Just look at some of these stats here for a sec. Be warned thou tis not for ye of faint heart.
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;;Yea, I love you.
Whoever that is reading this, I swear to god, I love you. Non-sexually.
But if I love you so much, wtf am I not posting anything?
Am I running out of ideas?
Am I running out of time? (god, that sounds wrong)
Am I too busy?
Am I bullshitting when I say I want to be comitted?
Am I too intimidated by everyone else's post I am not posting anything?
Am I bored of the comments by the same people, commenting about the same thing?
... Or worse... Am I actually lying and in love with someone else @.@...
Erm, nope.
Anyways darling, before you take the keyboard and throw it across the Pacific to hit my ass, please let me explain.
No, I did not leave you or this place for anywhere else. Go Google my name, and see if you can find my name anywhere else.
No, not that I am running out of any ideas. Come to me anytime and treat me to a cup of coffee and I can talk till you ask me to shut up. OR, you can talk till I ask you to shut up. Shut up Jaspreet.
No, I am not bullshitting when I say I am not willing to commit time to this. If I do, I won't even comment. I won't even check this page when I am at the airport at Hong Kong. I won't even sacrifice my sleep to type this (its 12.15 am here)
No, I am not intimidated by everyone else's post.
Cause seriously, I know very well I can't take pictures of anything.
I definitely can't write a story about a guy dying and begging the devil to let him talk to his wife to go look for another guy.
I definitely can't write a story about a hypodermic doctor (whatever that means)
I definitely can't take a picture of a set of jeweleries attempting to screw each other.
And I most certainly can't write a complaint about retards leaving their phone at max volume in class with bombasticous vocabulary and longer than my professors proof on induction hypothesis.
So, wtf am I not typing anything?
Let me start with a simply simple story. One day in May, Mr. Jaspreet-sama ask me if I wanna join RANDTs.
I say ya. Why? Cause I am bored. A2 exam is gonna start, and I don't care, cause I am already accepted in uni, and all I need is C to get credit hours.
Then he tell me about all that commitment and shit. I said I don't care. Why? Cause I don't care. I AM committed to it.
Its like, I haven't played DoTA for like, a month. But I still like it. Heck, I'll play you anytime. BUT!!!!
For the same reason I can't play DoTA anymore, I can't post as often here anymore. Why? Cause I am no longer shaking my leg sipping whiskey while typing cock about how I need a girlfriend.
I am now in the land of McDonald's, Coke, and Victoria's Secrets. I have homework for Econs 102, CS 173, Phil 270, and Math 241. I have Taekwondo to attend. I have fraternity meetings to go. I have billiards to play. I have American friends to chill with, and tits to stare at.
So yea, its that dreaded thing again. LIFE!!!
So do I blame the rest of the people who left? No.
Cause I am sure of one of these things.
1. They have LIFE to tend to.
2. They have higher priorities/interests which they would rather spend their time doing. Here, let me give you a choice of having dinner with me, and blogging here. Which one will you choose? Wait! Don't answer that.
3. They still at least care about this blog. If they don't, then just stop. Why bother telling anyone?
Conclusion: I love you. I love this place. I would love to type more stuff, and type as often as possible. But lets just say that I am caught in a traffic jam.
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;;There he was, just as always, working his way down the street. It was shortly before dusk and the shadows were already beginning to grow deep. Darkness would soon descend upon the town and its streets, but the gloom would be partly dispelled by the gas lamps. Mrs Lucy Gilyott, who used to be Miss Lucy Ormerod, was standing at the window of her drawing-room looking down the street.
There he was; the old lamplighter who came day in, day out, to attend to the gas lamps. Old? How old? Sixty, perhaps - or maybe even younger. Not so old, really. Lucy was over two years past her 50th birthday, but she didn't consider herself to be old. Of course, she'd had a fairly comfortable life and had taken care to make the best of herself through thick and thin.
