Facilitator 2.0

Deep breath, door slowly grasping the handle, a firm downward push, and a forward thrust.

A room full of eyes turned towards me, as I walked in confidently, making my way across the room, ignoring all of which, and brushing it aside with a casual "Good Morning".

A sureness in my stride, and a sense of command clenched within my fist along with the handles of my laptop bag, as I took my time to take my place, and proceeded to set up for class in my own time, as a presumably uneasy silence rang through the air; yet hardly rattling my disposition. 

They say that life comes full circle, and I was sorely reminded of this fact when two familiar faces stepped into the door with a sheepish grin, and a hardly-embarrassed and joyous "Hello." The irony of life – of having two students that I taught in my very first class in my very first semester stepping into my very first class for the new academic year.

It was great to have an anchor or two of familiar faces to latch on to in a totally alien class; but more than that, they served as two totems and one solid juxtaposition against my past - from a time that I had trouble digging up and virtually re-living - until the familiarity of sitting down in the same room with them jolted something probably now deeply swept into my subconscious.

I used to consider my words very carefully, and my actions even more so. The slightest hint of a tangential point that quickly and unexpectedly went south would cause an obvious flush, and have the class gushing at my shyness; my physical being unable to mask my mental thoughts - that was a different time. A time of self-consciousness and self-awareness; rooted by a deep sense of uncertainty - the uncertainty of the lack of the ability to anticipate, driven by a greater general lack of experience and knowledge of the approach towards the juggle between being an authority and being a friend. Awkward, perhaps; but cautious, even more so.

That was of a different time - one where interaction was a lot more of an effort, always conscious of what to say, how much I was saying, how much I was revealing; and yet always cautious of how much I shouldn't be saying, how far I was going, and what impression I was leaving...

"You've changed Jeremy", said one of the familiar faces, "I still remember the time when you..."  

I looked him in my eye and retorted calmly, "Two years is a long time."

And indeed it has been, with the clocking of one-year in full time, on top of the first year in part time, I believe that I have a much firmer grasp of the ropes in a classroom environment now - being able to see without looking, hearing words without focusing, and reading thoughts without asking; there is probably still much to learn, but at the same time, I have probably learnt much. Confident and in control, experience has taught me the basics of rapport, connection and communication. 

And yet, some things don't change at all. The persistent mantra of:  "9 to 4.30, I'm your Facilitator, after 4.30, we're friends," holds true to today even, and perhaps even more so, with the increased time spent with the students, and the greater involvement in their academic life. Talk becomes more casual, laughter flies all around, jokes dart in all directions, and the (ahem) occasional swear word comes to light, bringing to mind the second mantra of: "I'm simply here to impart my knowledge to you, not here to be your damn Role Model."

Re-visiting a question I had no simple answer for during my interview, I sordidly recall my stern interviewer's countenance when she asked, ""You look really young. Is respect important to you? How would you get your students to respect you?"

To be honest, I still haven't found the exact answer to this question, and I never might; but I probably never have to, as over the years, I think I've learnt to shift between the planes of a facilitator and a friend with ease, being able to transcend the planes in a split-second; and sometimes blending the two. Somehow, somewhat; I've learnt that respect doesn't necessarily come from knowledge or achievement, but sometimes, it is simply established with a tinge of connection.

A recent inside joke had me challenging my minions: "Wouldn't it be ironically funny if despite all the abuse and sarcasm I put you guys through, somehow I could still get an award this?"

Well... guess what happened?

- Welcome to Facilitator 2.0 -

Legacy of Wisdom

For those who might be interested, I've just finished my latest game prototype, Legacy of Wisdom, and entered it into the Experimental Gameplay Project, with the theme for this month being a "Zero-Button" game.

The link of the game can be found here: http://dark-manifesto.blogspot.com/2010/08/legacy-of-wisdom.html

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Game Synopsis

“I do not think much of a man who is not wiser today than he was yesterday.” - Abraham Lincoln -

Designed based on the Experimental Gameplay Project theme of a "Zero Button Game" (August 2010) , Legacy of Wisdom's main gameplay uses nothing but mouse movement.

Centering around the metaphorical themes of "Legacy" and "Man's journey in attaining Wisdom", Legacy of Wisdom adopts an oriental aesthetic style based on Oriental Calligraphy / Paintings to help create a "Zen" aesthetic to complement the game's metaphorical themes.

