Keeping Afloat After the Sinking

The Titanic hit an iceberg at 11:40 p.m. on the tragic night of April 14, 1912, and sunk two and a half hours later. 100 years later, I was at Belfast, at the Harland & Wolff shipyard where the Titanic was built. In my hands were copies of the St Louis Post-Dispatch which bore the screaming headlines ‘1302 lives lost when ‘Titanic’ sank; 868 saved, the Russian East-Asiatic Radio telegram (M16307) that read ‘Women and children in boats cannot last much longer’, the music score of the hymn ‘Nearer My God to Thee’ allegedly the last tune played by the ship’s band and even the menu of the luncheon served on that day.

No one could be at the site of a historic disaster and remain unmoved.

On board the Titanic was also a broad spectrum of passengers ranging from millionaires to seekers of fortune in the New World. Each passenger had his own agenda whether he was in a first class room with a marble toilet or a third class open berth sharing toilets made of iron. But then again, irrespective of their status or their private agendas, they were subjected to ‘another agenda’ beyond their control, mainly the gift of life or the end of it. The Titanic had gone down in history as the ship that was unsinkable or ‘designed to be unsinkable’. This reminds me of the frailty of men and Murphy’s law that "anything that can go wrong will go wrong". How many times have we witnessed our well-planned schedule go completely berserk because of an unforeseen circumstance? We all have our good days and our bad days. If we see ourselves in the bigger picture of things, we would save ourselves the agony of mulling around in our own despair when things do not go according to the way we hope or plan. For most professional or personal matters, I like to work within time frames and deadlines. It gives a sense of urgency to knuckle down and tackle a problem head on so as to achieve the desired results. It helps us put up with a less than desirable situation if we know that the ending of it is within realistic time. The Titanic also had survivors who lived on to tell their tales, Margaret (Molly) Brown, an American with Irish ancestry being one of them. Her survival gave her an international platform to talk about political and social issues like miners’ rights, women’s rights and the development of the juvenile court system. Because she was given a second chance in life, she went on to make the most of it. It has been said that she achieved more in life after her brush with death than before it. A second chance in life helps us remember that each day of living is a gift. Then we will be more careful how we choose to live it and how we choose to treat others. We love routine and the familiar, nothing wrong with that. But sometimes making the effort to step out of our comfort zone will bring us to a different kind of experience. It is easier to have tea with your buddies than to arrange to have tea with someone new. It is easier to give up hoping to make friends than to try and try again. It is easier to buy things for yourself than to think of buying or making something for another person even though there is no special occasion. It is easier to look down at the pavement when you walk down the street than to look up and greet another passer-by We could be many things if we make the concerted effort to step out of our familiar selves once in a while. We could be that Stradivarius violin that had been kept hidden all this time. Unless it is played, no one can know its potential. Nothing makes me happier then when someone comes up to tell me that I have brightened her day or that I have stood beside her when she was broken. No one would ever wish for a disaster to happen and yet when it does it shakes us up to re-examine our lives, our relationship with others and our concept of time. Ironically death has the uncanny power to jolt us to the reality of how precious life is. Many times we put off topping up the petrol tank in our cars and then become anxious when the red light comes on and we worry whether the car will stall. The people we live with or we mix with do not come with bright red warning lights, but they do give us signals when they are running low. Many times, we fail to pick up these signals until it is too late.

Source: http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/keeping-afloat-after-the-sinking-1.85769

Teachers' Day: Teachers do not know everything

LEARNING Mandarin is the trend in Ireland these days. This is a spin-off from a recent visit by Chinese vice-president Xi Jinping and his delegation of 150 business leaders and government officials to Ireland to foster trade between the two countries. As I sat at the back of a classroom watching a teacher from Shanghai teaching Mandarin to a group of Irish, I saw that she had to contend with students whose ages ranged from 5 to 40 within a class. She also had to deal with the Irish-Chinese who spoke some Mandarin, and Irish-Africans and Irish-Hispanics who had no knowledge of the language. There was even a child bawling his eyes out because of first-day blues. Yet, the teacher encouraged her students and conducted the class with great patience and I was greatly impressed. Unfortunately, for every effective teacher there are many others who chose teaching for reasons other than the passion for teaching. Sometimes, teachers forget that students are people too. Harsh words and labels can crush a child’s self-esteem. It is said that “sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me”. This is absolutely not true judging from my memories of how some teachers spoke to us when we were young.

I had a primary school teacher who never quite liked me. She asked me to go to the office to bring back a map of Asia to the classroom. As all the maps were rolled up and stacked at one corner of the office, I took some time to find the right one and bring it back to class, only to be snarled at. She said: “What took you so long? Did you go to China?”