She was born into a middle-class home, her father being in business for himself as a shopkeeper. By the time she was turning from girl to young woman the business had grown to the extent that they had a carriage and servants.
Although she'd had her difficulties from time to time, there had only been one real regret in her life; Henry Stocks. They had known each other through most of their childhood, often playing down by the river. They had grown up together - and grown apart.
Lucy had never forgotten the day they sat together under a cloudless summer sky and gazed at the wide stretch of the muddy river. She was thirteen and wearing her prettiest dress. He was a year older, an awkward age when girls can be an embarrassment. They were too young for real feelings of love and desire, and yet too old to be play-fellows.
There was a long silence, broken only by the squeal of a seagull circling overhead.
"A penny for them."
"What?" Henry was startled out of his reverie.
"I said - a penny for them."
"For what?"
"Your thoughts, silly."
"Oh - ay." Henry remained silent and motionless for half a minute, still gazing at the water, and then spoke softly. "I was just thinking on that shore over there. I were wondering what's to be seen and what the folk are like."
"Same as us, I should imagine."
"Ay, mybbe. But I'd like to see for meself."
"Why not go across then?"
Henry shook his head. "It's too far."
"No more than two miles, father says."
"I reckon he's wrong. More like two and a half. Anyway, that river's treacherous. I knew a man who tried to swim it. Current took him away and nobody saw him again."
Lucy gripped his arm. "Don't you try it then, Henry. I don't want you to be swept away."
"Don't be daft. I've got more sense than that. I might try taking a boat across sometime, though."
Henry pulled up a piece of grass and chewed on it thoughtfully as he gazed intently across the water. Lucy knew that look. It meant that she had been dismissed from his mind. He was in a world of his own; a dangerous, distant world that she knew nothing about and could never enter. She had to break the spell and bring him back to her.
"It's my birthday next week." Lucy's voice cut into Henry's thoughts. "I'm having a party. Are you going to come?"
"Don't suppose so."
"Why not?"
"Don't expect I'll be wanted."
"Of course you are. That's why I'm asking you."
"Ay, mybbe you want me there, but I was talking about your mother and father."
Lucy looked blankly at him. "What do you mean?"
"You know," Henry evasively replied.
"No, I don't!" Lucy was indignant. "You just explain to me what you're talking about Henry Stocks."
"Well, I'm a nobody. No father and a mother who does other people's washing to keep a roof over our heads. I've got no education, no manners and no prospects. I'm not fit to mix with the likes of you."
"But we've known each other for seven years. We've played together on the river shore."
"That's as maybe, but I've never been asked to your house. They've turned a blind eye to our friendship so far, but it won't last much longer."
"What are you saying, Henry?" Lucy felt a quiver of fear at his words.
"We're growing up. I'm getting on for fifteen while you'll be fourteen next week. We're no longer a pair of knockabout kids. Things can't be the same."
"What sort of things?"
"Look, Lucy, your dad's a successful man who aims to be more successful. He'll have plans for you - and they won't include me. Come on, I'll race you to the dock."
"What?" Lucy was taken completely by surprise as Henry quickly rose to his feet and hauled her up after him.
"We'll go and see if any of the whalers are in." He tried to pull her along.
"Oh no, Henry Stocks! You stop here and now. We were having a serious conversation."
"Too serious for me. I want to see the ships."
"Well, I don't." Lucy pouted. "They're smelly and dirty."
"That's the difference between us, you see. You're a fine upstanding young lady in a pretty dress who doesn't want to get herself soiled by hanging around a common old dock, while I'm..."
"A boor!" Lucy interrupted in a sudden fury. "A low, mean, ungentlemanly boor!"
"Ay, Lucy," Henry said softly. "That's what I am - ungentlemanly and don't you forget that."
He let go of her hand and turned away.
"No, Henry!" Lucy was immediately repentant. "I didn't mean that." She took hold of his arm.
"Ay, you did."
"No, I swear!"
