f84d /i883 UC-NRLF $B E^ 0fi2 c/1 ^unsirucuvc r-nuosopny for Child -Culture W. C. MORROW GIFT OF Class of 1887 n Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 vyith funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/constructivephilOOmorrrich : A Constructive Philosophy for Child-Culture BY W. C. MORROW BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA Published by the A-toZed School COPYRIGHT. 1913. BY W. C. MOKROW c\ a<»s ^m^ A Constructive Philosophy for Child-Culture An experience of years in the teaching of authorship to adults led me gradually to evolve a definite philosophy as a substantial basis for that guidance. The principals of the A-to-Zed School, Berkeley, on coming to understand that philosophy, and on observing its practical opera- tion and results, agreed with me that it might be successfully applied to the general develop- ment of children, — with no purpose, however, of making authors of them. Accordingly, in the latter part of 1912 they assembled a small class of boys and girls from ten to twelve years of age. This class was taken through to the end of the school year in 1913. The results were such that later in the school year the entire composition work of the school, with modifica- tions of method suited to high-school pupils and with the same philosophic basis, was turned over to me. Thus the A-to-Zed School has made s 87G978 it possible for me to make an inclusive test of my theory of child-culture. Following is a meager outline of the philos- ophy ofi which all this guidance is based: XJie human being contains all that has pro- c'duced hifn in the long evolutionary process through which he has been constantly urged upward during the ages. Un^er the ordinary drift of life very few of these inheritances are ever discovered by their possessor, for they lie beneath consciousness. In an emergency some of them may come forth, as when a mother de- velops extraordinary courage and resourceful- ness on seeing her child threatened, or love be- tween the sexes works similar miracles of self- discovery. Obviously the powers thus evoked by unusual stress are not intended for emergency use merely. They can be intelligently searched out and made continuously useful. Friendly opportunity or a daring personality may produce all the difference between a distinguished person and a nonentity, without a real difference m natural ability. In children these valuable sub- conscious powers lie near the surface, not having been overlaid by life-experiences, and readily respond to proper stimuli. Nature has started 6 children nearly aright. The child is the norm of the species. To help children find, develop and organize their deep forces and thus lay foundations for a competent after-life, is the aim of this new work. In a broad sense we may conceive an indi- vidual as being his peculiar conscious personal- ity superimposed upon that larger self which he has inherited and of which he is unconscious. What we call his personality may be regarded as his individual addition to his inherited self and his contribution to the ever-deepening stream of powers transmitted through the gen- erations. But that which he thus adds is quite insignificant in comparison with the long-accum- ulated store of what he has received. Some eminent philosophers declare that perhaps it is just as well the common man has no conception of his real power, his sudden discovery of which would probably lead to disastrous wrenchings of the established order. The way to avoid this would be to see that the discovery is started by the individual in his youth, and is made con- tinuous; then in his adult years he will represent the opposite of a disruptive force. Although these great inherited powers may never be discovered by their possessor, their neglect does not bring them either atrophy or death. Nature has placed that catastrophe be- 7 yond our stupid encompassing, because inherited qualities must be passed on. Any of these pow- ers awaits our summons all through life. It is for us to call into service, from the innumerable train of them, those needed for a definite use; but a condition of finding them is our knowledge that they exist and faith in our ability to bring them forth. Fortunately children do not require either that enlightened understanding or that faith. In the early conflict of species there arose devices of conduct on the part of some to evade the destructive power of others. Thus cunning, concealment, flight — which in human beings have become cowardice or a lack of self-confi- dence — came into existence as hereditary traits, and we give abundant evidence of them. The lack of courage, arising from want of self-know- ledge, is shown by such expressions as, "I know my limitations,'* or, ^'I know I can't,'* — things beyond human knowledge. All such qualities, being negative or hinder- ing, give way when positive qualities are brought into service. That must be true of the past, else man could not have emerged from the conflict and triumphantly taken his place at the end of the longest line and the most highly evolved species; and it is as certainly a condition of future progress. 