Even Physical Education time had its blues. I was into netball and because of my height, I was the shooter. It was my first try at the game, so I had trouble shooting the ball into the hoop. All I could hear in the background was a teacher yelling “Butterfingers! Butterfingers!” When my friends forgot to bring their shorts, the teacher made them run in their knickers. The richer children who had nice, store-bought terry towelling panties did not have much of a problem compared to those who wore home-made floral, polka-dotted or striped cotton panties that were big and secured at the waist with elastic bands. That stigma can haunt a child for her entire school life. Callous words still abound. Personality clashes between teachers and students exist. Worse still, there are teachers who practise favouritism. I can still remember one female Form Six teacher who always singled out a dashing student in Literature class. The rest of us felt that we never existed in her class. At the other extreme, the Economics teacher never spoke to a brilliant student because he challenged her on an issue once. She excluded him from all her discussions and we could feel the tension for the 1½ years during class. I have friends who left school early because of bad experiences with teachers. A teacher, who is sensitive to a child’s need and presence, is an encouragement to a young spirit. Conversely, a teacher, who continually puts a child down, limits his advancement. Children learn to be part of the adult world through experiences. A quiet teacher may find a vocal student a threat. A conservative teacher is uncomfortable with a student who is creative in expressing herself. We need teachers, who not only accept themselves first, but also accept differences in others. There is a link between the inner development and self-understanding of the teacher and what education is all about. It takes professional courage, commitment, interest and the humility to acknowledge that teachers do not know everything. Happy Teachers’ Day!

Read more: TEACHERS’ DAY: ‘Teachers do not know everything’ - Learning Curve - New Straits Times http://www.nst.com.my/channels/learning-curve/teachers-day-teachers-do-not-know-everything-1.83388#ixzz1vMHBLJ7B

DRAWING THE LINE ON GOOD PARENTING

WHEN we first bought a chinchilla for a pet, we fussed over her and gave her an interesting diet of grains packaged under the name of Charlie Chinchilla. Now, this particular type of chinchilla food came in an assortment of colours -- red, orange, green and brown -- all mixed together. So, she feasted happily on the grains, but we noticed that she was leaving out the brown ones. We suspected that the brown ones took longer to chew and being smart and picky, she chose all the other colours. As types of pet food go, some suppliers will stop importing some brands. So, when we discovered that Charlie Chinchilla was no longer available at our local store, we had to buy a different brand. Just like babies being weaned off a certain brand of milk for another, we had to do the same for the chinchilla. This is called "challenging" where we mix pet food from the familiar brand with the new brand, and slowly decrease the portion of food from the familiar brand and concurrently increase the portion of the new pet food brand. To make the situation more difficult, we discovered that the new brand had only the brown grains that the chinchilla rejected. We watched anxiously as we saw, how true to her nature, the chinchilla would unearth the coloured grains even when we buried them beneath the brown grains. I was starting to get worried. What if she rejected the new brand altogether and died of starvation? I would carry that guilt with me all the way to my grave. Then Audrey, my 18-year-old said: "Don't worry mum. If she is hungry she will eat." On the first day, when the coloured grains ran out, the chinchilla took a look at the brown stuff and scampered away. On the second day, she even climbed over the food bowl to pee over the brown grains. Then she rolled up into a ball, went to the corner of her cage to sulk. She was making a statement indeed. Was I worried? Yes. I was already wrecking my brain on whether I should take a two-hour drive to another pet store. I had heard that they stock up Charlie Chinchilla pet food over there. On the third day of the hunger strike, a miracle happened. I saw the chinchilla take the brown grains into her padded paws and slowly, but surely, began to stuff them hungrily into her little mouth. This reminds me so much about how we bring up our children. Most modern day parents tend to spoil their children rotten, giving in to their whims and fancies. We see children throwing tantrums at supermarkets, students challenging teachers, children shouting at their parents, children challenging teachers, parents blindly defending their children and the list goes on. There is a proverb that says "Train up a child the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it". How true. I have seen how boundaries help mould a child's character and how discipline, that goes hand in hand with love, produces responsible and stable adults.

