Bright side

So now we're letting someone with a bad mouth set our benchmarks to meet their unreasonable demands?

Maybe we need someone like that to shake us out of our complacency with a kick to the butt every now and then. Just sayin'.

Good food on 4 legs

Found a new place to eat with dog. The 4 Legged on Jalan Leban.

Apart from providing food, there are also other boarding and day-care services available for dog.

This handsome fellow is one of three samoyed residents who comprise the welcome wagon upon entry. There's lots of floor space for the 4-legged ones to run, play and socialize while the people eat. Nice.

The menu items bear cutesy names, but are quite normal where it matters. There is a mix of simple western dishes like this pasta carbonara, and other local favourites as well.

While the carbonara was done with the right touch of creaminess and bacon-ness, I'm not so wild about the fish and chips. Not sure what it was, but I thought the fish had too much MSG. Don't know if that is an accurate diagnosis, but that's what it tasted like.

The pet menu looks appetizing too, with a generous mix of veggies, meat on brown rice. We ordered pork balls for the dog, but the kitchen counter-proposed pork stew instead. Good choice, and healthy too.

Brownie and ice-cream to follow. I like places like these where the food coming out of the kitchen could have come from the kitchen at home. Simple, functional fare, reasonably priced. Comfort food.

Dinner was quite a different affair. We had guests arriving from overseas so we took them to PS Cafe at Ann Siang Hill. A dignified, sit-down joint where a sign at the front door advises diners to please leave their kids elsewhere. Gutsy policy, much appreciated. Steak must be enjoyed with focus. Slow chews, releasing savory juices to dance on the surface of the tongue. And no chaotic neighbouring table issuing outbursts of random energy to distract from the experience. This particular experience was worth savoring, the meat done to the right degree of rare, so juicy and tender. The fusion elements of the kai-lan stalk and Japanese mushrooms added some interesting textures that complemented the striploin nicely.

Satisfied? Yes, very.

V-day dinner company

Valentine's Day and we're passed out on the living room carpet semi-watching yet another HK lawyer drama serial. It's been a long, busy week for both of us and to be able to just do that is luxury enough.

Now that she's working for a charity NGO, she's starting to involve me with some of her work. Earlier this evening, we took a little time out to eat a simple dinner with the old ladies boarding there. For a treat, she got me to bring over a couple of tubs of Neapolitan ice-cream for them. They seldom get ice-cream, so they were quite appreciative of her thoughtfulness.

All-in-all, this V-day has been quite special. No gifts to each other, but a small token that didn't cost much given to others from the both of us. Dinner was hardly romantic, but there was a different kind of warmth around the table for more than two. Special, indeed.

Sitting on the high chair

It feels good to throw a hissy-fit once in a while. Rather than having meetings in which everyone just nods and agrees with decrees from on-high, this committee is full of queries; questions; counter-points; objections; and obtuse arguments. Sitting in on such sessions is an emotional roller-coaster, especially for the one chairing.

Since yours truly was chairing the last couple of sessions, it was quite draining. After arriving at an agreement, work got done, only to be undone at the next meeting when consensus was broken by someone who didn't say anything at the previous meeting, but felt strongly enough to voice it at this one.

On my part, I have no problem chopping and changing, and having to reinvent the wheel from scratch repeatedly. But with every revision I should feel like improvements are being made. Instead, with every new version of this plan, the wheel seemed to be getting increasingly square. Not a good sign.

Last meeting, I let my inner kid out. I became pouty, grouchy, emo and snappy -- the remaining four dwarves Snow White does not ever want to talk about. Someone else had to be the adult, I'd had enough.

With all the whinin' and bitchin' (mostly coming from the corner with the short people) an amazing thing happened. Every concerned party put their cards on the table and patiently explained their position and their concerns without reservation.

Then in a moment of clarity, a viable alternative that met everyone's objectives appeared. This time, it looks like the agreement will hold. It's back to the ol' drawing board again, but now it's for a product everyone should be happy with.

Definitely one of the most productive meetings ever attended.

Narrow line

I'd like to think that consistently writing opinion articles gives me some credibility in teaching others to write opinion articles. However, I'm currently at a stage in which I'm doubting this belief as being too simplistic. Lately, I've been doubting myself. A lot.

Perhaps a little humility would be good for the character? The line between superhero and super-villain is an extremely narrow one. Gotta figure out which side I'm on.

The Snape approach to exam success

The new J1s have arrived fresh and squeaky clean from the 'O's. This year's crop is overall the best scoring we've ever had to date. They are probably used to being straight A students, but there will be a few who would be celebrating unexpectedly good results. Yay for them all.

