On my way out of the office this evening, I quickly stopped by one of the three rooms used for storing books, since I had to drop off a few new copies. The door creaked open reluctantly, but along with it there was another sound I could not place until I saw the agile slither across the floor. The snake and I had scared each other silly, and as he retreated, hissing, into one of the boxes of newly delivered books, I was in awe of the persistence of nature. Granted, the campus is surrounded by wild land, but to venture into such unnatural territory is something he deserves credit for.
What do I do now? Keep quiet and his surprise reappearance could wreak havoc. Mention it and put him in danger. I am seriously considering sneaking in early with a flute tomorrow morning. Could I charm him to an abode that is more suitable for him- and us two-footed folk?
Although this did take place in consensual reality, the symbolism of this creature is not lost on me. My first thoughts were of the Naga snake deity in Hindu mythology, the paradaisical serpent, the Chinese horoscope’s year of the snake (also known as the little dragon; I am a dragon), the mythological ouroboros of alchemy, the caduceus and kundalini…
A treasure-house of serpent symbolism exists. And a messenger to remind me.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
MindMapping the Next Frontier: An X-Ray of Assignment 2.0
Among the advice on my studies I hear most frequently is “don’t read too much”. Considering how much there is to read, and how much there is to KNOW, even in the little subspecialist niche of TESOL, this seems counter-intuitive. Yet it is valid in the sense that at a certain point the information starts to drown out one’s own ideas, and that sinking feeling of not knowing what it was you actually wanted to say often only hits after the assignment is handed in. Trust me: I know.
Well, this evening I had one of those rare and precious flashes of insight where I knew exactly what I want to say in my next assignment, and how I want to say it. (To perfectly honest, it happened while I was gazing into my fridge. When you live in a desert, the fridge is a place to keep things like printer ink cartridges, vitamins, eye liner- just ask Robert Smith- and fully loaded water pistols. I have been known to follow up fridge-gazing with far more destructive activities than assignment planning, so this is a doubly fortuitous event.)
For the record, the reading I have done has been quite general, and I fully intend to continue reading up on more specific areas of relevance. But my ideas are clear now. That’s the beauty of a MindMap: it can organically grow without any disruption. Although mine may have to do its growing on a new page…
Saturday, August 23, 2008
The Decision Making Matrix
Since I am in the throes of a major decision, I would like to offer a practical lifeskill that has served me well, but also serves as a great activity for students. In a language class, it works as a top-notch “third-generation task”- that is, a learning task that involves communication in the target language, higher-order thinking skills and personal development (Nunan 2005: 135). The matrix can be used with students in pairs, groups or pyramids, on a prescribed or self-selected topic. Much of the language value lies in the actual process of negotiating meaning while compiling and weighting criteria for decision-making. Take a look how it works.
Making a major life decision (a new job, a home, a pet, a spouse etc.) can be extremely traumatic for anyone as notoriously fickle as me. (I do know I am fickle enough not even to consider a spouse- or even a pet!- in the first place, incidentally.) In my dazed and confused student days, one professor of logic kindly introduced me to the Decision-Making Matrix. It is a foolproof formula for making a rational decision with your head- and you can even build in a vote for your heart. Observe.
Allow me to demonstrate with the major life decision that has been haunting me of late: do I stay in Oman or do I leave for greener (but less lucrative) pastures? The procedure is to draw up a column for each option and a row for each criterion. (In class, students will negotiate these.) To make this even more precise, the criteria can be weighted. Then rate each option according to the criteria scores. In my matrix below, for example, I have rated Oman 20 out of a possible 20 for income, but 0 out of a possible 10 for social and cultural life. India (my wildcard option) is almost the opposite.
