Phineas Gage

Phineas Gage: A Gruesome but True Story About Brain Science

by John Fleischman

8.2(B)

8.1(A)

8.2(A)

8.6(H)

8.9(E)

What will our learning look like today?

Success Criteria

Language Objective

Learning Intention

• Students will be successful if they can demonstrate an understanding of Phineas Gage's life and the impact of his case on brain science.
• Students will make inferences from the text and provide evidence to support their understanding.

I will delve into the life of Phineas Gage and his impact on brain science. We will analyze the article, discuss his story, and explore the importance of his case.

I will use academic vocabulary to discuss the life of Phineas Gage and his contributions to brain science.

Do Now:

• This is Phineas Gage.
• Phineas P. Gage (1823–1860) was an American railroad construction foreman remembered for his improbable survival of an accident in which a large iron rod was driven completely through his head, destroying much of his brain's left frontal lobe, and for that injury's reported effects on his personality and behavior over the remaining 12 years of his life‍—‌effects sufficiently profound that friends saw him (for a time at least) as "no longer Gage".
• What have you heard, if anything about brain injuries?

Introduction

After surviving a horrific accident that should have killed him instantly, Phineas Gage went on to live for 11 more years. What became of him after this accident—and why—would forever impact what scientists know about the human brain and how it functions. In the first chapter of Phineas Gage: A Gruesome but True Story About Brain Science, author John Fleischman draws readers into Phineas’s shocking and fascinating story with a lively and engrossing account of the freak accident. *Watch Study Sync Video

Context

• Phineas Gage is the foreman of a railroad crew in 1848. References to railroad and construction during this time, including “Phineas had his tamping iron made to order by a neighborhood blacksmith” may need explanation.
• Gage’s accident caused injury to the frontal lobe of his brain. This area is considered the “control panel” of one’s personality and ability to communicate.
• Purpose
• The selection is an informational text that is told as a narrative. Because of the narrative elements, the author’s purpose may need to be clarified for students.
• Organization
• The text does not follow a chronological structure or use past tense, which may challenge some students.
• Events that appear in the text out of chronological order include the introduction of the accident and Gage’s death in the introductory paragraphs.

Vocabulary

conduct

to behave or act in a certain way

forge

a furnace or oven where metal is heated and shaped

fuse

a long string used to light explosives so they will explode

routine

a repeating pattern of actions

will

state of mind to perservere

Summary

In 1848, while working on the construction of a railroad in Vermont, twenty-six-year-old Phineas Gage had a horrific accident. One day while setting a charge, it exploded, which sent a rod through his skull, leaving him with open wounds on his cheek and at the top of his head. It was the kind of injury that should have killed him, yet Gage remained lucid and calm. When the doctor arrived, he found Gage sitting on the porch of his hotel. When Gage told the doctor what happened, the doctor did not believe him. Gage physically recovered, but people close to him claimed that his personality changed. The injuries from the accident ultimately killed Gage eleven years later. To this day, doctors still study Gage’s case and how he survived for so many years.

Phineas Gage: A Gruesome but True Story About Brain Science by John Fleischman

“Horrible Accident in Vermont” Phineas is the foreman of a track construction gang that is in the process of blasting a railroad right-of-way through granite bedrock near the small town of Cavendish, Vermont. Phineas is twenty-six years old, unmarried, and five feet, six inches tall, short for our time but about average for his. He is good with his hands and good with his men, “possessing an iron will as well as an iron frame,” according to his doctor. In a moment, Phineas will have a horrible accident. It will kill him, but it will take another eleven years, six months, and nineteen days to do so. In the short run, Phineas will make a full recovery, or so it will seem to those who didn’t know him before. Old friends and family will know the truth. Phineas will never be his old self again. His “character” will change. The ways in which he deals with others, conducts himself, and makes plans will all change. Long after the accident, his doctor will sum up his case for a medical journal. “Gage,” his doctor will write, “was no longer Gage.” Phineas Gage’s accident will make him world famous, but fame will do him little good. Yet for many others—psychologists, medical researchers, doctors, and especially those who suffer brain injuries—Phineas Gage will become someone worth knowing. That’s why we know so much about Phineas. It’s been 150 years since his accident, yet we are still learning more about him. There’s also a lot about Phineas we don’t know and probably never will. The biggest question is the simplest one and the hardest to answer: Was Phineas lucky or unlucky? Once you hear his story, you can decide

