Since I started my collegiate studies, I've always preferred a steady schedule with few surprises, where I can easily outline my routine for the next week. It makes me feel like I have control over my life in many aspects... study, class, diet, and exercise, to name a few. I had been so fixed on maintaining constants in my life that I come up with the greatest excuses and do whatever it takes to avoid adjustments.
Yet today, as I reflect on the events that took place these past four days, I realize how my insistence in staying in "routine" has only shown my selfishness and cowardice. Yes, I am not accustomed to Taiwanese foods, I abhor jet-lag, and I am likely the most fidgety person on a 12-hour plane ride.
But I barely made it on time.
She wasn't conscious when I rushed to the hospital. I could hear and see her breathing, her chest heaving up and down as she struggled to gulp for air. She's still here, I thought. She won't go quickly, she was just talking to me on the phone two days ago.. Feeling slightly less tense, I left the hospital, ready for a good night's sleep and prepared to spend the entire day with her in the hospital the next day. She'll wake up tomorrow, I thought.
A 5am phone call woke me and the rest of the family. She was in trouble, and her lungs were failing. We all rushed to the hospital, breathless. I looked at the Blood Pressure and Heart monitor; her heartbeat was abnormally fast, although steady. With other organs gradually failing, her heart was pumping faster than usual. Her blood pressure was far too low, but consistent. For the next few hours, everyone walked anxiously in and out of the ward.
At 10:22am, I saw the Blood Pressure and Heart monitor numbers declining rapidly. Her heart rate had fallen to 60 beats per minute, and within the next minute, it fell to 50 beats per minute. Out of nowhere, the screen showed an unwanted question mark and the nurses came rushing in. Before I knew it, the hospital staff were shaking their heads with apologetic faces. Tears rushed to my eyes, and I sobbed uncontrollably. I looked to my left, and I saw my cousin and dad fighting tears.
My paternal grandmother is the third person I've lost in my life to cancer. Both of my maternal grandparents left several years ago from cancer as well, and when I saw my paternal grandmother lying helplessly in the ward, memories of seeing others in a fragile state, fighting cancer to their fullest extent, came swerving back. And these memories hit me hard.
I've been out of summer classes for nearly four weeks now. Yet, the thought of going back to Taiwan to see my grandma while she was still alive, communicating with the people around her, never hit me. Why? I could think of so many excuses that had crossed my mind: I needed a "break" after classes, I can't sit long enough for an airplane ride to the other side of the country, Taiwanese people eat food that I can't stand to even look at, it's too hot and humid for me there, and I won't be using a bathroom with proper toilet paper (this is real - my paternal grandparents' house doesn't only lack WiFi, but also lacks trashcans and toilet paper) are among them.
A day before I arrived, my grandma's eyes were open, and her voice carried a strength that made everyone believe she was getting well. I could have spoken with her, and laughed with her. But I didn't, all because I truly believed that my life would just be so incredibly out-of-sync if I did. I used to think I was a grateful, giving individual. I loved giving to the community and helping my neighborhood. Now, I understand how selfish I am for not even being able to change some routines for a couple days to see one of the most important people in my life and joke with her the way we used to when she was healthy. Something so simple was something I still couldn't accomplish.
As I'm choosing the music for her funeral and writing about the joyful memories my grandma and I share, I've come to realize that these past few days have been filled with self-reflection and self-doubt. I know my grandma would encourage me to learn from my experiences, and move on tomorrow to be a person who is stronger, fiercer, and more intelligent than the individual I was yesterday.
And I know that I am.
Rest in peace, grandma. I love you.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Friday, September 6, 2013
Circular schooling
"I would change that to a system where we reward mastery of the subject matter, rather than grading on a curve... We are wasting a lot of human potential."
- John Matsui
"We need to create opportunities to excite students about how math and science connect to real life."
- Freedman A. Hrabowski III
"We'd like kids to learn how to solve hard problems and what it takes to pull off a complex endeavor, how to plan, collaborate, fail and not give up."
- Paulo Blikstein
"Science with humanity is googol times more amazing... I'd like to see STEM turned into STEAM."