But, no, this will not do. The leap in standard that these kids are taking is quite a tremendous gulf to bridge between secondary school and college undergrad. Because they are undergoing a major skills upgrade, they must get used to failure. Repeated failure. It is only in failure that learning takes place. Fail once, change technique. Fail twice, change approach. Fail a third time, change something else. Trial and error until something clicks. When that happens, they would have learned something new and I would have finally been successful at teaching them something new.

Does it have to be that way? Can a straight A student continue maintaining straight As throughout the course? It's possible, but at least initially that's not recommended. Fresh off the success boat, and as horrible as I sound, they have to be humbled if they are going to become teachable again.

What of their morale and self-esteem as we modern educators seem bound to pander to? The 'A' Levels is a long-term goal. We reassure the kids that they are constantly failing, not because there is anything wrong with them per se, but because we are always raising the bar. But no matter how badly they fail -- as long as they don't give up, and as long as they help each other along -- they would have learned so much by the end of first year that they will barely scrape through their promotional exams. The promo, after all, is not a high-stakes exam but a formative one. The barest minimal pass is sufficient for advancement, hence there is no pressure to Ace it.

Our long-term goal only comes into sight around the prelim exam in the October of the following year, which is the summative exam as far as our local jurisdiction goes. By then, they are ready to gather their own resources and Ace that. Some kids need a good result on the prelim in order to apply for early enrollment in some universities. If they don't want early enrollment, then the summative is the 'A's in November. This is the only result that counts, hence this is our target for high scoring achievement.

Once we have a perspective on what is going on at the 'A's, we realize that not every test or exam or assessment requires every student to achieve an A grade. A failing or near-failing grade is more par for the course. It's only when we can convince the kids (and middle-management) not to expect high scores in every little assessment that we can take the pressure off the kids' education experience and focus them back on real learning. And we will see a stratospheric improvement in grades all round -- but only at the end of second year.

Building bridges

Important insight gained from the PE Dept's staff sharing on the low-elements team-building facilities today: although safety is the #1 priority in team-building activities, the participants also share in the responsibility of keeping themselves and their fellow participants safe. By personally experiencing some element of danger, as a group they develop a sense of concern and look out for each other, especially when it is made clear to them that success is team-dependent and cannot be accomplished solo.

A case in point is the 'river crossing' activity in which a series of blocks are set in a pattern on the ground between crossing points. A team uses the blocks as supports for a bridge they build with a limited number of planks to get from the starting point to the ending point on the opposite side. It would be so much safer if the play area was bulldozed flat, but the ground is left in its natural state with grass and soil, bumps and dips, making the traverse unsteady and the risk of falling off is quite real. So apart from just focusing on the goal of getting from point A to point B, the participants are also figuring out how to utilize their limited resources most effectively; how to stabilize the bridge while they are building it; and how to support each other to avoid falling into the 'river' until all are safely across to the other side.

This kind of affective learning the kids are getting from the PE Dept needs to continue in the classroom. We academics tend to focus on getting our kids from exam to exam and all the work we do is intended to bulldoze the way smooth for them. Content packages; skills packages; parent support network; remedial classes; personal consultations... with every need catered to, there is no incentive to reach out to their fellow learners and support each other through their journey. So instead of teaching three or four classes a year we each have effectively taken on the responsibility of teaching 70-90 individual students per year -- and we wonder why the burnout rate in the education industry is so high.

At this level of study, success is a team game. Individual effort is important, of course, but our job isn't just to groom a handful of brilliant scholars but to work on raising levels for the entire cohort. That means the kids themselves must bear the responsibility of helping one another because the individual teacher alone cannot possibly build the bridge AND carry the entire lot of kids kicking and screaming across from point A to point B.

Horrid hybrid

Of exams, there are two types: the formative and the summative.

The formative type functions as a student's learning tool. It allows the student to do a bit of self-learning and evaluation as to the progress made in learning so far. These exams are usually simple and occasionally even fun -- if you can call pop quizzes and essay writing fun. They may also take the form of 'alternative assessments' or self-directed projects that make use of the skills and content learnt and mashes them up in the crafting of a non-traditional artefact for assessment: a video, a poster, or something as creative and colourful. There is more flexibility in submission deadlines, consultation and advice from the assessor, and collaboration with peers. As such, they are low-stakes assessments because the objective is skewed more towards the learning process than the assessment results.