for yourself. But right now, Phineas is working on the railroad and his time has nearly come. Building a railroad in 1848 is muscle work. There are no bulldozers or power shovels to open a way through Vermont’s Green Mountains for the Rutland & Burlington Railroad. Phineas’s men work with picks, shovels, and rock drills. Phineas’s special skill is blasting. With well-placed charges of black gunpowder, he shatters rock. To set those charges, he carries the special tool of the blasting trade, his “tamping iron.” Some people confuse a tamping iron with a crowbar, but they are different tools for different jobs. A crowbar is for lifting up or prying apart something heavy. A tamping iron is for the delicate job of setting explosives. Phineas had his tamping iron made to order by a neighborhood blacksmith. It’s a tapering iron rod that is three feet, seven inches long and weighs thirteen and a half pounds. It looks like an iron spear. At the base, it’s fat and round, an inch and three quarters in diameter. The fat end is for tamping—packing down—loose powder. The other end comes to a sharp, narrow point and is for poking holes through the gunpowder to set the fuse. Phineas’s tamping iron is very smooth to the touch, smooth from the blacksmith’s forge as well as from constant use. His task is to blast the solid rock into pieces small enough for his crew to dig loose with hand tools and haul away in ox carts. The first step is to drill a hole in the bedrock at exactly the right angle and depth, or the explosion will be wasted. All day, Phineas must keep an eye on his drillers to make sure they stay ahead. All day, Phineas must keep an eye on his diggers to make sure they keep up. All the time between, Phineas and his assistant are working with touchy explosives. They follow a strict routine. His assistant “charges” each new hole by filling the bottom with coarse-grained gunpowder. Phineas uses the narrow end of his iron to carefully press the ropelike fuse down into the powder. The assistant then fills up the rest of the hole with loose sand to act as a plug. Phineas will tamp the sand tight to bottle up the explosion, channeling the blast downward into the rock to shatter it. While his assistant is pouring the sand

Phineas flips his tamping iron around from the pointy end to the round end for tamping. Black powder is ticklish stuff. When it’s damp, nothing will set it off. When it’s too dry or mixed in the wrong formula, almost anything can set it off, without warning. But Phineas and his assistant have done this a thousand times—pour the powder, set the fuse, pour the sand, tamp the sand plug, shout a warning, light the fuse, and run like mad. But something goes wrong this time. The sand is never poured down the hole; the black powder and fuse sit exposed at the bottom. Does his assistant forget, or does Phineas forget to look? Witnesses disagree. A few yards behind Phineas, a group of his men are using a hand-cranked derrick crane to hoist a large piece of rock. Some of the men remember seeing Phineas standing over the blast hole, leaning lightly on the tamping iron. Others say Phineas was sitting on a rock ledge above the hole, holding the iron loosely between his knees. There is no argument about what happens next. Something or someone distracts Phineas. Does he hear his name called? Does he spot someone goofing off? Whatever the reason, Phineas turns his head to glance over his right shoulder. The fat end of his tamping iron slips down into the hole and strikes the granite. A spark flies onto the exposed blasting powder. Blam! The drill hole acts as a gun barrel. Instead of a bullet, it fires Phineas’s rod straight upward. The iron shrieks through the air and comes down with a loud clang about thirty feet away. This is what happens. Imagine you are inside Phineas’s head, watching in extreme slow motion: See the pointy end of the rod enter under his left cheekbone, pass behind his left eye, through the front of his brain, and out the middle of his forehead just above the hairline. It takes a fraction of a fraction of a second for the iron rod to pass from cheekbone to forehead, through and through. Amazingly, Phineas is still alive. The iron throws him flat on his back, but as his men come running from the

gunpowder smoke, he sits up. A minute later, he speaks. Blood is pouring down his face from his forehead, but Phineas is talking about the explosion. His men insist on carrying him to an ox cart for the short ride into town. They gently lift him into the back of the cart so he can sit up with his legs out before him on the floor. An Irish workman grabs a horse and races ahead for the doctor while the ox cart ambulance rumbles slowly down the half-mile to Cavendish. Phineas’s excited men crowd alongside, walking next to their injured boss. Still acting as a foreman, Phineas calls out for his time book and makes an entry as he rolls toward town. Something terrible has happened, yet Phineas gets down from the cart without help. He climbs the steps of the Cavendish hotel, where he has been living, and takes a seat on the porch beside his landlord, Joseph Adams. A few minutes earlier, Adams had seen the Irishman ride past shouting for Dr. Harlow, the town physician. Dr. Harlow was not to be found, so the rider was sent on to the next village to fetch Dr. Williams. Now Phineas takes a neighborly seat on the porch and tells his landlord what happened to him. That’s how Dr. Edward Williams finds Phineas nearly thirty minutes after the accident. Dr. Williams pulls up in his buggy at the hotel porch, and there is Phineas, talking away. Friends, workmates, and the curious crowd around as Dr. Williams climbs down from his carriage. “Well, here’s work enough for you, Doctor,” Phineas says to him quite cheerfully. Dr. Williams examines Phineas’s head. He can’t believe that this man is still alive. His skull is cracked open, as if something has popped out from the inside. Accident victims are often too shaken to know what happened, so Dr. Williams turns to Phineas’s workmen for the story, but Phineas insists on speaking for himself. He tells Dr. Williams that the iron went right through his head. Dr. Williams does not believe him.

What really happened to Phineas Gage?

Assignment

600000000

xxxxxx@email.com

Address