"It don't matter, anyway. It were the truth, even if you didn't mean it. You don't want to be mixed up with the likes of me. It wouldn't be right."
Henry gently pulled his arm free and began to walk along the path. Lucy remained where she was, but called after him.
"Henry, don't leave me."
"Got to, Lucy. Our childhood's over we're not for each other any more."
He stuck his hands in his pockets and, with shoulders hunched, continued along the track towards the town and the dock. Lucy gazed after him and felt a tear run down her cheek. Henry was a fool. He failed to realise that she had loved him when he was seven, she loved him now, and she would love him for ever more.
*****
The old lamplighter, having completed his task, disappeared round the corner of the street. He would return early in the morning to extinguish the lamps, but Lucy Gilyott wouldn't see him. She would still be in bed.
She sighed and turned away from the window. Why did she feel the shadow of unhappiness creeping across her well-ordered, comfortable existence? Why was there a longing for a life she had never had? A feeling, somehow, that she had missed something? Henry Stocks was a figure from long ago, but nevertheless, he had never been far from Lucy's thoughts. Their paths had rarely crossed since that day by the river.
*****
No doubt Henry was right when he felt he would be socially unacceptable to the Ormerod family. They were trades people; high enough in the social hierarchy to find Henry Stocks undesirable. The son of a washerwoman, he was also a drifter.
Henry's schooling had been cursory. He could write, but only very slowly, with much thought and many mistakes. His counting was little better, and he had no knowledge of the world or its history. But he was a very strong young man and hard work was not beyond him, though the opportunities were limited. There was work in the docks, but that was restricted to the families of the men who built them. Outside the town there were farms and Henry had made the occasional sojourn to them, working in the fields for a day for less than the price of a loaf of bread.
Anyway, the land was not for him; he found it hard and unyielding. It gave him no satisfaction to till the soil and somewhere, deep inside him, Henry felt that life should hold some joy and reward. His mother had found nothing but unrelieved suffering and hardship; it was not going to happen to him.
The answer came to him that day when he went to the dock and watched the arrival of a whaling ship. Over fifty vessels sailed out in the spring, returning from the Arctic in the late summer or autumn. They promised an uncompromising life, full of adventure and excitement, with a reasonable chance of a good financial reward.
The following season Henry signed on as an apprentice on the 'William', a typical, sturdily built three-master. A few days before sailing he met Lucy in the street. She was with her mother so only a few words were possible.
The young girl was horrified when she learned of Henry's plans - especially when he said he intended to spend his whole life at sea.
"One day I'll be a captain," he proclaimed.
"But it's so dangerous, Henry. Many of the whaling ships never return."
"Not so very many."
"Nine last year."
"But the crews were all saved. They get trapped in the ice, so everybody climbs off and walks away to be picked up by another ship."
"Please take care, Henry." Lucy wanted to squeeze his hand to reinforce her words, but the sight of her frowning mother prevented her.
Henry was as good as his word and stayed as an apprentice on the whalers for seven years, after which he signed on as a seaman. It was 1835 and the weather in the Arctic was particularly bad. Four ships were lost, including Henry's, but, as he had told Lucy, the crews were able to walk away, so he returned home none the worse for his experience.
Lucy had kept in touch with Martha Stocks all those years, eager for news of Henry. She had grown into a very attractive and eligible woman. Much to the delight of her parents, she was courted by men of wealth and breeding; but, to their annoyance, she seemed intent on marrying none of them
There were frequent arguments between Lucy and her father until the day she met Philip Gilyott, the eldest son of a successful jeweller and diamond merchant. As a son-in-law he suited Mr Ormerod perfectly and when Philip asked for Lucy's hand in marriage permission was immediately forthcoming.
It was a momentous year for Lucy. In 1837 she became Mrs Lucy Gilyott and also lost touch totally with Henry Stocks, for in that year his mother died. There was nobody at the funeral except Lucy and two neighbours of the dead woman. It was late spring and the whaling ships had long since sailed. Henry would learn of his mother's death months later when he returned.
