I don't know what this is. It started out as a "model essay" for a question from the GP Paper 1 mid-year exam, but turned into a monstrosity. The more I worked on it, the more complicated it became, and now it is so bloated in word count it will never pass for an essay at JC2 standard, took so long to write that it far exceeded the 90 minute time limit, and the content is so shaky and convoluted it's probably got more loopholes than 3-ring binder paper. Don't blame me, I only finished the main essay at nearly 0330 this morning and have been cosmetically touching it up over the past hour or so.
The question was: The truth should always be told, whatever the cost. Discuss.
Read for a laugh at crappy sleep-deprived writing, read for a headache if you need an excuse to get rid of some of your about-to-expire Panadols, or don't read. It's up to you. More...
Friday, July 13, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Thinking like a machine
"By forgoing an initial singular formula and using relational structures that recognize the rows, columns and diagonals of a boardgame, and making use of several different logic systems — including pure first-order, existential and guarded — a tailored formula could be devised from the data gathered from each logic. An added General Game Playing program helped the system learn how to play tactically, learn legal moves and, ultimately, win." excerpt from Computer Watches Humans Play Connect Four, Then Beats Them
I recognize this strategy. I use a very similar strategy to approach GP, especially for the essay Paper 1. It could also perhaps answer why I am having such a hard time convincing the kids to think like I do: I didn't realize it before, but it seems like this is how machines think and not human beings.
At least I know that what I took to be natural intuition can actually be a structured process. It's almost damn near impossible to teach people to be intuitive, but perhaps they'll be more open if they can see it as a process instead. *shoehorns it down kids' throats...
Tuesday, July 03, 2012
This is a medical problem?
You remember the old Marx Brothers one-liner when the patient goes, "Doctor, doctor! It hurts when I do this." And ersatz Dr Groucho goes, "Well then, don't do that." Zigzactly.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Asian fruit cornucopia
It's been a couple of years already that I've sworn off durians due to them being a contributing factor to my asthmatic symptoms. Note that it was never a formal diagnosis, pending further confirmation. Since then, I've not had a relapse in a long time.
Over the last couple of weeks, I've been pushing my limits little by little. The big test arrived today in the form of the big durian party organized by the neighbourhood residents' committee. For $8 per head, each of us was entitled to four whole stinky fruit ("bad ones can exchange!"). That's quite a leap of faith for me as previously I was restricting myself to about four individual seeds per sitting.
Apart from the main attraction, each table bore an additional load of fresh tropical fruit. Do I have to name them all for you? Fine: mangosteen, longan, rambutan and what we colloquially call 'baluku' or langsat.
While I suffered no relapse, eight whole durians between the wife and me were simply too much to stomach in one go. Fortunately, she had foresight enough to bring containers for 'afters'.
This is one lucky recipient of our doggie bag. Both Pebbles and Q-tip are big durian fans. If we ever want to buy durians, we should bring Pebbles. He can tell which are the good ones and will miao to indicate his preference. Those that don't interest him invariably turn out to be lousy.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Return to sender
Took the nephews with us to watch The Amazing Spider-Man. While I enjoyed the movie -- and considering it's reboot of a familiar story, it still manages a fresh, new perspective on the character and motivations of Peter Parker without looking like a rehash -- it was more significant for me that the few hours spent with the boys taught me a little bit about parenting, and how terrible I would be at it.
Two parameters clearly set this situation from a normal night of parental supervision: the first is the short-term contact with the promise of return-to-sender at the end of it, and second, there's no biological imperative to particularly look after their welfare. Social obligation, maybe, but definitely not biological.
The evening went more or less like this: as soon as they got into the car, our conversation turned mainly towards me questioning their every utterance and making them think about what they had just said, examine their assumptions and evaluate their conclusions. Note that they are still in elementary school, but still they were quite game to engage in logical thrust-and-parry. Now everybody's more appreciative of the criteria determining the difference between "near" and "far" as diametrically oppositional yet relative concepts, or more confused... I'm not really sure.
It took a neutral third-party to ask if I had considered the rating of the movie for which I was bringing kids to. I just assumed they'd be let in with no trouble, and indeed they were, but a more conscientious parent would have done some checking first, wouldn't they?
Fortunately, they had a wholesome dinner prepared by their grandma. I was prepared to stuff them with a burger and fries if they were hungry. I still stuffed them, anyway, with a Wendy's vanilla Frosty while we waited for the cinema to let us in. The boys were trying to outdo one another shovelling increasingly bigger spoonsful of frozen dessert into their mouths until the inevitable occurred. They experienced brain-freeze, I had a laugh. And that was before the medium caramel popcorn and Coke that I let them share during the movie.
On hindsight, that extra sugar that late at night might have sent them bouncing off the walls until the wee hours, so perhaps that wasn't really a good parenting strategy either. Not if I wanted unbroken sleep and not have to deal with nightmares and beasties-under-the-bed every five minutes or so. Wonder how their parents handled it after I deposited them at their doorstep and waved goodbye-thanks-for-a-lovely-evening-hope-yours-went-well-too?
To be honest, I did have a good time with the boys, but probably because I could stick to my nutty uncle mode without the need to be a parent. Hat's off to you if you are one! :)
Two parameters clearly set this situation from a normal night of parental supervision: the first is the short-term contact with the promise of return-to-sender at the end of it, and second, there's no biological imperative to particularly look after their welfare. Social obligation, maybe, but definitely not biological.
The evening went more or less like this: as soon as they got into the car, our conversation turned mainly towards me questioning their every utterance and making them think about what they had just said, examine their assumptions and evaluate their conclusions. Note that they are still in elementary school, but still they were quite game to engage in logical thrust-and-parry. Now everybody's more appreciative of the criteria determining the difference between "near" and "far" as diametrically oppositional yet relative concepts, or more confused... I'm not really sure.
