HOW PARENTS CAN HELP CHILDREN WRITE EXAM WELL- A MAGIC A HOME

 

DON’T MAKE YOUR CHILD’S EXAM DAYS MORE STRESSFUL AND SCARIER THAN IT ALREADY IS. IT HELPS A CHILD WRITE BETTER WHEN PARENTS UNDERSTAND WHAT IT MEANS TO WRITE AN EXAM!

This is the time each of us must give much love, warmth and care to our students. This is the time for parents to refrain from making your children sad or angry, stressed or sorrowful. Your child is already feeling stressed, doubtful and somewhat scared with examination before them. This is going to be test of patience and grit for two weeks for these children, and you know some are delicate at their hearts.

Tests and exams are stressful moments.  You have felt the sour fear yourself when you had to face tests at school, interviews and IELTS and a minute of a podium! 

Children are going to face for 5 days to two weeks. This is they one time in a year you must refrain from yelling at them, blaming them, scaring them, ignoring them. This days they must be cared for, keeping them happy, guiding and advising them with warmth of words. Ask them to sleep on time with gentle words, wake them with with a smile and love. Eat with them, talk with them. Perhaps cut a cake in between to celebrate half a exam days!

If they appear glum after day’s exam, cheer them up. Tell them what’s gone is not important, what’s coming must not also be wasted. Tell them, examination questions are from their classroom learning, not out of the blue, that it’s only their minds feeding on assumptions. Tell them, he who goes to war must stand with courage and pride. And many wars won are those by courageous few who braced thousand enemies!

When your child succeeds you take the share of joy, if they fail, there surely is somewhere to blame you too. It is because you either didn’t guide them well before or failed in your parenting. Doing well in exam is not a singular effort of a child, a day’s advice and a luck. Good results are signs of good family and years of guidance, love and sacrifices from parents too!

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BLUNDER IN OUR TALKS- HOW GOOD ARE WE?

 

How much we talk about another is not like reading good books, it reveals how deluded we are! 

Don’t make a mistake of making conclusive remark over someone, even if you think you saw or heard from the horses’ mouth? A wise hermit will only talk little about others and most about nothing, but we do otherwise. Which is you?

Like a proven experiment, everything and anyone you remark about must have multiple evidences, else it may only be your opinion. We are too happy to say”I was told” and “I heard” and then believe it must be as you heard it. 

How good is your history to rail about other’s failure? Have you not stolen anything in your life, have you not failed in your life, in romance, marriage and wok? Have you not betrayed someone who loved you? Have you not been corruptive and selfish in your intent and action in the past? Have you not slept when someone you never married, or someone married? 

When you say anything about others, would you tell it if that person confronted you? Or, are your bowing and praising in front and saying inconclusive remarks behind their back? Would you like to hear the same you say about other about you? 

“Impact is not Intention” the SIY training programme highlights how what we hear or feel about what others say and do to us may have different intention than we imagined. We need to compose ourselves to reflect if we would love to hear the same about ourselves.

“She said Sonam is in relationship with Wangpo?” How do we fuel even more by adding opinion or blaming either of the two people without realizing, we cannot prove anything much. Even if we  prove, what value does it add to our life? 

“He said he is not going to participate in the gathering.” And you speak with confidence as if you know why, and you will only assume ‘He is egoistic.’ Can this be the truth why he could it attend. What if his reason underlies a serious incident at his home? 

May of our talks are about other people, and that too assumptions, suspicions, inconclusive opinions and beliefs. If gathering can bring about conversation that deliberates ideas, it would be a fruitful awakening over a glass of beer. 

I hear about what people tell about what I am and what I do. People are diseased aggravatingly at making inconclusive talks, even when they hear about one thing that get them interested as if they have no history of their own. Neither my life nor yours is a fictional movie to gossip about. Our lives have meaning, and each life is a conundrum of enigma to themselves. Any ‘this and that’ we conclude and rejoice about others is our own fractured perceptions. What we talk about tells what we are to the very being.