8 Discovery, development and organization of one's inherited powers must be regarded as one's supreme opportunity. Habit, the most potent force of sustained conduct, is likely to be bad unless the will trains it to be good. At any time in life one may start self-development and secure astonishing results, but in the later years this usually requires a longer draft on the w^ill than in youth, and nature apparently prefers that we should drift rather than remain under a strain. Habit is nature's means for relieving will-strain. The will-effort of children readily responds to authority, which acceptably takes the place of strain, and as children have a quick adaptability, wise habits may be easily formed. Habits formed early in life are the strongest and most enduring. A firm purpose is needed to plant them in the after-years. Youth and growth are synonymous. Growth is development. That is youth also. There can be no youth without growth. So long as develop- ment proceeds, no matter what one's age, one is young. The moment it stops, no matter how youthful in years one may be, retrogression sets in. To plant an early habit of growth is to as- sure the best qualities of youth to the end. If every person should earnestly seek to dis- cover, develop and organize his inherited powers to some high definite end, and not think to fight 9 his weaknesses, there would be no inefficiency, poverty and crime. That must be so, for evolu- tion means an upward, not a downward, course, and determines for success, not failure, else in time all forms of life would be self-extinguish- ing. Every person who exhibits through his life a downward instead of an upward tendency — who presents, on the whole, more failures than triumphs — or who stands still, stultifies the basic principle of all life and betrays the gen- erations that produced him. Yet in actual life the ratio of life-failures to successes is enor- mously large, and that of arrested growth to continuous development prodigiously larger. That ratio can be greatly reduced, if not totally eliminated, by guidance enabling individuals, at any time in life, and especially in youth, to find, assemble and train their native abilities. For convenience we may divide these inher- ited powers into two great orders, — those look- ing inward and those reaching outward, or the group of powers determining individuality and the group tending to make the individual a so- cial unit. There is a struggle for dominance between those two sets of powers. It is obvious that a mere social unit is a feeble social factor, and that a highly developed individuality free from social domination is in a commanding po- sition to be socially useful. A society composed 10 of unindividualized units is a mob, with all the instability and irrationality which the word implies. To produce such a social body is the tendency of modern popular education. Rarely do we see an individual showing a true balance between the selfish and the altru- istic development. On one hand we are likely to see persons isolated in selfish pursuits and therefore of small or negative social usefulness, and on the other hand — as is oftener the case — those who are swamped in the social morass and of little usefulness for that reason. Apparently nature, operating through a powerful gregarious impulse, resists efforts to- ward individual development, fearing that it may separate the individual from his kind and thus destroy his social usefulness. Yet in order to become valuable to his world the individual must struggle against social submergence. So- ciety is a far more dangerous tyrant than in- dividuality, although it is never necessary to fall under the tyranny of either. Social demands are never so vital to the individual as self-devel- opment, and as the levels of common contact are necessarily low and present life largely in shal- low and misleading aspects, a yielding to those demands is destructive to the individual as a power unless he has come through development to understand them, retain mastery over them, 11 and make them serve his larger, more generous purposes. The prime aim in my guidance of children is to help them find for themselves, and develop and organize into a natural synthesis, their best individual powers by setting them pleasant tasks of a social nature. In this all tendency to artificality is guarded against. The children are helped to find their inward-looking powers in a way that develops their social understanding and usefulness. Self-extension, or self-projection, — the im- pressing of ourselves upon our world, — is a natural impulse, a principle of evolution, and is necessary to individual and social progress. Its evident purpose is to assure our individual development by stimulating self-discovery, so that we may give our world the benefit of the valuable powers that we find in ourselves. The doing for others calls forth powers quite differ- ent from those employed in doing for ourselves, and added to the latter, assures a rounded self- organization. The tendency of the helpful im- pulse, operating with self-development, is to banish all enmities and ultimately unify the peoples of the world. Untrained, unintelligent self-projection, or 12 self-expression, in the form of bald self-asser- tion, — its common form, — is merely a blank phase of consciousness; it has no regard for either self-development or usefulness, and is as likely to be injurious as beneficent. As a form of self-projection, speech satisfied men until their evolution urged them to devise a finer, deeper, more far-reaching mode. Thus writing came into existence, and printing was its logical development. These meant a vast ex- tension of speech. A parallel projection, or ex- tension, is seen in the evolution of the fist-blow, which at first was limited by the length of the arm; then it advanced in force and distance to the wielded club, then to the thrown stone, then to the spear, then the bow-and-arrow, then fire- arms, down to the present, when we see the orig- inal fist-blow enormously extended in distance and force by ordnance that can sink a ship or destroy a city a dozen miles away. In many other ways human expression, or projection, has been and is extending prodigiously. None of these extensions is more useful in itself or more essential to progress than that of spoken to writ- ten self-expression. Other powers being equal, the person who has not developed beyond the speaking range of self-expression suffers in com- petition with one who can express^ or project, himself through writing. 