Legacy of Wisdom also features an additional gameplay twist - an experimental take on the concept of "Player Death" in games, toying with the idea that death in games can be a reward as much as a penalty; where each time a player dies, the player is given a reward for his / her next playthrough.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

More importantly though, on a personal note, this is the first month that I've managed to squeeze out a little bit more time to actual get involved in small, indie project like this; something that I had set out to do the moment I decided to stop pursuing a commercial path in Game Design, and went into Academia, where I was hoping to be able to do a bit more experimental stuff without having to worry about the commercial sensabilities, and just design for the concept; not the commerce.

Of course, things never turn out like they should, and it was one crazily hectic semester in school, and I'm just glad that with the end of the semester, a bit more normalcy has returned to life, and I am able to have one foot back in the waters of my First Love; or at least find enough pockets of time in the after-hours to commit to a week-long project for the Experimental Gameplay Project, something that I've been keeping a close eye on for a few months now.

With crossed fingers and a silent prayer, I can only hope and pray that I can sustain this in the upcoming months as well, as if there is one thing I have discovered after not doing Game Design for a while, even if it is small indie projects like this; I am reminded of the invigorating feeling of going from concept to completion of an idea, seeing the pieces fall into place slowly and watching the gradual realisation of the idea into something a lot more material and tangible; almost like watching the slow but sure metamorphosis of a sluggish caterpillar into a fluttering butterfly.

For sure, this is one cookie jar I would gladly keep at least one hand in...

Caught in the Middle; Not Ready to Move

In almost exactly 2 months, I will be turning 28. But more so than an early reminder on getting me a present, and more importantly so, I can only sit and ponder the implications that come with the coming of age.

Simple math dictates that 28 is simply 30 minus 2, which means, in 2 years' time, I will be turning 30, that of a new era, or what most would believe.

Over the last year or so, and more so now that I've entered the world of Full-time Employment , I am starting to better comprehend what does this all mean - what does turning 28 mean. It simply means that... I am 10 years or so away from most of my students; and incidentally, 10 years or so away from the average age of my colleagues (at least those not in the same "creativity-driven" department as I am).

It is quite a weird spot to be in, in actual fact, as on one side, the populace is of a general immaturity, and dealing with things I have long put behind - self-confidence, insecurities, group politics and of course, raging hormones; and on the other end, there are those that have solidified a self-impression that leaves them rather oblivious to everything around them, with issues of self-righteousness, self-justification, self-indulgence, and not forgetting politics (which seems to be one thing that doesn't change regardless of which stage of life you're in).

But at the same time, it's quite a good spot to be in. Those below look up to you somewhat, knowing that you are senior, but still relevant, since it was not too long ago that you were dealing with the issues they struggle with on a daily basis; and those on top, look down on your in a nurturing manner, perhaps seeing a tinge of themselves in you as they try to give you a little boost every now and then.

In a sense, I am literally Caught in the Middle, but ironically, for once, feel like the bridge between the generations - a transitional generation, if you must - as I creep up on the big 3-0. Of course, being at this stage means I am subject to the things only described in Human Geography Textbooks, pressure to support the elder generation, and nurture the younger generation and all that bull.

Never one to consider things on such a macro-level, on a more personal note, I feel that with my recent full-time employment, I can't help but feel "older". No more are the days of just living to get by, going where the wind blows, and doing the things that call out to me; instead replaced by words such as "duties", "responsibilities", "goals", "targets", "plans", etc.

A stable income for an 8-5 routine - the most conventional trade of the working society. Perhaps I have been playing Peter Pan, and running away from all of it for too long (or at least what most conventional minds would think). But still, play Peter Pan for long enough, and you will eventually learn how to fly, above conventions at least. So yes, while I am now bounded by the chains of the grind, there are some things that you just can't outgrow - they just grow with you.

Game design is still my first love. And no, I would not be teaching regardless of the price tag if it were anything but game design.  And yes, I am still every bit the dreamer and idealist that I was, only thing is that I have learnt to take a more practical approach to it (but more on this in a future post).

Of course with "now" established, the question is then of "next". Where do you go from here?

A recent conversation at a wedding brought up the age old question, "When is it your turn?"

In almost a tone of mockery, my proud reply was, "Anywhere between Not-so-soon to Never."

This drew chuckles from the table, married or not married-alike, and those who know me a bit better wouldn't find the reply all that surprising coming from me.

