My renewed vigour in blogging is a testament to the increased free time I have on my hands as my teaching responsibilities draw to a close. Tomorrow is the start of the promotional exams, and while marking 120 essays is not a task I particularly look forward to, it is still a welcomed change from the hectic rush of a teaching week.
I have never been so "consulted" in the last few days as students made a mad rush to clarify doubts. While it's heartening to see them trying their best during this critical period, it would have been far more effective if they had consulted me earlier in the term and had the opportunities to put their knowledge to practice.
Teachers are of course just as anxious (sometimes more) than the students. Having marked their assignments, we know that they are not as prepared as we would have liked them to be, and a quick check around the staff room will stir up similar sentiments as colleagues groan that students still cannot distinguish well-articulated arguments from frivolous examples. Well, we have done what we could by now, and we have very little say from this point on about how well they will do. (An irony, considering that we are the ones who will mark their exam scripts) We can only hope that our incessant nagging and countless reminders will take them through this time of trial.
My students are beginning to look like walking zombies. I tasked Rayson to find me a working OHP from the next classroom that day, and when he returned wheeling the OHP along, he looked so haggard, pallid and lifeless that the OHP looks more animated next to him. In fact, he reminded me of a common sight in hospitals: sickly old men shuffling along hospital corridors, pushing along the metal structure which supports the intravenous drip that is hooked up to them. Gosh, is it that bad? Are we sucking their very life force out of them?
Anyway, except for a handful of students, I can honestly say that most of my students are already sufficiently equipped to do well (a relative term of course) in the exam and there is no real need for undue stress. (even though teachers are not easily satisfied and will always ask for more) It's just the fear that their scripts will not reflect their best abilities, which would certainly be a cause for regret. Hang in there, all my dearest students, and stay in one piece.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Friday, September 22, 2006
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Of Coughs, Sore Throats and Husky Voices
That's the theme of the month.
It started with Kit Chan's lacklustre performance at Forbidden City. Her valiant and blood-curdling shouts of "TONG ZHI!" (which I sometimes still hear in the middle of the night) from three years ago was nowhere to be found, and some of the newer members of the cast obviously sing much better than her. Well, one could detect a tinge of roughness in her voice that night, and I guess she just wasn't on form. Not that I blame her or that I am not supporting local artistes, but one must give credit where it is due(fundamnetal principal of marking) and not belittle the efforts of the other artistes.
Then my GP rep from A02 got herself infected with tuberculosis and was out of action from school. Poor girl...all the coughing out blood and medicine and everything, and so close to the promos too. I myself had vivid memories of falling sick during exam time. I distinctly remember that I studied for O Level Chemistry sitting beside the toilet bowl, ready at any time to vomit the entire contents of my stomach out. I also recall getting dengue fever during my Year 2 July Common Tests, and I was so bored that I had to study boring Physics stuff like the duality nature of light and photoelectric effect while lying on the hospital bed.
And now I'm down with this terrible sore throat which compromises my ability to talk in class(which might be cause for rejoice for my students.. I remember Luke's disappointed look when he was unable to "switch me off" with the air-con remote.). Nowadays I punctuate my sentences with fits of cough and bouts of throat clearing. It's getting to the point where I feel my vocal cords strained and sore after 11 periods of teaching today. (YESH I have a monstrous 11 periods on Thursdays.) Apparently Leonard lost his voice entirely and had to resort to this gadget which pronounces his words as he writes them..freaked me out! Don't let that happen to me! Well it's good that the Promos are here and I'll just be marking instead of using my voice (except for the inevitable quarreling and arguing in stinking Innovation Room 2 as we mark and standardize and moderate.)
Speaking of that, all the best to my students from S23, S18, A02 and S24! It's tough, but be there for each other..we're in this together! Give yourself no reasons for regret. Hang in for the final stretch.......erm..before PW * groan *
It started with Kit Chan's lacklustre performance at Forbidden City. Her valiant and blood-curdling shouts of "TONG ZHI!" (which I sometimes still hear in the middle of the night) from three years ago was nowhere to be found, and some of the newer members of the cast obviously sing much better than her. Well, one could detect a tinge of roughness in her voice that night, and I guess she just wasn't on form. Not that I blame her or that I am not supporting local artistes, but one must give credit where it is due(fundamnetal principal of marking) and not belittle the efforts of the other artistes.
