brainwashed

One day it happened that a senior female Chinese university student majoring in English found the courage to say, I don't speak-talk English. My English is poor.

I have no self-esteem. I am too shy.

I am afraid of losing face if I make mistakes in front of a foreigner.

My parents, peers and teachers in socialistic group-think (Oh, George Orwell, where art thou?) reality taught me, or perhaps a better word is brainwashed me into believing, heart and soul that if my English isn't perfect I shouldn't try, especially in front of foreigners.

I’ve learned the less I do, the fewer mistakes I make and the less criticism I face.

I feel safer. I am a robot.

Autonomy and independent critical free thinking are anathema in my comfortable world.

On the other hand, give me a cell phone and I can set world records for text dial-a-log.

Especially when I am sad, lonely and bored.

I know people in the West use the Internet to seek information. Here it’s about entertainment.

I love chat rooms and the TV idiot box where I can give away my consciousness.

bridge

"True teachers are those who use themselves as bridges over which they invite their students to cross; then, having facilitated their crossing, joyfully collapse, encouraging them to create their own."

 - Nikos Kazantzakis  Read more…

echo

New music echoed. Everyone ran to a window. 

Across the street an Indonesian boy sat on a piece of plywood in the shadow of a long tall Sally art deco three story building. It towered above a gated Jakarta community filled with designer homes, wild tropical blossoming fruit trees, displaced dysfunctional spoiled offspring spinning yo-yo’s and orphans sleeping on broken bamboo bed springs or swimming to Cambodia through flooded dreams. 

In his left hand he held a shining silver chisel. In his right, a flat edged hammer. He slammed metal against metal on a bronze bridge between the Stone Algae and the Iron Algae.

Between knowledge and wisdom.

Between an object and a concept.

Tap-tap-tap. Music flaked dust. His chorale was a tribal creation song remembering family and soft rice paddies feeling wind carry his song.

A Cambodian slave girl in the background using a brothel broom of thinned tree branches whisked a gentle rhythm. She created her symphony of sadness and neglect waiting to be abandoned like a manuscript.

98%

Did you know that the world is made up of 98% helium and hydrogen?

The remaining atom particles are life and inside these atoms a very small part of that is intelligence.

The rest of the pyramid is garbage.

Existence precedes essence.

yellow butterfly academy

tell me about my Lao motorcycle culture

125cc engines growling past orange monks

barefoot in their silence

give us the raw emotional direct experience

among a tribe of kids, their play is work.

they laughed and played all day long

poor ones collected cardboard and plastic bottle

along a dirt road.

kids with money went to school

students are engaged in self-study, pair work, and group work. They accept responsibility and develop teamwork and sharing skills. They draw. They listen to music.

some accept the reality they are responsible for their learning. some learn to take risks.

help students develop courage.

some try. some can’t, won’t, don’t.

classes are mixed abilities and ages. strong student teachers help the weak.

attendance is sporadic because of school, family responsibilities and motivation.

focus on speaking and writing. reading comprehension.

listening retention skills. get the MAIN POINT.

1. Smile, engage, and have fun.

See #1.

Imagination is more important than knowledge - Einstein.

Practice patience like water