Traditional axiom say that we must not caw like a crow, knowing we know nothing much and can do nothing much, lest we get stoned where it hurts most.

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A COLD KISS IN A RESTAURANT

Sitting there in front of her brought me comfort and immense joy. It was a soothing relief to be away from work and the stifling personal worries. The breeze from the window behind her sent her curly hair dancing.

Her face glowed like a sanguine sunset under the orange light above us. Her eyes sparkled with delight of a first date with her first lover. We sat in a corner of a bar where the shadows hid us from the customers suspiciously peering at us.

'Oglers!!!" I sneered at myself, feeling jealous. I wanted to get into some dungeon away from hungry-mongers. Her hands were in mine. It was cold, but smooth and moist from the sweat of romance.

I offered her a small Coca Cola retrieved from the bartender's 12th century rusted refrigerator.

"I will pour for you." I said. She was happy at my gentlemanly gesture.

I poured into her mouth the first few drips. She loved it. She giggled shyly. She smiled as the vapours of Coca Cola fizzed on her sanguine cheeks. Her smile was warmer than her hands.

In a quick move, like the Spiderman, I bent over and kissed her, tasting her breath and the sweet fluids. She was cold. I knew it was the fan above that chilled her tender skin.

I dragged myself to the window, closer to her. I am not sure who began first, but we clasped on to each other as if to drink each other to the last. I put my lips on her fine, smooth, and Cola sweetened lips. She shivered like I was suddenly stepping out into the blizzard. I felt the inviting cold touch caressing my lips. I held on, and did she.

As I laid her back, I was breathless. I felt an unearthly warmth surge through my heart and into my veins. I shivered again, and this time I felt like I was thrown into a furnace, and blushed with shyness.

Two more kisses, almost a French one, and I walked out leaving her alone.

As I paid the bill at the counter, I saw her on the table still and shocked; no more sanguine, no more sparkling. One more kiss and I could have slept with her right there!

I emptied two pegs of Courier and half a litre of coca cola in that dark corner. I sat facing an empty chair by the window, behind which was hung a portrait of Layap woman. My imagination was getting wilder even as I walked out of the restaurant. I realised that two pegs was too much for me to drink alone.

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BECOMING A HIDDEN KUNGFU MASTER

 " It's Jacky Chan." And this would make us wait outside MPH building for the caretaker to open the door. It would be a long wait, but we would not go anywhere. That was when we had neither television nor minima hall to go to. I was a lanky boy then, smelling of sweat and dirt.

Kungfu was everything about my childhood pastime. I was in class three when I began watching Kungfu fighting movies at village near our school. I would have two rupees wet in my hands to pay for the entry into a empty room turned movie hall. During some weekends martial arts movies were screened at Jigmi Sherubling Central School on a bulky screen that would often fail to work.

Jacky Chan was our primary inspiration, while Bruce Lee became our undying model of a majestic fighter. We wanted to become like them, humble and undefeated. This emboldened our youthful ego to feel fearless in case of any encounters with others.

My closest friend Karma Nidup and I would get into nearby woods or take long stroll on the road for practices, simulating every moves we saw in the movies. We did push-ups on the road with our fists, punched into roadside gravels with fists and fingers. Our knuckles bled but those were accomplishments we celebrated with joy.

My uncle and a mate, Ugyen Gyeltshen and I would display our magic moves on our way to school in the forest clearing beside the path to school. We did sparring to emulate moves and practice self-defense by using our finger like tiger's claws and legs like Jacky Chan.

Often after school we remained in class, closed the windows and door to practice the elegant moves. The moves of the tiger claws was my favourite. My friends called me Tiger Claws and I loved the pen name. The Eagle style and Snake strike moves were my favourite too.

We practiced fights until we got tired. At the end of fights, we would have marks of claws and talons on us, injuries beneath our shirts that parents never knew

When Van Damme, a hollywood martial art hero, came into our lives, he made me believe that body can become steel, that it can break anything with its power. Imitating him from Bloodsport movie, I hit my hands, arms and shin on trees too. Incredibly, my shin became like steel after months of hitting on apple trees. It is painless even today when I hit on wood.

