Friday, August 28, 2009
Social Commentary
Technology skeptics fear that it will reduce our abilities to relate on a personal level. This is because technology is faceless, yet is a marvelous tool in forming new camaraderie. It is ubiquitous to see of people who have a few hundred friends on social networking websites such as Facebook, with their “bosom buddies” living in countries even as distant as South Africa. Bryan Appleyard, a renowned columnist, has written eloquently on the issue: “Join Facebook, MySpace or Friendster and you suddenly have ‘friends’ all over the place. Of course, you don’t. These are just casual, tenuous electronic pings. Nothing could be further removed from the idea of friendship.” People are being groomed to think others can be picked up on a whim and dropped because of a mood or slight offence, as adding or deleting friends can be at the click of a mouse. The idea of sticking with each other through thick and thin, which is the very essence of friendship and love, might even be viewed as absurd or meaningless. This would be a severe blow to one’s social skills. More tangibly, the increasingly “real”, graphic worlds of video gaming, complete with the inherent violence, can potentially skew one’s perception of reality. Having such a warped mindset might cause one to be dysfunctional in society, and be alienated and ostracised. As such, the downsides of technology might destroy our social skills.
With such fatalistic misgivings, it may be hard to see the big picture with a clear head. On a basic level, technological advances supplement our abilities by making our lives easier. Not only do they increase our productivity at work, they also help people separated by geographical boundaries to connect and communicate with one another. At home, we can celebrate one’s birthday together with the emigrant aunt and uncle in Toronto though the use of the webcam and the Internet. Business-wise, busy businessman can conduct conference calls with their clients in Canada through webcam or video-calling, instead of painfully flying there personally.
Technology could also potentially help jobs become more humane. Consider the plight of sewage workers, who not only have to endure the stench and repugnance of handling human waste, but also suffer from the ravages on their health through their exposure to such environment hazards. If robots could be used instead, with these workers instead trained to operate them remotely, they (the workers) would still have a job, but one with far fewer occupational hazards. It seems to be an unanimous opinion that with the modernization of the world, many job opportunities would be lost. However, I beg to differ, as these people who are being replaced by machineries can instead be trained to operate them, and maintain a steady source of income. This is but one advantage of technology, and already once can see that the possibilities it proffers are vast and endless.
It is clear that the proverbial “double-edged sword” applies to the realm of technology. There are ramifications from worshipping and idolizing technology, as this could debilitate that human condition. However, it has enormous potential for aiding and augmenting the human condition and human progress without it is inconceivable. We would do well to remember the words of Omar Bradley, “If we continue to develop our technology without wisdom or prudence, our servant may prove to be our executioner.”
Saturday, June 27, 2009
ERP Extensive Reading Programme
The dank smell of antiseptic hung heavily in the stale air of the hospital. All around me, everything was pristine. I forced by bleary eyes to open themselves. My baby brother, David, was teetering and tottering groggily at the edge of his seat, no doubt feeling disorientated. He had no idea what had just happened. Avoiding an irate nurse pushing a trolley, I glanced at the clock for what must have been the umpteenth time: 3.45 am.
At midnight, Mum had started groaning about a racking headache. I had been rushing through a Geography assignment, as she ransacked the shelf for a painkiller to put her out of her misery. Without warning, she had collapsed helter-skelter onto the floor, wincing in pain. By the time I had phoned for an ambulance, she was semi-conscious and muttering to herself. And when the ambulance arrived in a whirl of flashing lights a few minutes later, she was already out cold.
Feeling jaded, I plunked myself down onto a metallic grey seat. David had nodded himself off to sleep a few minutes ago. Standing outside, I could not fathom what was going on behind the closed doors of Room 8. 8. An auspicious number. I only hoped that Mum would be all right. Scenes of hapless patients who passed on flashed through my mind. (In retrospect, it was probably from the countless Korean dramas I had watched.)
It was at this moment of despondency that the doors swung open with a click. There seemed to be a sense of foreboding in the air as an austere doctor strode out. I waited with bated breath, heart palpitating against my ribs. In my trepidation, I had lapsed into a semi-lucid state. My surroundings became indecipherable: formless objects, a gentle whirl in the background…
“Excuse me?” a nasal voice jolted me out of my reverie. It was the doctor. “Your mum’s okay but she will have to spend a month here.” The butterflies in my stomach evaporated and I heaved a relieved sigh. Euphorically, I picked up the languorous David and hailed a cab home.