It took a neutral third-party to ask if I had considered the rating of the movie for which I was bringing kids to. I just assumed they'd be let in with no trouble, and indeed they were, but a more conscientious parent would have done some checking first, wouldn't they?
Fortunately, they had a wholesome dinner prepared by their grandma. I was prepared to stuff them with a burger and fries if they were hungry. I still stuffed them, anyway, with a Wendy's vanilla Frosty while we waited for the cinema to let us in. The boys were trying to outdo one another shovelling increasingly bigger spoonsful of frozen dessert into their mouths until the inevitable occurred. They experienced brain-freeze, I had a laugh. And that was before the medium caramel popcorn and Coke that I let them share during the movie.
On hindsight, that extra sugar that late at night might have sent them bouncing off the walls until the wee hours, so perhaps that wasn't really a good parenting strategy either. Not if I wanted unbroken sleep and not have to deal with nightmares and beasties-under-the-bed every five minutes or so. Wonder how their parents handled it after I deposited them at their doorstep and waved goodbye-thanks-for-a-lovely-evening-hope-yours-went-well-too?
To be honest, I did have a good time with the boys, but probably because I could stick to my nutty uncle mode without the need to be a parent. Hat's off to you if you are one! :)
To Riang we go!
A toast to HP to celebrate a slightly belated birthday! (And to whatever it was that Josh and Wayne were celebrating).
We made the staff of La Pizzaiola and Wimbly Lu really happy with our entourage of lunch seekers. These two trendy establishments are housed in neighbouring shophouses on Jalan Riang.
The former serves an Italian menu. The portions are generous for the price; and full of rich, strong, hearty flavours. Whether it's the Parma ham, the creamy mozzarella, the fresh rocket or the robust lasagne, the tastebuds sing with every mouthful. The impact can be a bit much for some people, though. Fortunately, there are others at the table who are less finicky and will gladly clean up leftovers and table scraps to minimize wastage.
The pix (above) is of Wimbly Lu's s'mores pie: a blend of chopped marshmallows baked over a layer of cream over a layer of chocolate, held together by a crumbly biscuit crust. Looks sweet, was sweet. Discovered that despite having a high tolerance for pasta cream, I got to saturation rather quickly with sweet, creamy dessert. Perhaps if Elim hadn't been distracting me with our Plants vs Zombies co-op game, I might have passed on my dessert to somebody else with a sweeter tooth than me. Never mind, curiosity sated. Next time, I'll go back to the root beer cake a la mode.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Location, location, location
As the mid-term marking season plods on, the talking point of the day is suggesting the best places to get marking done.
There is a premium on being the first to spill the beans on the coolest, hippest, newest, caffeine-enriched locations that tolerate lead-butted patrons who hog the table with piles of reading materials. But you'll get no such tip from me.
My fave marking location is to sneak an unoccupied classroom, windows open, one fan activated (no air-con) and a couple of rows of lights on. Working in isolation with nothing and no one to distract me, I can be quite the grading machine.
For breaks, I have an abundance of floor space to practice crazy walks on, and a panoramic view of the neighbouring blocks beyond the running track. Yay. It should also be near enough to the campus cafe and to the toilet, yet far enough to have to think twice about abandoning my stuff for a quick cuppa or sprinkle.
Such luxury is hard to come by, though. Have to make the best use of it this week while everyone is on exam-mode. This self-imposed exile is also a penance for not being as diligent as I should have been over the mid-term break. :p
There is a premium on being the first to spill the beans on the coolest, hippest, newest, caffeine-enriched locations that tolerate lead-butted patrons who hog the table with piles of reading materials. But you'll get no such tip from me.
My fave marking location is to sneak an unoccupied classroom, windows open, one fan activated (no air-con) and a couple of rows of lights on. Working in isolation with nothing and no one to distract me, I can be quite the grading machine.
For breaks, I have an abundance of floor space to practice crazy walks on, and a panoramic view of the neighbouring blocks beyond the running track. Yay. It should also be near enough to the campus cafe and to the toilet, yet far enough to have to think twice about abandoning my stuff for a quick cuppa or sprinkle.
Such luxury is hard to come by, though. Have to make the best use of it this week while everyone is on exam-mode. This self-imposed exile is also a penance for not being as diligent as I should have been over the mid-term break. :p
Thursday, June 21, 2012
+1 Mask of immobility
To follow up on the progress of oncological treatment for the Patient, today's visit was to get measured for a custom made full-face mask. This mask will lock the Patient's head down on the treatment table so that movement beyond a 1mm tolerance is not possible. We're talking about precision radiotherapy and we don't want to fry the wrong part of the Patient's anatomy, do we?
I didn't get to see the procedure for the mask making, but the radiologist showed us a sample of one. It's like a hard netting made of what looks to be a ploymer or silicon material, moulded exactly to fit over the face, so each mask is unique to the wearer.
Guess if the area to be zapped were on some other part of the body, there would be other means of immobilizing said part. But the head tends to roll around a lot, firstly because the neck is a relatively unstable base, and because any distraction or moment of inattention will cause the target area to shift significantly in orientation, causing unnecessary and undesirable collateral damage to the surrounding tissue.
Tomorrow should be the fitting of the mask, some discussion of customization and modification for optimal comfort, and also a sort of calibrating rehearsal on the machine -- a dry-run, so to speak. Unfortunately, I won't be able to perform my usual chauffeur duty as my day-job is calling me back from the mid-term break.
Transport will have to be taken over by a free shuttle service for such contingencies, though at the moment the Patient is on a waiting list. Public transport for now, but hopefully the shuttle will be able to accommodate when the treatment begins for real in a couple of weeks' time.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Local treatment
But the bigger question is, what am I doing in the hospital? To keep things simple, transport duty for a close but not blood relative to get his angiosarcoma seen to. That, btw, is a form of cancer that's rare but aggressive in nature.
The good news is that it's localized and treatment can be targeted specifically at the growth area with radiotherapy. A better option would be for complete surgical removal, but due to certain complications like ageing, among other things, the risk for anesthesia is too high to attempt.
