Contra Faustum e ad altri opuscoli fino al 405 circa, poi sporadicamente in un paio di opuscoli e, in parte, nel trattatello contro tutte le eresie (De haeresibus, 428-29). L'ordinazione sacerdotale obbliga A. a spiegare al popolo i libri sacri; egli partecipa più intimamente della vita della Chiesa e viene a conoscere lo scisma che tormenta la Chiesa africana. Comincia così la polemica contro il donatismo, con l'interessante Psalmus abecedarius contra partem Donati, primo esempio degli scritti popolareggianti di A. (versi di 16 sillabe, abbandono della prosodia e metrica classica, assonanza in e), poi con una serie di opere (Contra epistolam Parmeniani, De baptismo, Contra litteras Petiliani, Contra Cresconium) fino alla grande "conferenza" di Cartagine (411; Breviculus collationis cum donatistis) quindi, con minor frequenza di scritti, sino al Contra Gaudentium (420 circa). In questa polemica, che lo portò a occuparsi dell'ecclesiologia, A. segue s. Cipriano e s. Ottato mantenendo fermissimo il principio della validità ed efficacia obiettiva (ex opere operato) dei Sacramenti, la cattolicità e l'unità della Chiesa, fuori della quale non v'è salvezza e che è corpus permixtum: ne fanno parte cioè grano e zizzania, buoni e malvagi, che soltanto Gesù Cristo ha diritto di separare nel giorno del Giudizio. Ma mentre all'inizio, e ancora nel 411, A. non voleva ricorrere ad altro mezzo che la persuasione attraverso la discussione, tuttavia, con le leggi di Onorio contro gli scismatici e di fronte alla loro ostinazione, cambiò parere: e come dalla netta distinzione tra scisma ed eresia passò a definire questa quale "scisma inveterato", così ammise la legittimità e necessità della coercizione e del ricorso all'autorità civile, fissando altresì il dovere per il sovrano cristiano di attenersi al magistero della chiesa.Ma con l'ordinazione A. si dedica anche con maggiore intensità allo studio della Bibbia: specialmente del Genesi, passando dall'interpretazione strettamente allegorica (De Genesi adversus Manichaeos, 388-90) a quella letterale, e insieme di valore filosofico (De Genesi ad litteram liber imperfectus), e di s. Paolo (Expositio quarundam propositionum ex Epistola ad Romanos, Epistolae ad Romanos expositio inchoata, Expositio Epistolae ad Galatas, parecchie delle questioni trattate nel De diversis quaestionibus octogintatribus). Cogliamo qui un momento importantissimo nello svolgimento del pensiero teologico di A., e oggetto di molte discussioni. Egli si è sforzato di mantenere in primo luogo la giustizia di Dio, che premia i buoni, cioè coloro che credendo si acquistano un merito, e che punisce i malvagi. Ma, dopo un lungo sforzo, A. viene a riconoscere che il momento iniziale dell'atto di fede, l'initium fidei, che è initium salutis, non è opera dell'uomo ma viene da Dio: al quale non si può tuttavia rimproverare alcuna ingiustizia, se, gratuitamente, fa grazia ad alcuni; mentre gli uomini tutti, in cui sopravvive il peccato originale, non meritano se non la condanna. Questi concetti appaiono per la prima volta con tutta chiarezza, nel primo scritto posteriore all'episcopato di A., il De diversis quaestionibus ad Simplicianum. Frutto di questa conquista del suo pensiero, che lo induce a rimeditare sulla sua vita, si possono considerare le Confessioni (398 circa), nelle quali, altresì, sono ripresi altri due temi che lo appassionano: quello della cultura cristiana e quello dei principî che presiedono all'interpretazione della Scrittura. La prima questione è da lui affrontata sotto l'aspetto teorico nel De doctrina christiana (interrotto, ma ripreso e terminato nel 426): come anche nelle Confessioni A. è sensibile ai pericoli della cultura tradizionale, pagana, ma vuole salvarne il buono, che va assunto e fatto proprio dal cristianesimo. Così, conchiudendo una lunga controversia, A. assicura col peso della sua autorità la trasmissione della cultura antica. Ma nelle Confessioni il problema della memoria (in essa è la misura del tempo) trascina seco quello della creazione. A. la ritiene avvenuta nel tempo, anzi col tempo, dal nulla, e per tutte le cose simultaneamente, ma non allo stesso modo: ché alcune furono create da Dio non in atto e nella loro forma perfetta, ma solo in potenza, o in germe (rationes seminales, energie latenti destinate a svilupparsi nel tempo e a produrre, al momento opportuno per ciascuno, i diversi esseri). A queste conclusioni A. è portato da un nuovo studio dei primi 3 capitoli del Genesi (De Genesi ad