Ruk's Children on Sunday Funday!

Shatranj ke Khiladi!



Bang! Popular amongst children and grown-ups alike...





The Flying Car!



What's the other group creating?

A Robotic House-Cleaning Contraption!

Sound and Movement Impro: the sun, the trees....

... the little creatures of the earth going about their business.

Dancing Queens!

Impro with dance!

Definitely Krishna!

Choreographed and trained entirely by Seema and Afsana.

Join the dance!

Free for all!

Ahhh! Downtime...

Dominant, Subdominant, Subversive, EXPLOSIVE!

Apparently I'm giving some people a complex with my blogging... well, all those of you who are "lurking" out there, I spoke to my Dad today [no use asking Ma, she confuses me with my Mashi], and he confirmed that I was born with a pen in my hand - it made the delivery somewhat difficult as you can imagine. Furthermore, he affirmed, as soon as I had had my first feed, I wailed for some paper, and wrote my first two poems immediately - they were called "Light at the end of the tunnel" and "Into the Light".

Of course, I don't remember any of this, but I trust Dad, especially his memory. He can still rattle off the valencies of all the elements, chemical formulae of all compounds and can explain processes like polymerization and hydrogenation effortlessly. If he says so, then it must be so. He went on to add that in the first six months of life I wrote so much poetry that they didn't know where to put the tomes. Finally, they had them bound and stacked them inside the box bed which, unfortunately, didn't survive the weight and collapsed. He hesitated to add what finally happened to them but upon being probed he revealed that they went the way of all waste paper - to the kabadiwala. Clearly, they either had enough faith in my capabilities as a writer to know that I would continue to produce amazing stuff or they did not think of it as valuable enough to burden the new box bed.

All right, I agree that this is a bit over the top...

Anyway, here are two lovely subversive writing exercises which help to scrub out those channels of communication and magically transform the pen into a WRITING implement.

The first is called the FreeWriting Exercise. Seems quite simple, but don't be fooled. It needs commitment and dedication. What you need to do is "freewrite" for five minutes every day. Simple? Aha, got you there. Here's the catch: You have to write without worrying about spellings, grammar, punctuation, syntax, meanings. Switch off your mobile, shut down your laptop, disconnect the doorbell, and make a solemn promise that for those five minutes you will only write - without taking your pen off the paper - even if a bomb drops five feet away. Put down every thought, feeling, word that comes into your head in exactly the order in which it comes. DO NOT STOP to read what you have written. After five minutes [set the timer] STOP and put away what you wrote. That's right, DO NOT read it - for at least two weeks. Finally, fixing a time helps - that way you do get down to it every day. I used to get my form tutees to do this first thing every morning, and boy, did they enjoy it after the first few days. However, some of you may have erratic lifestyles - so perhaps you could fix it for the morning time, just after your first cup of coffee, tea, micky-dudu, or whatever else... I know, I know, we are not at our brightest early in the morning - but that's the beauty of it - NO ONE GETS TO READ THIS. Keep it under lock and key and NEVER, EVER, allow anyone else to read it. [This makes sense in many different ways - because usually we are scared to put down something on paper - or on the Internet - because then it is in print forever and ever and someone may get to read it - oh, the GAZE. Also, it spares one the embarrassment of being revealed to others as a complete idiot - once I wrote the name of the chap I was obsessing about approximately 106 times in one morning's freewriting episode. You could take a leaf out of James Joyce's book... and I say this at the risk of being lynched... he made a career out of FreeWriting and fooled the public - but this is my personal opinion.]

If the objectives of all these "rules" are not clear, feel free to ask. However, the general objective of the exercise is to free you from the notion that everything you write must come out beautiful, perfect and Cathy-like [hah!].

The second exercise, which you can attempt any time after two weeks of FreeWriting [but do not stop the FreeWriting] is called Panning for Gold in the Closet [yeah, Shelja, we do it in writing too, imagine that!]. So, here's what you need to do. Unless you're obsessive-compulsive like me, when you open your closet, you will definitely find clothes that you haven't worn in years, right? Either they are too loose and you're keeping them for those times [in case you put on weight]; or, they are too tight to fit into right now but you mean to hit the gym any day now. They could also be the wrong colour [I know, why do friends lovingly buy you colours that you just don't see yourself wearing] and you're waiting for the day you have the courage to sport that shocking pink. Then, of course, there's the lot that is too worn out to wear but you're hanging on to for sentimental reasons.

Take all these clothes out and no, don't give them away or barter them for steel plates you don't need. You need to think of at least five reasons to hold on to them. Not literally, of course, but in a literary way.