13 Written expression is not a mere efflorescence of speech, not simply a projection of it beyond the reach of the voice. For writing calls out powers far in advance of those exercised in speaking; these powers are partly an evolution of those employed in speaking and partly in- herited understanding which evades speech. And in the mere act of writing, new factors come into play. Two of these are isolation and time. Few know the value of temporary solitude and concentrated introspection in giving an op- portunity to sound the profounder depths of self and secure there a richer understanding and augmented power. Withdrawal has doubtless accounted in large part for the brilliant achieve- ments of philosophers, scientists, inventors, au- thors and others of distinguished value to the world. It is said that Jesus and Buddha absent- ed themselves for a long time from human asso- ciation; and observe the tremendous vitality of the philosophies which they promulgated! We must look deep within for revealment of the mysteries and wonders of life and for the greater potencies. Writing of the higher kinds compels that inward search. It is significant that in the most advanced races and individuals the impulse to write is fundamental. The children of highly developed races instinctively take to it. That aptitude indicates an inherited impulse to ex- 14 press self by this most potent, most enriching of means. Add time to solitude, and the scheme of self- expression, and of self-development by means of it, is immensely expanded. Speaking implies a comparatively shallow and a risky rapidity of mental and emotional processes. The spoken addresses that have become immortal were pre- pared in solitude. The deeper understanding is rarely or never instant in response, unless some spontaneity has been developed by long practice in concentration and is sustained by habit; and the social pressure constantly forces it back. Courage, the noblest and rarest of hu- man traits, is freer for creative work in solitude than under the restraints imposed by observers. We are as much a product of what we do as what we do is a product of us. When the will has determined any definite work the powers readiest to serve it align themselves at once for that service. But a human being is all but in- finitely complex in variety of inherent powers. Many of these may demand exercise in ways other than that selected by the will ; but all of the highest and best of these powers appear to be flexible and adaptable, so that when they dis- cover persistence in a certain line of work, they, desiring exercise, one by one swing into the chosen current of activity, thus presenting the 15 great spectacle of continuous development and progressively increasing power in a determined direction. Such a course transforms a weak versatility into a powerful definiteness. In like manner the kind of writing that one persists in doing determines the direction that one's organization will take. All of one's crea- tive powers not naturally inclined to exercise through writing will eventually, if writing is persisted in, fall into step with those that are so inclined. Writing of the higher kinds is intense- ly constructive, and, being so, is highly organ- izing. It assures the individual definiteness and development which are essential to any calling besides authorship. And in no other great con- structive work is so simple an equipment re- quired; in none other is so large a freedom as to time and place possible. It is not intended here to make comparisons among the different kinds of writing in esti- mating their value as a determining factor in shaping the writer's development. Writing is the means employed in this new method of aiding children to secure self-dis- covery and self-development, but it is a complete departure from the usual school work in com- position, in being efferent instead of afferent, — it draws out instead of puts in or using what has been put in, and in the drawing out it reaches 16 for the deeper inherited powers instead of the meager and uncoordinated experiences and immature thought-processes of the child. The kind of writing chosen for the children had to embody Imagination and Invention, and the tasks involving those elements must be flex- ible and selective, so that a free scope for self- discovery and development might be given to each individual of the class. Imagination is inherited experience. Vivid in children, it becomes more and more deeply overlaid by life-experiences as the years increase. Though not an element of consciousness, it is highly responsive to demands made on it by the will, is unconsciously used to a greater or less extent in the ordinary affairs of life, and stands ready to give its best help in vital emergencies. The imagination contains, among other quali- ties, insight, sentiment, sympathy, reverence, re- ligion, courage, love, aspiration, — the most of all that constitutes the individual's ultimate worth and power. To neglect the imagination throughout life is to lose most of the strength and grace of