litteram libri XII, tra il 401 circa e il 415 circa). Accanto al quale, tra le opere esegetiche, vanno ricordati il De consensu evangelistarum (400 circa), le Enarrationes in Psalmos, e i Tractatus in evangelium Iohannis, raccolte di sermoni su questi libri. Ma nelle Confessioni A. ha inserito anche un'istruzione catechetica (proprio con il commento al Genesi), affine a quella da lui data in un'altra operetta, il De catechizandis rudibus (400 circa). E il motivo della memoria, che appare nelle Confessioni, diventa importantissimo in un altro trattato su cui A. si affaticò lungo (400 circa -416 circa): il De Trinitate. L'anima è un pensiero (mens) da cui nasce una conoscenza (notitia), e nel suo rapportarsi a questa conoscenza nasce l'amore che essa si porta (amor). Nell'anima o, meglio, nella memoria, nell'intelletto e nella volontà, nella parte cioè più alta e nobile di essa, che ricorda, comprende e ama sé stessa, ma soprattutto ricorda, conosce e ama Dio, A. scorge le "vestigia" della Trinità divina. Di essa, criticando talvolta le formule di s. Ilario di Poitiers, egli mette in rilievo l'unità di sostanza, insistendo sull'uguaglianza delle tre Persone: le operazioni ad extra sono l'opera indistinta di tutte, ciò che si dice di ciascuna quanto alla sostanza, e anche alla sapienza e altri attributi, è comune, uguale, identico e numericamente uno in tutte; mentre esse si distinguono e si oppongono secondo le loro relazioni reciproche. Teoria che, chiarendo la processione dello Spirito Santo principaliter, sì, dal Padre, ma anche dal Figlio, divenne importantissima per lo svolgimento della teologia occidentale, cui A. ha legato il carattere "cristocentrico", conforme alla tendenza fondamentale del suo pensiero, aggirantesi intorno alla persona e all'opera del Cristo ed alla redenzione dell'uomo dal peccato, mercé la grazia. Intorno a questi temi scoppiò la polemica con Pelagio, già scandalizzatosi in Roma per l'invocazione delle Confessioni a Dio: da quod iubes et iube quod vis e ora rifugiatosi in Africa con il suo compagno Celestio (che, denunciato da Paolino di Milano, venne condannato nel 411 da un concilio locale, a Cartagine). Si possono distinguere in essa varie fasi: quella iniziale, in cui A. combatte ancora soltanto le dottrine, non gli uomini, che sa molto stimati (De peccatorum meritis et remissione, a Marcellino, il l. III composto dopo che A. ebbe conosciuto il commento di Pelagio a s. Paolo; De spiritu et littera ad Marcellinum e, a complemento, per asserire la necessità delle opere buone accanto alla fede, De fide et operibus; nonché il De bono viduitatis, dedicato a Giuliana, madre di Demetriade, in occasione della monacazione di questa); quella della polemica diretta, provocata dalle vicende di Pelagio in Oriente fino alla condanna da parte del papa Innocenzo I (con la celebre affermazione che, dopo tanti concilî, anche Roma locuta est; causa finita est; utinam aliquando finiatur error) e, dopo il grande concilio di Cartagine (418) da papa Zosimo (De natura et gratia contra Pelagium, De perfectione iustitiae hominis, contro Celestio, De gestis Pelagii, De gratia Christi et peccato originali); quella della lotta contro i pertinaci difensori di Pelagio (De nuptiis et concupiscentia ad Valerium comitem, Contra duas epistolas Pelagianorum, Contra Iulianum, e Contra secundam Iuliani responsionem, il cosiddetto Opus imperfectum, contro lo stesso Giuliano di Eclano, interrotto per la morte di A.), intesa al tempo stesso a chiarire la sua dottrina ai monaci di Adrumeto (De gratia et libero arbitrio, e De correptione et gratia, dedicati all'abate Valentino) e a combattere i "semipelagiani" della Gallia meridionale, insorti contro questi scritti (De praedestinatione sanctorum e De dono perseverantiae). Questa dottrina agostiniana del peccato originale, della grazia e della predestinazione, precisatasi ma anche irrigiditasi e spinta alle estreme conseguenze nell'ardore della polemica, si è prestata a varie e contrastanti interpretazioni. A. prende le mosse dalla condizione di Adamo, creato esente dalla morte (posse non mori, diverso da non posse mori proprio degli esseri spirituali) e dalla concupiscenza, capace quindi di non peccare (il posse non peccare, diverso dal non posse peccare degli eletti), e nella piena libertà di optare per il bene conformandosi a una ragione che aveva il perfetto predominio sui sensi, capace altresì di perseverare nel bene, grazie all'aiuto (adiutorium sine quo non) concessogli da Dio. Avendo Adamo peccato, la sua colpa si trasmise all'intero genere umano, divenuto così massa damnata; peccato di origine, che A. dimostra, fra l'altro, in base all'uso della Chiesa di amministrare agli infanti il battesimo che annulla la concupiscenza in quanto reato, ma la lascia sopravvivere actu, così che l'uomo, pur conservando il libero arbitrio, è privato di quella libertas ... quae in Paradiso fuit (Enchir. 