Option 1: Oman Option 2: Taiwan Option 3: SAfrica Option 4: Wildcard - India
Income (20) 20 15 10 5
Stability, Career (20) 15 10 10 5
Lifestyle, Time,
Holidays,
Environment(20) 10 10 15 20
Studies (20) 15 18 15 20
Social, Cultural (10) 0 5 10 10
Happiness (10) 2 5 7 10
Total % 62 63 67 70
To make sure that reason doesn’t outweigh emotion, I add an emotional criterion, in this case, happiness. (Since I have already provided for lifestyle, social, cultural and career factors, which already make me happy, I am only weighting happiness at 10.) Before adding up the totals, I also ask myself which option I really wish for. If the instinct is strong enough, it may not even be necessary to do the math! This is a trick I learnt from a dear friend who was always willing to flip a coin, but before unveiling the “heads or tails” would always ask; “What would you like it to be?” We seldom found out how the coin had really landed, following that gut feeling instead.
My decision-making matrix reveals some home truths about my motivations, perceptions and priorities (which appear to be utterly twisted). Rather than discuss them, I hope this will demonstrate how much discussion value students can get out of such an activity.
Best of all, there is always the option of not making a decision. If a change is as good as a holiday, considering your options is almost as good as relocating… and it’s completely risk-free.
Reference: Nunan, D. 2005. Task-Based Language Teaching. Cambridge: CUP.
Making a major life decision (a new job, a home, a pet, a spouse etc.) can be extremely traumatic for anyone as notoriously fickle as me. (I do know I am fickle enough not even to consider a spouse- or even a pet!- in the first place, incidentally.) In my dazed and confused student days, one professor of logic kindly introduced me to the Decision-Making Matrix. It is a foolproof formula for making a rational decision with your head- and you can even build in a vote for your heart. Observe.
Allow me to demonstrate with the major life decision that has been haunting me of late: do I stay in Oman or do I leave for greener (but less lucrative) pastures? The procedure is to draw up a column for each option and a row for each criterion. (In class, students will negotiate these.) To make this even more precise, the criteria can be weighted. Then rate each option according to the criteria scores. In my matrix below, for example, I have rated Oman 20 out of a possible 20 for income, but 0 out of a possible 10 for social and cultural life. India (my wildcard option) is almost the opposite.
Option 1: Oman Option 2: Taiwan Option 3: SAfrica Option 4: Wildcard - India
Income (20) 20 15 10 5
Stability, Career (20) 15 10 10 5
Lifestyle, Time,
Holidays,
Environment(20) 10 10 15 20
Studies (20) 15 18 15 20
Social, Cultural (10) 0 5 10 10
Happiness (10) 2 5 7 10
Total % 62 63 67 70
To make sure that reason doesn’t outweigh emotion, I add an emotional criterion, in this case, happiness. (Since I have already provided for lifestyle, social, cultural and career factors, which already make me happy, I am only weighting happiness at 10.) Before adding up the totals, I also ask myself which option I really wish for. If the instinct is strong enough, it may not even be necessary to do the math! This is a trick I learnt from a dear friend who was always willing to flip a coin, but before unveiling the “heads or tails” would always ask; “What would you like it to be?” We seldom found out how the coin had really landed, following that gut feeling instead.
My decision-making matrix reveals some home truths about my motivations, perceptions and priorities (which appear to be utterly twisted). Rather than discuss them, I hope this will demonstrate how much discussion value students can get out of such an activity.
Best of all, there is always the option of not making a decision. If a change is as good as a holiday, considering your options is almost as good as relocating… and it’s completely risk-free.
Reference: Nunan, D. 2005. Task-Based Language Teaching. Cambridge: CUP.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Love, Duty and the Small Matter of Choice (Or: Masters of Fate, Captains of Souls and Architects of Fortune)
Disclaimer: This entire entry is based on personal opinion and interpretation rather than indisputable facts, and any quoted facts may well be interpreted differently.
Perhaps one of the most profound cultural differences I have experienced over the past years as an expatriate centres around the matter of free will. Although individuals ultimately make up their minds about whether they believe their actions are predetermined or borne of free will (the philosophical debate of determinism/indeterminism), I am convinced that cultural conditioning plays a considerable part. (Whether we actually do have a choice in our opinion is, of course, open to infinite dabate!)