- John Maeda
- John Maeda
Friday, August 23, 2013
a brief manifesto on education and the future of our technologically-reliant society
“It must be a strange world not being a scientist—going through life not knowing—or maybe not caring about where the air came from, where the stars at night came from or how far they are from us. I want to know.”
-Michio Kaku
When I was 10 years old, I began to see the world of
electronics unfold around me. Gradually, many of my friends were excited at the
process of obtaining their own cell phones; I remember the Motorola Razor was
in style when I was in middle school. Today, I look around and see 10 year-olds
using smartphones to check Facebook and play games. As computers, cell phones,
tablets, and other electronic devices continue to play an increasingly eminent
role in the development of modern society, it is important that young students gain
a better understanding of how these devices work as to understand the power of
their roles in our everyday lives.
My parents gave me my first cell phone when I was in 6th
grade. It’s the type of phone that has become termed the “dinosaur”: a three
and a half inch phone with a square screen measured about half an inch on each
side with large pad-dialing and no cover. I had been excited to finally have
ownership of this thing I learned to call a cellular phone. In late elementary
school, I was exposed to the world of computers, having typed my first
assignment all by myself. I was fascinated by the huge monitor, the wireless
mouse, and the CPU. As a kid, I had no idea how these devices worked, but I knew
one thing for sure: they offered me an awful lot of convenience in life.
Instead of walking in to an office near my bus stop to call my mom and tell her
I was there, I could call her directly from my cell phone. Rather than trying
so hard to write in a straight line as neatly as I could for my science poster,
I could type on Microsoft Word, and even make my words fancy with WordArt.
For the past 18 years of my life, I have taken these
electronic devices for granted. I use them daily for my social life, school,
work, and other resources. During my pre-collegiate life, I was too familiar
with the stereotype given to students who were interested in the details of
electronics. They were termed geeks and nerds, and commonly labeled to have “no
life.” The internet portrayed them constantly sitting in front of a computer
with no rays of sunshine seeping through their windows. This falsified image is
what initially drove me away from computing, and I even neglected my computer
science classes upon entering college. However, after a year of meeting so many
diverse individuals and finally taking my first computer language class (read my initial reaction to C++ here), I have grown to have
tremendous respect for those who excel at computer science – the individuals
who have allowed society to now rely on dependable devices.
As stated in this NY Times article which was published a few years ago, I believe that there are
two major changes needed for the education of younger generations: the public
perception of computer scientists which is ingrained in young students’ minds,
and the need to implement computer science in their education so students can better
understand the power it plays in their everyday lives. The UCLA Computer Science Project has had great progress
and success in exposing high school students to the realm of computer science. The
curricula emphasizes problem-solving through brainstorming and interpreting
algorithms while incorporating social analysis concepts for students to better
understand what computer science algorithms are realistic for today’s society.
I believe that the work of the UCLA Computer Science
Project and other similar projects can be extended to younger students in
elementary and middle school. At that point in their lives, kids are most
curious about their surroundings and how things work. By learning algorithms at
a young age, students develop logic and critical thinking skills, ultimately
improving their skills in other subjects such as mathematics and even language
arts. They could outgrow the idea of a geeky computer scientist frantically
coding and gain more respect for individuals who ensure the development of safe
technology for the general population and maybe, one day, become the person to
form the next groundbreaking device for future generations. Perhaps these kids
will develop a liking for making games or designing animations. One unknown
success of the computer science world is the progress made in the Wireless Health Industry. The well-being of humanity
is becoming even more dependent on the research in computer science areas.
Athletes rely on wireless devices to improve their stamina and performances,
and individuals are able to measure their heart rate and temperatures on-the-go
without the need for overwhelmingly expensive equipment.
Students who are educated and inspired by computer
science will ultimately gain skills and ideas that are worthwhile for a
lifetime. The goal is not to be
converting every child into a future computer scientist, but to have them
understand basics in the world of electronics which is gradually becoming a
core part of society. As more affordable and convenient devices are being
developed and, most importantly, understood
by the general public, computer science developments can not only changing the
lives of those in Los Angeles and the United States, but the lives of people
all over the world.
