Essay on My Educational Philosophy - 474 Words

My Educational Philosophy To describe my educational philosophy, I needed to combine two philosophers into one making it my own. I plan to explain my philosophical view by discussing the purpose of public education in society. I felt that essentialism, popularized by William Bagley, and progressivism, led by John Dewey, best described my attitudes and views towards education. I feel the overall purpose of education is to teach students traditional academic subjects such as math, reading and writing, social studies, the sciences, music, art, computer science, health, and physical education. These classes are the foundation needed by students to survive in today’s society. However, I also believe that some students need†¦show more content†¦They need to experience activities outside of the classroom that are meaningful to them. Education is important for several reasons. One, it gives children a strong academic background to compete in a technological society. Two, the educational setting allows students to interact and develop socially. Three, classes give students the opportunity to achieve success and failure at different ages. Four, education allows for many different experiences that help shape a child’s personality. Five, education teaches children the need for discipline, rules, leadership, and responsibility. I am sure everyone could add one or more reasons to this list but I felt these five to be most important to me. As a teacher, I hope to accomplish many different things. I would like to develop a good rapport with my students. Helping them as much as possible before school, with math assignments or listening to their problems, and after, by starting a math tutor program or chaperoning a school dance. I want all the students I have in class to achieve some success to help build self-esteem and confidence. I know that seeing an â€Å"A† on my assignments or tests makes me feel good. I also want my students to retain most of what they have been taught. I would feel disappointed if students failed to remember what I had tried to teach them. Finally, I would someday like to be recognized as an excellent teacher. I feel that I will be able to do a goodShow MoreRelatedMy Philosophy : My Educational Philosophy780 Words   |  4 PagesIt was very challenging for me to write my educational philosophy due to the fact that I never really thought about the kind of teacher I want to bec ome. Though this was a challenging task, I am grateful for the opportunity because figuring out what my philosophy is will help me to understand what kind of teacher I want to be. Looking back at my learning and teaching experiences, I always had strong beliefs in what I want my classroom to look like and how I would go about providing a high qualityRead MoreMy Personal Philosophy : My Educational Philosophy1747 Words   |  7 PagesAbstract My educational philosophy can be summarized in one word â€Å"family†. Every thing can begin and end with the family. This paper examines my personal belief that a student has higher success rate in life when they have a supportive, loving family environment. The primary roles of a mother and father in today’s society are drastically lacking. These particular reasons vary from absentee fathers, overworked single mom, and/or grandparents having to assume the role of parents again. My theory startingRead MoreMy Educational Philosophy : My Philosophy Of Teaching Philosophy952 Words   |  4 PagesMy Teaching Philosophy Wk. 13 By, Julie Bernard EDPC603 My objective as a teacher is to make a difference in the lives of the student I teach. Similarly, through teaching I will provide students with the necessary tools to become critical thinkers. As critical thinkers, my students will be able to make reasoned judgements that are logical and well thought out. My students will not just passively accept arguments and conclusions; my students will be equipped to questionRead MoreMy Educational Philosophy : My Philosophy Of Education946 Words   |  4 PagesPhilosophy of Education My philosophy of education has changed over the years of teaching to what I belief today. My belief of education is to focus on construct knowledge and personal experiences. As an educator, I try and encourage students to discover principles themselves. Numerous scholars have described education as being the key to a prosperous life. The most successful people are believed to be once behind a desk in elementary schools as teachers instill knowledge in them. With a right learningRead MoreMy Philosophy Of Educational Philosophy834 Words   |  4 Pages Education Philosophy My mission as a teacher is to guide students to their full potential by giving them fundamental tools that they can use outside of the classroom. This mission is directly correlated to my philosophical orientations on how students should be educated. Most importantly, I believe that the student should be at the center of instruction; Moreover, it is valuable in a child’s development to know not only the curriculum but skills that they can use outside of the classroom likeRead MoreMy Educational Philosophy : My Philosophy Of Education1006 Words   |  5 Pagesthat to take on the daunting task of shaping the nation’s future citizens will require that I outline my own ideology about America’s education system. The following philosophy of education will be comprised of the analyzation