Friday, October 30, 2009

Itenetrsnig Tutrore

I am so terid of radneig Pyogucnlitsihics.

It is crtianley a vrey itesntrnig suejbct to sudty, but for an etxanimaon? It is srosileuy kllinig me !
It deos not seem to mtater taht I hvae arldaey gnoe tguhroh the txet book ocne dirnug sutdy week.
Rnadieg it aigan is lkie the fsrit tmie ALL. OEVR. AIAGN.

Why cna't I rmebeemr the fvie bniefets of ealry raednig?
Or all the mtoheds of scenod-lgnaague tcahnieg? Tehir smliriaiteis and dfirfecnees?
The fuor mian tehroeis on the rleatoin of lngaguae, tuhoght and ctulure? And tiher agrnmuets?
Troehy of Ntarual Gmamrar, Uvnisrael Gamramr, blignauliism and ahpsaias.

Trhee are smoe itnetrsenig suftf. Lkie waht I am tyrnig out hree.
Rsreaceh dnoe swhos taht fnulet Eglnsih rdeears eteuvalnly lrean to itnedfiy wlohe wdros rheatr tahn sngile lrtetes.
Sllnipeg may be iprfemcet, but mnaenig can siltl be rcoereevd.

Tihs has been crilcnig the itnreent snice 2003:

Aoccdrnig to rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are the olny iprmoetnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. The rset can be a total mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

Itnerstenig, no?

But scuh a ttorrue to sdtuy !

Wsih me the bset.
I need hlep. >.<

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Squishy Can Be Nice Too


I know how the phenomenon of rain occurs.
(I mean, I do remember something from Form 3 Science and Geography.)
I understand how it happens.
It's logical, reasonable, predictable.

But, what I do not understand, is why it rains when you do not want it to rain,
but there's not a drop from the sky when you do want it to rain? >.< Walking out of the exam hall after my (horrible) second paper, I am greeted by sheets of rain, large wet puddles, and soggy squishy grass. The prospect of squashing myself into an almost-toppling-over bus full of other people with equally as damp clothes and hair was not very inviting. And considering my height, I have underarm odour to worry about too (since my face is just at that right height).

But how do I walk back in this rain?
In a baju kurung too. (Alamak ! >.<)

I took a deep breath and whipped out my brand new maroon umbrella from its plastic cover (it's that new) and took my first steps out.
*splash splash splash*

I can feel my shoes getting squishier with every step I took.
Every car that passed by, I would literally shrink to the side; so afraid they'd splash puddles of water all over me.

There were puddles of water everywhere, forcing me to "dance" all over the place.
"Dance" as in as much dancing as I can do while holding my baju kurung skirt up, that is.
And there was thunder and lightning too.
There was this bright flash of light, and I cringed in anticipation:

CRACK !!!!

It was really loud. The kind of loud where you can feel your heart go thump in your chest at the same time the thunder cracks.
I had this fleeting vision of a lightning flash hitting my (brand new !) umbrella (did I mention it was a lovely maroon colour? Oh, I did. Aheh.) and electrocuting me to death, leaving behind nothing but a pile of black ash. Or white.

And worst of all, the humidity made my hair go all poofy. >.< 

 Yes, I was a little grumpy. But the further along I walked, the lighter the rain got. The squishy sounds of my shoes *squish SQUISH SQUISH squish squish* was like music. Every puddle I jumped over taught me a new dance move. The weather got awfully cooling. And I enjoyed twirling my umbrella, skipping in the rain :) 

Sitting down at my laptop after I hung my umbrella to dry, I can hear the splash of raindrops outside. And it is not annoying, it is peaceful. The rain tells me one thing: "Your bed is the coziest place on earth at this moment - so get in it !!" xP 

I am sure you can tell what I am gonna do next :P

Sunday, October 25, 2009


I really dislike plagiarism.

I really dislike people who take the credit for things that are not theirs,
for work that does not belong to them,
for ideas that did not come from them.

As a writer myself,
I would HATE anyone who took my short-stories,
my poems,
my writing,
and called it theirs.

I do not know what I would do if I should browse the net one day,
to see MY poem, or MY short story, or MY writing there
with someone else's name at the bottom.

That was MY work,
MY words,
MY sweat and blood.


And I'll be d***ed if I allow such things to happen before my own eyes.

I shall not remain quiet.

You might not like me very much then.

But I feel strongly about this. So there.

Such people should not have the right to demand respect from others.
How dare they ??

How can I ever look at someone like that again without disgust ?

Plagiarism is theft.
A crime.
One that I do not, will not, tolerate.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Gluttons Galore

I just got back from a faculty lunch - Majlis Meraikan Pelajar Yang Menerima Anugerah Dekan.
Pretty straightforward, no fancy-shmancy names and stuff.