Although it was the “American Dream” of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness that turned free will into a national mantra, even this New World-dictum had its roots in the philosophies that came to full fruition in the Europe of the 1800s. The concept is a hallmark of a broad (though not all-pervasive) stream of Western thought, and is reflected in statements such as Henley’s “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul” and the disputed “Each man is the architect of his own fortune”.
This is not to say that the entire “West” embraces the idea of free choice. The Henley hyperlink above, for instance, leads to a page showing a religious determinist reply to the poet. Even the popular novelist Paolo Coelho, loved by many for his book The Alchemist, implies that although humans make choices, these are woven into destiny- even the so-called mistakes. Generally, though, there is a strong focus on personal responsibility- thus, indeterminism- in cultural products of the West.
Tomorrow it will be eight years to the day that I left for the ‘exotic” East, and I have repeatedly been struck by the leaning in the other direction- determinism- in my host countries. Once again, this is not absolute but rather a general inclination that manifests in the way major life choices are made by (or imposed upon?) individuals: studies, life partners, careers, domestic situation and so forth are frequently chosen by elders, or even the state.
But it is in actually doing the work that one has chosen (or not) that the difference becomes fascinating. Theoretically I am inclined object to determinism because it would seem to kill motivation: if I had no choice in my job and my professional success depended on fickle fate, I personally would make no special effort. But since I have both the conditioning and the will to believe that my actions, words and thoughts are the threads that weave my destiny, I am motivated to do my best- at least under the circumstances. What has surprised me is how a determinist worldview can also push people to do their best for very different reasons, one of which is the rather cumbersome concept of duty. To be perfectly frank, the idea of duty puts my system on instant hibernate. Yet when I have seen truly exemplary initiative and dedication in the ever-mysterious East, the explanation has consistently been: “It is my duty.”
Then again… is that a choice, too?
Perhaps one of the most profound cultural differences I have experienced over the past years as an expatriate centres around the matter of free will. Although individuals ultimately make up their minds about whether they believe their actions are predetermined or borne of free will (the philosophical debate of determinism/indeterminism), I am convinced that cultural conditioning plays a considerable part. (Whether we actually do have a choice in our opinion is, of course, open to infinite dabate!)
Although it was the “American Dream” of Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness that turned free will into a national mantra, even this New World-dictum had its roots in the philosophies that came to full fruition in the Europe of the 1800s. The concept is a hallmark of a broad (though not all-pervasive) stream of Western thought, and is reflected in statements such as Henley’s “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul” and the disputed “Each man is the architect of his own fortune”.
This is not to say that the entire “West” embraces the idea of free choice. The Henley hyperlink above, for instance, leads to a page showing a religious determinist reply to the poet. Even the popular novelist Paolo Coelho, loved by many for his book The Alchemist, implies that although humans make choices, these are woven into destiny- even the so-called mistakes. Generally, though, there is a strong focus on personal responsibility- thus, indeterminism- in cultural products of the West.
Tomorrow it will be eight years to the day that I left for the ‘exotic” East, and I have repeatedly been struck by the leaning in the other direction- determinism- in my host countries. Once again, this is not absolute but rather a general inclination that manifests in the way major life choices are made by (or imposed upon?) individuals: studies, life partners, careers, domestic situation and so forth are frequently chosen by elders, or even the state.
But it is in actually doing the work that one has chosen (or not) that the difference becomes fascinating. Theoretically I am inclined object to determinism because it would seem to kill motivation: if I had no choice in my job and my professional success depended on fickle fate, I personally would make no special effort. But since I have both the conditioning and the will to believe that my actions, words and thoughts are the threads that weave my destiny, I am motivated to do my best- at least under the circumstances. What has surprised me is how a determinist worldview can also push people to do their best for very different reasons, one of which is the rather cumbersome concept of duty. To be perfectly frank, the idea of duty puts my system on instant hibernate. Yet when I have seen truly exemplary initiative and dedication in the ever-mysterious East, the explanation has consistently been: “It is my duty.”