Then my GP rep from A02 got herself infected with tuberculosis and was out of action from school. Poor girl...all the coughing out blood and medicine and everything, and so close to the promos too. I myself had vivid memories of falling sick during exam time. I distinctly remember that I studied for O Level Chemistry sitting beside the toilet bowl, ready at any time to vomit the entire contents of my stomach out. I also recall getting dengue fever during my Year 2 July Common Tests, and I was so bored that I had to study boring Physics stuff like the duality nature of light and photoelectric effect while lying on the hospital bed.
And now I'm down with this terrible sore throat which compromises my ability to talk in class(which might be cause for rejoice for my students.. I remember Luke's disappointed look when he was unable to "switch me off" with the air-con remote.). Nowadays I punctuate my sentences with fits of cough and bouts of throat clearing. It's getting to the point where I feel my vocal cords strained and sore after 11 periods of teaching today. (YESH I have a monstrous 11 periods on Thursdays.) Apparently Leonard lost his voice entirely and had to resort to this gadget which pronounces his words as he writes them..freaked me out! Don't let that happen to me! Well it's good that the Promos are here and I'll just be marking instead of using my voice (except for the inevitable quarreling and arguing in stinking Innovation Room 2 as we mark and standardize and moderate.)
Speaking of that, all the best to my students from S23, S18, A02 and S24! It's tough, but be there for each other..we're in this together! Give yourself no reasons for regret. Hang in for the final stretch.......erm..before PW * groan *
Monday, September 18, 2006
HA-LOW? May-be....
A02 had a fine time laughing at how I said HA-LOW. Well, it's not the first time, I think some of my students in GMSS made a similar remark as well, just that I never took notice. I still don't really get it...what's so funny? * scratches head * It was just an exaggerated way of saying it to catch someone's attention...........
Qiuxuan had, of course, remarked about how I pronounce "maybe". Again I can't remember what was the problem, something to do with pitch intonation...that I had a peculiar way of changing the tone halfway or something like that.
And I notice how I always fumble on the word "society", especially with S18. And since we are looking at social issues for these two terms, I had to struggle on more than one occasion to enunciate all these sibilants and fricatives. Another terrible word is "statistics". Of course it is no problem when you pronounce it on your own, but when you are teaching and talking fast(as I tend to) my tongue just somehow does not move as fast as I would like it to..... Well, speaking in front of people is just not that easy =p
Qiuxuan had, of course, remarked about how I pronounce "maybe". Again I can't remember what was the problem, something to do with pitch intonation...that I had a peculiar way of changing the tone halfway or something like that.
And I notice how I always fumble on the word "society", especially with S18. And since we are looking at social issues for these two terms, I had to struggle on more than one occasion to enunciate all these sibilants and fricatives. Another terrible word is "statistics". Of course it is no problem when you pronounce it on your own, but when you are teaching and talking fast(as I tend to) my tongue just somehow does not move as fast as I would like it to..... Well, speaking in front of people is just not that easy =p
Thursday, August 31, 2006
It's not easy when a student you taught took his own life.
A question lingers persistently at the back of my mind: Could I have made a difference?
Of course I'm not so presumptuous to think that I had touched his life in a significant way. After all, I only teach him PW (co-teach actually) for four weeks, and the structure of the lesson was such that I had not much chance to build rapport with the class. I was just one of the many teachers he had, an indistinguishable outline among the crowd, thus there was no reason to imagine that he would have come to me for help.
Nevertheless the question continues to linger. Not just for any teacher who has taught him, but for anyone who has felt his presence, no matter how transient the acquiantance was.
Wednesday was a horrible day, when I walked into the class for the first time after the most unfortunate event. When Suzie broke down in front of her class, I could imagine how traumatic it was for her. It is one of the worst emotions that a teacher can feel: the sense of helplessness that one was not able to do something more for one's student.
Such an acute mind, so unusual from our students. Such confidence in the way he speaks, so different from his peers. Potential too vast to measure remain unrealized, dreams too numerous to count stay unfulfilled.