26-27). Per poter resistere cioè alla concupiscenza, occorre ora un aiuto divino maggiore di quello dato ad Adamo: la grazia è dunque necessaria per avere la fede, e questa perché vi sia quell'amore di Dio, in quanto sommo bene, senza di che non esiste né beatitudine né vera moralità (e non vi sono pertanto vere virtù fra i pagani). Ma questo soccorso (adiutorium quo) non è concesso a tutti: Dio, senza alcuna ingiustizia, ma per un suo gratuito atto di misericordia, prepara per alcuni i mezzi, pienamente efficaci, per condurli alla salvezza cui li ha predestinati ab aeterno. Accusato dai pelagiani di manicheismo, A. tuttavia, come si vede, non considera come malvagia la stessa natura umana, e non condanna la procreazione: nel matrimonio, il male è la concupiscentia carnis; e anche questo può essere rivolto a un fine buono, la generazione dei figli congiunta alla volontà della loro rigenerazione attraverso il battesimo. Ma i bambini morti senza di questo, secondo A., non si sottraggono alla pena eterna. Poiché la trasmissione del peccato originale si spiegava più facilmente mediante la teoria secondo cui l'anima è generata, spiritualmente, da quella dei genitori (traducianismo), mentre, più conforme alla sua dottrina dell'illuminazione, era l'altra teoria, della creazione di ogni anima da Dio (creazionismo), A. rimase incerto fino all'ultimo (De anima et eius origine, 419-20). E poiché è ignoto chi siano gli eletti, la concezione agostiniana della predestinazione coincide con quella della Chiesa come corpus permixtum (v. sopra). La scossa profonda data a tutto il mondo romano dall'incursione di Alarico, le querimonie dei pagani additanti nel cristianesimo la causa di tutti i mali del mondo, indussero A. a meditare sulla storia, e a scrivere l'altra delle sue opere maggiori e più celebri dopo le Confessioni: il De civitate Dei. Nel corso della storia procedono unite le due città (Civitas Dei e Civitas terrena), nate l'una dall'amor Dei usque ad contemptum sui, l'altra dall'amor sui usque ad contemptum Dei e predestinate, la prima a regnare in eterno con Dio, l'altra a subire l'eterno supplizio. Neppure quest'opera è, in fondo, davvero sistematica; cosciente dello sviluppo del proprio pensiero, A. sembra invitare i lettori a imitarlo nello sforzo di progredire: del resto volle egli stesso correggere i suoi errori (ma anche dimostrare, specie contro i manichei, la sua fondamentale coerenza) in quella originalissima rassegna dei suoi scritti che sono le Retractationes (426-27). Va menzionato ancora, breve e bellissimo compendio della dottrina cristiana, l'Enchiridium ad Laurentium (De fide, spe, charitate, 421); e va almeno accennato il valore letterario dei suoi scritti, specie delle Confessioni. Festa, 28 agosto. L'interesse educativo di A. non è limitato ai problemi pedagogici più dibattuti dalla Patristica, e cioè all'utilizzazione della cultura pagana nella formazione dei ragazzi, ed ai modi e metodi dell'educazione religiosa. Esso si connette piuttosto ad un tema filosofico fondamentale nella sua speculazione, quello della "verità interiore" e quindi con la dottrina dell'illuminazione. Il processo educativo consiste nel trarre alla luce la verità, nel ritrovare Dio-maestro nel profondo dell'anima (Christus intus docet). Il maestro vero è quindi solo Cristo, i maestri terreni non possono far altro che stimolare la riscoperta della verità stessa che è in noi come segno della presenza di Dio. Dal punto di vista didattico A. accoglie la necessaria propedeutica delle "arti liberali", ma la cultura per sé non è indispensabile, poiché le virtù cristiane si realizzano anche al di fuori di esse. Necessaria è invece la cultura religiosa da impartire anche alle menti più rozze: nel De catechizandis rudibus Agostino parla di tale opera educativa, ponendo in rilievo la funzione fondamentale che ha in essa l'amore con cui il maestro discende al livello dell'educando (così come Cristo ha fatto per l'uomo facendosi uomo) e vivifica anche gli aspetti più elementari e consueti del fatto educativo.

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