life ; and yet that is the lot of all but a few, and the policy of most popular educa- tional methods. Indeed, some teachers regard 17 the child's imagination as a noxious growth that must be diligently uprooted. In truth, it is that from which understanding and reason proceed. The work of the imagination is a mental re- construction of life and happenings in the past generations; or, in a larger sense, a cultivated ability to combine inherited memories. It there- fore includes, in every man and woman, indivi- dual experiences of both sexes through unmeas- ured ages, and a vast range of distinct individ- uals with their separate life-histories. We can form a faint idea of the immensity of this in- herited understanding and power by reflecting that in only forty generations, covering little more than half the Christian era, nearly one billion men and as many women, each with varied life-experiences, have entered into the composition of every man and every woman living today; and forty generations are an in- significant number in comparison with the gen- erations which lived through the ages preceding them. It is through a prudent exercise of the im- agination that most of what is valuable in us may be found, developed and made useful. So high- ly does nature value the imagination that she furnishes it to us in great abundance, as is seen with children, and she is not alarmed at their using it in the most extravagant ways, — all as a 18 training for practical use later, just as the nat- ural urge to an apparently wasteful physical activity in play compels them to develop and train their bodies for the stern demands of maturity. Yet nature is frugal in furnishing means to an end. It is as crippling to repress the imaginative fecundity of children as it would be to check their physical play. The true task is to direct the exercise of the child's im- aginative powers in such a way as to make them constructive and developing, instead of inco- herent and idle. Such training of the imagina- tion is essential to the highest reasoning, includ- ing the forming of far-seeing hypotheses on which the greatest scientific and philosophic advances are made. The sub-conscious, and also the imagination because it is the dominant element of the sub- conscious, is untrustworthy if not held under direction. In heavy stresses it may be turbulent, unreasonable and destructive if untrained. Something is needed to steady it, and to select, develop and organize its better forces. Invention supplies that need. This is a fac- ulty of the conscious mind, and is our organiz- ing, planning force. Compared with the imag- ination, it is a recent development in the evolu- tion of mind. We may conceive it as a ruler which the imagination has created and set up for 19 its proper government. But invention considers expediency, not morals. It must be influenced by the imagination as much as it influences the imagination. The two must constitute a part- nership. If permitted tyranny, invention will serve the imagination as the stork served the frogs after they had appointed him their ruler. The naked product of mere invention is the material life, hard, selfish, unfructifying. It lacks the vital principle — the vision, the ulti- mate understanding — which resides in the im- agination. As the child is undeveloped and unorgan- ized, his imagination is strong because it is old to the species; his invention is weak because it is new. It would be taking grave hazards to assume that the smothering of the richer func- tions of the imagination by invention as the child becomes adult implies that the imaginative powers are being suppressed in the evolution of the species, especially when we reflect that modern tendencies, including artificial school- training, are working an unnatural repression of the imagination. If we are really in the be- ginning of such an evolutionary change, an explanation is demanded for the remarkable phenomenon of modern fiction, its vast and in- creasing use and the growing profundity of its revelation. 20 Fiction, in its highest modern form, almost entirely concerns itself with the presentation and solution of the vital — not the external — problems arising in individual and social life. In this process it shows the reactions of conflict- ing impulses, internal and external to individ- uals. With exceptions the author exhibits his focal character struggling through moral or mental darkness to light, out of weakness into strength, from defeat to victory, or toward a vital goal, and in that process discovering within himself, under the stress of his struggle, hitherto concealed powers by the use of which he solves his problem or wins his prize. Obviously these powers are greater than those which the charac- ter had formerly found and used, else he prob- ably would not have fallen into trouble. His conscious self had not been adequate; his reli- ance on his inventiveness had failed. Such is the philosophic basis of modern fiction at its best, and in showing those qualities it announces a great advance on the older fiction. Hence the best modern fiction is the most vital, and therefore the most interesting, form of modern literature, for involvement in living problems from lack of self-discovery is all but a universal experience; fiction points out a w^ay to solve them and implies a way to avoid them. Thus it satisfies because it fits an innate sense of 21 the fundamental Tightness of things, for it shows by implication that what appear to be life's cruel maladjustments and hardships are due to averti- ble causes. It sustains faith in