Over the years, our muscles took shape and became hardened. Our punches and clawing were fast. I could perform round kicks and flying with speed and ease.

Some of the Kungfu past times became passionate hobby like. I often practiced blindfolded to hit at leaves and objects thrown at me. My senses seem to become sharper. At home I had dozen pegs driven into the ground in the apple orchard to practice balancing moves. I practiced moves by stepping from one peg to another, and staying still as I clawed the air. Often, I would hang like bats from a apple tree for minutes and push myself up to harden my stomach muscles. I tested my stomach by letting my brothers punch me on the belly. Some days, I had my brothers hit me on the arms to make myself cold to pain.

I even learnt to use stick, knife and nun-chuck skillfully. The disciplines were imitated from many martial art movies I watched at Jigmi Sherubling and at people's houses in the village.

When devils becomes us at what we love, we master it with madness. When I reached class VII at Jigsher, I joined Taekwondo team under Master Sonam Rixin. It was much easier than Kungfu I ĺearnt. By that time I could stretch my limbs, kick and punch like a Master. In a year I was able to lift to incredible height to kick at objects and jump over ten friends in flying kick. It was a miracle that you would think it impossible.

I participated at a national Taekwondo tournament in Thimphu in 1996 and by the time I graduated class X, I had black belt certified for Taekwondo.

Years have passed without regular practice but my fist and fingers, limbs and arms are still hard and ready.

My martial gods are no more an inspiration than a fading memory of a fairytale. I now devote to the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas for a spiritual Kungfu to Master for rest of my lives.

I have learnt that belts and medals, certificates and any accolades are mere ornament on the walls. The best it infuse in me is pride and ego than a spiritual meaning to live life humbly. Here I am, a medal in my own being than medal on the walls!

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TEARS FOR THE UNFORTUNATE

 

It can be traumatic for 14 years old boy to watch his mother breathe her last. In fact, it’s a painful experience to lose a parent forever. In such a situation, schools must teach students to offer condolence, prayer and support to a destitute friend. Being Bhutanese is being spiritually connected.

On an early misty Monday morning, I was playing basketball alone when Sonam staggered to school. He appeared distraught, eyes tears and gho shabbily dressed. 

“Why did you come this early?” I enquired, doubting his strange appearance.

He mumbled in a tired words, “Mother passed away, sir. Mother passed away.” 

I was aghast. “What!” I didn’t anticipate a ghastly news first thing in the morning.

“Really? Aren’t you lying?” I prodded.

“No sir. She passed away before my eyes at three today morning.” His boldness of his darkest news severed my doubt.

I held him and said sorry. “ You should have stayed home. Why did you come?”

“Sir I came to seek leave and take my books.” This hurt me even more. His dedication to study and adherence to school rule was steadfast.

“ You should not have come here. Go now. Take your books and go. Don’t worry about leave. We will be there.” I motivated him, and he returned in a jiffy.

This is the first incident for the year, and I hope it never happens to others.

When Sonam, a class VII student, lost her mother a week ago, all 350 students came together to offer condolence of Nu. 3980 to their friend. Every student contributed Nu. 10 or little more for their friend’s family. This is a revival and infusion of intrinsic Bhutanese tradition that connects a village when tragedy happens to a family.

This is what is enshrined in our school policy, to teach values of compassion and bondage as a family of students in the school.

Upon sharing about the demise of parents of our student in Parent’s Telegram Group, some parents were driven by kindness and pain about the irreparable loss for the child. Some of them, send contributions to commiserate the unfortunate, strengthening our belief that there are parents who cannot wait to provide some support. Twelve parents offered Nu. 7500, and it was an overwhelming surprise.

 If this is how we revive the lives our grand parents lived, to reach out to the weak and the sick, unfortunate and the distraught, we are more humane than we are unbecoming today.

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‘SEARCH INSIDE YOURSELF’ FOR MY STUDENTS- A training on Emotional Intelligence

 

Sonam became emotional when she realised how much care and trust her father-in-law had on her. " I realised that I must study better and prove myself worthy of his trust. I have not been a very good daughter. I assumed he is a bad father to me."