The summative type is the assessment of what the student has already learned, not what the student is in the process of learning. In order to gauge the student's learning fairly, the assessment would put the student in an unfamiliar position or situation  and see how the student is able to draw on the skills and knowledge already acquired and use them to effectively carry out the assessment requirements.

In our tribal past, a novice may be learning from a master how to make a drum or a canoe. During the instruction period, the novice may be called upon to assist in various parts of the process and observe others. There may be mini-tests along the way, but the results would have little serious consequence to the final product. The master would always be there to praise competent work or repair any damage done, but the learning experience would have served its purpose. These tests are formative in nature.

The summative assessment occurs when the novice has to build the whole item from scratch for the first time. With the learning scaffolds removed, the novice would encounter real life obstacles, difficulties, or unforseen circumstances that could not have been prepared for beforehand (the master made it look so easy!). The novice may have the knowledge and skill, but to do well must also be able to utilize some personal ingenuity, insight, quick critical thinking and improvise a solution on the spot. Here the assessment is high-stakes as the end-user (not the master!) depends on the quality of the work produced. Good work results in a satisfied customer, poor work results in a waste of time, resources and probably a reprimand and retraining for the goofball who screwed up.

Jumping back to the present age, assessments have become a source of unnecessary stress for the students of today. That's because assessments perform neither formative nor summative functions, but rather have become a horrid hybrid of both. What should be formative assessments are over-studied and over-prepared for as what should be low stakes have become high stakes. The actual high-stakes final exams (of which there aren't really that many) are taken as formative in nature as every student feels inadequate taking them without being hand-held all the way to the last full-stop.

If every assessment is taken as high stakes, and if every result is viewed as more important than the process, little real learning is taking place. If the assessment meant to be summative is prepared for like a formative one, there is little opportunity for practicing independent thought. What we get is a generation of students that don't know how to tackle questions unless they are told the answers beforehand. The problem is, we can't teach them all the answers because no one knows all the questions.

Our efforts to teach to the exam may bring results, but also undue stress to everyone involved and a very warped picture of what exams are and what they are meant to accomplish. Let's go back to when formative assessments were easy and the answers accessible to a diligent student; and summative assessments challenged a student with unfamiliar, off-the-wall questions that cannot be easily prepared for. Less stress, more learning, better results all round.

C'mon in! The bandwagon's just fine!

Darn it! Got suckered into making a promise based on a faulty argument. I cannot believe I caved into the old "I don't think it's fair that..." It's a classic chestnut to guilt schoolchildren with over tardy assignments, and I should have known better. The premise is that since everybody's done it, you should too... and hurry up with it! A simple bandwagon fallacy.

If I am to do something, I have to be convinced that it is the right thing to do and that time and energy are not being wasted on a project that serves no purpose other than create its own existence. I wasn't convinced in the first place and I am not convinced now, but I gave my promise without thinking it through. Then again, it was phrased like it was not my decision to make, anyway. I just wish I had capitulated to a more logical argument rather than a transparently manipulative emotional hair-trigger.

Multi-poo

The dog has the runs, but it's me doing most of the legwork. Clearly something she ate didn't agree with her. Last night, her output was quite impressive. More than half a fresh toilet roll used up cleaning the floor and her pee tray. Pee mat after pee mat had to be folded up and disposed of when usually they last one a day.

Today's pyrotechnics, however, are set to 'shock and awe'. 'nuff said. But she's at least considerate and I'm getting smarter. Most of her detonations are confined in the shower, so now I'm just hosing down the area after sprinkling a cupful of Walch disinfectant.

Took her to the vet and she exploded once more in the car. They could scrape the upholstery clean for a stool sample if they wanted, but they preferred to help themselves from the source. Oh well, it was worth a shot. Walch is fast becoming my new BFF.

Now I understand the trait that gave rise to the nomenclature of her breed.

Go fetch!

Oh, my! A new package freshly delivered! It was supposed to be dog's Christmas pressie, but missed the date by a stretch. Better late than never.

The box graphic says it all. It's a ball launcher for dog to play 'fetch' with.

The overall design is reminiscent of an old-time spittoon. The hopper up top is where the ball gets dropped into. There is a click and a whirr, and seconds later the ball is ejected out the spout. Fun and games ensue as dog frantically tears after said ball, leaving a wake of destruction in her path. Lesson #1: clear the runway of foreign objects before attempting airborne operation.