of knowledge, teaching, and democratic equality in relation to purposes of the education. Knowledge, the comprehension of a subject or concept, is at the core of the educational experience. This attainment of this knowledge should be the desired result of compulsory educationRead MoreMy Philosophy And Philosophy Of Personal Educational Philosophy1042 Words   |  5 PagesIt is true that many educators do not know what their educational philosophy is. However it is imperative for educators and future educators to know their personal educational philosophies so that they can be accountable, explain how they teach, what they are doing and why. My personal Educational philosophy is made up of four components; metaphysics, epistemology, axiology, and logic. My educational Philosophy Metaphysics (reality) is a combination of realism and idealism, that the mind, spiritRead MoreMy Educational Philosophy : My Philosophy Of Education805 Words   |  4 Pagesthe philosophy they believe in. As a future educator, my goal is to educate the student in ways they have not been taught before. Over time students come across teachers who generally do not care and just do it for the money and time off in the summer. When a student has a teacher who makes a difference in their life, it is very rewarding for both the teacher and student. In class we received a philosophical self-inventory. After grading these statements I have come to the conclusion that my philosophyRead MorePersonal Philosophy : My Educational Philosophy1452 Words   |  6 Pages When I first set out to write my educational philosophy, I had absolutely no idea what to write about, to be perfectly honest. So, I thought that I would start with the most essential aspect of an educational philosophy: why do I want to become a teacher? The reason why I want to teach is because I want to be able to impact young people’s lives and help them to learn how to become successful citizens in our world. I feel that it is important that no matter what students do with their lives, theyRead More My Educational Philosophy Essay1186 Words   |  5 PagesSocrates warned his students over 2000 years ago that the unexamined life is not worth living. (Kreis) This statement, though made so many years ago, mirrors my own beliefs about learning and knowledge acquisition in today’s society. In my own personal philosophy of education, I believe that individuals must continually examine their surroundings and learn from the things they find. I do not believe that just knowing random facts or bits of information is true education. Just as the ancient Greeks

History Of Evaluation And Management ( E / M ) Codes

Issues and Trends Purpose and history of Evaluation and Management (E/M) Codes Accurate and comprehensible medical records documents are crucial for a positive outcome for the patient and health care providers. Health records sequentially convey significant details concerning patient’s health history and future care plans. These records are pertinent when initiating care in the acute and chronic setting for the patient. Medicare, Medicaid, and other personal health care providers necessitate rational documentation to guarantee that a procedure and/or examination is consistent with the individual’s health care coverage. The documentation also authorizes the place of health care treatment, eligible medical requirement and suitability of diagnosis and/or therapy, and that the services rendered were appropriately documented. Precise and reliable medical documentation should be recorded at the time of treatment or shortly after the intervention. Inappropriate documentation can result in erroneous and inappropriate imbursement for provided health care s ervices. Evaluation and Management (E/M) coding principles and guidelines were founded by Congress in 1995 and amended two years later. E/M codes are based on the foundation of the Current Procedural Terminology (CPT) codes recognized by the American Medical Association (AMA). Active health care suppliers access E/M coding for medical reimbursement by Private Insurances, Medicaid, and Medicare programs. The E/M codes are aShow MoreRelatedexam on inpatient and outpatient codinhg Essay1230 Words   |  5 PagesPayment Reform are to decrease Medicare expenditures. As well as redistribute physician’s payments more equitably. Also to ensure quality health care at a reasonable rate. 2. I would use modifier -57, decision for surgery with the E/M code for this case. Due to the E/M service and the decision for surgery were made earlier that same day. 3. There are three components of the relative value unit the first component is work, which is the amount of time, the intensity of effort and the technical expertiseRead MoreCodeing Scenarios Essay851 Words   |  4 PagesAn initial inpatient consultation with a detailed history, detailed exam, and MDM of low complexity would be coded to what E/M code? 99253 7. What are the four elements of history? Chief complaint (CC), history or present illness (HPI), review of systems (ROS), past present family and/or social history (PFSH) 8. The complexity of medical decision making is based on what three elements? a) Number of diagnoses or managements options (minimal, limited, multiple or extensive) Read MoreThe Classification Of E M Services1308 Words   |  6 Pages2005). The APRN submits either current procedural terminology (CPT) codes or evaluation and management (EM) codes for Medicare reimbursement. CPT codes are a systematic listing and coding of procedures or services performed by the APRN. 