In case you don't have this excessive wardrobe, look for something similar. As I confessed, I don't, so the first time I did this exercise I used my shoes [yup, I used to have enough pairs to rival Imelda Marcos - at one point of time I counted 76 pairs, some of which I had worn less than once]. I decided to create an exhibition out of them. Each pair of shoes got a history, a title, and a description. I also described how I would set up the exhibition and how much I would charge people for letting them view it.

In case you draw a blank at the clothes or the shoe closet, try the fridge. You may find some stuff which could be used for biology experiments.

What this exercise will do for you is allow you to reminisce about the associations with [useless] objects that you have held on to for a long time. Now you need to zero in on the EMOTIONS evoked by these associations and memories. Sharpen those pencils, refill the pen, or simply boot up the laptop... for what you're going to do with these emotions is write your next [bedazzling] literary piece.

So, all set? There are no rules for this part at all - try poetry, fiction, non-fiction, any genre will do - except "Be Specific". Instead of "I felt weird" you could write "I was filled with anger, sorrow, nostalgia, sadness, immense joy, exhilaration, etc." Instead of "I got into the car" you could write "I slid into the boot of the 1985-model shiny red Maruti 800 and curled my legs to get them out of the way of the slamming boot door". Instead of "My dress tore" you could write "My brand new purple-blue khadi kurta got caught on the jack as I stepped out of the boot and suddenly there was a jagged tear down the side which looked like a racing viper in the desert". Feel free to go over the top with the similes and metaphors. If a week later you don't relate to it, you can always revisit it and tone it down. EVEN on the Internet.

Finally, post it on your blog or send it to good ol' friends like me who love to read interesting stuff. It feels marvellous when someone leaves a comment or writes back saying... well, anything, even a smiley brings on the glow!

By the way, it's a great way to get the "trace your steps" homework done :)!

Making a Difference

This is one of those mails that keeps popping into my inbox [pasted in blue at the end of this post]. This morning a friend sent it with an endearing message: A break from pondering over social constructionism :))))))) An ode to the wonderful teachers and all the wonderful students!!
No one seems to know where these emails come from, who writes them and whether, indeed, they are really true. Sometimes we are warmed by them; occasionally, we forward them to friends who will relate to them; once in a while, we are moved to print them out and put them up. This particular one is especially relevant to people like me... people who have actively and consciously taken on the responsibility of helping our young ones grow up to lead fulfilling lives.

One of the most amazing exercises we do in the TIE Training Workshop is the "Characterization of an Impactful Teacher". It takes you back to your childhood and asks you to create any teacher who left a deep impact - a positive or a negative one. You have to eventually enact a scene AS that teacher, perhaps putting the others into role as students. And finally, excitingly, you are hotseated as that teacher. The exploration of this person from the past may lead to several revelations: how much of this teacher you have unconsciously imbibed and whom you emulate without an awareness of it; how this teacher had the effect of helping you make choices in your life path that led you to where you are now; when and how this teacher set off the sequence of events that made you who you are today. Many TIE trainees initially respond with, "There have been so many, it's hard to think of one," to which you sternly reply [much like Shelja, the mamma of FTC 1 and 2], "Choose ONE!"

Effortlessly, I can recall each and every one of those moments when my later choices in life were pre-programmed and foretold by certain individuals. The one who, in Grade 7, gave me a high mark for a creative piece, thereby fuelling my passion for writing; the one who, in Grade 8, set my math brain on track, her high expectations of us making me have high expectations of my students; the one who, in Grade 11 published a poem I had written for her class, and then included me in the elite editorial board of the school magazine - encouraging me to play with language rather than following grammatical rules; and then the lady who, in Grade 12, debunked many literary assumptions to awaken, forever, the love I have for literature. Not to forget all those teachers, friends (co-actors or partners in various drama-related nefarious activities including late-night set painting) and mentors who tried to train the actor in me... they ensured a future that would forever be devastatingly dramatic!

Whoa, hold on a minute... this is a sobering thought... am I then a social construct of the teachers who touched my life? And they too, were they social constructs of the teachers who....? And does the history of this construction project go further and further back into the past as far as one can trace it?

And therefore, am I involved, knowingly or unknowingly, in constructing bits and pieces of those who trustingly hold out their hands for me to lead them to... wherever it is that I am capable of taking them? Will one of them look back at his/her childhood some day in the future and say, "Hey, this streak of craziness I have in me... I'm sure I got that from Cathy!"?