But to go a bit deeper into this, the rationale is not one that is very complex. At an age where the norm is that to settle down with a partner, or even (*gasp*) start a family, my reason for not succumbing to the pressures adhering to this norm - as the wedding invitations fly into my mailbox and faces of friends on my Facebook mysteriously get replaced by literal Baby-Face - is simply: "I'm not ready."

I'm not ready to move. Not ready to move out of the shell of myself to be anything more than myself. Not ready to be someone's "husband", someone's "lifetime", or worst still, someone's "father"; not ready to have any other words tagged to me other than that of which the world already knows me by; not ready to be anything other than "Jeremy Kang".

Selfish? Maybe. I've never been anywhere near the opposite of that, perhaps. Or maybe, just a bit socially retarded, as my so-called "career" continues to move at low-gear in contrast to my peers. But then again, I've always been comfortable marching to the beat of my own drum, and unless I receive a sudden (or you could say, further) epiphany, things probably won't be changing quite for a while. 

Then again, maybe life IS just getting started at 28, as a conversation with the girlfriend over dinner might imply...

Me: "You know how I believe those "great" people seem to be good at almost everything that they do?"

She: "Yeah, I know that. Why?"

Me: "I think I am just starting to reach that stage in life". *Cheeky Grin*.

She: *Rolls Eyes*.

- While some Marching Band keeps its own Beat in my head while we're Talking -

Closure: 1 / 5

He pressed the bottle to his lips, tilting it upwards to gulp what was left in the half-filled bottle. Looking at the camera satisfied, he said with a smile on his face, "Ice Lemon Tea. Be gay, be Jeremy Kang."

Laughter naturally ensued, as I stood there baffled at the audacity of it all, and yet, couldn't help but find it amusing to a great degree. Little did I know, the next presentation that followed was going to outdo that.

Yes, it was another Monday, and somehow, when your day, or week in fact, starts with some people parading around the classroom with their t-shirts lifted up, a little bit of male-hoola dancing and a tinge of not-so-hot faux guy-on-guy action, you know that your Mondays will never be the same again.

Yes, this class was "different" alright, in perhaps the best and worst possible kind of way. It is not uncommon that every week saw a couple of presentations that were technically very sound, but with a great extent of liberties taken on the artistic direction, or even the academic value of the works.

"You know, technically, the work is actually quite good. But I seriously wonder, how am I EVER going to show this to my boss," I remember telling them on more than one occasion.

Like almost a comedic slap in the face, it was rather amusing in a semi-masochistic kind of way to see how they would take the skills you had taught them, and totally used (abused) it to achieve something technically sound but totally inappropriate, and striving to outdo themselves week after week.

Naturally, the dynamics between mentor and apprentice(s) would vary from class to class, but considering how different this bunch were, the line was thin with them, and only grew thinner with the weeks.

Yet sometimes, it's funny, how pushing the "wrong" buttons actually end up being more right, as I saw a class that had me worried on first impression, transform into a group that pursued the daily lessons with a twisted fervour.

But perhaps this echoes what I always tell them, and others who have enquired about my teaching experience, that "Teaching at this level is not so much about imparting your knowledge, but it's actually more of a people skill. Learning how to read the students and communicating the lesson across in the best possible way to each individual."

Yet, it's not all a bed of roses, as I definitely gained and lost over the course of the semester.

"I want to ensure that everyone learns to the best of his / her ability" was the ideal that I started my academic career with. And yet, as the weeks went by, I only saw this slowly wither away - enforcement of certain rules became harder, behaviours became more blatant, and distraction was abundant.

In Guns 'n' Roses words, "there are some men you just can't reach", and perhaps this is true as well, and something all mentor-figures have to learn eventually. Learning is a 2-way thing for sure, but at an intermediate-tetiary level such as this, the roles of mentor, facilitator, disciplinarian and friend is a hard hand to juggle.

In the end, most mentor-figures tend to skew towards one or the another, and the impression that you leave on them tends to settle mostly on 1 conclusive point. Perhaps, in that sense, I'm glad that I probably left the building as a "friend", or at least I hope that I did.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back from my meeting, I made my way back to the classroom, my usual abode where I would spend my 5 to 7s, waiting for my car to become mobile again. Some days, it was having a discussion with a select few on Game Design, some days it was imparting some aspects of my extremely skewed world-wisdom, and yet other days, it was just sitting in and listening to their idle conversations - feeling young and stupid all over again.

But today, it was different.

I walked into the classroom, she screamed, they looked shocked.

"Uh, can you come back later, Faci?" he said to me.