Friday, August 2, 2013
"Engaging Young Minds"
Thursday, August 1, 2013 -
On behalf of BEAM with Perry, Liz, and Emily, I had the opportunity to participate in a panel, which was part of a 4-day teacher workshop, Engaging Young Minds. The audience of about 100+ mostly consisted of elementary school teachers. With the new state standards putting emphasis on the engineering design process and STEM in general, it is understandable that many educators feel anxious and slightly intimidated. I thought back to elementary school, when my teachers at each grade level were required to teach absolutely everything - Science, Math, English, History... even when they probably didn't specialize in that particular field! By introducing educators to BEAM and sharing our elementary school experiences with science, our goal was to show that science isn't such a terrifying subject. Science provides a plethora of opportunity to learn and enlivens curiosity within young children.
When we arrived at the venue, the first thing I noticed were the packages filled with indiscernible objects near front of the auditorium. I later learned that these materials were provided by Trash for Teaching. Educators were working on a hands-on project during the workshop with the materials. I loved the message conveyed: you can learn science with simple, everyday materials. There's no need to be spending big bills on fancy, enigmatic equipment.
The general outline of the panel:
Many of the teachers were intrigued and impressed by BEAM's student-designed lesson plans. Some spontaneously asked me for advice and feedback on their current lessons. How can I include hands-on experimentation with a topic like ecology? How should I have them better understand the concept of erosion? I then recognized my broad knowledge of science, creatively thinking of ways for elementary school teachers to incorporate the engineering design process in their curricula. It also delights me that teachers were interested in having passionate BEAM mentors visit their classrooms and work with their students.
After the panel, I reflected more about my education as a kid. In elementary school, I really did have great instructors who encouraged me to experiment with science and discover new things - we had science fair projects and Elmer's tri-fold posters to work with, hands-on activities with rocks and minerals, astrocamp... I definitely liked science when I was younger and realized how ubiquitous it is. The funny part: while this should have prompted me to pursue a degree in STEM fields, the fact that science is everywhere scared me. It felt like too much for me to handle at that time. Math and science were probably my weakest subjects when I was younger, and I didn't have the mindset to pursue those subjects then. I surprised myself when I selected Electrical Engineering as my major on all my college applications two years ago. So what happened in-between?
The major change took place in high school. Ironically, I was part of a humanities-based program in high school which put a lot of focus on writing. Every day, I was writing... writing about Nietzsche, Danto, existentialism, Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs, and Steel, and the list goes on. All this extensive writing fostered my critical thinking skills and helped me become a better communicator, and I am beyond thankful to my high school education for providing me these skills. I was also very lucky to have some great math and science teachers in high school. Three years of math with Mr. Butler and one year of physics with Ms. Blumfield (but really two years, considering how much I visited her classroom in senior year) sealed the deal for me. Despite some ridiculous homework problems (would I really slide my book on an icy surface and then calculate the conservation of momentum?), great instruction from 10th to 12th grade made me love physics and math. I even surprised my self by opting to self-study for AP Physics C in senior year.
While the discussion on Thursday did claim that students tend to make a decision about whether or not they like science in 3rd-5th grade, I know that there people like myself who didn't decide to pursue a career in STEM until their late teens. I never quite realized how the people around me played such a critical role in inspiring me about STEM, leading me to choose the career path I am pursuing today.
And here I am, learning a little more every day, hoping that
in the near future, I can contribute something beneficial for many communities I belong to.
On behalf of BEAM with Perry, Liz, and Emily, I had the opportunity to participate in a panel, which was part of a 4-day teacher workshop, Engaging Young Minds. The audience of about 100+ mostly consisted of elementary school teachers. With the new state standards putting emphasis on the engineering design process and STEM in general, it is understandable that many educators feel anxious and slightly intimidated. I thought back to elementary school, when my teachers at each grade level were required to teach absolutely everything - Science, Math, English, History... even when they probably didn't specialize in that particular field! By introducing educators to BEAM and sharing our elementary school experiences with science, our goal was to show that science isn't such a terrifying subject. Science provides a plethora of opportunity to learn and enlivens curiosity within young children.