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October 1st 2014 ICD-10-CM came out to update the class with more illnesses, conditions, and injuries of any patient that used the medical services. The ICD-9-CM is generally classified as numerical and alphanumerical codes with codes describing the illness and injuriesRead MoreThe Reimbursement Of Medical Services Essay1434 Words   |  6 Pagesprovider must have a clear understanding of requirements of Medicare, Medicaid, and insurance plans. Additionally, knowledge regarding Current Procedural Terminology (CPU), International Classification of Diseases (ICD-9), Evaluation and Management (E/M), and the new ICD codes could enhance the documentation resulting in less mistakes and reimbursement issues (Craig, 2014). Currently, studies to evaluate NPs documentation and coding practices are obsolete. There are insufficient retrospective studiesRead MoreConduct Disorder And Its Effects On Children And Adolescents1178 Words   |  5 Pagesdisorder, biological parents with schizophrenia, and/or biological parents with a history of CD themselves (DSM-V). Unfortunately the symptoms of CD are so maladaptive they are often placed in residential treatment facilities (DSM-V). Additionally children labeled with this disorder often have run-ins with law enforcement (DSM-V, 2013). In a study conducted by Holly E. Erskine, Alize J. Ferrari, Guilherme V. Polanczyk, Terrie E. Moffitt, Christopher J. L. Murray,Theo Vos, Harvey A. Whiteford, and James

Wilderness Bradley Watker Free Essays

string(110) " matted to his simian shaped skull, his beard was torn and tangled, his skin was red and lined from exposure\." I hobbled as fast as I could across the moor. I didn’t look back and I didn’t look down – the former because I didn’t want to know just how close it was, the latter because I didn’t want to see the blood spurting from my foot. It was chasing me. We will write a custom essay sample on Wilderness Bradley Watker or any similar topic only for you Order Now I didn’t turn round, but with each limped and painful step I knew it was right behind me, ready to pounce and end any futile hope of survival. It was so near, at my shoulder, on top of me, right through my brain. I could feel its breath pushing against my neck, salivating in hunger. Why didn’t it just finish me off? Maybe it wanted me to turn, maybe the moment I looked it would be there. Its red eyes shining into mine, its wide mouth ready to make an aperture of my throat. The temptation to turn was immense. If I turned it would be over, I wouldn’t have to run – hobble, limp, stagger – anymore. I heard it growl, ready to pounce. My arms flailed, my mangled foot slipped in a coating of my own blood – but still I ran, still I refused to look back. I kept thinking of survival, thinking there’d be a future, thinking I’d live – and it was with that thin slice of hope that my legs disappeared from under me. I screamed, but it was a sound of surprise rather than pain – and it was lost in a terrible scream from across the moor. Who was that? Was it Mark? Was it Pete? We’d run together, separated – thinking it couldn’t hunt down all three of us across these moors. But was that right? It was a long way to run and we had no idea how swift it was. I closed my eyes and listened. It was Mark. It was Mark screaming into the night. It was Mark being torn apart. I opened my eyes, slowly, and looked behind me. There was nothing. There were no red eyes, there were no bloodied teeth. Yet I could hear its breath so close, smell its disgusting raw hunger. But it wasn’t there, Mark’s cries told me that. It had followed Mark – the fattest one – meat on the carcass for a good feast. But I could still hear its breath, trapped in my mind, telling me it was near, that despite Mark’s cries it was still hunting me. I steadied myself and looked around. I’d tumbled into a crimson ditch, a jagged hole covered in blood. Every inch of grass, every patch of mud was smeared red. I blinked a couple of times and gagged as the stench beat its way through my nostrils – and then, under the moonlight, I saw them. There were a dozen rabbit carcasses in the hole with me, each of them dissected and eviscerated by teeth. This is where it was before the bar, this is where it started before it came to us for the main course. I pulled myself up, scared I’d vomit. Mark’s cries had stopped. Mark had been stopped. It was silent again, so I couldn’t retch. If I threw up it would know where I was, it would find me easy. I crawled from the ditch, away from the blood and the smell. I lay on the grass, keeping my face pressed down, hoping the aroma of night time freshness would remove all others. I was tempted to just stay there, but the pain in my heel was too much. I had a knife in my shack, a good sharp blade. I could cut out the wound, remove the infection. The shack wasn’t far. I knew this land, knew how to navigate these moors – I just prayed I could move fast enough it wouldn’t catch me. I stood up, putting my weight on my right foot, only gingerly using my left. I took my bearings. Mark’s cries had come from the east. What was it doing now? Was it feasting? Was it burrowing its nose into Mark’s blubber? Or was it going to use the darkness to hunt down me and Pete as well? It had