Years and years ago when I decided on this career path I was not looking to change the world - ah, no, the world was too vast for me to try to right every wrong... even though I was Quixotic enough to "dream the impossible dream". In training to be an educator, I only wanted to change the education system, much disturbed by those who gave up all hope and terminated this particular life. This too was pretty large, and of course I became breathless speaking about how obsolete, irrelevant, harmful, stupid and senseless the whole structure was.

But then, here's what I seem to have been doing - sometimes consciously, but mostly unconsciously - I've been trying to change the world. And it's what every educator seems to be trying to do. To reach out to any possible future through those who will one day inhabit it - with hope shining brightly that it will be a future worthy of their talents.


ONE OF THE BEST STORIES EVER HEARD!!!!!!


As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.


Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.


At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.


Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around."


His second grade teacher wrote,
"Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."


His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."


Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."


By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."


After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her ‘teacher's pets’.


A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.


Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.


Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.


Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.


The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.


They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."


Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."


( Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)


Warm someone's heart today. . . pass this along.  Just try to make a difference in someone's life today? Tomorrow? Just "do it".


Random acts of kindness, I think they call it!
Believe in Angels, then return the favor.

Incredible Sunday!

In Spectacular Solitude on the Festival of Lupercalia

Valentine's Day is a big event here. While students are warned about financial excesses and that "really, it's just another day on the calendar", no one is quite immune to the spirit with which the children ring it in. And so it began, early enough, the ubiquitous question, "Hey, Cathy (ma'am) [ah, yes, there are still those who continue to use that archaic embellishment for me], who is your Valentine?" By the end of the second lesson, I was bored with the "No one" and the sympathetic, "AWWWW" I got from them. Time to think of something more witty and exciting - and suddenly, passing a group of girls on the stairs who offered me chocolate as well as the ubi-question, I spontaneously sang out, "I am my Valentine."

They looked at me with great approval! Of course young Chirag gallantly offered to be my Valentine  - I don't think he quite approves of solitude! - but I believe he already has a lot of Valentines, and I do so dislike crowds...

Three years ago on this day, I stood addressing a 200-strong group of middle school students - to talk about the origins of the "day" and what it has come to mean. Being me [for who else can I be? - but occasionally, I can wish...] I added at the end that the day had a special significance in my life. It was on this day in 1994 that I was married to the father of my two children, and that it was on this day 11 years later that I told him to "go jump". I spoke of all the 14th-of-February celebrations we had had in-between those two dates - of roses and diamond rings and candle-lit dinners and the whole picture perfect scenery on the backdrop. Then I offered them some free advice, "I think this made me realize that it is not what you do on this particular day that matters, but what you do for each other on the remaining  364 days of the year." There was an awed silence as I shared this, but it was only later that I realized the real impact of my words. From Grade 6 students, all the way through to adults who had been present, I had people thanking me for sharing what I had; one Grade 8 boy choked up as he said, "I'm really sorry for your loss, but it helped me learn something important."

However, the idea takes on a whole new meaning now. The Festival of Lupercalia, which one may call the proto-Valentine's day, was a ritualistic cleansing of evil spirits in order to release health and fertility. Named after the she-wolf Lupa, who nursed the infants Romulus and Remus [founders of Rome], the festival is meant to purify life. Later on in history, it became the feast of Saint Valentine; and according to one legend, this was a priest who brought young people together and performed their wedding ceremonies in private against the orders of the emperor. He was, needless to say, caught and martyred.

Transfer this to the 21st century, and immense possibilities open up.

Last week, the homework for the family therapy course group was to find one's Zihuatanejo [refer to Shawshank Redemption - brilliant film, by the way, from what we watched of it] - and write to the "current" self from the "future" self. It was a very interesting exercise, at all levels: visualising a future that one wants to get to; wondering about what paths one needs to take to get there; discovering the crucial turning points that pointed in the correct directions.

And yet, while to a certain extent it was about setting goals, the exercise meant much more than that. In the everyday junk we collect - of events, incidents, emotions, interactions - there is always the possibility of mistaking the bathwater for the baby; or sometimes, as often happens, we mistake the baby for the bathwater. Essentially, then, we end up throwing the right part out and retain the wrong part. There are those times too, when we don't throw any of it out, and end up with a lot of stink! Cleansing, therefore, becomes an important part of the process that leads to fertility - to be fecund at whatever you do with your life, to create your life, or live creatively, you need to be able to see the fallen leaves as so much mulch; not to regret that they have fallen, but that now they are able to fertilize the future.