When we arrived at the venue, the first thing I noticed were the packages filled with indiscernible objects near front of the auditorium. I later learned that these materials were provided by Trash for Teaching. Educators were working on a hands-on project during the workshop with the materials. I loved the message conveyed: you can learn science with simple, everyday materials. There's no need to be spending big bills on fancy, enigmatic equipment.
 |
| The packages supplied by Trash for Teaching. |
- Presentation time! We opened up the panel by introducing some of the departments within the School of Engineering, transitioning to a brief talk on the Blackawton Bees study (all done by kids ages 8-12), introducing BEAM, and then sharing our experiences with science when we were in elementary school.
- Demonstrations of some of BEAM's showcase lessons: stomp rockets, microscopes, zip-line balloon racers, rubber band cars, and lung models.
- Concluded with a fabulous Q&A session.
Many of the teachers were intrigued and impressed by BEAM's student-designed lesson plans. Some spontaneously asked me for advice and feedback on their current lessons. How can I include hands-on experimentation with a topic like ecology? How should I have them better understand the concept of erosion? I then recognized my broad knowledge of science, creatively thinking of ways for elementary school teachers to incorporate the engineering design process in their curricula. It also delights me that teachers were interested in having passionate BEAM mentors visit their classrooms and work with their students.
After the panel, I reflected more about my education as a kid. In elementary school, I really did have great instructors who encouraged me to experiment with science and discover new things - we had science fair projects and Elmer's tri-fold posters to work with, hands-on activities with rocks and minerals, astrocamp... I definitely liked science when I was younger and realized how ubiquitous it is. The funny part: while this should have prompted me to pursue a degree in STEM fields, the fact that science is everywhere scared me. It felt like too much for me to handle at that time. Math and science were probably my weakest subjects when I was younger, and I didn't have the mindset to pursue those subjects then. I surprised myself when I selected Electrical Engineering as my major on all my college applications two years ago. So what happened in-between?
The major change took place in high school. Ironically, I was part of a humanities-based program in high school which put a lot of focus on writing. Every day, I was writing... writing about Nietzsche, Danto, existentialism, Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs, and Steel, and the list goes on. All this extensive writing fostered my critical thinking skills and helped me become a better communicator, and I am beyond thankful to my high school education for providing me these skills. I was also very lucky to have some great math and science teachers in high school. Three years of math with Mr. Butler and one year of physics with Ms. Blumfield (but really two years, considering how much I visited her classroom in senior year) sealed the deal for me. Despite some ridiculous homework problems (would I really slide my book on an icy surface and then calculate the conservation of momentum?), great instruction from 10th to 12th grade made me love physics and math. I even surprised my self by opting to self-study for AP Physics C in senior year.
While the discussion on Thursday did claim that students tend to make a decision about whether or not they like science in 3rd-5th grade, I know that there people like myself who didn't decide to pursue a career in STEM until their late teens. I never quite realized how the people around me played such a critical role in inspiring me about STEM, leading me to choose the career path I am pursuing today.
 | |||||||||||
| The lovely view from the 3rd floor of Boetler Hall. |
Saturday, July 20, 2013
the real focus / reflections of one year in college
A lot can happen within 8-9 months in school. My first year in college was primarily a learning experience -- one that proved very different from that of high school.
In high school, there was typically a direct correlation between hard work and the letter grade earned in a class. I grew up with that mentality, believing that the work I put in would usually reflect the rewarding grade an instructor gives in return. For me, college became a whole different story. "Learning" became rather burdensome, because there seemed to be no correlation between my effort put in and the grades I received.
Adjusting to the quarter system itself was a huge challenge. The fast pace and constant testing of the quarter system took me by surprise. Small sidetrack: I have very conflicted feelings about the quarter system. Yes, it forces students to complete courses at a faster rate, but merely 10 weeks to digest brand new material is unfathomable for me. Now, I can hardly remember much about Schrodinger's equation, one of the main topics of discussion in my chemistry class during fall quarter. Yet, on the other hand, this rapid learning process has been training my brain to process new information more efficiently.