“ I have not been aware until today how I have been reactive to my friends. Knowing that there is a ‘space’ between stimulus and response will help me become better captain.” Sangay Zam shared at the closing session.

While classroom learning is a journey out into the curriculum, SIY is a journey into the heart, awakening conscience to deeper level of reflection, opening vaults of guilt and promises to transform how they live their small life beautifully. 

If each of my student is infused with knowledge that their life is not defined absolutely by how they perform in academic performance, and that academics will give a job but to sustain and grow will require skills deeper than curriculum. That skill which will help them navigate school life to graduation to work life to marriage is emotional intelligence.

A tailored 6 hours SIY programme on Mindfulness Based and Emotional Intelligence is provided to student leaders and students of Dechentsemo in cohorts of 30 students. This initiative was undertaken as a result of several suggestion principal received from civil servants on his SIY training facilitation programme in four Dzongkhag. It was suggested that SIY must be provided to students to impact in their behaviour, academic, emotional status and to enable live better and happier lives.

The fact that EI can be trained even at student level opens opportunities to carve empathetic, focused and productive citizens. If adults have reported of life changing experiences from SIY training to revert their mindset and behaviour, it would definitely make an impact on students. Training students in Search Inside Yourself- provides possibilities reduce school behaviour problems and increase academic performance. This intelligence is known to have impacted in higher performance of leaders and deeper happiness in life of people.

The training is a beginning. In the weeks to come the training will be provided to students of classes IX, X and XI. This is facilitated by Lop. Tshering Dema, Lop. Karma Dorji and the principal. 

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PRINCIPLES OF A PRINCIPAL- WHAT LEADER AM I?

 

I am not the best. But I have aspirations to be the best. 

You aren’t the best too. But you can be?

We learnt through schools to stand and lead, we are trained on theoretical leaderships in literature, we have experiences to lead, but it is the basic moral character and spiritual nature a man exudes that complements his leadership character. 

Having worked under several school principals in 17 years of my teaching career, I had the fortune to gather wisdom and lesson from those leaders. These experiential learning have made me a better leader than I can be.

There were those, who were dictatorial; an autocratic power center, whose decisions were always right and our opinions are mere old time music. Going to school was a race, and going to class a minute late would call for an explanation. The meetings were a quiet listening session with yes for everything presented.

There were no consensus for what responsibilities we must take, The role notifications were nailed on the notice board to be adhered to, and I became School Health Incharge by the edict! Getting called to office aroused doubts if anything was wrong. We had less to decide what and how to do things.  

There were principals who overhauled changes overnight to the ways we work, like magicians . There was no space to sit and make decisions.  When meeting were convened, there were heated arguments, making stage for debates to prove rights by the height of who could speak louder. It was neither productive nor lasted long to create coldness in the campus. teacher gave in to feigning obedience, displaying acceptance with ease to keep comfortable. Sometimes tears were shed in the office, and principal too wept in her defeat.

There were those principals, who were leaders I wanted to become. They seemed like an emotional clairvoyant, being able to understand others’ emotion and work through that wisdom. They were like a motherly figure, a quiet and calm authority, who drew respect through his compassionate act and accommodation. They were complete concoction of research paper leadership, a leadership of benevolence and little of everything convenient by circumstance. They were a winter warm climate, unpredictable yet a beautiful, stillness of a prayer flag yet effusing warmth and synergy and balance of a man we want to trust. 

There were others, who have become my teachers in making me learn lessons on what makes man a sober leader, a more humane leadership. I learnt it’s not always a doctoral certificate or years of experience that makes a man a good leader. Evolution in accordance with time, our leadership values, characteristics and skills is far more important than holding on arrogance of experience. 

A good leader is loved by his colleagues for his emotional stability, for his calming words and positive attitude. A good leader do not yell and command authority by fear. A good leader is approachable and inviting. A good leader is able to communicate with mindfulness, with understanding and kindness. The office of a good leader is a home where decisions are shared and outcomes are credibility of everyone.