Over the last couple of weeks, I've been getting something of an education in the oncological process, at least from the patient's perspective. From the initial reluctance to accept the need for treatment to the eventual ok, let's get this over with. Today's hospital visit was for the radiologist to spell out the procedures for treatment, and the risks and possible side-effects therein. That being done, the patient signs the consent form and commits.
So, in the next two consecutive days we will be starting the process at the hospital. Calibration, not treatment yet. As the procedure is precise, measurements and calculations need to be done first. The urgency is there, but so is the care taken to minimize the risks involved. We'll go slow and steady.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Helm, set a course!
A new gadget! A Holux S Tracknavi 61B portable GPS for M2. It's a seriously be-earlied bdae pressie from Tong and family. Yes, I have heard reports that the newly-announced iOS6 is killing such dedicated gadgets, but while I'm currently iPhone-less (waiting and seeing if the next iTeration will be worth making the switch) this one will do nicely for getting me from place to unfamiliar place on the road.
Just to test out my new on-board digital navigator, I programmed it to get me someplace familiar. Key in the destination in the search bar with predictive text, hit the 'Navigate' button on the touchscreen and we're off. Clear voice directions way in advance of nav waypoints, supported by symbolic, photographic and 'live' map graphics; it's hard to get lost with this thing in the car now. So where do I let it take me on its virgin voyage? To a place where the burgers are so thick they have to be nibbled at from around the edges, and so. much. bacon. *burp!
Thursday, June 14, 2012
A little give and take
“We’ve bought into the idea that education is about training and “success”, defined monetarily rather than learning to think critically and to challenge. We should not forget that the true purpose of education is to make minds, not careers. A culture that does not grasp the vital interplay between morality and power, which mistakes management techniques for wisdom, which fails to understand that the measure of civilisation is its compassion, not its speed or ability to consume, condemns itself to death.”
- Chris Hedges
Not often I get a commission to make a post, but I've been asked to comment on the above quotation. I agree. Totally.
If you're being educated because you need a qualification to get a job, you're barking up the wrong tree. Employers won't hire you because your motivation is to TAKE as much as possible FROM the job.
If you're being educated because you wish to learn about being a smart, moral person living amongst other smart, moral people, you're more likely to get somewhere in life. Employers are more likely to employ you because your motivation is to GIVE as much as possible TO the job.
Hey, if you can appreciate value for money, you should know what it looks like from the employer's perspective.
- Chris Hedges
Not often I get a commission to make a post, but I've been asked to comment on the above quotation. I agree. Totally.
If you're being educated because you need a qualification to get a job, you're barking up the wrong tree. Employers won't hire you because your motivation is to TAKE as much as possible FROM the job.
If you're being educated because you wish to learn about being a smart, moral person living amongst other smart, moral people, you're more likely to get somewhere in life. Employers are more likely to employ you because your motivation is to GIVE as much as possible TO the job.
Hey, if you can appreciate value for money, you should know what it looks like from the employer's perspective.
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Billy the Exterminator
You know you're the man o' the hoose when you've been summoned to the bathroom to evict the unwelcome house guest. Subject in question: a tiny baby lizard scampering about on the counter-top.
Eviction tool of choice: 1 x sheet of box tissue paper
Methodology: throw paper over lizard, quickly bundle it up for transportation out of the premises.
Rationale: avoid inadvertently applying excessive grip pressure on subject, causing potentially fatal squishing.
First attempt: FAILURE. Subject wriggles free from cellulose enclosure and suffers a long drop to the floor.
Unforeseen circumstance: URGENT! Subject Momo lurking unnoticed under the bathroom counter lashes out with a forepaw, effectively pinning Subject Baby Lizard underneath.
Remedial action: Use left hand to fend off Subject Momo and distract her from Subject Baby Lizard. Right hand repeats capture procedure. Probably stunned by the fall and subsequent non-fatal squish, Subject Baby Lizard offers no further resistance.
Eviction procedure: SUCCESS! Eviction notice served and executed. Subject Baby Lizard transported to Front Door and released into common corridor where hopefully it will live out the rest of its life without making a return trip.
After Action Reflection: Odd that instead of feeling scared of Subject Baby Lizard, I was more afraid FOR it. With three cats in the house, few lizards get a second lease on life. This one was one of the lucky ones.
Eviction tool of choice: 1 x sheet of box tissue paper
Methodology: throw paper over lizard, quickly bundle it up for transportation out of the premises.
Rationale: avoid inadvertently applying excessive grip pressure on subject, causing potentially fatal squishing.
First attempt: FAILURE. Subject wriggles free from cellulose enclosure and suffers a long drop to the floor.
Unforeseen circumstance: URGENT! Subject Momo lurking unnoticed under the bathroom counter lashes out with a forepaw, effectively pinning Subject Baby Lizard underneath.
Remedial action: Use left hand to fend off Subject Momo and distract her from Subject Baby Lizard. Right hand repeats capture procedure. Probably stunned by the fall and subsequent non-fatal squish, Subject Baby Lizard offers no further resistance.
Eviction procedure: SUCCESS! Eviction notice served and executed. Subject Baby Lizard transported to Front Door and released into common corridor where hopefully it will live out the rest of its life without making a return trip.
After Action Reflection: Odd that instead of feeling scared of Subject Baby Lizard, I was more afraid FOR it. With three cats in the house, few lizards get a second lease on life. This one was one of the lucky ones.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Great expectations
We've been lying to our kids. And because the lie has perpetuated for at least a couple of generations already, many of us have also been lying to ourselves. The lie is that the more years we spend in school and the better our grades are, the better we can expect our lives to become.
The assumption makes no sense at all. We spend time in school in order to prepare ourselves. But if our lives are expected to get better, then there's no need to be prepared for it. Who needs to prepare for a life of ease? Of sipping pina coladas by a sunny beachside resort in the Bahamas? In truth, the reason why we prepare ourselves is because we expect bad things to happen. We prepare for disaster. We prepare because our lives are likely to become infinitely worse once we leave the safety zone of our school.