Lucy was greatly saddened by the loss of Mrs Stocks, realising that her only line of communication with Henry had been severed. But maybe it was as well. In her new position as a married woman it was better to cut all ties, no matter how tenuous, with the first love of her life.
First love? Oh yes, she loved Henry without a shadow of doubt and would never forget him. But it was a useless, wasted love which she knew would never be returned. She had prepared herself for a second love; Philip, a handsome, charming young man with a sense of fun and a zest for living.
The two men were complete opposites, the one morose, silent and inward thinking, rarely showing his emotions; the other bright and witty, a voluble talker on a wide variety of subjects. Henry was born to be alone and unsuccessful, while Philip was gregarious and had the ability and knowledge to succeed at everything he tried.
Lucy had no hesitation choosing between them, simply because there was no choice to be made. Henry would never marry her for he believed himself beneath her. So she married Philip.
The first few years passed quickly - too quickly, Lucy often thought - but she was content with three children to look after, two boys and a girl. Then, after fifteen years of marriage, an almost imperceptible change came over her relationship with Philip. He withdrew into himself and a worried frown often appeared.
Rumours began to drift towards her through various people and she came to realise, gradually, that Philip was involved with another woman. Secrecy had been preserved for the first year, but such affairs could never be permanently hidden.
At first Lucy felt a white-hot fury at being betrayed and could barely bring herself to speak to her husband. She soon realised there was little she could do about the situation and when one mistress was discarded to be replaced with another, she consoled herself with the security of her position as Philip's wife.
The second fifteen years of her marriage were not as happy as the first, but Lucy stoically accepted life as it had been given to her. She gave her time, attention and love to her children and then watched them get married, one by one, and leave home.
In 1868 Philip died, leaving behind a flourishing business, managed by his two sons. Lucy was left alone in a large house with nothing to do and no one to care for and cherish. She received regular visits from her family and welcomed the attentions of her grandchildren, but after their departure the house seemed more empty than before.
Her eldest son, Edward, had taken over his mother's financial affairs and the hiring and firing of servants. Once a month he would come to attend to the book-keeping and give instructions to Bates, the butler. Lucy was grateful for Edward's help and yet it made her feel even more like a useless ornament.
In her loneliness Lucy took to day-dreaming about the past and what might have been. It was a useless exercise, as well she knew, but she couldn't help herself. There were no tangible legacies of Henry Stocks; no portraits, no letters, no gifts. Nothing but Lucy's memory of two children playing and growing up together. Was it possible to fall deeply in love with someone as a child and never stop?
She made discreet enquiries about Henry, but to little avail. Over the years the whaling industry had drastically declined and now, in 1870, there were no ships sailing from the port to the Arctic fishing grounds. It seemed there was nobody around to remember Henry Stocks, a man who had made no particular mark for himself.
Lucy realised he could well be dead, though he would only be about fifty-four; not really very old. She felt an overwhelming, almost obsessional desire to know what fate had befallen him. Was he happy? Did he still remember her and if so, in what way? With affection, she liked to think. Then, one afternoon just as it was getting dark, she noticed an old lamplighter.
Why he should suddenly catch her attention she had no idea, but she felt compelled to watch his slow progress down the street. There was a lamp outside her house and when the old man reached it he seemed to look right at her. Did he give her a half-smile and a slight inclination of the head?
Every evening after that Lucy eagerly watched for the old lamplighter coming down the street. She always thought she saw him smile and nod and became more and more intrigued. She fancied she could see something familiar in the way the man moved; the look in his eyes stirred distant memories.
Lucy constantly had to crush the desire to rush out into the street and confront the man, but for a lady of her position to converse with a lamplighter was out of the question. She steadfastly resisted temptation, but at what a price.