The ammunition that came with the ball cannon. In all seriousness, despite the, um, nostalgic outward aesthetic, mechanically the iFetch is a nicely designed dog toy patterned after the tennis-ball launcher. Powered by wall socket or six 'C' batteries, the range can be adjusted from 10 to 20 to 30 ft. Launch trajectory is low to avoid unexpected crotch shots. Uncomplicated, hardy, and unlikely to break down easily due to apparently few moving parts, it's quite a good buy. This particular unit came at a Kickstarter introductory price, so that was even nicer.

A couple of points to take note of, though. Although the balls look like tennis balls, they're actually softer and smaller in size. For a small dog, that's fine, but for a big dog, could they be a choking hazard? Also, the long-term plan is for the dog to operate the iFetch by herself in case she has no one to play with when she's bored. However, there's some training involved that's going to take some time. There's a helpful training video on the website, so that's gonna be fun. Let's play ball!

The Language of Mime

One way to describe mime is that it is a means of telling stories without using words. However, that's not an accurate description at all. Like the spoken word, mime too is a language that follows a set of linguistic rules in order to communicate its message.

Breath and energy:
In the spoken word, before we speak, we fill our lungs with air. Speech is created by regulating the release of the air in our lungs. How many words we can speak from a single breath determines the bandwidth of information transfer. Our volume, inflexions, nuances and emotions are dependent on our degree of control over this release of air from our lungs. The better the control, the more meaning can be encoded in our speech, thus maximizing the bandwidth determined by our lung capacity.

Mime shares the exact same starting point as speech. The inhale stores energy released through movement at the moment of exhale. The speed of the exhale determines the rate of energy released, which conveys the intention of the actor (the person who is acting on this release of energy). The expression of different nuances, moods and textures all stem from the breath. A sudden, explosive release of energy has a very different connotation from a slow, controlled release.

The mime has total control over the breath. Every movement is begun and completed in the same breath, just as is a spoken sentence. There is no call to complete a movement mid-breath, or to continue after the lungs are exhausted without some cause that runs counter to the actor's intention -- an interruption from another actor, perhaps; or a sudden change in the dynamic of the narration.

Joint articulation and isolations:
Individual words are discrete units of information carried through vibrations we perceive as sound. They make little sense on their own beyond their particular definitions. It is in the combination of words within a particular syntax and context that words are able to communicate meaning.

The mime's vocabulary is located in the joints between his bones. The more joints he can move in isolation of the other joints, the wider the vocabulary with which he can express himself. Like any spoken vocabulary, it takes discipline and practice to amass enough words to be able to communicate, except that the mime trains muscle memory. Instead of discovering and verbally repeating words to remember them, the mime discovers new muscles to move in new ways and repeats those movements until he is fluent in them.

Manipulation:
Words are strung together in a sequence to form sentences that convey meaning. Likewise, the mime strings together different isolations in a sequence that conveys his intention. Unlike a spoken vocabulary, however, isolated movements do not represent meaning according to a predetermined definition. The meaning of movement is more context specific, and so through deft manipulation the mime creates the space around him.

Illusory boxes; invisible walls; immovable objects; the ability to take on the material characteristics of water and air... how are these manipulations carried out in such a way that can be seen and interpreted as 'real' to a audience? The main guiding principle is Newton's Third Law of Motion which states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The mime creates 'reality' by balancing his intention against the resistance of the object he is acting upon. An intractable object is moved along the mime's plane of intent when he can summon enough energy to overcome its resistance to the movement.

A classic example is the 'walking against the wind' routine in which every step forward is countered by the wind resistance acting in the opposite direction. Forward motion is only possible when the mime proves stronger than the wind blowing against him. If the wind proves too strong, the mime's every forward step results in backward movement, which is the basis of the 'Moonwalk' popularized by Michael Jackson.

Movement Analysis:
As with the spoken sentence, the mime's movement sentences need clarity of execution in order to communicate his intention effectively to the audience. The mime observes behaviour and deconstructs it into separate discreet movements, each a breath long. Depending on the focus, the mime may reconstruct the same behaviour using the minimum number of discrete movements (in order to get on with the main story); or using as many discrete movements as possible to complete the portrayal of the behaviour. It's the difference between looking at a specific movement frame-by-frame through a low frame-rate set of animation cels and through a high frame-rate HD movie. The former is efficient in carrying a narrative while the latter is more interested in the minute details involved in a single action sequence.

Once the mime is at this level of fluency in the Language of Mime -- it could take years of practice to get this far -- he might be ready to start telling some stories. Don't worry, it's a learn-on-the-job process.