Then again… is that a choice, too?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Crime and Punishment (For They Know Not What They Do)
There is that wonderful staying about the last straw that breaks the camel’s back. Today this camel is examining the most recent straw on its back and wondering if this will finally be the last. Perhaps it will just be yet another straw that makes the camel’s back stronger. There have been so many of those.
That last straw, a tiny little thing. A material object the size of the dinner plate that represents a conflict the size of a galaxy. It is the second time a hubcap is stolen off my car, and although it is simply a practical annoyance, the sense of violation ripped through the very core of me. In a small town like this one, this is no anonymous petty crime and no surreptitious sin.
Religion has been criticised as the opiate of the masses, but I have occasion to wonder if the criticism should not rather fall on the masses themselves, who are so much less harmless when “doped with religion and sex and TV”, as John Lennon so eloquently spat. “Masses” who have not evolved the understanding that a sin against another is a sin against oneself, are perhaps better off inebriated with the fear of a wrathful deity than in their jaded, sober confidence that God cannot see what they do under cover of darkness.
I very specifically set out to dedicate this blog to my studies and teaching, which are inextricably linked. Yet the third link, the shadow of the two, keeps creeping in, uninvited: an environment where chaos and conflict are the only constants. To remain in this country appears to be a sensible move for many reasons: I would have relative stability, a stable income and a fair bit of paid leave while I complete my studies. But in other respects, it would be insane: a toxic work environment where I am at the hub of activity, yet have minimal power, a neighbourhood where I cannot leave my house without being harassed and people have no qualms about vandalising what is mine, and a country where, by virtue of living alone, I will forever be considered sharmouta- a prostitute.
And until I leave this Hades which I endure just for money, that won’t be far from the truth.
That last straw, a tiny little thing. A material object the size of the dinner plate that represents a conflict the size of a galaxy. It is the second time a hubcap is stolen off my car, and although it is simply a practical annoyance, the sense of violation ripped through the very core of me. In a small town like this one, this is no anonymous petty crime and no surreptitious sin.
Religion has been criticised as the opiate of the masses, but I have occasion to wonder if the criticism should not rather fall on the masses themselves, who are so much less harmless when “doped with religion and sex and TV”, as John Lennon so eloquently spat. “Masses” who have not evolved the understanding that a sin against another is a sin against oneself, are perhaps better off inebriated with the fear of a wrathful deity than in their jaded, sober confidence that God cannot see what they do under cover of darkness.
I very specifically set out to dedicate this blog to my studies and teaching, which are inextricably linked. Yet the third link, the shadow of the two, keeps creeping in, uninvited: an environment where chaos and conflict are the only constants. To remain in this country appears to be a sensible move for many reasons: I would have relative stability, a stable income and a fair bit of paid leave while I complete my studies. But in other respects, it would be insane: a toxic work environment where I am at the hub of activity, yet have minimal power, a neighbourhood where I cannot leave my house without being harassed and people have no qualms about vandalising what is mine, and a country where, by virtue of living alone, I will forever be considered sharmouta- a prostitute.
And until I leave this Hades which I endure just for money, that won’t be far from the truth.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Value
Being a student again has made me acutely aware of the fragile relationship between cost, benefit and value. Especially when it comes to books. While I have been as resourceful as is academically viable, there are a few textbooks that I do feel are essential, and I have been simply agog at what they can cost. Academic books get the short end of the law of supply and demand, and even an Amazon addict like me staggers at the prices. Knowing what those books cost, I treat them like gold.
Is that what it takes to value something?
At the state-funded institution where I work, textbooks are provided to students and staff for the duration of each semester, free of charge. As the English department has mushroomed, the storage area has spread almost virally from one small room to three, without rhyme or reason. The overflowing rooms are separated by hundreds of meters, two of them on the second floors of separate buildings. Nobody is personally accountable for the hydra-like book collection, but the head of department holds the only keys. There is no record of which books- or how many- the college has, or in which of the three rooms they are. Since the stores are in such disarray, books are often damaged or lost in storage.