the imperishable truth that the normal trend of life, true to evolu- tion, is upward, not downward, and toward victory, not defeat. Thus such fiction not only makes a revelation of the greatest value, but it strengthens and uplifts because it embodies the very soul of evolution. It is significant that the people at large read five times as much fiction as all the other forms of literature combined. This could not be so unless it met a vital need, fur- nishing that which is impossible to history, biography and newspapers. Besides presenting and solving all conceiv- able essential problems, fiction goes farther and sounds the mysteries of the hidden and secret life of the individual; it searches out the cryptic springs of impulse and motive, and shows in ex- haustive analysis the reactions between the in- dividual and his world. There is a universal craving for more and yet more knowledge of this wonderfully complex and mysterious entity, the human being. Fiction feeds that hunger, for it shows life in .its truth, in contrast to the misleading falsities of the life we see about us. Fiction would not exist if it did not furnish what ? study of actual life fails to gwe. In its essence 22 and revelation it is more real than apparent reality; it is truer than fact. It accomplishes what is impossible to a study of actual life, which conscious personality instinctively con- ceals except in its masked external manifesta- tions. Largely through good fiction human nature is coming into a better understanding of itself. That is the beginning of wisdom, power and usefulness. Where does the fiction-writer find his ability to reveal the hidden life? Whence does he get the understanding to know what vital problems are, and how does he discover ways to solve them? What explains his miraculous presenta- tion of purely imaginary persons who are more real, who command more of our sympathy and make a more lasting impression on us, than the persons in the visible life about us? Certainly he must use the insight which heredity has made potential in us all. From his exhaustless inherited experiences he draws his knowledge, since all vital problems are as old as mankind and have all been suffered and solved ; and his ability to reach so deeply within himself has been acquired by long and deter- mined concentration inward. From the innum- erable persons of his inheritance he brings forth characters whom he knows with an im- measurably greater intimacy than he can know 23 any one in actual life, for no person can really ever know another. With his invention he ar- rays this precious understanding in a cogent series of events, from which the accidental and other obscuring facts of actual life are excluded as being false to the truth and logic of life. Hence fiction-writing is used as the basis of the guidance I give the children. Instead of being permitted to use their exuberant, unorgan- ized imaginative powers in purely fanciful and meaningless stories, as they are inclined to do, they are given definite problems in the lives of imaginary children, and are left to solve them in their own individual way. Of course this is not done to make fiction-writers of them, but to produce a normal, rounded development for any life that they may choose later; to make them more efficient in their regular school work; and — most important of all— to wake in them a love of creative and constructive work and to plant 3 habit of continuous growth. The problems set them for solution arc vital and ethical, never trivial nor pointless. Prob- lems wholesomely stimulating to the productive powers are preferred, because of the call which these problems make upon the imaginative and inventive powers. ?4 An hour is given the children in which to hear the problem and to write a complete story embodying its solution, all in the proper form of the modern short story. This time-limit compels the children to make an immediate draft on their resources. The entire work is done within the hour, no home-work being given. Rarely do they fail — and some of them never fail — to have the story completed within the time; and the failures are due to lack of time for working out a larger scheme of their vision than the limit permits. Their imagination and insight are re- quired to bring the characters into life, and fol- low them, rather than lead them, through a line of conduct springing naturally from impulse quickened by the stress of the crisis in which they are plunged. Invention also is demanded, as the problems are so designed as to call for ingenuity and prompt, determinative action on the part of the characters. The ethical princi- ples involved require the children to find and use their inherited understanding of right hu- man relations, such as the attitude of children to their parents, and to all having a claim on their respect, sympathy or help ; and to develop self-respect, courage, magnanimity, honesty, cheerfulness, resourcefulness, determination, and many other valuable traits. 