In Defence of Introverts

I attended a workshop today on the use of IT in the classroom. I was interested in the potential of a couple of new Web 2.0 tools that were shared in the workshop.

I am no Luddite, but I wonder if students taught in such technology-rich learning environments really learn more effectively as the IT evangelists claim. There seems to be widespread agreement that today's students are plugged in 24/7. They are called "digital natives" and it is true that I have seen a 3 year old swipe her fingers across an iPad. 

But are we creating a new pigeon-hole without realising it? Even as we claim IT allows students to be self-directed learners learning at their own speed, are we in reality ignoring the needs of students who really do learn better on their own, reading a book and writing down their thoughts?

I fear if I were in school today, I would be extremely unhappy because, no, I don't write collaboratively. I think on my own, I write in solitude. Group discussions tire me unless I'm in a group where everyone speaks their mind. I dislike pair work unless I have had time to think on my own first. Does that make me a selfish learner? I don't think so. I am happy to share my work and thoughts; but I need time on my own first to think my own thoughts.

I particularly like this talk that a friend pointed me to. I think the speaker makes excellent points. If we didn't have space and time to think, then deep, creative thoughts will be buried in chatter. Looking at my shelves of books, I challenge the proponents of IT to name me one author who wrote his poems or novels collaboratively on Mixedink! 

Jumping on the Web 2.0 bandwagon, I fear we will lose young people who could be capable of something deep, thought-provoking, meaningful and novel. I wish more people would listen to Susan Cain...

Motivated

I read 'Drive' by Donald Pink last year after reading a review of this book. This year, we are reading the book at work - as a sort of corporate book club? - and I wish I could send a copy to every leader in the govt or at least to the Minister of Education. 

The book discusses motivation and it speaks to me both at a personal level and at a professional level. 

Many times, after running a workshop, I have had teachers come up to me and say how much they enjoyed the workshop and how much they learnt, then there will be a "...but". "But my students aren't even motivated to come to school." "But how do I deal with unmotivated kids?" And I have never had an answer. More recently, I have been asking myself - where has my fire gone? Why don't I look forward to going to work? And reading this book again this year, with the ability to look back over the events of last year in the light of it, has helped me understand the frustrations I have felt.

In a nutshell, Pink says that management theories and conventional wisdom of the past decades have favoured the carrot-and-stick approach to managing people. A combination of incentives and disincentives have been crafted over the years to keep people working as well as to keep them in line. I think Singapore especially has got this down to a fine art with our performance bonuses, baby bonuses, demerit points and fines. Pink calls the carrot-and-stick approach Motivation 2.0. He goes on to point out that far from creating more of the desired behaviour and less of the undesired behaviour, this approach has done little to create change.

He argues compellingly, instead, that what is needed is Motivation 3.0 and he says that the key lies in giving people autonomy, mastery and purpose - giving people some element of choice, allowing them to work from their positions of strength and creating a sense of meaning and purpose in the work they do.

It is astounding that the research cited in this book has been ignored over and over again over the decades. I suppose it is somehow deceptively reasonable to accept that people would want the incentives of money, fame and power and that they would be deterred by disincentives of fines or shame. 

The book makes so much sense to me I feel euphoric every time I read a portion of it. It is as if someone has finally explained me to me. This is why I HATE performance ranking. This is why I just want to teach. This is why I would tutor kids FOR FREE! This is why I was so unhappy last year when tasks needed to be done or re-done without me knowing why. 

I hope the book will result in some real changes at my workplace. It's a promising sign that we are all reading it and discussing it once a month. What I'm glad about is that it gives us a common language that I can use to negotiate for the space and purpose I need.

I Shouldn't Have Stopped @ 2

Suddenly it is the end of Feb and it's time for R to leave. Makes me sad. 

It's a pity that just when I can enjoy their company as friends and adults, and don't have to yell or threaten to spank, my girls actually have one, if not both, feet out of the door :) J & R think I'm not ready to let go of them and let them be adults. I think I can't let go of the Mother in me. I think I was made to be one of those women who would have enjoyed a large family. At one level, I understand Angelina Jolie and Octomum, yes I do. 

Frustrating and tiring though it was when the children are young, there comes a time when our own adult lives slow down; and that's when we have time to really look at our children. Fortunately, I don't think I have made many mistakes - though my daughters take great delight in claiming to be psychologically scarred by my erratic parenting. 