Each night when she went to sleep she would dream about Henry Stocks and how happy she would have been as his wife. In her waking hours she knew the palpable untruth of this, but nothing would stop the dreams. To Lucy it seemed as if she was haunted by the memory of her childhood sweetheart and she had no idea why. After all, theirs was a completely innocent and fairly brief friendship. She had found security, love and some happiness with another man, so why did she have this pressing need to find out about Henry?
*****
Lucy Gilyott, who used to be Miss Lucy Ormerod, was standing at her drawing-room window watching the slow progress of the old lamplighter. He hadn't quite reached the lamp outside her house when he staggered slightly, then fell to the ground.
With a cry of alarm, Lucy rushed into the hallway, calling for the butler to assist her. She went down the steps into the deserted street in a matter of seconds and kneeled down by the lamplighter, gently lifting his head off the hard pavement. She could see now that it was indeed Henry. He was groaning slightly.
"Oh, Henry!" Lucy said involuntarily. One half of her realised she was behaving foolishly, but the other half longed to do even more.
"Let me take him, my lady." It was the calm voice of the butler.
"Thank you, John. Please carry him into the house, if you can."
The lamplighter was picked up with little effort so thin was he, and borne into the house. He was taken into the drawing-room and placed gently on the sofa. A low moan escaped his lips as he was carefully lowered onto the soft cushions.
"Send someone round for Dr. Walker, John."
"Perhaps, if I might suggest, my lady, it would be better if the fellow was taken to the hospital."
"No," Lucy said sharply. "It's best that he shouldn't be moved."
"As you wish, my lady."
The butler departed, but almost immediately a maid appeared in the doorway.
"What is it, Mary?"
"Mr Bates said to stay with you, ma'am."
Lucy exploded. "Mr Bates is a...." She managed to stop herself and continued in a calmer voice. "You may wait just outside the door, Mary."
"Yes, ma'am." With a little curtsey the maid left the room.
"Oh, Henry Stocks, why did you leave me?" Lucy whispered.
There was nothing except a slight rasping sound and then: "I'm a nobody. No father and a mother who does other people's washing. I've got no education, no manners and no prospects. I'm not fit to associate with the likes of you."
A tear gently rolled down Lucy's cheek and fell on the sofa. She held the lamplighter's hand tightly. When the doctor came he made a cursory examination of his patient.
"Malnutrition and poor living conditions," he brusquely announced.
"I want him to go to hospital and have proper care and attention," Lucy said.
"He won't be able to afford it."
"Maybe not, but I can."
"You're willing to pay his hospital bills?" the doctor asked incredulously.
"I want to see him get well. He has as much right to treatment as I have."
"Very well, I'll make the necessary arrangements and inform Mr Edward."
"I shall inform him myself," Lucy said firmly.
"Of course."
The doctor obviously wished to have no part of this business. However, his income depended upon the patronage of wealthy patients; he had no alternative but to comply with instructions.
*****
"Everything is in order." Edward closed the large ledger. "I must say Bates and Mrs Joliffe do a first class job. They give me not the slightest problem."
Lucy had been waiting for this moment, but now she found herself barely able to speak. It was so stupid. This was her son and yet she felt nervous about bringing up the simplest subject. But it had to be done, and this was the time.
She cleared her throat. "Edward..." She hesitated.
"Yes, Mother?"
"I want you to add an extra expense to your ledger."
"Oh?"
"An old friend of mine - someone I knew as a child - has fallen on hard times. He's a lamplighter. Now he's sick and in hospital. I would very much like to pay his bills."
"Mr Stocks is a very lucky man," Edward said quietly.
"You know?"
"It's difficult to keep a secret in a town like this. I know you've been making enquiries about a Henry Stocks and Bates told me about the lamplighter."
"Oh, really, can't I trust anyone?" Lucy exploded.
"He did what he thought best."
"Am I to be spied on in my own house, by my own servants?"
"Please try not to be too hard on them. They're concerned about you, that's all."
"I'm entitled to a life of my own."