So why has this obviously counter-intuitive lie persisted down the generations? Somehow, people have got the mistaken idea that being in school is the way we pay our dues to society, and that the child's relative present suffering is a way of 'paying forward' a ticket to paradise in adulthood. So when the child finally graduates, he can "[habour] high hope [sic] of a good life afterwards." But it's so disappointing to see his hopes dashed in the face of adult reality.
I don't know the letter-writer personally, but I shall assume that he -- like many other of our graduated students -- has "all the A’s in [his] report card", and yet is unable to find satisfactory employment. I shall also assume that being a straight-A student meant huge sacrifices of freedom and other personal privations in order to focus on his studies and score his A's, all the while telling himself it would all be worth it in the end: a nice, cushy office job; telling the B-graders and below to make the coffee; while the money just rolls in. Because all the hard work was already done in school.
It's hard to face the truth that the shiny, golden academic degree is not the passport to the good life we were told it was. If you've worked hard for it, great! Kudos to you. But the real work begins at the workplace. Sadly, the real work involves everything else you gave up in your earlier life while you chose to mug for your A grades. There isn't a job out there that requires the employee to sit and memorize stacks of notes only to reproduce it all over again a month or six later. Xerox made that job obsolete decades ago. Sorry.
Real work involves having lots of different interests, personal, general and current; in order to be interesting to co-workers, customers and anyone else along the production or service chain. Solo muggers are at a serious disadvantage because collaboration -- i.e., working with others, quirks and all -- is a premium at the workplace. People who can think beyond the manual or even improve it are much preferred to those who can just reproduce it or require it in order to carry out their daily tasks. Workplace problems do not come with their own formulas to apply; they have to be solved with new methods all the time. Workers are comfortable with learning, unlearning and relearning, a concept unthinkable to students of our carefully structured and scaffolded system.
Employable skills are those we pick up when we get our noses out of our textbooks and learn from life itself. We can't say we've visited Rome after reading a Fodor's guide. Likewise.
So why are employers starting to rely on foreign employees? Because foreigners are not as grade-obsessed as we are. They don't view educational qualifications as a certificate of entitlement to a job good or otherwise. It's blinkered of us to keep thinking such because today, every other S'porean grad holds a string of A's, but little else to distinguish one from another. What's an employer to do?
The letter-writer is probably right to call himself a "failed product" of the system and not label the system outright as a failure. We don't have a mass unemployment situation here, so it's likely that most who pass through our system do find jobs. It's these small, unhappy minorities who can't fathom what has gone so wrong for them. I hope his new career coach can help undo the damage his schooling experience has done to him. In the meantime, I'm not going to lie to my kids any more. Never have, actually...!
The assumption makes no sense at all. We spend time in school in order to prepare ourselves. But if our lives are expected to get better, then there's no need to be prepared for it. Who needs to prepare for a life of ease? Of sipping pina coladas by a sunny beachside resort in the Bahamas? In truth, the reason why we prepare ourselves is because we expect bad things to happen. We prepare for disaster. We prepare because our lives are likely to become infinitely worse once we leave the safety zone of our school.
So why has this obviously counter-intuitive lie persisted down the generations? Somehow, people have got the mistaken idea that being in school is the way we pay our dues to society, and that the child's relative present suffering is a way of 'paying forward' a ticket to paradise in adulthood. So when the child finally graduates, he can "[habour] high hope [sic] of a good life afterwards." But it's so disappointing to see his hopes dashed in the face of adult reality.
I don't know the letter-writer personally, but I shall assume that he -- like many other of our graduated students -- has "all the A’s in [his] report card", and yet is unable to find satisfactory employment. I shall also assume that being a straight-A student meant huge sacrifices of freedom and other personal privations in order to focus on his studies and score his A's, all the while telling himself it would all be worth it in the end: a nice, cushy office job; telling the B-graders and below to make the coffee; while the money just rolls in. Because all the hard work was already done in school.
It's hard to face the truth that the shiny, golden academic degree is not the passport to the good life we were told it was. If you've worked hard for it, great! Kudos to you. But the real work begins at the workplace. Sadly, the real work involves everything else you gave up in your earlier life while you chose to mug for your A grades. There isn't a job out there that requires the employee to sit and memorize stacks of notes only to reproduce it all over again a month or six later. Xerox made that job obsolete decades ago. Sorry.
Real work involves having lots of different interests, personal, general and current; in order to be interesting to co-workers, customers and anyone else along the production or service chain. Solo muggers are at a serious disadvantage because collaboration -- i.e., working with others, quirks and all -- is a premium at the workplace. People who can think beyond the manual or even improve it are much preferred to those who can just reproduce it or require it in order to carry out their daily tasks. Workplace problems do not come with their own formulas to apply; they have to be solved with new methods all the time. Workers are comfortable with learning, unlearning and relearning, a concept unthinkable to students of our carefully structured and scaffolded system.
Employable skills are those we pick up when we get our noses out of our textbooks and learn from life itself. We can't say we've visited Rome after reading a Fodor's guide. Likewise.
So why are employers starting to rely on foreign employees? Because foreigners are not as grade-obsessed as we are. They don't view educational qualifications as a certificate of entitlement to a job good or otherwise. It's blinkered of us to keep thinking such because today, every other S'porean grad holds a string of A's, but little else to distinguish one from another. What's an employer to do?
The letter-writer is probably right to call himself a "failed product" of the system and not label the system outright as a failure. We don't have a mass unemployment situation here, so it's likely that most who pass through our system do find jobs. It's these small, unhappy minorities who can't fathom what has gone so wrong for them. I hope his new career coach can help undo the damage his schooling experience has done to him. In the meantime, I'm not going to lie to my kids any more. Never have, actually...!
Saturday, June 09, 2012
I ask the questions here!