While I find it hard to understand why he did this, I do respect his decision and I can only hope that it was all for the best.
May you find solace and respite in the next journey.
A question lingers persistently at the back of my mind: Could I have made a difference?
Of course I'm not so presumptuous to think that I had touched his life in a significant way. After all, I only teach him PW (co-teach actually) for four weeks, and the structure of the lesson was such that I had not much chance to build rapport with the class. I was just one of the many teachers he had, an indistinguishable outline among the crowd, thus there was no reason to imagine that he would have come to me for help.
Nevertheless the question continues to linger. Not just for any teacher who has taught him, but for anyone who has felt his presence, no matter how transient the acquiantance was.
Wednesday was a horrible day, when I walked into the class for the first time after the most unfortunate event. When Suzie broke down in front of her class, I could imagine how traumatic it was for her. It is one of the worst emotions that a teacher can feel: the sense of helplessness that one was not able to do something more for one's student.
Such an acute mind, so unusual from our students. Such confidence in the way he speaks, so different from his peers. Potential too vast to measure remain unrealized, dreams too numerous to count stay unfulfilled.
While I find it hard to understand why he did this, I do respect his decision and I can only hope that it was all for the best.
May you find solace and respite in the next journey.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
A Tribute to Someone whose name I do not know
I don't know your name, and I might never have the chance to find out.
After all, barely five words were exchanged between us.
You left before I knew you were leaving,
and who knows if we will ever play together again?
Is it sheer physical proximity
that caused me to listen to what you play?
Is it because I see a part of you in me
that I tried to put myself in your shoes?
I witness and I am aware of, the efforts that you put in.
I hear and I can relate to, the music which you play.
I observe and I took note, the skill with which you arranged your parts.
How can I fault the hand which holds the baton, when adroit players themselves have failed to see what you had realized?
How can I blame the tongues which wag, when they are accustomed to what they have chosen to hear?
How can I shake my own head. when I myself have elected to remain silent?
It might have been a relief to you, a chance for you to get out of the mess.
It might have been a blow to you, a setback which you would never recover from.
Your feelings I will never know, just like I will never know your name.
And you will never know, because I never had the courage to tell you.
After all, barely five words were exchanged between us.
You left before I knew you were leaving,
and who knows if we will ever play together again?
Is it sheer physical proximity
that caused me to listen to what you play?
Is it because I see a part of you in me
that I tried to put myself in your shoes?
I witness and I am aware of, the efforts that you put in.
I hear and I can relate to, the music which you play.
I observe and I took note, the skill with which you arranged your parts.
How can I fault the hand which holds the baton, when adroit players themselves have failed to see what you had realized?
How can I blame the tongues which wag, when they are accustomed to what they have chosen to hear?
How can I shake my own head. when I myself have elected to remain silent?
It might have been a relief to you, a chance for you to get out of the mess.
It might have been a blow to you, a setback which you would never recover from.
Your feelings I will never know, just like I will never know your name.
And you will never know, because I never had the courage to tell you.
Friday, August 18, 2006
One of the saddest thing than can happen to a teacher: It's 5.30pm, after a long tiring day and the attendants are threatening to lock you in the staff room if you don't get out in time. You turn off your laptop, tidy up your desk, try and decide which piles of assignments to bring home for marking(which you usually bring back to school the next day untouched). You say your goodbyes to fellow teachers who look as tired as you are. You clock yourself out of the biometric system, and there you are standing in front of the row of staff pigeon holes. You dig out your keys, bend down to open your pigeon hole with expectation, and there is...................nothing inside except for a few specks of dust. Despite all the promises of renewed vigor in your assignment.
It's like ...you see your best friend online, you initiate a MSN conversation and started unleashing all that you want to say to him....and then after a furore of detailed and meticulously planned utterances, you discover that he had been disconnected and none of those sentences got to him.
Ah..it really makes your day.
It's like ...you see your best friend online, you initiate a MSN conversation and started unleashing all that you want to say to him....and then after a furore of detailed and meticulously planned utterances, you discover that he had been disconnected and none of those sentences got to him.
Ah..it really makes your day.
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