In my ideal life, I would have had 4 children (err... and 2 live-in nannies).  My girls amuse themselves with trying out different names their 'siblings' might have been given to rhyme with theirs. [Thankfully, I never did have a boy - whom I would have blithely named Bharani, in the days before Google - because the girls and I discovered the other night that (a) contrary to what I believed, this is a girl's name, not a boy's and (b) this is actually the name of the astrological star of the Hindu god Yama, the god of death! J & R couldn't stop laughing :)] So, if I had had 4 children, I still would have 2 of them underfoot. That would help ease the transition, I think, for when the last of the 4 is ready to leave as well, I might have grandchildren ready to walk in! 

See - in the grand scheme of the universe it would have all worked out! Darn.

My Salvation Story

I had a blessed time at the Christian Educators' Prayer Meeting last Sat. I had been invited to share my story by Lucy and I am glad I finally had the opportunity to thank the many people who had prayed for me over the years. As usual, I had a knot in my tummy before I started speaking, and I was glad to have WY in the audience praying for me. I know you have heard it before, my daughters, but I love to tell the story :)

"I was brought up as a Hindu in a conservative Brahmin household. When in Gal 1:4, Paul describes his past zealousness in advancing in Judaism he could have been describing me. I was fervent in prayer, fasted regularly and fiercely protective of my faith. Then to my own amazement, in Oct 1991, I accepted Christ.  

I stand here to share my story with you, this morning, because I am grateful for Christian educators who cared enough to share the gospel that first saved me, then my children. In 1 Cor 3:6, Paul said “I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow.” The seeds were planted and watered and grown in me all within different schools. 

I heard my first gospel stories as a child in the Methodist Girls School in Klang, then in Assunta Convent in Petaling Jaya in Malaysia. My first bible was given to me by my classmate Andrew Chua in Sec 4 in Thomson Secondary School. He gave it to me for my birthday and highlighted the verse “Verily, verily I say unto thee, ye must be born again.” It didn’t make sense to me and coming from a Hindu background, I mistakenly thought he was referring to re-birth and wanted to be my friend in my next birth too! 

I didn’t read anything else in that bible other than that verse. But since Christmas 1991, I have been reading another bible given to me by my dear friend Wai Yin whom I met when we were both posted to teach in ACJC in 1984. We sat near each other and taught the same subjects. 

Wai Yin was easy to talk to and I enjoyed her friendship but I used to wonder how anyone could be so nice and not want anything from me. I don’t remember when Wai Yin offered to pray for me. But I began to share more of my life with her. I began using her God as a back-up when things went wrong. I would pray and also tell her to pray because there was something attractive about the way she talked to her God. And I noticed her prayers seemed to be answered. 

In the first birthday card Wai Yin gave me she wrote “I could wish you many things, but above all I wish you Jesus.” It made no sense to me but I began to be suspicious of her friendship. I began to think that this then was what she wanted from me. That the friendship was just a bait. Because I was convinced that Christians just wanted to add to their numbers.

But even when I blew hot and cold, she remained a friend. In 1985, we had to stay over as teachers in charge to look after the student participants at a Pre-U Seminar. During a late night conversation, she said she would be a bad friend if she did not tell me about her Friend Jesus. There was no warning of going to hell, there was no talk of Jesus being the only way. All I heard was the concern of a friend who had a map and knew the way and could not bear to keep quiet when she saw a friend lost and wandering. I told her rather rudely that my God was enough, but some disquiet stayed with me. 

You see, I had been feeling a stirring because of another reason as well. God was speaking to me through the subject I was teaching – English Literature. Many of the texts had Christian themes and in preparing to teach these texts I needed to do research and that is how I learnt the gospel message.

I taught Dr Faustus by Christopher Marlowe and I was haunted by the despair of Faustus who had turned away from God. I taught Metaphysical poetry – poems like ‘The Pulley’ and ‘The Collar’ by George Herbert and the Holy Sonnets of John Donne; I still love “Batter My Heart Three Personed God”. I taught the poetry of Gerald Manley Hopkins and after we did ‘As Kingfishers Catch Fire’ one of my students Tee Loon came up to me and said “Madam, how can you explain that poem so beautifully and not know my Christ?”  He says that day he decided to pray for me.  25 years later he is still a faithful prayer warrior for me and a mentor to my daughters.

