Word: slowes
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...they become lucid when they sing," says Montgomery-Smith, who has witnessed improvements in sociability and communication during her musical meetings. "The research isn't there to support it at the moment but I'm confident these sessions will one day be shown to slow the progression of Alzheimer's. The benefit [of singing] as a hidden cognitive rehabilitation is evident. You can't keep a good idea down forever...
...Society not to describe this activity - called Singing for the Brain - as "treatment." The scientific data doesn't even support the term "therapeutic." But there are few other dementia therapies that the evidence can validate - currently only two types of drugs have received government approval in the U.S. to slow the progression of Alzheimer's, but both offer only limited benefits - and many caregivers, desperate to better the lives of their patients, resort to such low-tech, behavior-based solutions as singing. (Read "Ginko Biloba Does Not Prevent Alzheimer...
...educated, the best teachers, with the experience to know what works and what does not, will use technology to reach a wider audience. The amazing proliferation of software, video, and the Internet in every part of business and private life is the surest fact of our times. But slow has been their trickle into classrooms. Is it because these tools have no place in the teaching trade? No. Rather, public schools and their tenured employees, unused to the forces of creative destruction, are uniquely ill-suited to develop and deploy new technologies...
...just handed it to me”—with his whole range of vocal contortions. Morrissey’s pseudo-intellectual musings are also somehow unbecoming of so mature an individual. “It’s Not Your Birthday Anymore,” a slow ballad that recounts the harsh words of a jaded man to his soon-to-be-discarded lover (“It’s not your birthday anymore / There’s no need to be kind to you”), comes off as juvenile and pitiless...
...he’s too busy scowling to put any effort into his vengeance. The violent sounds of this tempestuous break up—glass shattering, shrieks of rage, car alarms—are drowned out by the tepid tune of a rather weak pop ballad. Everything happens in slow motion; the events taking place within the dim interior of Ciara and Enrique’s fictive home seem as though they were transpiring underwater. Objects don’t fall, they float through the air and shatter delicately against the floor. You begin to wonder what the creators were...