Context is everything, but it seems these days people are losing sense of what it means. I'm referring to the online debacle with the Pre-U Sem (from now identified as 'PUS') kid who was upset that the guest political dignitary (from now identified as 'DPM') did not answer his or anybody else's questions during the Q&A. Instead, DPM redirected the questions back to the questioners for their take on the situation.
First, I'm not going on about the crude language said kid coloured his online response with. Online, crudity of expression is fair game, to be expected, with the exception of certain refined individuals who represent a tiny minority. This post is more about how our kids have no idea how a discussion is supposed to be conducted.
For them, questions must have answers. Answers must be satisfactory, and should be useful in scoring an 'A' grade at the final exams. After all, kids are forced to cook up some kind of question for Q&A sessions, so at least the panel should have the courtesy of providing a suitable answer. Full-stop. Draw a line across. It's very upsetting for a kid when the replies don't follow protocol. The question is wasted, the time spent thinking it up is wasted. The questionee must be an idiot because he doesn't have an answer. I should know... I get that all the time in class. I'm used to it.
About context. Q&A sessions (and people are going to hate me for saying such) are invitations to a discussion; i.e., a sharing of information. You share some with me, I share some with you. When the panel returns a question, it's an invitation for further conversation. This pattern repeats itself until a resolution or something else more interesting arises.
Discussions are a form of dialogue. Unfortunately, PUS kid got upset because he wasn't interested in dialogue. Instead, he took the Q&A to be an interrogation. I ask the questions, you tell me the answer. If I'm not happy with your answer, I'll abuse you until you tell me an answer I want to hear. Which, basically sums up what happened online.
The really sad thing is that the kid is attending the PUS with no idea why he is doing so. The PUS is organized annually as a forum for JC-level academic peers to gather and discuss national issues, to come up with ideas and projects that pro-actively address national concerns. We invite a political representative not to listen to his directives but rather propose to him what we plan to do, independently, with a well-thought through plan, because it's the right thing to do. So in fact, the guest is not there to be interrogated, but to be impressed by our initiative, our drive and our ingenuity. We are the ones who provide the answers to his concerns, not the other way around.
Now that the PUS kid has apologized, I hope he knows what he is apologizing for. It's not because he behaved badly but that his bad behaviour was the result of misidentifying his role in the PUS in general, and in the Q&A specifically.
BTW, it's really hard to be the government right now, especially when the people are becoming increasingly ungovernable. When you have answers to questions, people call you a tyrant; non-consultative; dictatorial. When you invite discussion, people call you incompetent, having no ideas; not worth your salt. When things go well, no one notices; but when things go wrong, you're everybody's favourite whipping-boy.
With a people like that, it doesn't matter whether our representatives are from the ruling party or from the opposition. We will always be unhappy with the government whenever we don't get what we want. You couldn't pay me a million dollars to take on that kind of thankless job.
First, I'm not going on about the crude language said kid coloured his online response with. Online, crudity of expression is fair game, to be expected, with the exception of certain refined individuals who represent a tiny minority. This post is more about how our kids have no idea how a discussion is supposed to be conducted.
For them, questions must have answers. Answers must be satisfactory, and should be useful in scoring an 'A' grade at the final exams. After all, kids are forced to cook up some kind of question for Q&A sessions, so at least the panel should have the courtesy of providing a suitable answer. Full-stop. Draw a line across. It's very upsetting for a kid when the replies don't follow protocol. The question is wasted, the time spent thinking it up is wasted. The questionee must be an idiot because he doesn't have an answer. I should know... I get that all the time in class. I'm used to it.
About context. Q&A sessions (and people are going to hate me for saying such) are invitations to a discussion; i.e., a sharing of information. You share some with me, I share some with you. When the panel returns a question, it's an invitation for further conversation. This pattern repeats itself until a resolution or something else more interesting arises.
Discussions are a form of dialogue. Unfortunately, PUS kid got upset because he wasn't interested in dialogue. Instead, he took the Q&A to be an interrogation. I ask the questions, you tell me the answer. If I'm not happy with your answer, I'll abuse you until you tell me an answer I want to hear. Which, basically sums up what happened online.
The really sad thing is that the kid is attending the PUS with no idea why he is doing so. The PUS is organized annually as a forum for JC-level academic peers to gather and discuss national issues, to come up with ideas and projects that pro-actively address national concerns. We invite a political representative not to listen to his directives but rather propose to him what we plan to do, independently, with a well-thought through plan, because it's the right thing to do. So in fact, the guest is not there to be interrogated, but to be impressed by our initiative, our drive and our ingenuity. We are the ones who provide the answers to his concerns, not the other way around.
Now that the PUS kid has apologized, I hope he knows what he is apologizing for. It's not because he behaved badly but that his bad behaviour was the result of misidentifying his role in the PUS in general, and in the Q&A specifically.
BTW, it's really hard to be the government right now, especially when the people are becoming increasingly ungovernable. When you have answers to questions, people call you a tyrant; non-consultative; dictatorial. When you invite discussion, people call you incompetent, having no ideas; not worth your salt. When things go well, no one notices; but when things go wrong, you're everybody's favourite whipping-boy.
With a people like that, it doesn't matter whether our representatives are from the ruling party or from the opposition. We will always be unhappy with the government whenever we don't get what we want. You couldn't pay me a million dollars to take on that kind of thankless job.
Wednesday, June 06, 2012
The state of the arts
Since last week, strange yellow circles began appearing at different locations on the floors of our neighbourhood void decks. Now it's clear what they are meant for.
What's interesting about them is that they are painted on by stencil in a public location. They present information in the form of text and graphics, but they are dry, humourless and terse. Obviously not meant as art, but they have a legitimate purpose for their presence in the public eye.
This public service is in direct contrast with what's been happening with the so-called 'sticker lady' and her attempts to perform her blend of design and cultural commentary, within the context it is relevant. Her unilateral action to paste authority-impersonating wry stickers on public amenities and stencil officious-looking, yet irreverent text on public roads has met the ire of the authorities whose duty it is to maintain public order.