I find it interesting (and disappointing) that it took me quite a while to grasp one very, very important aspect of my academic career: focus on learning, not on the grade. This may seem obvious, but it is frightening how easily my fear of failure can overtake and cause me to underestimate the educational process and focus solely on the product. In college, people around me all seemed to be very high achievers, and understanding new material clearly proved more difficult for me than others. The thought of letter grades consumed me, and I became so focused on the small, printed letters on my transcript. Academics became an onus as I lost interest in the topics discussed in class. Some professors taunted students about their grading policies and high expectations, and certain TAs didn't make the process any more bearable.
Slowly but surely, the prospect of being in school to learn something worthwhile in college rather than feeling miserable over grades dawned on me. Part of this epiphany came from my volunteer work with BEAM, an outreach group on campus. Every week, I teach a basic science concept to a group of young elementary school students, then perform an experiment with them to encourage active participation in their education. Their intelligence and eagerness to understand the ubiquity of science is contagious. I noted how I lacked their enthusiasm and interest when it came to learning. Enlightening these kids about science is one thing, but they served as an encouraging beacon of hope in my life during my academic crisis. They made me realize I need to change my attitude and mindset towards school.
I'm slowly adjusting back to a student lifestyle that makes me happier. In spring quarter, I finally borrowed a book from the college library for casual reading, something I had not done for a long time. I started writing in my journal again. I fostered a higher sense of curiosity towards material in my classes and its applications. Talking with upperclassmen and approachable professors put me at ease. I continue to remind myself that I am in school to learn material and discover my interests rather than be judged on a letter grade.
On the other hand, I have made so many incredible friends who continue to inspire me to keep fighting through the most difficult of times, even when it is beyond tempting to quit. We laugh about things most people wouldn't understand: my apparent addiction for bananas (at one point, I consumed three bananas in a row), my insistence on eating oatmeal with soy milk and wheat bread for breakfast (and how I can never skip breakfast), our love for charming Pokemon stuffed animals, giving ourselves special superpowers like characters in Avatar: The Last Air-bender, making plans to lounge around at McDonald's and a 24-hour Wal-mart, and wishing we had some dainty Despicable Me minions with us. Pretty much, there is always uncontrollable laughter.
As summer classes continue and with fall quarter looming around the quarter, I'm both anxious and excited (but mostly excited) to see what surprises I have in store for myself with the decisions I make and the actions I take.
In high school, there was typically a direct correlation between hard work and the letter grade earned in a class. I grew up with that mentality, believing that the work I put in would usually reflect the rewarding grade an instructor gives in return. For me, college became a whole different story. "Learning" became rather burdensome, because there seemed to be no correlation between my effort put in and the grades I received.
Adjusting to the quarter system itself was a huge challenge. The fast pace and constant testing of the quarter system took me by surprise. Small sidetrack: I have very conflicted feelings about the quarter system. Yes, it forces students to complete courses at a faster rate, but merely 10 weeks to digest brand new material is unfathomable for me. Now, I can hardly remember much about Schrodinger's equation, one of the main topics of discussion in my chemistry class during fall quarter. Yet, on the other hand, this rapid learning process has been training my brain to process new information more efficiently.
I find it interesting (and disappointing) that it took me quite a while to grasp one very, very important aspect of my academic career: focus on learning, not on the grade. This may seem obvious, but it is frightening how easily my fear of failure can overtake and cause me to underestimate the educational process and focus solely on the product. In college, people around me all seemed to be very high achievers, and understanding new material clearly proved more difficult for me than others. The thought of letter grades consumed me, and I became so focused on the small, printed letters on my transcript. Academics became an onus as I lost interest in the topics discussed in class. Some professors taunted students about their grading policies and high expectations, and certain TAs didn't make the process any more bearable.
Slowly but surely, the prospect of being in school to learn something worthwhile in college rather than feeling miserable over grades dawned on me. Part of this epiphany came from my volunteer work with BEAM, an outreach group on campus. Every week, I teach a basic science concept to a group of young elementary school students, then perform an experiment with them to encourage active participation in their education. Their intelligence and eagerness to understand the ubiquity of science is contagious. I noted how I lacked their enthusiasm and interest when it came to learning. Enlightening these kids about science is one thing, but they served as an encouraging beacon of hope in my life during my academic crisis. They made me realize I need to change my attitude and mindset towards school.