"Of course you are." Edward held his mother's hand. "I know that father treated you rather badly and you must have been dreadfully unhappy."
"I had my children." Lucy held herself stiff and erect, trying to control her feelings.
"But now you have nothing. Except memories; going back before you met father - as far as Henry Stocks."
The tears were beginning to fall. It was no good. Lucy had to give way to all the pent-up emotions she had been keeping in check for so many years. The story of her love for Henry poured out while Edward listened in sympathetic silence. The ticking of the mantelpiece clock mingled with gentle sobs after Lucy had finished. Edward was looking out of the window as he spoke.
"Why don't you sell this house, Mother, and buy a cottage in the country. I know of a very pleasant one for sale only a few miles out of town. Mrs Joliffe could go with you and I'd take on the other servants."
"What would I do in the country?" Lucy sniffed. "I've always lived in the town."
"The air is better for someone who's not well," Edward pointedly replied.
Lucy stared at him. "Are you suggesting...?"
"I wouldn't dare suggest anything," Edward said quickly. "Your life is your own. I just want you to know that I'm behind you, whatever you do."
Lucy clutched his arm. "Thank you for that, Edward. Thank you."
*****
When the old lamplighter left the hospital he found a carriage waiting for him. The door was open, inviting him to enter, but he hesitated.
"Get in, Henry." The voice was kind, but firm. "You're in no condition to walk anywhere."
He obediently climbed in and found himself sitting opposite an attractive woman who looked much younger than the fifty-two years he knew she must be. They sat in silence as the carriage drove along, gradually passing from town to country.
"A penny for them."
"What?" Henry was startled out of his reverie.
"I said - a penny for them."
"Oh - ay." Henry remained silent for a moment then said, "I were just thinking how I'd made a right mess of everything."
"Yes - you did rather."
Another silence.
"Where are we going?"
"To the cottage I've bought."
"That's nice."
"Of course, we'll have to get married."
"Ay - it's best that we do."
The man who was older than he should have been, yawned and lay back in the corner of his seat. He drifted off to sleep ad Lucy smiled. She had someone to care for again and someone who needed her.
"Hello, Henry," she said softly.
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We have, in our lives, seen various types of leaks, leaks in plumbing, leaks through the roofs etc. But examination question leaks? Now that is certainly interesting.
Just recently, the newspapers have reported that in the recent UPSR (Ujian Penilaian Sekolah Rendah or Primary Schools Assessment Test) examinations, several, or more, questions especially from the Science and English papers have been leaked out to students even before the examinations began. In fact, it was even alleged that some teachers managed to get hold of some of the questions from the real examination papers that they managed to give their students some last minute exercises based on those leaked questions. Many parents were surprised that such a thing is happening and one even reported the matter to the police.
Do understand that as the public examination papers are PRIVATE and CONFIDENTIAL, as such, if anyone is found circulating the questions prior to the real date of the examinations (for open examination papers) and after the examinations (closed examination papers), the accused can be sentenced by law. I do not know what the true penalty is, but I doubt if it is light.
What has our Malaysian society become now? Here we emphasise the importance of education and how it will bring us a brighter future, yet, some corrupted parties perform certain illegitimate measures just to defeat the purpose of having education. It is true that our education system has become too exam-oriented, but as examinations are part of learning, why is it that we cannot respect the way assessments are being done?
Why is it that some parties go through all sorts of illegitimate measures to, somehow or rather, assist students who have not put in sufficient effort in their studies to score during examinations? Have they not thought about whether what they have done is fair to those who have put in genuine effort in their studies? Has nobody ever thought of the consequences if this was allowed to happen every year?
As far as I am concerned, there was so few a year when no question leaks were reported. The worst part of all is that questions that leaked out are not those of higher level ones such as the SPM or STPM, but UPSR examination questions! I am made to understand (as I have already gone through the UPSR stage) that UPSR is indeed a time when primary school students, though they are required to put in effort in their studies, should not be under such intense pressure.
