Nobody is perfect, my name is Nobody. I am the Debian Gnu.
"Drop everything you're doing," my CEO said to me. "I have a really important job for you to do."
These were the opening words from the first chapter of The Invisible Computer. A new life, a new hope, a new strategy, a new experience... If you're in a mood for prose, as I am now, here's a quickly scripted one by me:
If rays of sunshine come haunting you, Do not hide into eternal darkness, But stretch your arms and chest wide, And expose yourself to the grandiose warmth.
If you're here today reading this, I must say I'm thoroughly flattered. If you came back to check if someone was still alive, well then, yes, someone is alive. If you got here accidentally because someone referred you to me, or because Google associated this page's URL to some keyword, I won't be surprised either. I'm pleased to see you take an interest in my life. It's a pity I had to shut down my old blog. Gosh, wasn't that nearly two years ago? The blog had been a constant source of information for myself, my friends, relatives and family. Sadly, education has taken the toll, and during my prioritizing process, my weblog, unfortunate to say, got pushed down to the 86th rank.
Today, nevertheless, I have taken a massive leap forward. You are about to witness something different, something serious, something very colorful in the next half-hour of your unforgettable stay here. You are about to read my reflections over whatever important has happened to me and has had an impact on my personality during the period of the last two years. My reflections and retrospectives will help me—along with the unknown number of faceless people spread across the boundaries of the web—decide whether one's actions live up to their promises. Think of it as an extended diary entry, that's it, without all the additional niceties and fanciness that come along. Or still better, think of this as a large, journalized, lab write-up. After all, what I've done in the past two years is nothing but an experiment, a test of whether or not the time-standing principles hold true and whether a careful application of these principles yield what they claim to. During your stay here, you might catch glimpses of inspiration. If you do, let me know, for I will be a happy man. If you come to a conclusion that this is nothing but an elaborately structured euphemistic rant, so be it.
I'm one of those few people who believe, ironically at times, that you can learn a lot more from your successes than from your failures. It is in this light that I have decided to document every single conceivable success that I've come across, be it accidental or meticulously engineered, annotating it with the motivational story that rests backstage. Do yourself a favor, and try not to skip ahead of ourselves. The thoughts outlined here have been organized chronologically and it makes perfect sense to approach them in that same order.
It is to be noted that the following is not a chapter from my autobiography; it is more of an introspection. "A peak into the insides," if you will. It's merely an anthology of events, ideas and results from experimentation. This, I believe, will help me answer the question as to whether I am on the correct path, and whether this path will help me reach my ultimate destination of so-called success.
For those of you who don't know me or require that compulsive introduction, my name's Rajesh. Rajesh Kumar, it is. A pronunciation key is available anywhere on the Internet, if you so wish for one. Most people take the path of least effort and comfortably call me Swami. Little do they know that they aren't, strictly speaking, addressing me, but my begetter. If you're here reading this, do give me the privilege of safely assuming that you already know me, have spoken to me, or have observed some of my doings, or have heard about me in the countless discussions and arguments that occur in my absence. It's a way of life, I guess, to know someone as me. A categorical imperative that always holds true no matter who or no matter what.
Without further ado, let's get started!
Computer, please turn on engines 747, 632 and 975. Hostesses, please fasten your seat-belts; we're preparing for take-off.
Enter verbose mode.
The last two years of my life have been, have been… well, to say `exciting' would be an undeserving praise to the Lords of understatement. I do not wish to commit such heresy. Certain things in this world are undescribable, this being one of them. Even the talented of artists and painters wouldn't be capable of capturing this picturesque panorama I've constructed in my mind. I tried words, but English, sadly, isn't equipped with the adjective I'm seeking to describe precisely this abstract idea in my mind. Today, I sit at my desk, in front of my desktop, trying to sort out the numerous events and happenings throughout the course of the past two years in an understandable and logical order for the both of us to easily peruse. But I sense an impediment. It's the writer's block, I guess. That's what happens when you're greatly elated and enlightened by your own position in this warped eternity of space and time. I sit here, typing feverishly on a bland, black, EMACS no-window screen, as my eyes slowly cruise down to look at the date and time on the taskbar. I hit \C-Ct, and EMACS magically inserts the current timestamp into my buffer. Thu Jun 03 2004 01:03 AM.