I'm slowly adjusting back to a student lifestyle that makes me happier. In spring quarter, I finally borrowed a book from the college library for casual reading, something I had not done for a long time. I started writing in my journal again. I fostered a higher sense of curiosity towards material in my classes and its applications. Talking with upperclassmen and approachable professors put me at ease. I continue to remind myself that I am in school to learn material and discover my interests rather than be judged on a letter grade.
On the other hand, I have made so many incredible friends who continue to inspire me to keep fighting through the most difficult of times, even when it is beyond tempting to quit. We laugh about things most people wouldn't understand: my apparent addiction for bananas (at one point, I consumed three bananas in a row), my insistence on eating oatmeal with soy milk and wheat bread for breakfast (and how I can never skip breakfast), our love for charming Pokemon stuffed animals, giving ourselves special superpowers like characters in Avatar: The Last Air-bender, making plans to lounge around at McDonald's and a 24-hour Wal-mart, and wishing we had some dainty Despicable Me minions with us. Pretty much, there is always uncontrollable laughter.
 |
| I'm considered a seal and my friend a bunny ("weird" doesn't even begin to describe this). Seals and bunnies can certainly be best buds! Tong, thank you for drawing me this and forming a smile on my face every time I see this. |
Monday, July 8, 2013
scrumptious comp sci
From the deepest realms of my mind is where I must dig with passionate love and hatred in order to successfully write a C++ code.
The human mind is a funky one. While a child may be extremely imaginative and undoubtedly creative, many may argue that a child lacks the patience to thoroughly rationalize information. As we grow into adults and encounter situations which require some sort of logical thinking process (maybe practicing common courtesy, or trying to figure out how an exam is attempting to trick us in every way possible), our brains supposedly reason more than they used to when we were toddlers.
Reasoning with children is a difficult process. I'm not even referring to a school setting where it is nearly impossible to explain some basic grammar concepts to them without some fidgety kids here and there. Just think of a common scenario where a child insists on buying his/her zillionth toy of the week, having forgotten that there are other new toys lying idle on the floor at home. Then the parent is likely to try to reason with (or scold) the child. Fact 1: You just bought the same toy of a different color yesterday. Fact 2: Your toy is not broken. Conclusion: You may still go home and play with the same toy and (possibly) feel the same joy as you would if you owned a blue toy truck instead of a yellow one.
When I began learning C++, it certainly felt like I was instructing a child.. a very stubborn child who only obeys me if I speak to him/her in with the perfect voice tone and language. Forget one condition and this child goes wild. In a good (and a bad) way, this child called the computer is unable to throw emotional tantrums at me if I instruct it incorrectly. Yet I must spend hours, maybe days, trying to figure out exactly where I misspoke in addressing this child who only speaks one language at a time. Furthermore, there is this identification process the computer child makes with the ASCII table that took me far too long to figure out. Well, that's the setback of having a mute child who only communicates with me through error messages on a monitor..
For me to communicate with my computer child requires the utmost patience. This patience isn't a patience I must practice with someone or something else, but is a patience I must learn to have with myself. The computer child is an inanimate object. I can scream viciously at it when it refuses to compile and read my commands as I desire, but it has no reaction. In the end, I only frustrate myself further.
Programming in C++ certainly requires concentration and self-control and really tests my level of patience. C++ is able to create simple "Hello world!" and mathematical calculations to some of the most powerful applications present today. What's fascinating (and equally draining) about C++ is its lack of abstraction. Every little detail must be coded in order for the computer to dissect the instructions we give. C++ forces me to think deep down and rationalize (the human ability to rationalize is a gift that many don't use... and I think it is often taken for granted). It's truly testing whether or not I know what I may think I know.
Well, C++, allow me to forget a semicolon or an equal sign for you to disobey my commands occasionally. One day, I will learn to communicate efficiently with you.
The human mind is a funky one. While a child may be extremely imaginative and undoubtedly creative, many may argue that a child lacks the patience to thoroughly rationalize information. As we grow into adults and encounter situations which require some sort of logical thinking process (maybe practicing common courtesy, or trying to figure out how an exam is attempting to trick us in every way possible), our brains supposedly reason more than they used to when we were toddlers.