There was no doubt in anybody's mind that she would get into trouble. I doubt she had any illusions about that. But she went and did it anyway; to give passers-by a chuckle and wonder at the mystery over the identity of this bold individual thumbing his?her? nose at the norms of civil society, at least while it lasted. Her art was not in the design of the stickers or the stenciled text themselves but in the performance of placing them where they could be found and making her audience connect with her observations of Singaporean life.
Since her arrest, the artist has ignited a public debate over what is art and what constitutes public nuisance. This coming from a nation that once had no time and no energy for such impractical, unprofitable considerations. This is an artist's highest achievement: to be talked about; to have a people challenge the once comfortable cut-and-dried standards and values that underpin their culture; to push the boundaries of what is accepted so that we start to think about what we stand for instead of blindly accepting status quo without question.
Perhaps I may be over-romanticizing her objectives. It could be that all she wanted was a little fun, that's all. But whether she's right or wrong, let's just say if she didn't get into trouble with the powers that be, her performance would have fallen flat. Her statement would have been pointless and meaningless, worthy of an lol comment on Facebook, but little else.
So don't feel sorry for her. Rather, respect her as a true artist who has given her all for the sake of her art. Whether she wins or loses in court, this entire performance with its slow, patient build-up and mass audience participation scores a total WIN.
Tuesday, June 05, 2012
Best Exotic
The best movies aren't the ones with the biggest explosions or the eye-poppingest 3D effects. As much as superhero movies supply ever-increasing bangs for our bucks, movies about real people facing real problems with good humour, gumption and a sense of unrealistic optimism told with a touch of charm are the true nourishment between the candy fillers.
"The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" in Jaipur, India, is just the place to be, if your eyes are the type that can see into the future. For now, the structure is ramshackle, the facilities are barely functional, the rooms are pest-ridden, the food... takes some getting used to. The whole place runs on a dream that one day it will be great, but in the meantime, just put up with it, it will get better. Soon.
The guests are a diverse set of retirees with an assortment of health problems, empty-nest syndrome, regrets of one sort or another, and they've come to get away from it all. People who don't have much future left, as far as they can see. And so begins the mismatch of English elderly middle-class expectations versus ambitious youthful Indian struggling-against-tradition hospitality.
Much of the charm taps on our desire to run away from everything and everyone in order to start afresh somewhere new, exotic and unfamiliar. But then, life always puts us in unfamiliar situations anyway, wherever we are. Retirement, long-term illness, loneliness and ageing are aspects of our lives that are inevitable, yet we never think that they will happen to us -- that is until they are already on top of us and we realize that the bridge we were going to cross when we get there is already behind us. Omg. Question is, is there life after that?
Is it still possible to find love or remain relevant and useful to society once we've turned a certain chronological milestone? Is it possible for a dream to come true even if no one else but the dreamer believes in it? The BEMH has brought everyone together to find out.
Two maxims keep the action flowing:
1) The only failure is the failure to try; and
2) It will be all right in the end. If it is not all right, it is not the end.
Words to live by.
"The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" in Jaipur, India, is just the place to be, if your eyes are the type that can see into the future. For now, the structure is ramshackle, the facilities are barely functional, the rooms are pest-ridden, the food... takes some getting used to. The whole place runs on a dream that one day it will be great, but in the meantime, just put up with it, it will get better. Soon.
The guests are a diverse set of retirees with an assortment of health problems, empty-nest syndrome, regrets of one sort or another, and they've come to get away from it all. People who don't have much future left, as far as they can see. And so begins the mismatch of English elderly middle-class expectations versus ambitious youthful Indian struggling-against-tradition hospitality.
Much of the charm taps on our desire to run away from everything and everyone in order to start afresh somewhere new, exotic and unfamiliar. But then, life always puts us in unfamiliar situations anyway, wherever we are. Retirement, long-term illness, loneliness and ageing are aspects of our lives that are inevitable, yet we never think that they will happen to us -- that is until they are already on top of us and we realize that the bridge we were going to cross when we get there is already behind us. Omg. Question is, is there life after that?
Is it still possible to find love or remain relevant and useful to society once we've turned a certain chronological milestone? Is it possible for a dream to come true even if no one else but the dreamer believes in it? The BEMH has brought everyone together to find out.
Two maxims keep the action flowing:
1) The only failure is the failure to try; and
2) It will be all right in the end. If it is not all right, it is not the end.
Words to live by.
Friday, June 01, 2012
The broken neck
Mr L33t's monitor is secure again. Somehow, over the last week or so the stand had snapped and the screen was balancing precariously on the pylon. Any light touch would send the whole thing crashing down on the keyboard. Thankfully, I have the reflexes of a 10 year-old for catching things... like measles, mumps and chicken-pox, and so I've managed to avert total disaster.
Not trusting my luck for too much longer, I brought it to the local Samsung customer service facility. It appears they don't get too much experience fixing simple mechanical problems like this one. Selling me a replacement mounting strut was easy: $5, please. The next thing was the proper procedure for helping me install it since part of the original strut was still stuck inside the housing.
After a bit of ding-dong with the retail guy, the service girl and the unseen backroom tech, they eventually decided not to charge for the extra service -- the service of removing the entire back panel in order to jiggle out the remnant piece before installing the new part.
In case you are wondering how a monitor could possibly snap off its support stand... it's a mystery to me too. It definitely has nothing to do with the time I had finally, after several frustrating attempts, delivered the killing blow to the Prime Evil on Nightmare mode, the Diablo servers went down for maintenance right at that very instant. I swear it was broken before that.
Not trusting my luck for too much longer, I brought it to the local Samsung customer service facility. It appears they don't get too much experience fixing simple mechanical problems like this one. Selling me a replacement mounting strut was easy: $5, please. The next thing was the proper procedure for helping me install it since part of the original strut was still stuck inside the housing.