started in the bar – what? Half an hour earlier? A life time ago? ‘The Bar At The End Of The World’ we called it. There had been three of us in, and Paul the bar-keep. No matter who else was there, the three of us – and Paul the bar-keep – were always there. We were single men, away from civilisation, glad – in the absence of any other human companionship – to have a kind of family to go to of an evening. It wasn’t exclusive, we never made anyone feel an outsider. When others came in from the moors they were welcomed, they were old friends. Even strangers received a cheery greeting. We’d had lost English motorists, Scotsmen in kilts, even once a Japanese coach party. We always treated strangers kindly, we always wanted the stranger to leave as a friend. We weren’t a bar which looked shifty and suspicious at every unknown who walked in. We smiled, we cheered, we brought another round. The stranger who walked in that night was different. He looked cold, distant, unfriendly. He looked like a man who wouldn’t appreciate smiles or cheers or any warm welcome. He was huge, the size and shape of a bear – near seven foot of him. He lowered his head through the doorway and then straightened, standing dead still, staring at us on our bar-stools. Pete – the friendliest, youngest and lithest – tended to pounce forward and shake the hand of whoever came in, he didn’t with this guy. This man just stood and glared at us, like he was ready to growl if we came near. We were in the wild, we ourselves were part of the wild – but he looked like he was born of it. His hair was greasy and matted to his simian shaped skull, his beard was torn and tangled, his skin was red and lined from exposure. You read "Wilderness Bradley Watker" in category "Papers" His long jacket was the brown of every kind of dirt, his trousers were stained and short on his bruised calves, his torn shirt was only buttoned once – showing off a scarred and lined torso. It was Paul who spoke. Paul was the custodian and was never scared of confronting the unruly elements – his shotgun was never far from reach below the bar. â€Å"Can I help you?† he asked. The man did nothing, just continued to stare with passive venom. â€Å"Can I help you?† said Paul. The man moved. He turned his head, slowly, towards the bar-keep. â€Å"Whisky.† said the man, his voice as dark as earth. â€Å"You got money for that?† asked Paul. It was never usually a problem. Once or twice we’d had a tramp stray out that far and we’d brought them drinks – tramps have stories too. No one seemed willing to volunteer this time. The man took three strides, three strides which seemed to dent and echo against the floor. He grabbed a bar stool and swooped it under him. It was amazing those rickety old stools could take such a weight. â€Å"Whisky.† said the man. â€Å"You got money for that?† said Paul. They stared at each other. Paul kept his hand beneath the bar, clutching the gun. There was music on the jukebox, an old pop hit of the nineteen-seventies, but even though it played it was like silence had come and crushed it. The man brought his hand up, a brutal weapon of a fist – huge, scarred and red. He opened it, dropping a dozen coins down onto the bar. He smiled at Paul, or gave what passed for a smile on that face. Paul let go of the gun and pulled out a clean glass. â€Å"What kind?† he asked. â€Å"Whisky.† Paul shrugged and reached for a bottle – the cheapest – and poured out a measure. The whisky made itself at home at the bottom of the glass, but the man just stared at it in disapproval. â€Å"Whisky.† he said. Paul poured another measure. Again the man stared at it with disgust strained across his wrinkled, bruised face. â€Å"Whisky.† Paul shrugged again and poured it so the glass was brimming with brown liquid. Helicopters! I could suddenly hear choppers. They were up there, more than one – patrolling the night-sky. I dropped to the grass and looked up, but couldn’t see them despite the moonlight. How did they know about it? Who had called them? It took a long time to get a helicopter out here – helicopters were city. They must have been hunting this thing awhile, must have tracked it down here. But what were they going to do now? It was an animal, it had natural senses – they didn’t know this moor, they didn’t know where things were. It was ridiculous, what were city men in helicopters going to do against a beast like that? I lay still. They were on my side. The police, the army, the protection authorities – whoever they were – we all wanted the same thing, we wanted it gone. But I knew they wouldn’t be as careful as I would. They’d come to the moors before looking for things, other animals roaming these parts. They’d found them, they’d got them – and so what if a local got in the way of their sharpened bullets? It was collateral damage, it didn’t matter. After all, we were too far away from the cities and the towns and the newspapers and the television cameras for anyone to care what actually happened. We were too far away for the death of a few yokel innocents to matter. But we knew. We knew it was as just as dangerous encountering a city man sent with a gun as it was encountering a beast. I got up slowly. What would I look like to them? A man limping in darkness across the moor, smeared with dirt and remains – how was I going to appear to them? I tried to figure out where they were – the sound of propellers said they were close, but I