Professor Amy Chua's method of discipline in her controversial book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother speaks about how we should imbue our children with living skills rather than molly coddling them in the name of love. I have read the book and seen in talk shows over the television how Irish parents fight over her methods. For those who argue incessantly that the child should be worshipped and put on a pedestal, I would like to hear their views again in 30 years' time when that child becomes a man. Although I do not totally agree with Professor Chua's methods, I agree with the underlying principle that a parent's dedication to train a child right and to prepare him to embrace his future independently will not go unrewarded. As parents, it is not easy to do the "right" thing when others are simply pleasing their children for fear of retaliation or of losing them. The strict but loving parent, who teaches basic values and manners, who chooses to draw the demarcation line of who is the parent and who is the child, is sadly labelled as the ogre of today. With Mothers Day coming up, I am reminded of my strict and loving parents who taught me the meaning of building relationships, independence, self worth, perseverance and tenacity, and I have passed on the legacy to the next generation. I can never thank them enough. Read more: Drawing the line on good parenting - Politics - New Straits Times http://www.nst.com.my/nation/politics/drawing-the-line-on-good-parenting-1.81055#ixzz1u5JGXDsh

Painting on a Canvas of Life

Discovering the Musée du Louvre is like a historical walk through the eyes of the artist. The museum which houses one of the most stunning collections of artworks in the world is also where the Mona Lisa is displayed. This portrait created in the sixteenth century by Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci is painted on poplar wood canvas. I am not an art critic but the artistic craftsmanship has given it world-wide recognition. The least I could do as a tourist is to be photographed next to it and agree that it is a magnificent piece of art.

To me, a person’s impression of a country and its people is like painting on a canvas. The artist places his canvas on the easel. With expert flicks of his brush, he mixes the paints on his palette and creates something beautiful to be admired but not necessarily understood by others. I have met two Irish who gave me conflicting images of my home country. The first a fowl manager whom I met at a fair. He had proudly displayed his collection of fowl: geese, ducks, chickens and guinea fowl.

A smallish bird in a coop that caught my attention was the Serama, a bantam breed of chicken. Immediately I felt great kinship with the chicken and told him that we both came from the same country. Surprised, he told me that he had visited Kuala Lumpur three times and went on to describe his trip. All good memories. The second Irish had visited a few cities and islands in Malaysia. Recounting her journeys to me, what took me by surprise was a number of inaccuracies that she made about Malaysians in general. I believe this was partly due to the fact that she saw Malaysia through the eyes of the host that she stayed with. Obviously the host did not give her a balanced perspective of the nation and its people. The teacher in me immediately tried to put the facts right. After trying to explain at length, I found myself stopping in my tracks because she was not listening at all. She still insisted that she was absolutely right and nothing that I said would change her perspective at all. How sad.

Painting on the canvas of life, takes a similar process. The different dabs of colour are the result of our experiences and our interaction with others. Bright colours for good times, pastels for pleasant times, grays and blacks for sorrow. The different hues when well blended result in the masterpiece of character. We make judgements all the time. Over time these judgements may be proven correct or erroneous. We have trusted friends who betrayed us later and we have been weary of strangers who later became our best friends. We have been influenced by the prejudice of another and we have been seduced by external appearances. Art critics claim that Mona Lisa may not even have been considered to be finished by Leonardo himself. It is rumoured that after lingering over the painting for four years, Leonardo left it unfinished. However, it is well-known that the painting took several years to complete probably between 4 and 7 years, intermittently. Just as it takes years to paint a masterpiece knowing a country and its people takes more than a few days in a hotel by the beach. We also hear of paintings that have hidden paintings beneath. Artworks across Europe have been plastered or painted over due to historic regime changes. It is often by chance that these fascinating paintings that have been hidden for centuries are uncovered. Artisans would painstakingly edge away the surface paint to reveal the hidden wonder. This takes time and expertise. This brings me to the question: What layers of thought in our perception of others do we have to painstakingly edge away for us to enjoy the hidden wonder?

Source: Painting on a canvas of life - Columnist - New Straits Timeshttp://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/painting-on-a-canvas-of-life-1.76386#ixzz1sivrqQXE

IT'S ALL A MATTER OF CHOICE REALLY

I was visiting Amsterdam for the second time and I was still amazed by the presence of polders which are low-lying tracts of land enclosed by embankments known as dikes. It is therefore no surprise when people say: God created the world, but the Dutch created Holland.

As the Dutch have a long history of reclamation of land, about half of all polder surface within northwest Europe is within the Netherlands and the first polders went as far back as the 11th century. To me this is a fine example of human resilience and tenacity. Where there is no land, reclaim. Where there are floods, build dikes.