367 days later …
My second two-year plan has come to a close as of today. September 2003 to June 2005 have been two heck of a years. Lots of events, lots of activities and of course, lots of fun! The first two-year plan, which had begun nearly four years ago, was slightly short of a disaster. Simply put, it was a magnificent failure. Not to be discouraged, I concentrated my resources on new strategies and new techniques, dismissing old policies and learning fresh katas to tackle the new environment, pushing the limits of a high-school student's capability in the process. Was there a limit? I didn't think so. I've undergone a sort of industrial revolution. Work hours stretched and rapid production commenced inside the grand power house that is my mind. Grey cells were being manufactured faster than ever before. Tremendous development, unparalleled progress, unprecedented achievements and massive success — all combined with a complete overhaul of study tactics. It was the pinnacle of teen age, a harbinger of future successes.
This was a first time. It was high-time for modernization. The old, slow-moving techniques for success didn't seem to stand the test of time, nor were they suitable for the current circumstances. They were too old, too out-dated, too boring. They couldn't quite cut it. Something new, novel, was what I wanted. Something more refreshing, something more productive and efficient. All this called for greater emphasis on education and lesser and lesser importance be put into intermediaries and other less worthy matters. And the results? The results have been overwhelmingly positive. Sure, the path has been rough, replete with thorns and obstacles, but the joy is in jumping each one of them as swiftly and as methodically as would a talented hurdle-sprinter. Come, join me on this pleasurable roller-coaster trip — my exciting journey full of hills and valleys.
-- Rajesh Kumar
June 3rd 2004
Hi There!
Welcome aboard to rbox! Namaste, Vanakkam, Swaagatam,
Asallam, Bonjour. 'Welcome' in a few languages I happened to have
learned. Not very many people know me, and I'm pretty certain I don't know
you either. For starters, I'm none other than Rajesh's home desktop PC
rbox. Well, to call me a PC would be discourteous as I can
perform and achieve more than a usual personal computer can. I look dull and
bleak on the outside, but most of my power and vigor are hidden away inside,
in an old rusty and dusty box. I have the ability to perform a number of
tasks quickly and simultaneously even before you bat your eyelid. I have a
story behind me waiting to be unveiled. Without procrastinating too much,
here, how about we look at my motive for metaphor first?
I now had in my hidden possession, some wondrous and unthinkably powerful tools provided by a gnu who came from an animal sanctuary in Cali.
I have been thankful to Rajesh for several reasons, and I think I'm fully justified in recounting these to you. Early in November 2003, he upgraded me, and installed the grand Linux kernel onto me. I was deeply touched. What better token of appreciation could I ask for? I now had in my hidden possession, some wondrous and unthinkably powerful tools provided by a gnu who came from an animal sanctuary in Cali. But of course, as I began to unleash the power of a true Linux system, I had to be put into extended shifts often, sometimes being power ON for more than twenty-six days together. But that didn't pose a problem, for I was powered by a robust, five thousand pound kernel, and `crash' was a word unheard of in the annals of power computing. The state of affairs were clean beyond imagination. Well, I was forced a couple of times to perform certain strenuous tasks, requiring me to calculate at the speed of a computer, not that I'm one. He asked me to compile kernels, and times often came when I just couldn't handle the load. I almost wanted to give up, but I was grateful to my master, and didn't want to let go of him. I did my best, and the monstrous kernels did compile successfully. Later on then, kernel compilations became as exciting as a mountain-biking expedition. I should be more than thankful to my master, who has been wonderful to me, and has embellished me occasionally with ornate treats during down periods. He keeps me in trim condition so that I can perform at peak performance. He doesn't ask too much of me either. On a regular day, I just need to provide him with the capability to download mail and browse the Internet.
As if this weren't enough, he later installed a powerful Linux distribution known as Debian onto me.
Nobody is perfect, my name is
Nobody. I am the Debian Gnu.
It was a windfall. I could no longer take it. If there's anything that
turns me on, it's ever-lasting harmony. Joy overtook me, and I felt I had a
ton of gratitude to repay. Debian and its ever-helpful apt was
really a master-piece example of a collaborative implementation of
long-standing software engineering principles. Debian came with some amazing
scientific programs which could generate real-time graphics and could
simulate the Universe from any planet's or satellite's perspective. This
meant bad news for me, for I now had to perform several floating-point
calculations in the order of thousands per second. After all, I had no help;
I was in a no-cluster zone. I hadn't quite heard of dual processors yet. My
1.8 gigahertz central processing unit got warmed up quite often. I crawled
and croaked, and I could hear harsh complaints from my master as his music
skipped. Here I include a screenshot for your perusal:
Real-time generation of stars
as seen from Vancouver
And one thing that excited me (but not Him) is the beautiful rendering of rounded corners and scroll-bars by GNOME.
Beautiful
scroll-bars in GNOME
Enough boasting. I've already digressed too far.