could also hear that breathing. I shuddered. I had to keep moving, I had to get safe. My shack, with heavy bolts on the doors and windows, was still a mile away. There was nowhere else though. Nowhere between where I stood and my shack. Nowhere in that direction between the bar and my shack. It was all so desolate. I had to get home – I could lock himself in, I had weapons, I’d be able to treat my ankle and give myself a chance of a tomorrow. I just had to get off the moor. I didn’t want to die out there from either sharpened teeth or sharpened bullets. The man had just stared at that glass of whisky. Rain fell, records changed on the jukebox and still the man watched that glass with slow contemplation. All human sound had died. Before the man walked in Pete was regaling us with a childhood story we’d all heard three hundred times, Mark nevertheless could not stop sniggering at it – now there was only silence. We stared at the man – anxious of what he was going to do, scared of what he was going to do. Paul’s hand was below the bar, tight on the gun. Maybe the man would just drink and leave. Maybe he’d drink and start a conversation. Maybe. His hand reached quick for the glass. One moment it was lying still in his lap, the next it was dropping the brown liquid down his throat. He took it in one gulp, then slammed the glass back to the bar and stared at it disappointed. He seemed to wonder if that was it. Paul reached his free hand to the bottle, to offer a refill, when the man jerked himself over the glass. He hunched his body over as if about to vomit the contents back in, his head so close he could have snapped the rim with his teeth. But he didn’t. Instead he unfurled his tongue, pushing it into the empty glass so it curled at the bottom and piled up on itself. The tongue was long, dark, thick – it had two black veins running and pulsing up the back. He pushed it into the glass and filled it. The receptacle crammed full with purple flesh spilling over the top Then he made a slurping sound, like his tongue was a paper-straw reaching for the last drop of liquid. He slid it out, but stayed hunched forward and unfurled it again, wrapping his tongue around the base of the glass. He lifted it from the bar, tilting his head back and shaking whatever atoms of whisky might be left into his wide eager mouth. He dropped the glass back to the bar carelessly, so it landed on its side and rolled. The man grunted as it came to a stop right at the edge. I wasn’t far now, but still far from safe. The helicopters had moved away, but there were men on the moors. I could hear them communicating, I could hear the static of their walkie-talkies. They were armed and scared in the moonlight, and it didn’t matter what they saw – man, sheep, deer, great big beast – they’d all get the same treatment. I kept moving, conscious of them, conscious of the salivating breath, conscious that one wrong turn and I’d be exposed for all in the moonlight. I rounded a ridge, and there – close enough to see – was my shack. I felt so much relief I nearly wept, but then I heard them on the bank right above me. I hit bank-side and listened, they were chatting about vectors and shut downs and containing the area. All the time the beast was getting nearer. It was so dark out there – even with the moon – that it could have pounced from five feet and surprised me. Even with armed city men so close, it would still have time to tear out my throat before taking them too. They were above me so I couldn’t move, but I could hear the beast and knew I had to move. The sound of its hunger was louder when I stopped. It seemed like it could attack from all sides, like I could be ripped apart by more than one of them. It was everywhere. What were those idiots doing? Why were they advertising themselves? I held my breath and listened to them and listened to it, and figured I was in for a bloody death. Then there were screams. From across the moor came dreadful cries, that even through the wind I recognised as Pete. I lurched forward from the bank, but then reality knocked me back again. Even if I knew where to run it would be too late. The screams swirled in the wind, they echoed, so it seemed that each death throe was repeated again and again across the moors. The men primed their weapons, but what were they going to fire at? It could be miles off, it could be bursting up from just over the next hillock. Finally there was movement, orders were given, the men raced away. I could still hear the breathing, rattling between my ears even with the screams. I could hear the helicopters swooping back. The men had gone, the helicopters weren’t near enough yet and it was as close as it had ever been. If I looked to my left I could make out the brickwork of my shack. I moved hastily towards it. With the empty glass in front of him, the man closed his eyes and became still. Why hadn’t Paul shot him then? Why didn’t he just blast him one? What had gone through Paul’s mind to make him wait? But then the opportunity was gone, his eyes opened and he spoke. â€Å"I get so lonely,† he said. â€Å"I get so very, very lonely.