After a bit of ding-dong with the retail guy, the service girl and the unseen backroom tech, they eventually decided not to charge for the extra service -- the service of removing the entire back panel in order to jiggle out the remnant piece before installing the new part.
In case you are wondering how a monitor could possibly snap off its support stand... it's a mystery to me too. It definitely has nothing to do with the time I had finally, after several frustrating attempts, delivered the killing blow to the Prime Evil on Nightmare mode, the Diablo servers went down for maintenance right at that very instant. I swear it was broken before that.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Computers don't make people smarter
This really is an epiphany from last Wednesday since the staff sharing and the subsequent meeting with the Infocomm bigwig of our cluster:
ICT is not and can not be used to deliver content. If it did, we might as well substitute ourselves with a netbook, then we can get on with more important things in our lives... like defeating Diablo in 'Inferno' mode.
Sadly for us, that's not going to happen. Content delivery is still firmly within the domain of the biological facilitator, i.e., yours truly. Someone still has to maintain discipline and focus in the classroom, and that someone isn't likely to be Facebook or YouTube (or 9Gag, or whatever).
So why all the fuss about ICT? We're looking at it all wrong (I'm on a roll!). ICT does squat for Teaching, so we shouldn't even bother going there. Besides, we're the teachers, so that's our job. What it does best is enhance the Learning, and that's where we should be focusing our attention on with its use.
The main idea is to move our classroom culture away from spoon-feeding each individual kid towards a whole new skill-set in which the kids can pick up on the trail of breadcrumbs we leave for them and establish launch-pads from which to explore and learn more on their own. So within our so-called ICT lessons, what we are really doing with the kids is to demo how marvelously these wonderful new toys work so that they will decide to start using them on their own.
At the most basic level, with backchannel logs like todaysmeet, we can gather real-time feedback on how our (biologically facilitated) lessons are going; identify common problem areas; and use the feedback to plan subsequent lessons to address these difficulties. By posting queries and seeing that they are really being addressed, the kids should be gaining the confidence to start taking their first baby steps towards independent learning. When they start reading beyond what they are required to learn for the finals, that would be utopia -- but that eventuality is out of our hands. It's up to them, but it'll be us pushing them in that direction.
The communication part of this technology is what gives the kids the opportunity to teach each other outside of classroom time. We plan lessons requiring the kids to collaborate on, say, textual analysis using a crocodoc, and co-author a long response with a titanpad. Google docs works well for both, and with the built-in templates you can make pretty worksheets too, if you're into that kind of thing.
Our objective (if I may remind us again) is not to teach a content point, but to teach them the rules of collaboration, the rules of engagement, to set the social environment in which the kids realize that when they combine their different strengths on a task, they more than make up for their individual weaknesses. When the kids start trusting each other with their learning we don't lose the one teacher, we gain 20, 30, 40 new teachers the kids can learn from. That's where we are going with ICT. Computers don't make people smarter; people make people smarter.
ICT offers the opportunity to turn the kids from individualistic passive learners (which we turned them into for the sake of classroom management) to socially participatory ones. If we're looking for a KPI, it shouldn't be about how much ICT we use to teach in class, it's how much ICT the kids are using on their own in order to learn better.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Re-envisioning the industry
Invigilations are spots of empty time when we are forced to occupy ourselves with thoughts and ideas that do not originate from any medium other than our own cerebral wetware. In these long stretches, we occasionally get epiphanies that look like bad ideas and are, in fact, likely to be Very Bad Ideas.
My VBI for today goes like this: the industry has got it all wrong. Everything along the production line has been misidentified and mis-prioritized. As a result, the economy is about to balk at the kind of crappy product we are churning out -- if it hasn't already rebelled on us.
First, we have to accept that the school is a manufacturing plant. We take in raw material which we process and deliver in a useful form to the customer. Where we totally screwed up is in misidentifying the customer. Our current philosophy is to view the student or even the student's parents as the customer and we tailor everything we do to make the customer happy. While that makes good business sense, we have completely forgotten who our real customer is.
Whomever this mysterious customer is, it isn't the student or his parents. So let's start by relabeling all the process elements properly. Parents are vendors who provide us our raw materials. The students are the raw materials that we turn into our product. We deliver this product to... the workforce, i.e., employers who demand competent workers who are trained and skilled in meeting the needs of a challenging work environment; and who can contribute to the growth and development of their companies.
Now the process chain makes sense. We were beating ourselves to death trying to get every kid who passed through our hands into the university because that was what we thought the customer wanted. Of course parents would want their kids to get tertiary education, but they are NOT the customer. Neither are the kids. Raw material is definitely NOT the customer.
As with all other industries, our processes grade and classify raw materials by their quality and put them to work where they are best suited, and priced for retail accordingly. It is our responsibility to minimize waste, but in the end, quality sorts itself out. Our other problem is our criteria for quality. Mistakenly, we assess quality by academic performance. The assumption that the lower the L1R5, the higher the quality is as faulty as it gets. Academic performance only tells a fraction of the tale.
Our real customer, the employer, knows this and clearly does not want workers who only know how to pass their final exams and pretty much nothing else. After all, there is no equivalent of a final exam in the workplace, so equipping the kids with nothing but exam skills is a complete mismatch with what our customer wants: smarts AND character.
Our job is to deliver the best possible product that the customer demands. They demand a product that is not tested at the end of the year, but every day of its sad and miserable life. The kind of test is not a pen-and-paper exercise that proves how well the product can memorize a limited number of facts but the kind that puts it through a daily hell to see how well it can stand up to incredible pressure; intractable deadlines; tedious, boring, routine and often pointless work; work that has to be done, revised and redone with no end in sight; irrational, occasionally garbled instructions from somewhere up the food chain; all the sorts of things one can reasonably expect from a office job -- and can still drag itself looking presentable and sufficiently enthusiastic back to work every day for more of the same. Now, THAT is character development in practice -- no need for extra lessons that are just going to be artificial, theoretical and more for show than anything else.