After the longer-than-usual discussion, he said, "Uh, can you follow us for a while?"

With an eyebrow raised, I did so; only to walk into a not-so-surprising surprise party with pizzas and cake to boot.

Of course, all this was quite obvious from a mile away, but the real surprise came in the form of a little (ok, not that little maybe) silver book, reminiscent of one of those student autography books kinda thing that captured everyone's well-wishes.

Of course, I remained unfazed throughout, as I almost always am, prompting them to ask, after blowing out the candles, "Faci, why are you not surprised at all?"

"Hmm. How do you expect me to be surprise when in the morning, you ask me if I like Mango Cake?" I replied, with a deadpan look.

Still, not bad for a bunch of "gays and retards."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Someone once told me that in teaching, "For every 5 students you teach, if 1 of them learns; it's already considered a success."

Well, if put that way, than I guess that I probably can live with a shattered ideal. As not only do I think that I have more than 1 successful student in every 5, I have 4 friends as well.

"Thanks you for putting up with me throughout the semester. I think that teaching you people has made me gained a lot more patience. So much so that I think I'm ready for Fatherhood."

The class chuckled, and with these words, I closed my first semester.

To the "Gays and Retards" from my "other class", thanks for the friendship and the memories...

E24J

The End of the Beginning...

"My name is Jeremy Kang, and 2 days a week, I am a Facilitator. For the other 5 days, I'm a Game Designer, and that automatically makes cool."

And with these words, I began my first term into the World of Academia; a world riddled with uncertainty, a world shrouded in mystery; one that placed me on the other side of the table from where I was not too long ago, and one that I was hardly sure of whether I was ready for or not.

One way or another, I walked out of the first semester alive, and it has indeed been a very different 17 weeks, walking out with a lot less questions and a bit more answers.

"I'm simply here to impart my knowledge to you, not here to be your damn Role Model."

And indeed, these words rang true throughout the classes.

Irony is a bitch, no qualms about that. I remembered how I used to tell people that teaching was the last thing on my mind; and yet, the Fates just have a nice way of blind-siding you and pinching you in the ass for making such comments - and I must have one helluva ass to them.

But upon reflection, perhaps the main point leading to such a career being so unimaginable to me was perhaps largely due to my impatience and dislike for nonsense, not to mention my disrespect for ideals and self-righteous beliefs of "moulding future generations" and all that bull.

Fortunately, I didn't have to show any of the above-mentioned qualities, and could retain my characteristical -self throughout most of the lessons - minus the profuse swearing maybe.

I remember the question posed to be during my interview:

"You look really young. Is respect important to you? How would you get your students to respect you?"

Yes, perhaps age was my biggest worry walking into the class, and getting the students to listen to me in the first place. But at the same time, over the course of the semester, I think it has probably proven to be my greatest asset as well, as the relatively lesser age-gap allowed me to better relate to the students on a more personal level, sharing in their ridiculous jokes and whatnot.

And yet, when it was time to for work, my answer probably rang true, that:

"Respect is irrelevant of age; it is more of a matter of establishing a point of relation and being able to get your points across."

"9 to 4.30, I'm your Facilitator, after 4.30, we're friends."

Perhaps "Respect" is a bit overrated when you consider the context, as the environment lends itself a lot more towards an informal learning experience, than trying to impose a hard-and-fast one.

And indeed, knowing when to play the "Respect" and "Friendship" cards went a long way towards establishing the classroom dynamics, and I think it's a lot better this way, no matter how frowned upon it might be by some more conventional minds.

"So what makes you think you are ready to teach?"

This was one of the most stifling questions shot at me during the interview. And honestly, after 17 weeks, I can't really say that I'm any wiser towards answering that question, and maybe I will never be.

But honestly, that's ok. Because for every doubt raised, at least now I know that there are at least some answers that would justify otherwise; and that alone would allow me to sleep better at night, knowing that I at least did some semblance of my designated job.

To my first class, thanks for the hardwork, tolerance, birthdays, photo-whoring, jokes, laughter and memories...

E24N

Art is never Finished...

A visit to the "Da Vinci - The Genius" Exhibition at the Science Centre proved to be a rather fruitful one over the Public Holiday.

Fascinating was how the mind of 1 man could actually be divided into so many sections for exhibition, ranging across both left and right brain-domained subjects, from physics to art; truly earning Da Vinci the rights to his exhibition's moniker.