25 Here is the class-room picture that a visitor might see, — if visitors were admitted : A group of children alive with curiosity to hear the day's problem read to them; then "Oh's!" with start- led glances at one another, for the problem is sure at first to look formidable and to be dif- ferent from any they have had before, and to make a draft on new forces; then a gradual inward turning of the vision as concentration takes hold, for it is never from their personal experience or observation that they can find a way to solve the problem. They must discover the understanding, the vision, for that task, and must go into their heredity for those. And they cannot merely think the story out; they must live it. In all this procedure they start on the course traveled by the great of the earth. Some of them, before writing anything, wait in deep absorption till the complete vision un- folds; others plunge at once into writing the opening of the story by presenting in their own way the unsatisfactory situation which has to be resolved into a satisfactory one, and thus pre- pare themselves for the deeper vision by work- ing downward' through the conscious to the sub- liminal. None ever come unwillingly to the class. They protested against stopping during the Christmas holidays. During the hour there has 26 been no restlessness, no discontent. The thought of the work being drudgery or a task has appar- ently never occurred to them. They are sunk within the mysteries and wonders of their own being, completely isolated, in no real sense a part of a class or a crowd. And they are living a vital hour, such as they get nowhere else, for they are doing creative work of the truest sort, and they feel the thrill of its constructive power. No interference nor suggestion is offered by the guide, and none is desired. A suggestion was needed at the first lesson; at the second it was offered, and was declined with true self-respect and dignity, as though a common right to free- dom in self-expression had been threatened. Interest is keen when at last some of the stories are read to the class, because no two of the children ever solve the problem quite simi- larly, and the variations bring delightful sur- prises and some wonder. These variations are stimulating. Their great significance lies in their revealing individual dififerentiation — a self-finding, an escape from the crowd-pressure and from common tasks and measures — and their showing a ready capacity for individual development. If the order of things permitted this guid- ance to be an hour a day for five days a week, the results would, of course, be much more 2J striking than those secured from one hour a week, the time heretofore given. Yet even with this meager attention the response of the chil- dren is conspicuous in the growth they exhibit under the work and in the distinction they win in their schools through their exercise of un- usual initiative and originality. Self-discovery, with development and in- ternal organization, does not cover all the bene- fits to be expected from the work. Readiness of intelligent self-expression by writing is itself of great importance, and under prevalent meth- ods of education is the rarest of equipments. The ability to write well and freely is clearly shown by a study of our evolution to be essential to any real education or culture. Yet this, the high- est step in our evolution, is the one most sedu- lously neglected by prevalent modern education. That education crowds valuable things within and opens no adequate avenues for their issu- ance nor for individual expression. The waste represented by that policy is prodigious, for knowledge and understanding without expres- sion are largely useless. Still another benefit the children receive is their ability to read with a better comprehension. Indeed, it may be doubted that one unable to write easily and accurately can fully understand anything that one reads, since words and their 28 composition bear meanings which elude the reader who cannot write well. But back of all that are the deeper understanding and the great- er power which the development assured by writing brings. Publications of the A-to-Zed School BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA. The Passing of Evolution. I. — The Involution of Man. II. — The Bearing of Involu- tion on Education. - By Cora L. Williams The first essay shows that for a complete syn- thesis of the life-process it is necessary to supple- ment evolution with involution. The second is concerned with the mob-mind in the school- room. Price, 50 cents. A Constructive Philosophy for Child-Culture. - - By W. C. Morrow Showing the value of written expression, espe- cially of imaginative writing, for the develop- ment of the individual; of interest to educators generally and to teachers of composition espe- cially, as well as to students of fiction-writing. 1 Boards, 75 cents. The Real Value of Science- Teaching. - - - By Percy E. Rovvell Ready October, 1913. Paper, 50 cents. The Working Essentials of Plane Trigonometry. - By Adelaide Smith Designed to give a quick understanding of the subject. (In press.) Cloth, 60 cents. Science for the Fifth Grade. By Percy E. Rowell A text-book which teaches, from the view-point of the child, the fundamental principles under- lying his needs. Illustrated, XIV— 200 pp. Cloth, 60 cents. A Syllabus of Plane Geometry. By Cora L. Williams Classifies the theorems of the standard texts under the three hypotheses which may be made with reference to the existence of parallels. "A Course of Geometry without some such sylla- bus is like an arch without a keystone; it is cer- tain to fall into fragments." Professor Irving Stringham. Paper, 50 cents. The Logic of Punctuation. Fundamentals of Fiction- writing - - - By W. C. Morrow (In preparation.) RETURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT ' TO"-^ 202 Main Library LOAN PERIOD 1 - HOME USE 2 3 4 5 6 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days Books may be Renewed by calling 642-3405. prior to the due date. DUE AS STAMPED BELOW JAW 04 '91 HM AOTOD1SCFEB07 MAR 5 19® AUlO. 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