Reasoning with children is a difficult process. I'm not even referring to a school setting where it is nearly impossible to explain some basic grammar concepts to them without some fidgety kids here and there. Just think of a common scenario where a child insists on buying his/her zillionth toy of the week, having forgotten that there are other new toys lying idle on the floor at home. Then the parent is likely to try to reason with (or scold) the child. Fact 1: You just bought the same toy of a different color yesterday. Fact 2: Your toy is not broken. Conclusion: You may still go home and play with the same toy and (possibly) feel the same joy as you would if you owned a blue toy truck instead of a yellow one.
When I began learning C++, it certainly felt like I was instructing a child.. a very stubborn child who only obeys me if I speak to him/her in with the perfect voice tone and language. Forget one condition and this child goes wild. In a good (and a bad) way, this child called the computer is unable to throw emotional tantrums at me if I instruct it incorrectly. Yet I must spend hours, maybe days, trying to figure out exactly where I misspoke in addressing this child who only speaks one language at a time. Furthermore, there is this identification process the computer child makes with the ASCII table that took me far too long to figure out. Well, that's the setback of having a mute child who only communicates with me through error messages on a monitor..
For me to communicate with my computer child requires the utmost patience. This patience isn't a patience I must practice with someone or something else, but is a patience I must learn to have with myself. The computer child is an inanimate object. I can scream viciously at it when it refuses to compile and read my commands as I desire, but it has no reaction. In the end, I only frustrate myself further.
Programming in C++ certainly requires concentration and self-control and really tests my level of patience. C++ is able to create simple "Hello world!" and mathematical calculations to some of the most powerful applications present today. What's fascinating (and equally draining) about C++ is its lack of abstraction. Every little detail must be coded in order for the computer to dissect the instructions we give. C++ forces me to think deep down and rationalize (the human ability to rationalize is a gift that many don't use... and I think it is often taken for granted). It's truly testing whether or not I know what I may think I know.
Well, C++, allow me to forget a semicolon or an equal sign for you to disobey my commands occasionally. One day, I will learn to communicate efficiently with you.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Throwback.. Summer 2011
The summer before my senior year of high school, I attended the Sci Art Nanolab. Looking back, I realize that I didn't understand most of the research taking place in the laboratories at the California Nanosystems Institute. Now a UCLA student pursuing an engineering degree, I'd like to think I've come a long way since my days at CNSI. I remember being in awe of the massive machines in the labs and the extensive computers present.
I was reviewing some old files on my computer when I ran into this gem. Throughout the program, we were required to write blog posts daily to draw connections between the arts and sciences based on certain presentations and guest lecturers. This blog post is about one of my favorite presentations from guest speaker Colleen Macklin.. here it is!
-----
As a dedicated musician, my mind suddenly sparked some intense interest and concentration when the second guest speaker in the evening spoke of her integration between the arts and science to teach something educationally through technological games. Colleen Macklin, the first speaker, spoke of how her game creations can be treated like a mathematical equation. The equation states “Game + rules = Emergence.” This made me realize how the boundaries present in a game can also serve as a way to release the creativity deep inside within a person when these borders are created, incorporating both art and science in the process. Musician Samuel Lover once claimed, “Circumstances are the rules of the weak; they are but the instruments of the wise.” The uses of both science and art are extremely effective when trying to stimulate the human mind to utilize reactions and paradigm shifts.
The existence of rules have often been scrutinized and hated by many people. Rules are often seen as the ultimate concrete barrier to break through; human beings like to ignore their existence. Playwright and critic George Bernard Shaw once said, “The golden rule is that there are no golden rules.” Yet, when such a principle for freedom is set, it seems as if the universe seemed too large and everybody else seemed so small—exactly how I felt after watching Hubble 3D at the California Science Center. When human beings are given too much freedom and no boundaries to be restrained within, it seemed as if our contributions are useless. However, if I were to look at things on a smaller sized scale and take baby steps to reach a bigger goal, these contributions eventually will make a difference, be it on a local scale or a universal scale.