I found both disciplines almost equally fascinating, but the Lady enjoyed the "Art" section a lot more, especially the "Mona Lisa" segment. More than that though, was I amazed at how Da Vinci viewed Art and Science holistically, and pursued both disciplines in a harmonious tandem.

Perhaps not fun in the "fun" sense, as we left the exhibition with a weary back and aching feet, but definitely a feast for the mind, and with just enough take-outs to ponder about and to be inspired by.

The biggest take-away for the day?

"Art is never Finished, Only Abandoned."

- Leonardo Da Vinci

And on the First Day there was Silence...

20th April 2009

I reclined deeply into my chair as I let out a huge sigh; an almost instinctive reaction that stemmed partially from exhaustion, relief, and oddly, satisfaction. A piercing silence rang throughout the room, as I stared blankly at the empty room white-washed by the accompanying furniture.

Silence is an odd thing, always has been. Sometimes inducing a gap of awkwardness, sometimes creating the boxes for thought, and at other times, simply representing "nothingness." But oddly, it is within this "nothingness" that causes one to find "something" - something to occupy your mind with; almost as if a natural instinct to not let one sink into said "nothingness". Perhaps "I think therefore I am" and the implications of its contrary are truer than most of us would like to believe.

For that moment, the silence that filled the room pierced my soul, and dawned the realization upon me that it was over - a day of charades, anxiety, expectation and uncertainty had finally come to an end. And all I was left with sitting in that room alone was the memories of the day.

The memories of the slight discomfort and awkwardness that always came with introductions in the first hour, the need to take the first step and extend the first hand, the speaking of the first words, and the writing of the first sentences. Self-induced pressure perhaps, but the saying cannot be utterly false; first impressions do count - but the problem was, I was not exactly very sure what I wanted to project in the first place, so I was groping around in the dark for the most part of it.

Fortunately, things warmed up as the day went by, as the structure might have it that I had time to spare for individual groups on a smaller scale during the second session. No matter how many times I do it, speaking to a smaller audience will always be easier than addressing a larger one, and perhaps this really shone through during the group discussions as I felt more approachable, and more importantly, personal through mid-day.

The proteges took the reins in the third session as I started to get a better grasp of their personalities and styles as they took the stage one at a time. The tables were turned, and instead, this was their chance to leave their first impressions on me.

As my backbone took to the shape of my chair at the end of the day, exhaustion occupied the better part of me, no thanks to the malfunction of the body-clock and the preluding insomnia. Strains of relief flowed through my mind sporadically, each representing a different blessing that I was counting - reality was a bit better than anticipation in this case. But deep within the trenches of my soul, was an odd sense of satisfaction; something that I didn't expect myself to gain from the experience.

In all it's ironic glory, oddly for me, teaching actually was gratifying in itself. In a rather inexplicable manner, I was actually somewhat... satisfied, even though I was not exactly sure from what. Never to be regarded as the patient or nurturing type, the experience was still somewhat fulfilling nonetheless, and for the first time in my life, I started to get a glimpse of the satisfaction and fulfillment that one can gain through this in the long-run.

But perhaps for me, this in itself, was the most scary thing. Being oddly gratifying in itself probably meant that it would become increasingly difficult to draw the line. I believe that it is very much human nature to be cognitively dissonant about your circumstances, and somewhat convince / hypnotize oneself to believe that what one has is what one truly wants.

And oftentimes, when one doesn't have a clear idea of what one truly wants, it is easy for him / her to account to himself / herself that what he / she has been given is indeed what he / she truly wants. And naturally, this only becomes easier to believe if one can find derivable, tangible and verifiable pleasure from what one has.

As if beckoning me into her deadly jaws of comfort and stability, the world of academia suddenly started to look a little rosier than it has ever been; and perhaps if I was any less of an idealist, I would probably fall to the wayside a lot more easily. They say: Beggars can't be choosers - true, but being spoiled for choice is lesser and more of a dilemma at the same time.

Fortunately or unfortunately for me, I still very clearly know where I want to go down my path of life, and perhaps now, more consciously than ever, I have to will myself more to not rest on the laurels of my circumstances, but continue up the ladder of dreams. Desperation, anger and indignance will slowly depart from me as my muses, and I will have to seek strength from different sources, but of course, that's in the time to come.

For now, I can only open my legs wider as I continue walking down the now-forked path of my life. Where this will lead eventually is something that I will probably have to wait until 'eventually' to find out. But one thing that I believe to know now is something that I mentioned to the class early in the day....

"The good news is: it can only get better."