So, for those of you who are celebrating Valentine's day in spectacular solitude, use the day to cleanse your mind and heart and soul - perhaps even your houses and gardens and balconies, if you feel inclined to; under no circumstances are you allowed to mope around! And, in case you are done with all the cleansing, and your neighbours are still not back from romancing - well, clean up their houses as well! If you cannot love your neighbour, then, by all means, clean his house!!!!! Sorry, actually that should read [to end on a hopeful note] "if you cannot love your neighbour, by all means, love yourself"….

Peace, not Pieces - Part II

While on the subject of Peace, not Pieces, we look at Lessons 3 and 4. We set out to watch this talk by Lesley Hazelton: On Reading The Koran:
http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/lesley_hazelton_on_reading_the_koran.html

Well, not everything you set out to do always goes smoothly, does it? We were a few minutes into the talk, having discussed what the word "Koran" meant - "Like the Bible for Christians," someone supplied, and "Oh, ah, that." "Who is a virgin?" I was asked, and I replied, fairly euphemistically for me, I thought, "A woman who has not been 'touched'," I added the quote marks with my fingers. We must keep the cultural context in mind - and not say to the mini United Nations what one might say to Drama students, for instance. Anyway, from the slightly embarrassed grins I guessed they had understood.

And just as it was all becoming very exciting - the "highlighter version" and talking about fundamentalists and Islamophobes being adequately explained, life got even more exciting as the fire alarm rang out. No, no, there wasn't a fire - it was a practice evacuation drill, part of the CIS accreditation team's requirements. I thought we had made good time, and we made even better time on the way back.

However, just as we restarted the talk, briefly discussed the Shia-Sunni split, talked about Protestants and Catholics and the two main sects of Buddhism - the Mahayana and Hinayana - with Hazuki volunteering that her parents are Buddhists but was not willing to commit to being the same herself... the fire alarm rang again. A prank? we wondered. I stepped out into the corridor, saw Sanjeev step to the railing, look down - on his way back to his room he waved his arms indicating that it was for real. Phew, another one!

By the time we got back, the lesson was over. Then there was a challenge of procuring the LCD projector for Lesson 6. No luck. Finally, we shifted venue to the Flexi and hooked up with the projector there. Almost immediately we came up against the words "agnostic" and "hubris". We discussed Yahweh and Kyeong asked about the Gospels.

Sehun wondered what she meant by "the Koran in English is a kind of shadow of itself". The next part of the talk, to my mind, needed to be highlighted. I did, of course, wonder whether I was doing much the same thing that Hazelton appears to be warning us about - but it was not out of context to repeat that the Koran includes women, and then the "infamous verse about killing the unbelievers". We played this part a second time, connected it to her earlier statement about the "highlighter version".

In the final part, Akhil wanted me to explain the word "fecundity" - the rest appeared to have gone down clearly.

With this we got down to planning our individual presentations.

PLANNING YOUR PRESENTATION
1. Pick your area/ decide on what you will create
2. Ppt, film, enactment, lecture, debate, write a script, recorded conversation
3. Create the KFW table - what you already Know; what you want/need to Find out; and Where you feel you will find it or Who you will ask.
4. Draft: Show it to friends and Cathy
5. Finalize: visual/audio material on CDs; other material - print-outs

We emphasized that what was really important to keep in mind was the object of the exercise: convince others that your plan is a "good" one - may not be the best and definitely not the only one, but a workable plan.

In the next 20 minutes, I got the opportunity to interact with several students who managed to rapidly put down where they wanted to take it. Others have promised to get back with plans very soon.

The assessment rubric is the same as always: Language, Cultural Interaction, Message.

These are baby steps we take towards our goal, and Inshallah, we shall sail towards a new sunrise because being at Peace makes so much more sense than being in Pieces.

Peace, not Pieces - Part I

Or, My Personal Path to World Peace

Grade 11 Language B lessons are often more dramatic than Drama lessons. We have a mini United Nations scenario going, although all voting situations are won hands down by my generally peaceful Korean students. Last week we approached the mysterious and esoteric topic of "poverty", something that is but a distant concept for my richer-than-thou charges. But they seldom disappoint; in their individual oral presentations, they made connections between poverty and the idea of who controls a country's resources and hence, what it is that leads to poverty. Bravo, I thought, as I set out to draft this week's plan - one that should spill over to the next two.

In brief, the idea is to explore: As a global citizen, what contribution can I make to World Peace? The "guiding question": What are the many paths that can lead to World Peace? And not to leave out the much-maligned TOK: How does language and perception affect our view of "self" and "other"?