Note: Sirius prompted this post because she suggested I teach the Drama kids some mime skills which could prove useful for stage awareness and presence at this year's Drama Night production. Poor kids didn't know what hit them when they showed up for the workshop this afternoon.

Claws in the dark

In daylight, this handsome fellow doesn't appear too scary. But when I come home at night he has the habit of surprising me by pouncing on my back in the dark, sinking his claws in and climbing to my shoulder where he can then jump to the top of the shoe cabinet, which is otherwise too high for him to reach. These days, he's gotten a bit heavier and can't jump as high as he used to. That hasn't stopped him, though. Now when I open my front door to a dark house, I take a deep breath, step in and pray I don't get stabbed in the kidneys.

Inner child

Workshop on using Transactional Analysis to establish a better rapport with the kids could have been useful, but I got distracted by the results of my personality test. Good teachers apparently are able to balance the Parent-Adult-Child states and can call upon the appropriate state to keep interpersonal interactions civil and constructive. When the other party approaches from a destructive state the balanced teacher can neutralize and defuse the situation without it escalating.

It shouldn't be much of a surprise, but my test results came back snowman shaped -- tiny Parent; below ideal Adult; oversized Child states. The rest of the workshop, I was a pest and a disruptive influence. Even after it was over, I continued to be rude and obnoxious to my colleagues and friends while being clearly aware of the negative Rebellious Child persona that was starting to take over.

Now I don't know if how I behaved was 'normal' behaviour for me, or if it was triggered by being made aware of the big inner kid that's driving my motivations. After all, awareness is licence to act up, and that's just what I did. So that's my conundrum of the day: is my behaviour normally childish and because of the workshop I am now aware of it; or is it because of the workshop that I put on the mask of childishness and played along accordingly? And do I really want to know the answer to that question?

Poor choice of words

So a fella gets ripped a new one for posting insensitive comments online. The fact that he is a foreigner is not a factor in this situation because anyone who posts stupid things online is fair game for trolls seeking easy targets to vent on.

The hypersensitivity of the overreaction is more fascinating to me. We are enraged for being labelled "poor". Um, so what? There is no shame in being poor. The vast majority of us do not drive around in Porches, but we still get around town and get our stuff done just fine, anyway. We're resourceful like that.

Besides, we even call ourselves "poor" and complain we can't afford fees, fares, housing, education and food. So we can label ourselves "poor" when it suits our arguments, but we can't accept the same label when it doesn't? Instead, in our online culture we take every chance to shame people who claim to be "rich". Essentially, we are telling people who own nice things to get off the Internet. That's not very nice of us, is it?

His second transgression was stating his desire to "wash [off] the stench of public transport" after his experience with it. We've all thought the same thing ourselves; we've posted the same thought online ourselves; and now we are excoriating someone for also posting the same comment in his own paraphrase? Everybody knows our public transport system is terrible. Online we're so vocal with our complaints about overcrowding; so many breakdowns; such frequent delays... That totally stinks and yet they keep raising fares! TMD!

So we all think the same thing, and we post our thoughts online though in different words, some more prosaic, some more droll, most just shoot from the hip. There is no need to take such huge issue with a "poor" paraphrasing of such a common thought. Let's just take a chill pill and give more room to nuance, off-colour humour, and multiple-entendre. And stop trying to police the Internet for politically-correct speech. Right now, online trolling is more a threat to our Internet freedoms than the MDA. Think about that.

Questions

Useful afternoon workshop... although the key ideas presented didn't push the envelope quite far enough to reach their logical conclusion.

Consider that our obsession with making the kids answer questions correctly has us barking up the wrong tree. The right tree to bark up is teaching our kids to ask questions no one has ever thought to ask before so that collectively we can dredge up some new answers from the bottomless pit that contains the sum of all human knowledge.

The highest aim of T and L ('Teaching and Learning' in campus parlance) is the ability to ask questions, not pickle that which we already know.

Sadly, most people can't see past the end-of-year exam. That's why we get proposals like MP Denise Phua's experimental do away with 'high stakes' exams through-train schools cluster. It would be nice to have a stress-free educational experience, but removing the exams does not remove the source of the stress. In every journey there are milestones to pass by en route to the destination. Removing the milestones does not make the journey any less tiring.

Exams are only milestones along the way to whichever education destination we have chosen to journey towards. They tell us how far we've come, and perhaps how far more we have to go, but that's all. As soon as we encounter one, we just walk past it on the way to our end point. No one plans a journey to end at a milestone because usually there's nothing else there, and yet that's what many of us are doing on our education journey. Instead of seeing the little rock at the side of the road with some useful numbers etched in it, we see a boulder right across our path that stops us dead in our tracks. Stress comes from our faulty perception when we can't see things for what they really are.