When the annual ministerial textbook order arrived yesterday, the bill came to 67 000 Omani rials- over GBP 90 000. Over the past two days I have been making an Olympic sport of inventorying both the existing books and the new delivery, making space for the newcomers and trying to ensure some kind of system that will soften the coming storm- which is as much as I am able to do until other staff return. It turns our huge numbers of books in the storerooms have never, ever been used in courses, even when 200 copies have been ordered. They have just been sitting there. Why? No information flow. There is no line of communication to inform staff what books have been ordered, far less in which of the stores they are. But there’s more. Many of the new orders are for books of which there are more than enough copies in store to cover the remaining students- but nobody knew it, because the storerooms are so disorderly that the books have been out of sight.
All those books, laden with knowledge ripe for the picking. Underutilised. Undervalued. Free of charge. Perhaps it is better to pay.
Is that what it takes to value something?
At the state-funded institution where I work, textbooks are provided to students and staff for the duration of each semester, free of charge. As the English department has mushroomed, the storage area has spread almost virally from one small room to three, without rhyme or reason. The overflowing rooms are separated by hundreds of meters, two of them on the second floors of separate buildings. Nobody is personally accountable for the hydra-like book collection, but the head of department holds the only keys. There is no record of which books- or how many- the college has, or in which of the three rooms they are. Since the stores are in such disarray, books are often damaged or lost in storage.
When the annual ministerial textbook order arrived yesterday, the bill came to 67 000 Omani rials- over GBP 90 000. Over the past two days I have been making an Olympic sport of inventorying both the existing books and the new delivery, making space for the newcomers and trying to ensure some kind of system that will soften the coming storm- which is as much as I am able to do until other staff return. It turns our huge numbers of books in the storerooms have never, ever been used in courses, even when 200 copies have been ordered. They have just been sitting there. Why? No information flow. There is no line of communication to inform staff what books have been ordered, far less in which of the stores they are. But there’s more. Many of the new orders are for books of which there are more than enough copies in store to cover the remaining students- but nobody knew it, because the storerooms are so disorderly that the books have been out of sight.
All those books, laden with knowledge ripe for the picking. Underutilised. Undervalued. Free of charge. Perhaps it is better to pay.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Big Strategies, Little Tactics
I have heard strategies defined as the big picture plan, and tactics as the small steps that make it happen. The definition is debatable, but it suits me.
What I am trying to do at the moment is break down my own strategy in three separate but overlapping areas: study, work and life at large. It is all looking very big from where I stand right now, and to take it all on, I need to break things down into bite-sized chunks.
This means calendars with lots of space for lots of plans. It means backward mapping, starting with deadlines and working them back to where I am now. It means a whole week of parachute time before that deadline, in case things go all pear-shaped. Things have a way of doing that. It means blocking out one day a week for R&R, come hell, high water or head of department.
And most importantly, it means dealing with today’s little bite-size chunk. Today. Every day.
What I am trying to do at the moment is break down my own strategy in three separate but overlapping areas: study, work and life at large. It is all looking very big from where I stand right now, and to take it all on, I need to break things down into bite-sized chunks.
This means calendars with lots of space for lots of plans. It means backward mapping, starting with deadlines and working them back to where I am now. It means a whole week of parachute time before that deadline, in case things go all pear-shaped. Things have a way of doing that. It means blocking out one day a week for R&R, come hell, high water or head of department.
And most importantly, it means dealing with today’s little bite-size chunk. Today. Every day.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Small Steps and Giant Leaps (Or: I am Not a Potted Plant)
Two great statements come to mind when I think of steps. No. Three.