Education is not just about getting A's for examinations. In the end, it is knowledge that counts, as well as its application. A student who has put in sufficient effort in his or her studies may not be able to score well during the UPSR examinations but they might be more knowledgeable in some other ways, and as such may help them score far better during their secondary school examinations.
I might understand why some corrupted people might want to get the questions leaked for examinations such as SPM or STPM, but UPSR as well? Deontologically speaking, no matter for what reasons, examination questions must be kept private and confidential and must not be leaked out no matter how much temptation there is. But sad to say, the scenario in our country has somehow got worse.
For heaven's sake, this is only a primary school assessment examination, not a university entry one. Having that one A less does not mean that the student is a failure. When is it that our society will learn and comprehend that for the sake of the future generations, we must preserve our integrity? If certain groups of people just will not stop doing what they have done, they are just going to bring this country down. In the end, it is their children's future that turns bleak.
What do I think about those people who tried to get hold of examination questions, you ask? Pathetic. Period.
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;;Labels: Education, Henry Yew's, Malaysia
Ok, as promised, a post…
1. In
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;;I found some college/university study tips on a certain American website. These tips are written specifically for college/university students in the US of A but can definitely be applied all around the world.
7 strategies will help you raise your GPA while minimizing stress and overall study time.
1. Go to class - I know this one is mind-numbingly obvious but it’s important. Many professors lecture directly from PowerPoint and post the slides to the internet. This makes it tempting to skip class, download the lecture notes, and learn the material on your own. Although you can probably get away with this in easy courses, you’ll face problems in challenging ones. By skipping class, you miss out on a few important things:
- Detailed verbal explanations that are key to understanding the material
- The chance to ask questions and listen to the Q&A of other students
- Special announcements
- Opportunities for extra credit
It’s also important to consider how skipping class affects your reputation. In most classes, grades are somewhat subjective. This means that the grader’s perception of you can make or break your grade. If you frequently miss class, you’ll be perceived as someone who lacks respect for the professor and the subject matter. Why should they give you the benefit of the doubt or round that B+ up to an A-?
2. Sit in the front row - Not only will sitting in the front row build self confidence, it will automatically engage you in the lecture. You’ll appear to be an eager student and highly visible to the teacher. This will help your academic reputation and make it more likely you’ll develop a relationship with the professor. You’ll have a much easier time maintaining focus and will feel more like a participant than a passive observer.
3. Take notes by hand - Another unfortunate side effect of the PowerPoint revolution is that it discourages students from taking notes. Taking notes by hand will improve your grades because a) it forces you to pay attention, and b) the physical act of writing aids memorization. If you take notes, you’ll find it much easier to stay engaged. Your notes also provide a point of reference that will help you build a mental link between a written concept and the professor’s verbal explanation. This is key for efficient studying.
4. Do a weekly review - A common problem students encounter is trying to learn an enormous amount of material right before the midterm or final exam. This is practically impossible. You’ll find it much easier if you take a gradual approach to studying. At least once a week, review your notes starting from the beginning of the course. This only needs to take 15 or 20 minutes, just enough time to build familiarity with the material.
By doing a weekly review you’ll gradually memorize everything and will better understand how one concept builds on the next. Putting in small amounts of effort on a consistent basis will drastically reduce the amount of studying you need to do right before the test.
5. Go to office hours - Professors and TA’s usually make themselves available at regular times during the week for students to ask questions about assignments. Do yourself a favor by taking advantage of this opportunity. First, attending office hours will motivate you to get ahead on your work and prepare questions to ask. This will give you a huge edge in understanding problems that aren’t clearly explained in the lectures. Second, it will build your reputation as a high-effort student who deserves high grades.
6. Find smart people to work with - In courses that involve group work, this is essential. No one wants to get stuck with a bunch slackers, have to do all the work themselves, and end up with a poor grade to show for it. The quality of the your learning experience is directly related to the attitudes of the people you work with. Working with smart people will facilitate discussion. The best way to understand an idea is talking about it with other intelligent people.