So why are some milestones harder to get past than others? Because not every journey is a straight-paved path strewn with primroses all the way to the end. Many a time, the terrain becomes difficult to negotiate. There are detours; unexpected obstacles; sometimes the path becomes hard to see; other times, we may have wandered off the path and struggle to find it again; and sometimes we may even change our minds and strike out on another path towards a different destination. The next milestone we encounter tells us we have found the right path, so keep on moving to the next, and the next, and the next until we finally arrive at wherever we want to be.

So pack for a long journey; enjoy the scenery; don't fixate on the milestones and just keep going. Your journey only ends when you decide you don't want to go any further. But it's a decision you have to make. A milestone can't make that decision for you.

Belt up

Taking the dog out in the car can be dangerous. I'm parked so right now she looks real cute and all, like perching up the crow's nest ready to yell 'land ho!' When we're on the move, it's not half so much fun 'n games. A moment of unrestrained exuberance and either she could go flying from an unanticipated jerk, or we could both end up in a ditch.

Now, that's better. She doesn't look so thrilled any more, but she's safely harnessed to the rear seat-belt. No more wild adventures in the cabin.

Here's a closer look at the safety belt clip -- it's just a loop made of seat-belt material attached to a clip -- made by Rogz. While she gets used to driving around all neatly belted up, we have to endure her singing belting out the song of her people (such a sad song it is, too) all the way to where we're going.

Positive feedback

Since her previous obedience school failure, Tasha has started attending an new class using a new approach involving positive reinforcement. That is, she gets a tasty tidbit whenever she exhibits the behaviour she is being trained for.

During training today, she was really good. She got a lot of treats. She got so many treats in fact, that when she came back home she turned into a barf fountain. She made horrible noises and I had to clean up four impressive piles of upchuck thoughtfully deposited onto the two study carpets. -_-

Oh, you want pictures? Trust me, you do NOT want pictures.

Briefing drama

Awaiting an important briefing at Goodman Arts Centre. Arrived an hour early so keeping company with a peach melba and an earl grey tea at Cafe Melba to pass the time. Some nice touches in the dessert: a raspberry topping, blueberries and almond shavings. However, not enough ice-cream and too much grenadine syrup made for a sour-bitter last spoonful.

At the briefing in the GAC Black Box with my esteemed colleagues representing their different institutions.

The highlight of the briefing was the announcement of some format changes to the Festival. Some people do not adapt well to change. Quite a bit of whining and moaning from a loud couple of crybabies (I'm sorry to say), as if preparing their defence in case they achieved an undesirable result this year.

A major objection was that the lighting rig will be in use by other performances throughout the run-up to the Festival. While GAC promises that the rig will be set to a standard default, there are worries that the set-up may not be in exact alignment for both our tech rehearsal and performance dates. Then they went all non sequitur about what kind of values we are teaching our kids if the performance doesn't go according to how they rehearsed it. O_o

First of all, the kids will have the opportunity to exercise their values when things don't go according to plan. Values of resilience, resourcefulness, teamwork and adaptability come into play under less-than-perfect conditions. Second, the kids are performing in an actual professional space with real-world constraints, compared to performing in what is basically a test-tube of a campus venue, luxurious as it may be. Third, get over yourselves and your egos. Set an example for your kids and deal with the problem with the resources available rather than just demand your way based on your moral high ground and shrillness of voice.

But then, we're drama instructors. We're artists. We're temperamental and passionate about our jobs. We're demanding and to a large extent, perfectionist; otherwise we wouldn't be doing what we're doing. Tantrums are par for the course and some of us are more diva than most. Gotta love us all!

Dearly beloved...

It's a massive milestone reached when the kids you taught ten years ago have a reunion of sorts on the occasion of one of them attaining matrimonial bliss. It's true that you never forget your first, and this bunch is the very first batch I saw through a full two-year term. Amazingly, I remembered each one around the table by name, and what they were like as students with a clarity that subsequent batches would never surpass. Now that they're grown up so much -- a number of whom I can call colleagues in the education fraternity; others have challenging, yet satisfying occupations in the private sector; and some have started their own families already -- it made me really happy to see them again in a setting in which we regard each other as respected equals. To the Loonie one: the dinner was lovely, the company was perfect, and you were a radiant bride. Congratulations, and may God prosper your union all the days of your lives!