It was upon entering the house that the present problem hit me like a sledgehammer. How was I going to take care of my baby brother? Mum was the sole breadwinner of our family. What if the house was plundered and purloined when I was away? I realised that I would have to call in my wizened old grandma. Nevertheless, I comforted myself by the fact that Mum would be as fit as a fiddle in a month’s time.
Despite the presence of my grandma, the life I led for that month was never the same. With Mum out of the picture and my grandma virtually powerless, I started reveling in my freedom. When Grandma went to bed at nine, I snuck out surreptitiously to watch the TV. I started hanging out with my friends till near midnight. It was a utopian fantasy for a teenage like me, whose freedom had been constricted for far too long. It was not until I flunked a test (for the first time ever) that I realised I had misused my freedom. It was an epiphany. I knew I was making a huge mistake, but somehow, I could not control the urge to slip out of bed every night. My personal attempts to instill a better sense of discipline proved fruitless.
That month proved to be the most tumultuous in my life. The hitherto obedient boy had morphed into a brazen punk. Part of me was exultant that Mum was not here to spoil my fun, yet the other half wished that she was here to exert a control over my life, which was rapidly spiraling out of control.
Before long, I had become more audacious, and started slipping out of the house to meet up with a few wayward friends. As such, it had become ubiquitous for me to return home late into the night. Tonight was no different. I stepped into the yawning darkness of the house, ignoring my gut feel that something was amiss. As I flipped the light switch on, I noticed a woman sitting on the sofa. I instinctively leapt backwards and muffled a scream. Goosebumps erupted all over me. It was Mum! Swallowing my fear, I said in what I thought was a jaunty, winning voice, “Hi Mum!”
In a flash, she was beside me, breathing fire and brimstone and with a look of unadulterated rage peppered across her face. Without waiting for me to explain myself, she berated me and gave me a tongue lashing I would never forget. Despite this, I was elated that my mother had returned back into my life. I did not bother to ask who informed her of my deteriorating behavior. I perhaps never will. After all, I had realised the pivotal role my mother played in my life.
Needless to say, my relationship with her strengthened by leaps and bounds after this eventful month. Although the life I led without her strict dictatorship was undeniably more exciting, I was still thankful that she returned just in time before my behavior went into free fall. Upon hindsight, I wondered if her falling ill was actually a blessing in disguise. It made me realise how much I needed her care and concern. I made a silent resolution never to bemoan about her incessant naggings again.
Monday, April 6, 2009
However, should students be granted the permission to set their own rules in school? Currently, rules are set up by teachers. This is not entirely successful: there are cases in every school where students show blatant disregard to the school rules. Why do they do this? My take is that they are probably discontented with the rules they must obey, because they are too strict and sometimes meaningless. Why can’t we eat outside the canteen, as long as we throw away the litter? Why can’t students have trendy hairstyles, so long as it does not affect their studies? Today, I will argue that students should be able to set their own rules.
Allowing the rebellious teen to set their own rules will be more beneficial. This is because there is a high chance that they will abide by it more obediently. Imagine the shame if someone was convicted because of the rules that they had personally set before. The age-old excuse of “I didn’t know there was such a rule” excuse will also be scrapped, as students have created the rules themselves. As they have set an ubiquitous standard for themselves, it only makes sense if they abide by it themselves. After all, these (rules) are their personal preferences.
Letting students set their own rules will also not be counter-productive. Already the crème de la crème of Singaporean pupils, will Rafflesians really set up rules that hinder their academic progress? Will rules like “Students can sleep in class” or “Students can smoke” really be applicable to us? After all, we know that the ones who benefit from a good education in the end will be ourselves. Who would want to destroy their own future?
Moreover, with this knowledge in mind, it doesn’t really matter if students want to have Mohawks or such hairstyles, as long as their academic progress is not hindered and they don’t behave like thugs. This is because the purpose of schooling is to give students a good IQ and EQ. Long and dyed hair is not equivalent to gangsters and dropouts. Furthermore, this will allow students a more “fun” way of learning. They will look forward to coming to school in the morning with new hairstyles and such.