In 1991, I was on no pay leave to do my Masters and I was offered a tutor’s post at NUS. As God would have it, I was asked to tutor Comparative Lit and the text on the list was the Bible. I tutored 2 groups teaching the Bible as literature, comparing Genesis, Psalms, Job and John and I think it was Galatians. We traced the themes of sin and grace, symbolism of sacrifice and blood, the poetic cadence of psalms. 

Then one evening, my daughter asked me for a story. And I began to tell her the story my mother had told me – of how Ganesh the elephant god got his head. J looked at me at the end of the story and asked me “But why mummy? Why can’t god get a nice head? I don’t like this story.” 

Something changed in me that evening. I looked inside of me and I realized I didn’t believe what I had just told my daughter. I was very frightened because I felt hollow. It felt as if a core part of me had changed. I wished I could read something, talk to someone, get some reassurance. 

In that terrifying silence inside me, I heard a voice deep inside me that said “These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life.” John 5:39! I don’t know how to explain it but it was as if pieces of jigsaw fell together. And I started crying. I knew then there was one friend I could call. Wai Yin drove over straightaway and we sat in her car in the carpark and we prayed. 

Today, as we gather in prayer, I want to encourage you - will you reach out to your fellow educators in friendship like my friend did. The work is not yours or mine. It is God who works in His time and in His way. But I’m thankful that one person cared enough and was courageous enough to share her Friend with me.

 I thank God for the Lit syllabus we had then and I wonder - are there opportunities for us just where we are to make decisions that honour God?

I thank God for my students who prayed for me and I wonder - can we look up at those placed in authority over us and remember their names when we pray?

I thank the teachers in Fairfield Methodist Primary School because both my daughters heard about Christ during Religious Emphasis Weeks in school. Will you be the ones who tells the story of Jesus to our children?

God in His wisdom according to His plan, has placed us wherever we are. Wherever, that is, can we in faith plant seeds or water the seeds others have planted?  In His love mercy and grace God will call His own in His time. He just wants loving and courageous hearts. 

In ending today, I want to share with you the same blessing, my friend shared with me many years ago: my friends, I could pray for you many things; but I pray for you, more of Jesus. “

Valentine's Day

Today I was remined of the many Valentine's Days I had put up with as a teacher and I must say the memories make me smile :)

When I was teaching in ACJC, V Days were a frenzy of activity. The Students' Council had its major fund raising drive then and used to collect orders for roses which the Councillors would buy from wholesale suppliers and then re-sell to the students at a hiked up price. January and the weeks preceding the 14th of Feb were marked by a frenzy to meet someone - preferably during Orientation - so that come V Day, there would be a Someone to court and be courted by!

School was a bedlam on 14 Feb and only the most morose and fiercest of teachers could claim to have conducted a lesson successfully. I coped by having the same lesson I conducted every 14 Feb if I had a Lit class - a critique of what were the best love poems of English. Some years it worked; some years the kids groaned and begged me to let them off.

Then there would be the shy knocks on the door with the plea "Madam, may I see..." and the class would erupt with wolf whistles and oohs and ahhhs. Stalks and bouquets (depending on the finances of the suitor) would lie casually on desks and balloons with hearts would float lazily. My best times were when suitors came bearing chocolate boxes because I would then let them in only if the object of desire agreed to share the chocolates with me :)

Jurong Institute was a complete contrast. I was taken by surprise my first year there because I had readied myself for the insanity of puppy love only to discover that I seemed to have landed on a planet where the 14th of Feb was just the day that came between the 13th and the 15th. Well, this V-Day ennui didn't last very long and by the time I left JI, the madness had descended there too, but in 1992, it was a different story. Yes, there were couples, but unlike ACJC where most kids who came in the first 3 months stayed long enough to start dating, most of those who came to JI in Jan couldn't wait to leave after they received their 'O' level results, so Orientation held no promise for them and V Day was meant to be spent outside school as fast as their legs could sprint. I must say I missed the madness of Valentine's in JI.

And now, the day matters even less. Restaurants have expensive menus, movie tickets are sold out, florists claim to make 60% of their annual takings on this day alone and the mass media are doing their part to make everyone wish they were in love :) I am amused. I remember I used to scold my students for hanging around my classroom waiting for their special person, for the extravagance of their gifts and (when I'm feeling really mean) the grammatical errors in their love notes :) Yes I was a meanie :) Looking back, I think, maybe I should have been nicer, more indulgent, for after all, it was just for one day ... Happy Valentine's Day and may you feel loved today and every day of your life :)

My Rock in Clay

I have been asked by a dear friend of mine to speak at a gathering of Christian educators on Saturday. I said yes, because I couldn't refuse to share the story of God's grace in my life. But as the day draws nearer, I'm filled with doubt and ask myself what could I possibly say without sounding like a zealot or an indulgent navel-gazer or a pompous modern-day Pharisee...