I didn't really care. Was just excited about having lunch with a few other course mates - free

When we entered the restaurant, the first thing I noticed was that there was a whole lot of people already waiting.
But very few tables. Definitely, not enough for the whole lot of us. >.< Oh, well, what can you do? We moved outside to the adjacent dining hall. True, there was no fancy table cloth, or pretty ribbons tied to the back of the chairs, but at least we get a table to sit at. We had to squeeze 7 of us at a table meant for 4. Then began the waiting. We were there since12pm. And according to the programme, it was supposed to start at 12.15pm after the VIPs arrive. Well, waiting for the
orang-orang besar - what else is new? >.< We entertained ourselves in the meantime, despite growling stomachs, by taking pictures ! First take from this angle, then another from the other angle. Ooh, let's take in pairs ! In groups of 3 !
Excited happy chatter turned to silent groaning.
Our growling stomachs could wait no longer !

All we could do was stare at the food, covered nicely with very tempting shiny stainless steel covers.

Finally, the VIPs arrived (I bet they
melenggang-lenggang masuk lagi) and the ceremony started.
But because we were seated
outside in the adjacent dining hall, we could hear, and see nothing. We had no idea whatsoever what was happening inside.
Wait, we did.

Oh, then finally ! The long awaited moment !
Makan time !!

We were at a table that was nearby the buffet table.
But surprise surprise. Before I could even reach for a plate a whole crowd of girls (fellow Faculty of Education students, mind you) were pushing and shoving to get to the food.

I was patient. I stood there, waiting for some who were taking the melanin plates (which were heavy, I tell you).
And I waited some more.

But more and more people just kept coming and coming and pushing and pushing and shoving and shoving.
I was one of the earliest there, but I had yet to get a freaking plate.

One kind soul handed me a plate - a sweet Malay girl in a pink
tudung. I was so grateful. :)

But it was kind of pointless because I never got to reach the food.
All I could see was a sea of
tudung-clad heads and a tangle of arms.
I could see hands grabbing plates and spooning large amounts of the dishes onto their plates.
HUGE mounds I tell you. Their plates had food the size of a mini Mount Kinabalu.
And still, I had not the heart to push my way through to the food although I had been there earlier than the whole lot of them standing in front of the food now.

I stood there, clutching my plate. I felt a push from in front of me. Quite a rough one.
I assumed it was an accident.
But oh, no. She pushed again, and again, and again.

I was seething. No, I was silently

Do these people not have manners? No consideration for others?
Are these people not civilized ????!!!!
Can't you freakin'

I gave up.
I struggled to pull myself out of the crowd.
Difficult to go against the current, if you know what I mean.

I did not get any food. Seriously.
There was no food
And there was no refill.

It was only later that we discovered that the organizing committee (I do not know exactly who) had ordered for 200 people. And 300 had shown up.

Now, tell me, how on
earth can that happen?
All these people certainly did not come here uninvited.
Do you mean to say that you invited 300 over people, yet ordered enough for only 200?
Where are your brains, people ???

I would really like to give you people the benefit of the doubt, and assume you are not idiots, and that you do have brains.
Then how, explain to me, can this happen?
Not enough seats, not enough food.
Some of the unlucky ones had only plain
mee hoon to eat.

The irony was, those
GLUTTONS had taken mounds of food.
And had left their tables with excess food. Some had even plates of
untouched mee hoon.

I really do not know what to say anymore.
I am just tired of all these unfair, inefficient incidences that just turn me into someone I really do not want to be.
I am extremely pissed, but lack the energy to rant and rave any longer.

I'm disappointed in the "esteemed" Faculty of Education.
What is this inefficiency in planning? Nobody bothered that there were some of us who had nothing to eat.
As long as the VIPs were oblivious to what was happening, and left with happy, full tummies.

I'm disappointed in my fellow future teachers.
Is this how we should be behaving?
What happened to consideration? Care? Kindness?
Is this the kind of example we want to be showing our students?

Can something be done?
Can we change the mindsets of people?

I do not know.

All I saw today was selfishness and a
proud display, I would say, of gluttony.

Except the kind sweet Malay girl in the pink
I am grateful to you, whoever you are.
Not just for that small simple act of consideration for others that you showed me.
But for the values you represent.

We seriously need to pray for our future generation.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Darn Unity

Even with the final examinations drawing awfully near, and the semester in its final week of study, burdened with assignments yet to be completed before then, my beloved faculty decided to help us relax and reduce our pressure and tension by giving us:



Strange that this quiz for
beloved Curriculum and Pedagogy class seems to be so poorly publicized. All we received was an announcement on SPIN (student e-portal) asking all of us to attend the final lecture on the 13th of October in Dewan Budiman at 2pm where there will be a reflection of our micro-teaching, oh, and a QUIZ.
Nothing else mentioned, like how many marks were allocated, the format of the paper,

I frantically searched my (very dusty) notebook where I had written notes for the class (when I successfully managed to stay conscious long enough to actually write) and lo and behold ! There
was something about a quiz during the final week. I had written:


Thirty-freaking-percent ????!!!! Purely essay ?????!!!!!!!!!!!!
Alamak. I haven't even touched my books. Darn. >.< So began a few sleepless nights (well, sleep-deprived days really) of frantic, desperate, hopeless, mugging. I suddenly realized I had books I never knew I had. What great timing ! Just in time !