† His voice was quiet, a growled monotone. â€Å"I know the kind of life I lead isn’t meant to have company, but still I am lonely. I think it’s an odd thing for me to have become lonely – I wasn’t born lonely, I didn’t grow up lonely, there was nothing in my life that suggested loneliness. But now I am alone. I don’t miss the people I knew, I don’t miss the people who loved me – some of them I can’t even remember – but I do miss the sensation of somebody else, I do miss there being another. I talk to myself a lot, I talk to myself and try to make sense of it, because after all – who else is there to talk to? Sure, there are people like you. There’s the welcome of strangers when I can get it. But you’re not my friends, you’re not even my friends for the hours I spend here. You’re just people I meet. You don’t like me and you don’t trust me – and I’ll be honest with you, you have no reason to do either. You know what I am, or you have a good idea what I am. You know what I have to do, you know what will happen next. And later on when I’m alone I might regret it, but for now†¦Ã¢â‚¬  And there it was – an angry mass of hair, claws and teeth. It went for Mark first – the most meat – but Mark was strong and pushed it back. It was only for a second, knocking it off balance, but enough for the three of us to get passed. We scrambled, had almost reached the outside, when it clamped me in a hungry vice. I looked to my foot and saw its horrible mutated face, growling and supping at my flesh. I screamed and it was answered by a gunshot. Paul put both barrels into its back. It roared and let go of my heel, and I hobbled out as fast as I could. There was another shot, and then a scream from Paul. I reached my shack, fumbling in the darkness as I tried to open the door. I had to be quicker – my blood was in the air, surely I was going to be next. It was so near, its breath seemed to bruise the back of my neck. Finally the door opened. I slammed it behind me, bolted it, pushed furniture to block the windows. Outside were choppers, men running – but they weren’t going to get near it. It was coming for me, stalking me. I opened the table drawer and pulled out my revolver, then went to my book shelves and cracked open a little box. It was a present, given to me as a keepsake, a lucky charm, in case I ever needed it. A silver bullet. I looked to the door and with shaking fingers slipped it into the chamber. The full moon shone on me despite the furniture. I could hear growling, panting, a nearby and desperate salivating. But then I heard a chopper, I heard men. It receded, cowering, taking a tactical retreat. The sound of breathing softened in my head. I took a gulp of relief and vomited on the floor. The vomit was blood red. I sat down, shaking with tears. I reached to the drawer and pulled out a carving knife, bringing it to my heel. But it was no good. The wound was deeper than I’d realised, the teeth had sunk in further than I thought, meeting below my flesh. There was no way I could just cut it out, the infection was in me, rampant in my blood. I put the gun to my temple. Why not? Anyone who passed as my friend had already died that night. But then the moonlight touched me and I realised just how powerful I felt. I could hear the breathing again, friendlier now though. There was a new smell in the night air – warm, welcoming. The beast was just the other side of the door, I could sense it. I could smell it, it could smell me. I put the gun down and smiled. I guessed neither of us would be lonely for a little while. How to cite Wilderness Bradley Watker, Papers

European Paintings Female Nude Essay Example For Students

European Paintings Female Nude Essay There was something special or unusual about them. It could have been for their beauty, power or their social status. In todays world, beauty of women is shown in magazines, television, billboards and catalogue advertisements. Before all these technology was invented, the only media beauty could be expressed was through paintings, The women in these paintings werent just any women walking down the street. Just like what we see today in the media, consider these women to be models. They had what was believed to he the figure of perfection; softness, curves and long thick hair. One of the paintings shown in Ways of Seeing video is a painting by Jean Augusta Ingress called La Grandee Odalisque, This painting was commissioned by Caroline Mural, Queen of Naples in 1814. Beauty is clearly expressed in this painting. Although Ingress ideal of female form is anatomically impossible with the enhancement of the overly long back appearance, her figure is the ideal It is boneless. Her pose and her gaze have a deeper meaning than just a naked woman staring at the spectator. There is nothing sexual about this painting. The fact that it was commissioned by another woman also support hat the nude is not only for male viewing pleasure. Another painting shown in the video is by Sir Peter Levy. It was created in 1972. Without knowing its history, many people would think that it was painted for a mans fantasy. Many people also think that the woman represents Venus and cupid. The woman in the painting was in fact one of the mistresses of King Charles II, Nell Go. Yen with her child. The fact that the woman is a mistress off powerful man shows that power plays a part in the making of European female nude paintings. Being an object in the painting also lifted up her status her and identity. The nude in European paintings do celebrate the woman within them. Just like the models in todays world, they were no ordinary women. They had the ideal figure and have earned their place to be chosen as an object. It is a celebration of their beauty.