Teacher, Teacher

Everywhere we hear about teachers and test scores. We seem to have forgotten the most important element in education: the student. Why is there no discussion on the student responsibility? When is the student going to be held responsible for learning? Teachers can do all they want, but if the student is not willing to learn, all the work is done for nothing. We hear people discuss about  teachers motivating the students. What happened to the home environment? What happened to the value system that is developed in the young people in their formative years at home? What are the responsibilities of the parents?

Many opponents of teachers complain about teacher tenures.  All educational institutions have administrators.  The Board of Education and the administrators make the decisions on giving tenures to teachers.  They have enough time to observe teachers, document their activities, and hold conferences with them.  There should be enough information in the habitual three year period to come to some reasonable decisions.  Even after providing tenures, the administrators should continue their administrative duties which include supervision.  Tenures may be and can be broken if proper documentation is maintained and provided.  Everything involves effort.  Recently, many administrators  (not all) are seen to sequester themselves in their ivory towers.  They seem to forget that an educational institution works efficiently only if the supervisors and the faculty members work as a team for the common goal.  The parents should also shoulders their responsibilities from the home end.

 

How can all the multitudes of discussions take place without considering all aspects of learning and education? Education is a human endeavor with all the intangibles thrown in. How can a standardized test evaluate learning?

Bill Gates talks about training teachers. It would be wise to attract bright people into the teaching profession. Most teachers these days lack in the content area of their subjects. A teacher should master the subject and be in a position to transmit the thirst for and acquisition of knowledge to the students.

The problem of education cannot be solved with stop gap measures; it needs some gargantuan overhaul.

Why is the New York SED so bent upon paying a profit making corporation to dictate the syllabi and tests of the state?

It was astonishing to find out that many among the teaching faculty were not aware of the Pearson Group’s presence in the New York state’s education scene.

Do the educators in the state have any say in what is going on?

Why is this private company getting paid enormous amounts of money when there are so many educators paid around the year for the Regents?

The tests themselves address minimal requirements.  The grading is sketchy and cannot stand closer scrutiny.  Often exams are not administered in properly proctored environments.  The gravest malaise is the general tendency to teach for the tests without any concern about the long range learning and retention.

The state appears to be pushing for a cookie-cutter scenario.  The barrage of testing is going to debilitate the incentives and creativity in learning.  The inventive teachers are losing precious time and energy in the endless paper chase.  There is an art of teaching and a science of teaching.   When I attended school, each period was a distinct experience.  At the same time, I preferred teachers who mastered their subjects and could conduct a class without notes and could freely let ideas flow and lead interactive discussion.

The state has to do better than what it is doing now if we are looking towards a higher standing in the field of international education and a better educated future society in the country.

Gratitude from Dr. Varghese D Pynadath Family

I want to thank everyone whose heartfelt responses to my husband’s unexpected demise are expressed in so many ways.  It gladdens our hearts to know that he was and is valued by so many.  My children and I are eternally grateful for these expressions of cherished memories, praise, and gratitude.  We know the man he was and the man who is still with us.  It is heartwarming to know that the world has come to recognize both.

 

Dr. Varghese Devassy Pynadath

Once there was a just man, a righteous man

Whose life touched many and more.

Honor and dignity wreathed his brows

And duty beckoned him in every style.

He did not shirk, he did not buckle;

Steadfast he was in all life’s callings.

From his core to the corridors

Resounded his watchword, ‘ethics’.

Diminutive though he was,

Here was a giant of a man

Whose shoulders bore the bulk

Of all his profession

With surefooted ease and rectitude.

Now that he has passed

Into the pages of memory,

His sons, his daughter, and the wife of his life

Yearn for his presence and long for his love,

A love that nourished their lives before

And a love that will bless their futures.

From Nothing

Into blackness I descend,

Seeking the lost “me”,

Lost to the negatives of my life-

The poking and pulling-

The constant barrage of blames-

“Ich”, “aham” – where are they?

Do I voice my wants?

Do I choose?

I cannot grasp a hand; I have no foothold.

Always there is emptiness when I seek

A helping hand, a listening ear-

Always the emptiness-

Fight, fight,

Fight the blackness.

Do not descend into the vortex,

Into dark pools of nothingness-

Fight, fight for glimpses of light,

For finding “me”.

I exist, I live,

I rise above the nothingness.

But, the fight takes its toll

And it takes longer and longer

To come back to myself.

The turmoils wait to devour

And send me to oblivion.

How long  can I hold on to ‘me’?

“Have faith”,

The Eternal Dove whispered,

Not in tongues of flame,

Not in a gush of wind,

But, in gentle syllables

Of feather touches

That stroked

And caressed me

To hold me to me,

To stop the spiral

And to enter into light-

I am here!

Empty Nest

High up in the boughs it clung against the winds,

Among the leafless branches that splayed out

Reaching into emptiness, bony fingers stretched

Out into the winter void.

    Desolate in the brumal air, the nest in lonely gloom

    Hung to the parted fork, its twigs in disarray;

   Amidst the cracked eggshells and the strewn down lining,

   The nest was mute in its air of abandon up the branches.

For life and the Living

I am a Catholic who is for the lives of both the born and the unborn. Whoever wins the Presidential election will not have anything to do in overturning the Roe vs. Wade.  That action is in the hands of the lawmakers, not in the hands of the Presidents.  So, it is very hard to understand the fervor of some Bishops in inciting the congregations in support of the Republican candidates whose known policies will go against the seven Corporal Mercies of the Church. The Ryan budget and the Romney attitude towards cupidity are very anti-Catholic.  It will be  better for the laity to have spiritual leaders instead of political maneuverers.

Empty Nest

High up in the boughs, the nest clung against the winds,
Among the leafless branches that splayed out reaching into emptiness,
Bony fingers stretching out into the winter void.

Desolate in the brumal air, the nest clung, in lonely sorrow,
To the parting in the fork; its twigs in disarray in the air of abandon;
Amidst cracked eggshells and strewn down lining,
The nest was mute, up in the shaking boughs.

Rheumy eyes peered out through scanty lashes,
From behind parted curtains, at the dreary nest
And blinked the eyes at the unshed tear
Gathered in the ducts that dried up so long ago
In the forlorn days, in the wake of partings
When the last vacant room began to reek of unuse and must.

Breath rattled the bony cage when the watcher sighed in gloom
At the void and emptiness left behind in mottled remnants
Of loves lost and lives departed- dusky shadows in the waning glow
Of fading embers and afternoon sun in the empty room behind!

What Counts

Everything should always count,
Even jealous years trying
Through memories of promise.

Some thoughts have consequences-
My fate’s pawns play
Upon plots against passions
And pause to sustain dreams.

But, we are the stuff of dreams
And, in our wispy existence,
Words cut deeply like rapiers, and
Neglect surrounds with suffocation-
Pretense wins the day!

Every hurt is cherished, preserved,
And revived with each pained breath,
Oppressingly cheered to know
That I have weathered that too.

Then, hand in hand, we turn
Towards the lowering sun,
Aging towards the sunset!