In the years of my role a principal, I have learnt to work from a philosophy I have chiseled from experience, reading and reflection. For me leadership is not a position of authority but of duty and responsibility. It is not a position of power but accountability of service and people I serve. 

A good leader must be defined also by his balance of moral and spiritual character, displaying consistency in his emotional atmosphere to any triggers. 

A battle at home, an argument with a colleague, a lapses at an event, a broken cup at home, theft of new sneakers, lateness of people, for instance do not shake the moral character of a good leader. The habit that only sees faults and never appreciate small goodness and achievements is a fallacy which corrupts the leadership performance. Being able to plough people to work by insinuating fear of reprisals does not qualify a good leader.

This age demands bringing people together to serve humanity, from making team decision to devolving authority for work. I have learnt that those who work around me are as human to err and as human to excel. The ability to make recognition of even small successes, efforts and attitudes, is more compelling if harmony must be cultivated. The honour we give each other is what harvests happiness, and that brings accomplishments and fulfillment in life

We have come from a century when knowledge was power to lead by pride and dominance. Today we must take steps to deepen harmony and happiness by working as friends than as competitors for strength and medals, certificates and stars! 

Without transformation in our own self, it is wrong to demand outcomes from services. In fact, the urgency to realise that we need to change only increases by the position of responsibility we hold. 

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WHEN JOBS CUT FAMILY IN TWO

 

When work separate us, no matter how important service is, there is something we are missing that makes life fulfilling. 

If there is no fulfillment, sense of well-being and happiness, what purpose is two earnings and living two homes? When homes are empty of laughter and tears, it’s a lonely hospice where sick are left waiting to go home.

We marry to live together, to look after each other, to care for our children as they grow. But today many parents are separated by their nature of work and workplace. 

Parents work to earn to make a better future at the cost of living separately, risking travels between houses, sleeping to a quiet night and rising to a lonely day. While it appears there are two income sources, there are two expenditure too. While it appears there are two houses to live, there are are two groups to worry. While there are two sets of belongings to own, there are two tasks for a family. While tencnology seem to ease the connection, it equally brews disconnection and threatens misunderstandings.

The only connection is calls and messages, video talks and pictures, that have replaced touch of warmth and love. The connection only deepens nostalgia and longing, rousing subtle fear of future and urge to fly and leap. Technology, no matter how life-like, cannot give life meaning and purpose every man seeks, it only dulls the pain.

To remain as if everything is well and good, smiling amd laughing at work when a empty feeling lingers, it slowly cuts into the health and heart of everyone in a family. Perhaps, children are affected irreparably at a very moral and psychological level.

This calls for sacrifice and courage without pretext, to risk and live two lives with one breath to live with.

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HARVESTING HAPPINESS IN MOMENTS

Life is a fleeting drama of tranquility and torrents. We are either overwhelmed by sorrows or by joys; often ignorant that we are even suffering the delusions of our own making. The breathtaking moments are those we breathe every second, not those rewards after bruises and sweat only.

Like any of you I also find swung to the ends of despondency but I find resilience sooner to rejoice the moments that follow. I do not dwell long enough to distraught my living to harm my biology. If anything can heighten and deepen a sense of contentment, healing and hope, I partake and rejoice that moment with my family as often as possible.

 It may appear impossible to many, but it's only possible to those like me who spend to the last penny and value every ticking seconds. Work must not become an excuse to deprive family time, a time for a ride, a picnic, a dinner at town, a rest under a shade or a sitting around a meal.

If we cannot make sacrifices from the cravings of life believing that tomorrow is a promise, we will have lived life suffering to live happy and will have wasted ploughing for fruits you won't live to harvest. Family happiness and happiness of our own are not at the end of a month with wallet is full. True happiness is harvested in the moments of life we live, living the present moment to little entertainments of life we create for ourselves. Happiness does not come from big things we plan but from small things we say and do. 

That's why I have barely any reason to fear any or repent this life lived.

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