Who you work with also affects your academic reputation. If you associate with students that aren’t interested in learning, teachers and graders will assume you feel the same way. It’s also a great way to connect with people who have similar interests and ambitions.
7. Avoid all-nighters - Generally, having to pull an all-nighter means that you slacked off all semester and need to fit 3 months of learning into one day. If you use a gradual study strategy this will never be necessary. All-nighters don’t work! Yes, it might be possible to get a good grade if the course is easy, but it’s much more likely that your grade will be significantly lower. All-nighters harm performance because they make you tired and stressed. You’ll also forget most of what you learn right after the test, decreasing the practical value of your education.
P.S: This is a cut and paste post. I'll get something more original up when I have some inspiration.
~multum in parvo~
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;;This message goes out to all RANDSTers, past and present.
I shall not be very subtle with the fact that I am indeed becoming quite disappointed that although RANDTS has come a long way, it is ending up becoming nothing. More and more people are leaving this blog, and must I say it will not be long before this blog becomes defunct?
I have no idea what is running in your minds, but allow me to give my two cents on this matter. When all of us first participated in this project, we were full of hope that it will grow into something great. The passion was initially there and all seemed to go well at first. We had seen an influx of posts for the first two months and it seemed to be such a good indication for RANDTS. We had our gatherings and exchanging of views.
However, later on, I would observe that our bloggers here occasionally slack and sometimes disappearing for a few good months. I do not even really know whether some of the RANDSTers that we have here even bother to view this blog.
Then, previously, I have made a similar post to this. The response was that the fire for blogging was burning again, but quite short-lived. Now, after Joe has left us, we see that Timothy has also left and Khael is showing indications that he is leaving.
Many times I have asked this question, "Why is it that people are leaving our blog? Why is it that initially they have the passion, only to lose it in the end?" But this question was never answered.
Indeed, I have got bored with this blog now that it has so little interesting updates. Apart from stories, photographs and more stories, I see no fresh material worth reading.We have more than ten contributors to this blog but it does not reflect that fact at all. It seems more like three or four zealous bloggers who would try to find time to blog and would only give up if the time does not permit them to do so. We have too many lukewarm and cold bloggers who do not deserve to be put up as contributors in the first place.
Blogging is all about passion, patience and effort. If you lose any one of these, the fire to blog will simply diminish in no time. I still have the passion and effort to blog here, but I no longer have the patience, because I have lost my patience seeing that the latest post in RANDTS is always the outdated one.
We did not want to have this blog just because we want to have it. We did not want to have this blog just because it is mere fun. We want to have this blog because we believe that besides displaying our creativity, our thoughts and so on, we could unite bloggers from around the country or even worldwide under one roof. We have sent in proposals and numerous e-mails (all done by Jared) stating that participating as a RANDSTer demands quite a lot of commitment and patience, and should only accept the invitation to join the RANDTS community if you feel that you are able to do so. It is indeed a privilege to be accepted as part of the RANDTS community. No Tom, Dick or Harry could just come in like that!
RANDTS is not really a blog where you are free to just contribute or leave as you like. Perhaps you should think about the people who have put in all the effort here to make this blog alive and to even create it in the first place. The sincere intention of this blog has either never been comprehended or taken for granted.
Really, people, if you are busy for about two or so weeks, I could accept that. But if you are continuously busy for two or three months and could not even spend just half an hour posting something up in RANDTS, I think at this point there is no need to evaluate your commitment to RANDTS. It is as good as none.
Call me hard-hearted but if you think that what I have said here is being unfair to some of you, let he or she voice themselves up against me. I would be happy to engage myself in a discussion to find out the true cause of such lack of commitment. Then we will know if it is really due to other commitments or just plain laziness.
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;;Labels: Frustrated, Henry Yew's, RANDTS