I also realized, unfortunately, that there were
36 methods of teaching all categorized real pretty with fancy names like Resitasi (Recitation) and Sumbang Saran (Brainstorming) described in excruciating detail. And yes, I needed to also translate all of it into English from Malay.
Methods in teaching, lesson plan formats, Bloom's Taxonomy, 10 views in integrating curriculum, National Education Curriculum, ways of effective teaching and learning, officialism, introducing a lesson, variations, explanation, techniques in questioning and everything else was pretty much
stuffed into my brain, if I can use such a term.

I very nearly was on the verge of committing suicide.
Not really.
But very nearly though.

Everywhere I went I thought of the 6 levels of Bloom, the difference between critical and creative thinking skills, what the statement for the National Curriculum was.
Gan jeong betul.
Especially on D-Day.

All my previous classes before the quiz, I could not concentrate. We were talking about Broca's aphasia and Wernicke's aphasia and the
corpus calossum in Psycholinguistics, but my mind was still on the 5 main reasons why teachers need to plan their lessons - in essay point form.

It came to the point where, I didn't really care whether I was finally ready or not, I could
not stand the sight of that pink book again.
I had had enough.
I just wanted it over and done with.

We were finally seated, all of us. Most of us, like me, nervous and jittery. And very jumpy.

The question paper was handed out:


1. Apakah yang anda faham tentang perpaduan?

2. Apakah masalah utama yang dihadapi dalam pengajaran mikro 10-12 minit?
3. Apakah kaedah yang anda fikirkan paling sesuai untuk pengajaran perpaduan? Nyatakan.

I slogged and mugged and had sleepless nights to answer questions that even my F5 brother can? Or anyone from
any other course can, for that matter? On UNITY ??!! What is this, an essay writing competition in conjunction with Independence Day? Or wait, 1Malaysia? *grrrrrr*

Oh, and after I'd written a 1 page essay for each question, allotting about 10 marks for each, she told us that the entire quiz, all 3 essay questions that is, would give a total of 10% for our final marks.


I swear, I could curse real bad right now.
Real bad. >.<

Thursday, October 8, 2009


I always thought of myself as a nobody. I don't mean much to anybody.

Every day, I stood and waited. Waited for what, I did not really know. All I did was wait.

I stood in the store, surrounded by people just like me. But I found no comfort.
I felt alone. And useless. What is my purpose in this world?

And then she came. She was small, and young. Very ordinary looking. She was nothing special either.
But she walked right up to me and held me - as if she had come just for me.
At her touch, I knew she was The One.

We had been together ever since.

I had never felt so needed, so cared for, so loved !
Her touch was what I craved for most. When she was not around, I agonized over the next time I would see her.
Somehow, I felt this innate need to protect her from harm. Even if it were just the mild heat from the evening sun, or a slight drizzle, I wanted, no, needed to protect her.

I felt wanted, I knew I was needed here. Gone were the days of loneliness and aimless waiting with despair.
I had finally found my purpose.

For one year we were together, rain or shine. And when she smiled, I thought of nothing else, but how I had made her happy.

And then the day I feared most finally came.

We had arrived at her lecture hall together. It had rained earlier and I was soaked. But I made sure that she was dry and safe. She had a performance practice to go to and had brought me along. How flattered I felt !

Oh, I stood at the back of the lecture hall, drying myself off, knowing that she would come for me later.
I watched her practise with her friends, her smile evident and her laughter contagious.
They were doing an awesome job and they worked hard practising for the event that evening.
I enjoyed myself just sitting at the back of the lecture hall, unnoticed, watching her.

Her rehearsal over, she walked up the steps to the entrance of the hall, chattering excitedly with her friends.
I swelled with a sense of pride. That's MY girl, I thought to myself.
I greeted her with a smile, ever ready to come to her side should she need me.

But she did not look my way.
Rather, she pushed open the entrance door and disappeared behind it, her laughter echoing.
As the door closed on my heart, I realized, with a start, that she had left me behind.
I was alone in the lecture hall, with just the hum of the air-conditioning faintly audible.

Fear gripped me, for she had never left me alone like this before.

Why did she leave me alone?
But, who was going to protect her from the rain, and the scorching sun?
That was what I was for - my purpose!
Had she forgotten me? Does she not want me anymore?

A sense of emptiness crept within me and took a hold on my heart.

Impossible as it may seem, a tear trickled down my body, right down to reach the stone-cold floor of the lecture hall.

How could you leave me?

© LISA KWAN 2011 ; All rights reserved.


*This story is written in dedication to my dear umbrella. I left it in the lecture hall in KTAM unintentionally. By the time I realized and had gone back to look for it, it was no longer there.

I'm sorry my dear umbrella. Thank you for you faithful service to me. Even though you were worn as a result of the unforgiving weather, you did your level best in protecting me from sun and rain. Thank you.

I feel awfully sad about it. I had to walk back in the scorching mid-day heat today.

I miss my umbrella.