“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” – Chinese proverb
“One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” – Neil Armstrong
“Make your stumbling block your stepping stone.”- Motivational catchphrase/ cliché
Yesterday I took a step that may prove incredibly foolish or incredibly wise in the perpetual casino that is the scheme of things. I agreed to bite off far more than I can chew, evacuate my comfort zone and boldly go where I had certainly never contemplated going before. I accepted a proposal to coordinate the English foundation year programme for the college’s brand new faculty of business. There is no monetary compensation. I will still have a full teaching load. This is uncharted territory. The parallel programme in other national colleges has been fraught with frustrations. Students, whose studies and living expenses are funded by the state, are notoriously unmotivated and not academically inclined. Most of the teachers will be new to the college- and the cultural enigma of the Arabian Gulf.
So am I OUT of my friggin’ TREE?
Quite possibly. This is guaranteed to be the toughest thing I have done in my life. Ever. And for the next year, there will be no turning back.
So why’dya do it?
Comfort zones are all good and well, but I am not a potted plant. My work environment offers very few opportunities for personal and/or professional growth, and though my studies are an important step, MAs in English teaching are not particularly rare flowers. The experience is reward in itself- and the better I do the job, the more rewarding.
And that brings me to the point that probably won’t show up on a CV. Education in Oman has been developing phenomenally, but it has been a tumultuous process fraught by pendulum swings in policy, frustrated students banging their heads against brick walls and frustrated teachers who take the money and run after one contract. In a bureaucracy, there will always be mysterious forces beyond one’s control. But I think- I think- I can take the reins of those few things that will be within my control and let the teachers and students get on with what they are there for. I can help them see that they are allies, not enemies. I can put logic and simplicity to the test in a workplace that has been torn apart by their opposites. And hey, I can let this terrifying cup pass my colleagues by if I dare to drink it for them. Being the boss holds no charm for me. But serving people does. That, I know, I can do.
(And I am writing this partially because I know there will be days when I wonder whatever in the world I could possibly have been thinking. So I’m bookmarking this page to help me remember. )
“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” – Chinese proverb
“One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” – Neil Armstrong
“Make your stumbling block your stepping stone.”- Motivational catchphrase/ cliché
Yesterday I took a step that may prove incredibly foolish or incredibly wise in the perpetual casino that is the scheme of things. I agreed to bite off far more than I can chew, evacuate my comfort zone and boldly go where I had certainly never contemplated going before. I accepted a proposal to coordinate the English foundation year programme for the college’s brand new faculty of business. There is no monetary compensation. I will still have a full teaching load. This is uncharted territory. The parallel programme in other national colleges has been fraught with frustrations. Students, whose studies and living expenses are funded by the state, are notoriously unmotivated and not academically inclined. Most of the teachers will be new to the college- and the cultural enigma of the Arabian Gulf.
So am I OUT of my friggin’ TREE?
Quite possibly. This is guaranteed to be the toughest thing I have done in my life. Ever. And for the next year, there will be no turning back.
So why’dya do it?
Comfort zones are all good and well, but I am not a potted plant. My work environment offers very few opportunities for personal and/or professional growth, and though my studies are an important step, MAs in English teaching are not particularly rare flowers. The experience is reward in itself- and the better I do the job, the more rewarding.
And that brings me to the point that probably won’t show up on a CV. Education in Oman has been developing phenomenally, but it has been a tumultuous process fraught by pendulum swings in policy, frustrated students banging their heads against brick walls and frustrated teachers who take the money and run after one contract. In a bureaucracy, there will always be mysterious forces beyond one’s control. But I think- I think- I can take the reins of those few things that will be within my control and let the teachers and students get on with what they are there for. I can help them see that they are allies, not enemies. I can put logic and simplicity to the test in a workplace that has been torn apart by their opposites. And hey, I can let this terrifying cup pass my colleagues by if I dare to drink it for them. Being the boss holds no charm for me. But serving people does. That, I know, I can do.
(And I am writing this partially because I know there will be days when I wonder whatever in the world I could possibly have been thinking. So I’m bookmarking this page to help me remember. )
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