Essay Week 5: The Trials of Teaching

I've been working as a tutor for about four years, and I cannot find the words to describe how useful the new Collaborative Learning Center in the library is. As the president and founder of a student organization that offers group-oriented academic help, it's our perfect habitat.

I bring this up because I gave a test review session last night in the CLC, and I tend to reflect on my effectiveness as a teacher the next day. With my limited experience as a tutor, I find the amount of diversity in students to be one of the greatest challenges. Whether it's diversity in ability or background, a teacher has to be able to adapt to the student's perspective. Last night, we had a setup that allowed me to do just that. Students were grouped at tables and were able to bounce ideas off of each other. That peer-to-peer interaction gives me the freedom to give students individualized attention without my feeling that I'm putting anyone in some sort of academic queue.

Last week's test review session for Organic Chemistry I (Personal photo, taken September 8).

Last year, we utilized a lecture format in a large classroom for the test review sessions. While such a format allowed us to serve anywhere from forty to one hundred students at the time, it's comparable to casting a broad net. Students at the ends of the normal curve lose out. Some would leave early because they needed one-on-one help, and others would leave out of intellectual boredom. As a tutor, it's frustrating to watch that happen, and it makes one wonder if it's a reflection on one's ability.

Given the comfort I felt last night while tutoring organic chemistry, I believe we've found a better format for both myself and the students. The sessions flow more easily. The teaching feels organic, no pun intended. I'll be interested to see how sessions go down the line, but for now, I'm contented experiment with what the CLC has to offer.

Storytelling for Week 5: Blindsided by Reality

For two decades, I've seen with my ears and skin. Humming engines are my crosswalks. The greeting warmth on my face is the picturesque sunrise.The music and texture of the world have been my ever present guides. But today, I'll begin to discover what it means to see in color.

I've been blind since birth thanks to the stunted growth of neurons in my retinas. Modern medicine, however, has pulled through; today I'll become on of the first to try an approved therapy to stimulate cell growth. Simply put, I'll see the world with new eyes.

"When it comes down to it, you're pretty much the perfect candidate for this, Sid," the optometrist said when I came in for the outpatient procedure. "All signs point to your recovering without complications."

I smiled. This felt meant to be.

"You know, Sid, are you sure you're ready to see what the world has to offer?"

"Without a doubt."

~~~

Green. That's my favorite.

It's been a week since the procedure, and while everything remains an amorphous blur, I know what color is. They started out dull but then bled into my vision like the crescendo of a string orchestra. Color is the timbre of the visual. Yellow whistles like a piccolo. Red softly barks like the French horn. But green is different. It's lush. It's voice is one of a cello. What a gift it is to be able to hear colors as I learn how to see.

~~~

"Sharper" is how the doctor has described the change in my sight. That's certainly how it feels. It's almost painful. Two weeks after my treatment leaves me with the ability to distinguish shape and form, but it's not easy on the eyes. Everything looks the way sand feels. Gritty and abrasive. I tend to rub my eyes attempting to brush off the rough texture that coats everything I see to no avail. It's hard to describe how distressing it is when the smooth, flawless keys on my piano look as if they would rub my fingers raw if I were to play. I hate the incongruence.

~~~

A window of clarity open in the center of my vision yesterday, so I decided to open a book and see written language for the first time. Words are ugly. They don't do justice for the auditory beauty of language. Dead black ink on glaringly white paper. I try to avoid focusing on any certain object. The grittiness that permeated my vision two weeks ago has been replaced with a overwhelming blandness. Saltine crackers come to mind. I miss the mystery of when I only saw the world in color and not in form.

The disappointment of seeking words for the first time (Edited). Wikipedia Commons.

~~~

I see the wrinkles that cleave across my forehead. In incredible detail, I see how age has molded my face as I look in the bathroom mirror. Twenty years of vision has made me grown tired of the world. When I was blind, my imagination created what things looked like. They were my thoughts, my ideas. Vision has robbed me of that ownership. I'm only an observer now, not a creator. My favorite part of the day is the bittersweet moment before I fall asleep.

Sweet because I'll dream with closed eyes. Bitter because I know I'll wake up.

Author's Note: I used both the The First Encounter and Two More Encounters stories from the Buddha unit to create an representation of what it was like for Siddhartha to realize the presence of old age and death in the world. Since I plan to become a physician, I thought I'd create an analogy between gaining one's sight for the first time and losing one's naiveté. In the story, I put myself in Siddhartha's position and describe how I lose touch with joy and beauty. I really tried to capture the change in attitude that Siddhartha demonstrates in the two aforementioned stories.

Bibliography
The Life of Buddha
Andre Ferdinand Herold
1922

Reading Diary Week 5: The Life of Buddha

For this week, I've made the transition from Arabian Nights to Buddha!

Maya's Dream: I'm struck by the similarities between this and the arrival of Gabriel in the Bible to tell Mary that she will carry God's son. Even though I'm not as familiar with Buddhism, I'm willing to be that the happiness and peace that Maya feels after her dream is a representation of achieving Nirvana.

The Birth of Siddhartha: I wonder how the tree from which Maya takes a branch works as a symbol. Something else to note here is how peacefully the birth went and the motif of healing upon the birth of Siddhartha.

Asita's Prediction: The analogy of the branch makes more sense now that Suddhodana has mentioned his fear of his son's withering before he blooms. The take home message here is that Siddhartha will be the vessel of true knowledge, which is way of salvation from reincarnation.

Siddhartha's First Meditation: The validation of Siddhartha as the one to bring true knowledge is based on observational proof such as the stand-still shadow and his impressive knowledge of the scripts. The way he will change the world seems to be describable only in metaphor based on what the hermits say.

Two More Enounters: I'm willing to bet that these encounters arranged by the Gods in the city will be the impetus that fuels Siddartha's desire to seek true knowledge and free the world from rebirth.

The Fair Maidens and Gopa's Dream: I feel pity for Siddhartha; his awareness of the world now prevents him from seeing the beauty in it. I guess one could say that knowledge is a double-edged sword. One cannot become enlightened without facing the cruelties of reality.

Siddhartha Leaves His Father's Palace: It's refreshing to see Siddhartha's confidence and enthusiasm as he leaves to fulfill his destiny. The cinematic events in the story, such as the silent opening of the gates, help depict the peace that Siddhartha feels as he begins his journey.

Siddhartha the Hermit: I love the wisdom that Siddhartha imparts as he tells Chandaka to travel back to his father. In particular, the line "but heirs to his virtues are rarely found, are never found" resonates with me.

Gopa and Suddhodana Grieve: The lamentations of Gopa and Suddhodana remind me of the reactions after Jesus was crucified. There's such a sense of loss with Siddhartha's absence, but I get the feeling that he will be back to ease his parent's grief.

Arata Kalama: I find myself agreeing with what Siddhartha says regarding the uselessness of perfect austerity. It almost seems selfish, as Siddhartha eludes to, because it only guarantees the self to ascend to the sky.

Siddhartha Deserted by His First Disciples: I like the change of pace in the perspective on Siddhartha's ability to fulfill his destiny. People seem to give him such doubt for changing his approach, but wouldn't everyone want a spiritual leader to admit when he's wrong and be willing to change his actions?

Siddhartha Becomes the Buddha: Talk about a long-winded explanation for the cause of old age and death! It reminds me how if one clicks on the first click of a Wikipedia page and repeats the action ad nauseam, they'll end up at the page for philosophy.