The idea of rules and boundaries is what caused me to think about the changes and improvements that could take place if everybody would look at things on a smaller scale. For instance, a toddler would only be able to walk if he or she learned to take the smaller steps to be able to allow him or herself to be capable of physically moving on the Earth. The games presented today are just like taking baby steps on a miniature scale. I know that personally, as a human, I always want to take the shortcut and make it to my final goal in a shorter amount of time. Yet, I think rules like those set in interactive games force me to limit my goals and take the puny steps that would create a better final product. I was stimulated when I heard the professional musician state that she wanted to create a game that would allow people to learn something about music and the difficult theory behind it. I could relate to her personally; I am a musician and I find myself much better a performer than I am at understanding music theory. Those books from Keyboard Concepts that teach Deceptive and Augmented Cadences are some things I detest most about music. However, the actual music performance is entirely different, and knowing that someone wants to create an interactive experience with music through a game is inspiring. The game forces the player to have restrictions in the learning process, which is important; otherwise, the player might just want to know instantly how to play a Chopin Polonaise within an hour. Furthermore, the learning process is done in an exciting way. Games like Budgetball Colleen devised are exciting ways that create the borderlines for people to be able to take diminutive steps and gradually expand their knowledge on the current economic crises.
The devising of these games serves as one of the best examples of the integration of art and science. In addition, it has an educational purpose behind it and teaches patience, a quality necessary for both science and art.
I was reviewing some old files on my computer when I ran into this gem. Throughout the program, we were required to write blog posts daily to draw connections between the arts and sciences based on certain presentations and guest lecturers. This blog post is about one of my favorite presentations from guest speaker Colleen Macklin.. here it is!
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As a dedicated musician, my mind suddenly sparked some intense interest and concentration when the second guest speaker in the evening spoke of her integration between the arts and science to teach something educationally through technological games. Colleen Macklin, the first speaker, spoke of how her game creations can be treated like a mathematical equation. The equation states “Game + rules = Emergence.” This made me realize how the boundaries present in a game can also serve as a way to release the creativity deep inside within a person when these borders are created, incorporating both art and science in the process. Musician Samuel Lover once claimed, “Circumstances are the rules of the weak; they are but the instruments of the wise.” The uses of both science and art are extremely effective when trying to stimulate the human mind to utilize reactions and paradigm shifts.
The existence of rules have often been scrutinized and hated by many people. Rules are often seen as the ultimate concrete barrier to break through; human beings like to ignore their existence. Playwright and critic George Bernard Shaw once said, “The golden rule is that there are no golden rules.” Yet, when such a principle for freedom is set, it seems as if the universe seemed too large and everybody else seemed so small—exactly how I felt after watching Hubble 3D at the California Science Center. When human beings are given too much freedom and no boundaries to be restrained within, it seemed as if our contributions are useless. However, if I were to look at things on a smaller sized scale and take baby steps to reach a bigger goal, these contributions eventually will make a difference, be it on a local scale or a universal scale.
The idea of rules and boundaries is what caused me to think about the changes and improvements that could take place if everybody would look at things on a smaller scale. For instance, a toddler would only be able to walk if he or she learned to take the smaller steps to be able to allow him or herself to be capable of physically moving on the Earth. The games presented today are just like taking baby steps on a miniature scale. I know that personally, as a human, I always want to take the shortcut and make it to my final goal in a shorter amount of time. Yet, I think rules like those set in interactive games force me to limit my goals and take the puny steps that would create a better final product. I was stimulated when I heard the professional musician state that she wanted to create a game that would allow people to learn something about music and the difficult theory behind it. I could relate to her personally; I am a musician and I find myself much better a performer than I am at understanding music theory. Those books from Keyboard Concepts that teach Deceptive and Augmented Cadences are some things I detest most about music. However, the actual music performance is entirely different, and knowing that someone wants to create an interactive experience with music through a game is inspiring. The game forces the player to have restrictions in the learning process, which is important; otherwise, the player might just want to know instantly how to play a Chopin Polonaise within an hour. Furthermore, the learning process is done in an exciting way. Games like Budgetball Colleen devised are exciting ways that create the borderlines for people to be able to take diminutive steps and gradually expand their knowledge on the current economic crises.
The devising of these games serves as one of the best examples of the integration of art and science. In addition, it has an educational purpose behind it and teaches patience, a quality necessary for both science and art.
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