There is a song we sing in church which starts "My Saviour, Redeemer, Lifted me from the miry clay..." and that is exactly how I would describe my experience with God. I imagine the stickiness, the wetness of a swamp of clay and the hand of God reaching in and firmly pulling me out of a way of life that seems so distant now. 

If I were honest, I would admit that the clay is never far off. It is quite easy to fall into the muck again. There is a saying in Proverbs 6:10-11 that I think of every time I hit the snooze button on my alarm clock in the morning - "A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest - and poverty will come on you like a thief and scarcity like an armed man." It's true - I tell myself, "just ten minutes more, just a short five minutes" and the next thing I know I have overslept and I rush to work without my morning prayer or Bible reading. I know it's like that with major issues as well - I say to myself, "just this one time" and soon one thing leads to another and I am either daydreaming or involved in gossip or reading another chapter of a story book instead of my devotional ... It can go on. The clay is always wet at my feet.

So I wonder what I will say on Saturday. The real work of Christ in my life is too private for  public sharing. His faithfulness, protection and provision to me will remain known only to a few. My life in Christ is not public - I have no ministry in church, no gifts of healing or worship or exhortation or intercession or prophecy. My Christ just holds me together and gives me daily bread and enough hope, love and trust for one day at a time. My Christ gives me one spot of solid rock to stand on in the midst of the miry clay. 

Mission Station: Singapore

My sister and I were talking on the phone today - I don't go visit her as often as I should - and she was reminiscing about her career as a teacher. We both agreed that the best part of teaching really was when old students remember you fondly. It is that which makes you feel your work has been worthwhile, that it is more than a paycheck.

Some of my students have stuck. They talk to me about their dates, their marriage plans, their children... And it is a privilege to continue to be part of their lives. Last week, a bunch of students I taught in 1996/7 met for dinner, got to reminiscing and my name came up. And they called me to give me two hours' notice before they turned up at my doorstep at 10pm with chocolate ice cream, a wife and a toddler and hearts full of memories. An evening like that makes me feel I am blessed.

Increasingly, however, I have been feeling a sense of dis-ease at the number of young teachers who leave the profession. It is a tricky situation for me as many of these teachers leave for what should be considered a noble purpose - to serve as missionaries in far flung countries. Yet, every time one more young person says he / she is resigning, I am disappointed. The question that screams in my head is - "Who will stay?"

What is it that appeals about teaching English / Maths / IT skills in a remote Asian village with the chance to share the gospel ? That those children might not hear the gospel? Neither will many children in our schools. That the government in these countries forbids proselytising and therefore the endeavour seems exciting and dangerous? That's not very different from the local situation. What would working in these rural areas for 5 months achieve that teaching day after day, connecting and getting to know one's students cannot?

I wonder how much of the desires of these young people is for escape from the mundane rather than a call to the wild. The poor are here in Singapore too. The ones who struggle to read and count are here too. The ones from broken homes are here too. Wouldn't the chances of the gospel being understood higher where the children speak the language, are able to read the bible and ask questions? Yet, young teacher after teacher wants to go to China or Tibet or Timore Leste or Laos or Africa to teach children who are struggling with the alphabet while children who can read are left safe in their comfortable Singapore homes with other teachers who have no interest in their souls.

The young teachers tell me they hear a call to go. I pray and wonder - doesn't anyone hear the call to stay?

Sleepless in Singapore

In all fairness I must say I am sauntering through menopause with far more ease than a number of women I know. So my daughters, you might not have it too bad either.

I've managed to keep the weight gain somewhat at bay, the mood swings haven't been drastic and the weepy phase coincided with a tough time so I didn't quite know for sure whether I was menopausal-depressive or just sad :) Thankfully, there have been no drenching hot flashes either and all that happens is that the tips of my ears turn red and feel so warm I am sometimes concerned they might glow. The days when I made silly mistakes and felt disoriented used to disturb me, until I read 'Hot Flashes From Heaven', the comforting book J bought me. Since then I have learnt to just tell people around me that "I'm having a Brain Fog Day" and then just live with the wool in the brain for that day :)

The one effect that has finally gotten me is the insomnia. I don't have a problem falling asleep, but I can't stay asleep. I wake up in the wee hours of the morning and then can't fall back asleep.