JC students already have an 'O' Level qualification so they are qualified to work and support families of their own, although they might have to live more frugally than others. So there should be no problem in letting those kids who are so bored with attending classes (and are causing disruptions for their fellow students) quit and look for a job instead. Since they have already been educated beyond their right as a human being to expect we shouldn't feel so bad about seeing them go.
To be educated at tertiary level, one has to deserve the place, not just by dint of one's previous academic success alone but by making a daily choice to conform to the rules of the institution and to do the work prescribed in the most diligent manner possible. The workplace in one's future demands no less. Sometimes, we forget this and take it personally when some kids are hard to discipline. All they want is to be free. Let's do everybody a favour and unshackle them from their misery. Of course, we do our best to minimize such a waste of raw materials, but that, like allowing some others to fail is part of a QC process that works.
Some of the problems we've been having in our industry lately will never be experienced in any other industry because the roles and places of things are much clearer for the latter. The vendor does not question the industry about how his raw material is put to use. Neither does the raw material question the processes it has to undergo. The clay does not tell the potter that it would rather be a plate; the iron ore does not complain about the temperature of the smelter nor the force of the hammering as it is being made into a farm tool. The reason why our industry is such an anomaly is because we put the power of demand in the wrong hands.
The real customer is behaving like any other retail customer would. If it can't get the product it wants locally, it will outsource or import suitable substitutes from other markets. It's time the industry remembers and acknowledges the legitimate customer once again. Although our intentions were good, our processes delivered a product that passed the QC (for academics) but largely failed to meet the customers' needs in the end. Please give us another chance. We'll do better this time!
My VBI for today goes like this: the industry has got it all wrong. Everything along the production line has been misidentified and mis-prioritized. As a result, the economy is about to balk at the kind of crappy product we are churning out -- if it hasn't already rebelled on us.
First, we have to accept that the school is a manufacturing plant. We take in raw material which we process and deliver in a useful form to the customer. Where we totally screwed up is in misidentifying the customer. Our current philosophy is to view the student or even the student's parents as the customer and we tailor everything we do to make the customer happy. While that makes good business sense, we have completely forgotten who our real customer is.
Whomever this mysterious customer is, it isn't the student or his parents. So let's start by relabeling all the process elements properly. Parents are vendors who provide us our raw materials. The students are the raw materials that we turn into our product. We deliver this product to... the workforce, i.e., employers who demand competent workers who are trained and skilled in meeting the needs of a challenging work environment; and who can contribute to the growth and development of their companies.
Now the process chain makes sense. We were beating ourselves to death trying to get every kid who passed through our hands into the university because that was what we thought the customer wanted. Of course parents would want their kids to get tertiary education, but they are NOT the customer. Neither are the kids. Raw material is definitely NOT the customer.
As with all other industries, our processes grade and classify raw materials by their quality and put them to work where they are best suited, and priced for retail accordingly. It is our responsibility to minimize waste, but in the end, quality sorts itself out. Our other problem is our criteria for quality. Mistakenly, we assess quality by academic performance. The assumption that the lower the L1R5, the higher the quality is as faulty as it gets. Academic performance only tells a fraction of the tale.
Our real customer, the employer, knows this and clearly does not want workers who only know how to pass their final exams and pretty much nothing else. After all, there is no equivalent of a final exam in the workplace, so equipping the kids with nothing but exam skills is a complete mismatch with what our customer wants: smarts AND character.
Our job is to deliver the best possible product that the customer demands. They demand a product that is not tested at the end of the year, but every day of its sad and miserable life. The kind of test is not a pen-and-paper exercise that proves how well the product can memorize a limited number of facts but the kind that puts it through a daily hell to see how well it can stand up to incredible pressure; intractable deadlines; tedious, boring, routine and often pointless work; work that has to be done, revised and redone with no end in sight; irrational, occasionally garbled instructions from somewhere up the food chain; all the sorts of things one can reasonably expect from a office job -- and can still drag itself looking presentable and sufficiently enthusiastic back to work every day for more of the same. Now, THAT is character development in practice -- no need for extra lessons that are just going to be artificial, theoretical and more for show than anything else.
JC students already have an 'O' Level qualification so they are qualified to work and support families of their own, although they might have to live more frugally than others. So there should be no problem in letting those kids who are so bored with attending classes (and are causing disruptions for their fellow students) quit and look for a job instead. Since they have already been educated beyond their right as a human being to expect we shouldn't feel so bad about seeing them go.
To be educated at tertiary level, one has to deserve the place, not just by dint of one's previous academic success alone but by making a daily choice to conform to the rules of the institution and to do the work prescribed in the most diligent manner possible. The workplace in one's future demands no less. Sometimes, we forget this and take it personally when some kids are hard to discipline. All they want is to be free. Let's do everybody a favour and unshackle them from their misery. Of course, we do our best to minimize such a waste of raw materials, but that, like allowing some others to fail is part of a QC process that works.
Some of the problems we've been having in our industry lately will never be experienced in any other industry because the roles and places of things are much clearer for the latter. The vendor does not question the industry about how his raw material is put to use. Neither does the raw material question the processes it has to undergo. The clay does not tell the potter that it would rather be a plate; the iron ore does not complain about the temperature of the smelter nor the force of the hammering as it is being made into a farm tool. The reason why our industry is such an anomaly is because we put the power of demand in the wrong hands.
The real customer is behaving like any other retail customer would. If it can't get the product it wants locally, it will outsource or import suitable substitutes from other markets. It's time the industry remembers and acknowledges the legitimate customer once again. Although our intentions were good, our processes delivered a product that passed the QC (for academics) but largely failed to meet the customers' needs in the end. Please give us another chance. We'll do better this time!
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
I'm not dead!
Just rendered temporarily incoherent and fatigued due to an accumulation of work, late nights... and levelling up my Monk character in D3. Back soon, promise.
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