It is amazing how we respond differently to problems: personal or global.
Psychologists say we are loss-averse as human creatures.
Losing holds a stigma, be it losing face or actual loss. Studies have indicated that we attach greater value to losses than we do to successes of equal measure. Apparently the pain we suffer in losing one thousand ringgit is greater than the joy we get in receiving one thousand ringgit. We can go on lamenting for days when we lose something but the joy of finding something is short-lived in comparison.
Repeated failures may result in prevailing pessimism.
We all have known people who are always grumbling or lamenting about their ill-fortune even though they are much better off when compared to others. These are the ones that we find it a pain to talk to because they are always talking about their troubles. These are the ones who attribute mistakes to conditions that they cannot change. Each mistake is interpreted as a testimony to inadequacy. The result is the tendency to rely on self-defeating coping behaviors such as making excuses, quitting, avoiding challenges, denying, or blaming others.
Instead of punishing ourselves with ‘I must have done something wrong to deserve this’, viewing loss as a random occurrence provides a beneficial lesson that will help us succeed in the future. Some say that it is but a ‘teaser’ from life when we are on the brink of succeeding.
Let’s take the school scene for instance.

It has always been said that Asians do well in math but not so with the Irish. More than 4,000 students failed math in the Leaving Cert last year, with close to 10 per cent of students failing the ordinary level math paper. At present only 16% of students take Higher Level math, and curriculum planners have a target of 30%. All seven universities in Ireland now give bonus points for higher level maths in the Leaving Cert. Apparently, the large number of math teachers taking Leaving Cert classes are not fully qualified.
In Malaysia, if you throw a stone, you are likely to hit a tuition centre. Such is not the norm here. Malaysian parents are also seen scuttling from one tuition centre to another looking for the best teachers, best teaching strategies or best tutorial notes.
Another difference is the book store. In Malaysia they are well-stocked with materials for examination classes: reference books, guide books, model answers, how to score distinctions and the like. Over here the scenario is very different. The next best thing besides the textbooks in a book shop are past year papers only.
So it is not uncommon that most students just give up in the math classroom.
On a more global scale, in the face of disaster lies opportunities for renewal or ultimate defeat.
When Japan was hit with an 8.9 magnitude earthquake in 2011, there were no signs of looting although millions of people did not have water or power and security forces had their hands full with rescue operations. A reporter on CNN said it was because of the Japanese culture.
With the recession hitting Europe, Canada is an attractive destination for Irish job seekers. According to Canada’s immigration department, numbers of temporary Irish immigrants have shot up over the past decade, from 1,118 in 2000 to 2,959 in 2009. The numbers of registered permanent immigrants went from 180 to 503 over the same period.
Having said that, it takes great resolve for one is to rise from the ashes. Yet, like the mythical phoenix, to do so is to emerge confident and strong.

Source: www.nst.com.my/opinion/.../it-s-all-a-matter-of-choice-really-1.7402

On stage- feeling animated, enchanted and just right

WHEN I go and watch a musical, I always wonder how props are moved around with such ease, how a staircase can just appear from nowhere and how dancers tango in perfect symmetry. Sometimes I wonder, too, why the legendary Phantom of the Opera insists on his Box Five, how the Man of La Mancha is performed on a single set that suggests a dungeon or when the eyes of the camels in Joseph's Technicolour Dream Coat will move when you least expect them to.

I know now because I am on the other side of the performance hall: not sitting down and watching a musical but on the stage and being part of the cast, albeit a smallish role.

When the Nenagh Choral Society put up a notice last year in a local tabloid called The Guardian inviting interested amateurs to join the musical production of Beauty and the Beast, I knew I must give it a try.

I had watched the Disney movie countless times when my three children were young. We used to dance and sing in front of the television imitating the antics of Mrs Potts the teapot, Lumiere the Candlestick or Cogsworth the clock. So to actually be part of the cast, I asked myself, "Why not?"

The last time I performed before an audience was when a group of us staged a play at the Experimental Theatre in Kuala Lumpur. It was hard work but great fun. So I rallied my daughter to join me in this new adventure, although it meant driving miles on cold windy nights for practice, practice and more practice. We had each other for company and we knew we would enjoy being animated objects in the enchanted castle.

As with every endeavour, I braced myself for new experiences.

Under the wings of dedicated director Greg Browne and committed music director Laura Kearney, we learnt to sing and dance in harmony. I was practically singing or humming the songs during my waking hours and possibly in my dreams as well. The best part was the more we sang, the more confident we became.

Staging a good production comes with a cost. Costumes had to be made or rented. For instance, in the opening act, we are at a French market place complete with baguettes and bonjour. And for the enchanted castle act, we are transformed into knives, plates, napkins, wardrobe, teapots and such.

The fund-raising projects were varied and I took part in the packing of groceries for customers at the check-out counter of a local supermarket. This was something novel to me as supermarkets in Malaysia have a ready pool of salaried staff to do that for the customers.