My English HOD wrote back on the planning sheet: "Lovely plan! Wish I could sit in." All I could think of, at that moment, was, "I hope it works."

We started off with a discussion yesterday, briefly wondering about "What are the main causes of conflict that stand in the way of World Peace?" Hyungbai immediately corrected me, "It's not conflict, it is confliction. Conflict is a verb." We dived into our respective gadgets - he, the digital dictionary, I, the laptop - and came up for air at the same time. "OK," he said, "conflict is noun too." Hyunbin confirmed it on his digital gadget. They had a minor argument, in Korean, involving nouns and verbs. Phew! "Please speak-a the Eeeeengleeesh," I chanted. They complied for a few seconds. The question I put to them next was: Can you give me examples of instances of international conflict? Choruses of "North and South Korea, India and Pakistan, Tibet and China" floated around. Like I said, they seldom disappoint.

Then we began to watch Jody Williams' talk on "A Realistic Vision for World Peace".
http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/jody_williams_a_realistic_vision_for_world_peace.html

They were delighted, of course, with her using, without actually saying it, the F-word. We stopped to briefly speculate about which country the speaker was from - most of them worked out "USA" - either due to her accent or her reference to "Congress", "the President" and "dollars". We paused at the reference to Hiroshima - they were not familiar with the bombing, except Hazuki, of course. When I narrated this part of world history, there was a wide-eyed question, "Why did they do it?" Then they turned to Hazuki to ask, "Where do you live?" She responded with, "Tokyo." Then, endearingly, "Is that far from Hiroshima?" "Yes, very far." "Oh, thank God."

We made another brief pause to figure out the reference to "His Holiness" and giggled at the reference to "action" hero. Then, just as we reached Aung Sun Suu Kyi, my sweet SoYoung piped up. "Ma'am," she sang, "I'm not following any of this. It has too many big words."

I offered her the transcript. She looked at it with some interest. "This also has very big words." The others wanted the transcript too. "SoYoung, wherever you don't understand, we will stop and discuss it. OK?" She didn't look convinced.

The rest of the ride was fairly smooth. Conchita looked delighted at the mention of the Northern Ireland conflict [she had worked that into her "poverty" oral last week - talking about discrimination and unemployment] and Akhil was pleased with the Tree Lady's strategy to get people together. Deepak pretended to be staring out of the window, but whenever questioned on what had just been said, he supplied a suitable answer.

Then they made the first part of the following list: the need for peace.

Need for Peace
Kind mind
The world would be a better place for everyone to live in
Understanding with or between their different cultures
People live happier and safer life
Spread happiness
Not to be selfish with each other
Relax and be happy

So today's lesson began on the same note. Each one of them wrote his/her "need" on the board on one side, and possible reasons for conflict on the other. Kyeong signed his name with a flourish under "Not to be selfish with each other" - this, he explained, was because some day he wanted to join the government in his country and he wanted them to know this.

Here's the second list:
Reasons for Conflict
money
resources
greed
discrimination
pride
ignorance
differences of thinking
different perspectives of people
different thinking and individual identity
different wishes
different opinions
can't understand each other


The discussion that followed, linked ideas from the first list to thoughts on the second. For example, "understanding with or between their different cultures" was linked to "different perspectives of people" and " different thinking and individual identity"; "kind mind", on the other hand, linked with "money", "resources", "greed" and "pride". Soon, the green lines connecting the two lists created a tenuous spider's web. We identified four main areas that could be worked on:

1. Money
2. Resources
3. Discrimination
4. Differences

What they began to plan next was the project called: My Personal Path to World Peace.
The Objective of the project is: Convince other people that your "path" is a good solution.

We also discussed the TOK angle: Language and Sense Perception - the effect of these on our view of "self" and "other".

What is the minimum word count, Kyeong wanted to know. When is the submission date, Hyungbai asked. I shook my head at both of them. "Don't worry about minimum/maximum/optimum… or about deadlines. Do it from your heart. Otherwise it's no use for you won't learn anything from the experience."

Tomorrow we will watch another inspiring talk: Lesley Hazleton - On Reading the Koran.

As they began planning the project, which can be in the form of a ppt, film, photographs, talk, recorded conversation, enactment, etc., I sat back and watched furious scribbling on paper or rapid clicking on laptops, with a certain sense of satisfaction.


For, this is my personal path to world peace… and I have set off down the road with determination. To help my students think like global citizens, to invent creative solutions to reduce conflict, to walk for a while outside the narrow confines of curricula and learning outcomes… to sow the seeds of peace, not pieces.