I began the battle by stopping coffee and tea after lunch. And yes, I do exercise. Then I tried a number of pillows and now I have 1 water pillow, 3 neck support pillows and still will the clock hands to move at night. I have done the warm-bath-before-bed thing, the milk-before-bed-thing and the deep-breathing-while-thinking-pleasant-thoughts thing.

Apparently there are some saintly women who take this sleeplessness in their stride and are glad for the hours of sleeplessness and use these extra hours to read and pray. I am not one of them.

Finally it was time to see a doctor and he gave me a magic blue pill which was the best invention of man ever! I had great sleep and my family (and friends I travelled with) had great fun because I would fall asleep suddenly in the middle of various tasks (reading a book, sms-ing), sitting down, and had to be put to bed by the kind souls around me. But the supply ran out and M said that the wonderful blue pill would cause memory loss - so that ended 10 nights of blissful sleep.

For the past week, I have been sleepless, bordering on depression, grouchy and rudely yawning through meetings, workshops and dinners with friends.

But things are looking more promising. I have had a number of  people offer me remedies - two friends pray for me (especially Jeremiah 31:25!) one friend brought me herbal tea, one colleague skyped his mother in Canada to ask for remedies to my sleeplessness (valarian root!), my ex-boss brought me his wife's natural sleep pills (hahahahaha) and my niece made her doc friend prescribe me medication :)

So I feel hopeful. I have new options to try! Maybe, I shall sleep again!  

My Sketchpad

You know how we talk about choosing to view the glass as half empty or half full? My natural tendency is towards the former. But I have over the years learnt to recognise this in myself and after the initial hand-wringing and doomsday prognosis to make myself explore what a more positive outlook could be. This is a habit of mind that I struggle with a great deal. I tend towards whinging, complaining and "I-told-you-so"s. I know my daughters will happily concur :) 

So this year appears to me, so far, to be one of those not-so-good years. R's friend, P, has a theory that years that end in prime numbers are better years - I have been thinking over my past years ever since she made that pronouncement :)

The main reason that makes me feel this way is my empty planner. I have events and meetings lined up for Jan and Feb, and then zilch. Those empty months trouble me. It is as if this year will come and go and I will have nothing to say for 2012. I will not have a significant event that will help me recall, "That was the year when I ..." Then I remember 2010 was like this and I think to myself maybe P is on to something :)

But now the wiser Vara is in attendance. And I remember that if 2010 was empty at the beginning of the year, there was a reason for it and the emptiness gave me space to deal with the curve ball that was thrown at me. And I remember that I learnt the value of unplanned time and spontaneity during my trip to Melbourne in Sept 2011. 

So, I choose to say - 2012 looks to be a year of promise. It is a sketchpad with the picture already drawn in invisible ink. And my Father will colour it in, one page at a time. Maybe it will be a page-turner of a year. Maybe it will have some blank pages. Maybe sometimes I will colour outside the lines instead of waiting for God. Maybe there will be ink blots.

We will just have to wait and see, won't we? :)

My Watched-over Life

2012 has begun and we are already 10 days into the new year. I have not done my usual reflection of the past year and resolutions for the new year. It is a ritual that soothes me and gives me a semblance of control - sometimes I connect dots, sometimes perspectives shift, and almost always I am able to give thanks.

As I prayed on the eve of this new year, however, I was drawn to Psalm 121:

"I lift my eyes up to the hills -

Where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,

the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip - 

he who watches over you will not slumber;

indeed, he who watches over Israel

will neither slumber or sleep.

The Lord watches over you - 

the Lord is your shade at your right hand;

the sun will not harm you by day

nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm -

he will watch over your life;

the Lord will watch over your coming and going

both now and forevermore."

And I am comforted by the phrase "the Lord watches over you".

I have read this psalm many times, especially when I travel, for I am comforted by the promise that God watches over my "coming and going". But somehow the declaration that God watches over my life struck me with a new excitement this new year's eve. That the God who is the creator of earth and heaven watches over my life assures me - that the dots will be connected; that there is a plan despite the haphazardness of my life; that despite my wilfulness, pettiness, fears and mistakes, my life, in the end, will not be a sorry tale. It will be a blessed 2012; as it was a blessed 2011.