The customers would hand me their shopping bags (plastic bags are bad for the environment) and I would put in their groceries. As with most innate organisational skills, I separated food items from non-food items. Then I separated the food items accordingly (wet and dry produce) and packed them. One of the customers said, 'I would have done exactly the same. Thanks a million' and dropped a generous contribution into the collection bucket.

The next challenge was, of course, making friends, which is never easy, especially when you are new to any group. I appreciate Francis Burke, who opened the door with a smile to the school hall for every one of our practices, and Majella Keogh, who coached us in our dance steps. Then there are Bernie and Margaret McGee, who make me feel at home with the crowd, Billy McNamara, my charming animated 'salt and pepper' partner, Alan O'Brien, the versatile and talented actor and singer, Jimmy McCarthy, who gracefully waltzes with me, and many others, too.

Needless to say, the greatest challenge was that of commitment and punctuality. Private agendas had to make way for the musical. This was especially crucial during the weeks leading up to the opening show. Being part of a team meant that if you were absent or late, the whole team would be affected.

Today is our second performance and we have six more to go before March runs out. It seems as if the stars are in alignment and everything is just right. I do not feel the passing of time, but only of the moment which leaves a good feeling within.

Absolutely no regrets.

Source: http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/on-stage-feeling-animated-enchanted-and-just-right-1.65703

A Circle of Friends

I HAVE just befriended Sarita Bergess and I am amazed. A beautiful lady with a gentle spirit, she makes doll houses as a hobby. I stand corrected; not just doll houses but lots of other crafty stuff as well like stained glass, wickerwork, pottery and wooden figures.

As I have never had a doll house before there was a certain thrill seeing the miniature chandeliers light up to show the beds complete with duvets, the intricate miniscule furniture, that tiny sewing machine and the floral wallpaper so carefully coordinated as if to ensure that the little individuals that live within have a place where they can be happy.

Sarita and I are both members of the International Women's Organisation (IWO) in Limerick. This unique club for women of all ages and nationalities was founded in 1980. We meet regularly for fun stuff like trips to movies and concerts. We meet to chat about the serious and the trivial. We meet to sip the aromatic freshly ground coffee and to savour the guilt-laden rich chocolate cake.

There are all sorts of clubs that you can go for, but to actually find one that you are comfortable with is something else. Then there is this fear that you may annoy someone because of the subtle differences of language and meaning. What we mean well in our culture may be totally misconstrued in another. When we joke, comment or spar with the locals we may be mistaken for attacking the host culture and the worst scenario is when the person becomes very defensive of what he is familiar with.

So in a way, the IWO is unique because against an international backdrop, there is much intercultural give and take. It is some sort of a neutral ground where we feel safe to speak, to laugh or to cry.

The gathering instinct appears to be primal. Prehistoric women gathered seeds and grain for the table. So it is not surprising to see a need for women to gather together for friendship and support.

When we were in school, we wanted at least a "best friend" -- someone who shared our dreams and our interests. We would go everywhere together and even dress in similar fashion. Remember the "Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants" where four best girlfriends hatch a plan to stay connected with one another as their lives start off in different directions by circulating a pair of second hand jeans that fits each of their bodies perfectly? Something like that.

But as we grew, the chances of not remaining best friends became very real and we separated because of distance, education, level of maturity or a conflict of interests.

Then like a spider trying to repair a torn web, we would search for another friend to fill the aching void. Well and good if the new best friend emerges. If she is not to be found, we continue searching.

Whether by choice or by design we have made Ireland our second home.

Most of us have left our friends and families behind and it takes a lot of resolve to start all over. We try new approaches and put ourselves in all the right places. However, conversations seem to stop at "'how ya?" and "the weather's grand today".

Although we believe ourselves to be interesting, loyal, kind, and friendly, we still have a difficult time breaking into the cliques that have existed since time immemorial. To prove this point, someone in a local sewing group which I attend said that it is "a wonder" how I returned to the group every week to sew. No other "visitor" had survived.

It is not uncommon to end up feeling like a fly on the wall when others engage in their own "craic" and think that Malaysia is in Africa. A staff called Seamus in the butcher and fish section of the local Supervalu supermarket made small talk with me the other day over the counter. He was genuinely interested in where I was from and I thought that was nice. Most times I would have to wait for other staff to finish their conversations with their customers at the post office or bank or any grocery store. And it could be a good number of minutes regardless of how long the queue is.

So back to the doll house.

In many ways, we want to be in a place where there is order. We want to be in a place where we are happy. Most of all we want to be in a place where we have friends.

Source: A Circle of Friends - Columnist - New Straits Times
http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/a-circle-of-friends-1.58752#ixzz1on8e3Vfg