Thus far, we have been discussing matters of little consequence. I shall tell you what I've done to make my work easier for the rest of this document. It really is simple, believe me. But please don't mention this to my master Rajesh. I don't think he will tolerate any of this hegemony that I am committing. He has done so much for me that I would find no point in living if I didn't do something in return. Gratefulness is one divine quality I will never lose. Rajesh needs a break; his thoughts and ideas need to circulate a bit more. And for this very cause, I decided to go against his wishes, do the undone, and commit this third-degree crime.
O' Master! You may be cynical, you may be obnoxious, but you are talented, and you are optimistic. I am an enlightened soul today, thanks.
It was simple stuff for me. I was a lazy old mule, so I definitely didn't
want to do work. I downloaded a copy of Jamie Zawinski's excellent program
aptly name DadaDodo. Its motto, ironically, was to
``exterminate all rational thought.'' This algorithm is freely
available from here. After getting
myself a copy of this program, I ran it through the following four files
found on my hard-drive:
The biggest file was ~/.diary, and it contained every
single piece of information I needed to know. Every single thing was in here,
beginning from time-of-awakening to daily supper, to bedtime timestamps. It
was crazy. ~/.diary is supposed to be a `hidden' file (because
the filename begins with a dot), but you can't
fool me Rajesh. I'm smarter than you. It is I who maintain the entire file-system, and I
can accurately pin-point where you store stuff with the aid of those
find and grep utilities you provided me with when
you installed Debian onto me. Now that's what I call a `spanking backslash.'
So after running the 4 plain-text files through Jamie's algorithm, I was all prepared. I created HTML files from its output, and the end-result is what you're currently reading. Fun, is it not?
Of course, we mustn't forget to thank EMACS in which the above four files were themselves word-processed. For the uninitiated, EMACS is a brilliant text-editor, an all-in-one rajah, the monster of all editors, which performs a plethora of tasks ranging from the simplest spell-checking to even playing music or chatting over IRC. Some people act belligerently when I call EMACS a `text-editor', but that's all Rajesh uses it for. He loves the black background and the mild, wheat-coloured font. "It's so much easy on the eye," he quips. All of his papers produced during the last two years were initially typed under EMACS, even if they were converted to other formats later. He's had numerous arguments as to why EMACS is the superior editor. EMACS puts MS Word to shame when it comes to extensibility. Certain people complain incessantly that EMACS isn't capable of spontaneous, on-the-fly grammar checking, but face it, shouldn't you be taking care of your own grammar when producing your papers? Chant after me: EMACS is the de facto industrial standard for text editing.
It began one fine Sunday afternoon during the late months of 2003. He had apparently settled down to read—a glass of fresh orange juice beside—a chapter from one of Northrop's Frye's excellent work The Educated Imagination. And then something … something, I don't posses enough information to know what, triggered a wave of thought. It was like a spark igniting a massive fire. An epiphany, a grand revelation, sudden realizations, a streak of light creeping through forest foliage. The momentum achieved then was something never seen or achieved before. Within the next two weeks, the gears were shifted forward, and the jets were prepared for full throttle. It was take-off time for Rajesh.
I'm seeing this more than once. What's with teenagers this age? I've seen at least three students experience this same change. The moment they enter Grade 11 and spend a couple months, they undergo such drastic and exorbitant changes which totally revolutionize their future. And once this change occurs, they never seem to look back again. And that is exactly what's happened to my master in the past two years of my intimate acquaintance with him.
Perhaps one of the greatest achievements by Rajesh in the previous 2 years was the successful completion of the International Baccalaureate Diploma Programme. As a matter of fact, his involvement in this programme provided him with the impetus he so crucially needed for his final walkover. IB was one of the primary contributing factors for the new thrust, a thrust which indubitably was accompanied by an astounding magnitude of force. The challenge and the competition was enough motivation to strive for and champion the successive triathlons that were to follow.
Dreams, universities, groups, studies, papers, theses, games, tests, play, fun, study, etcetera are common words in the so-called "IB parlance." But what do we do besides these? What is it that we see that makes us tick, makes us different? Why all the fuss around the city? Why the demand in Universities? Surely, there should be Some Stuff.
-- Rajesh Kumar
May 8th 2004
IB had been excruciatingly difficult at times, but there were also several beneficial things that came out of it. One, of course, is your ability to handle the enormous workload that is a defining property of IB. The other, one that is more important, is a change in your perspective of success. IB literally belittles you; it shows you how not-so-good you are. It teaches you that plain academics is not everything. Academics, after all, is only a side-dish to your main course. In an other essay, Rajesh conveys his change in attitude rather superfluously using a paragraphical allegory:
I was driving along the relatively linear highway, maintaining my speed well below the limit, and keeping a sharp eye out for obstacles from either side. I was on cruise-control and so my foot was off the pedal. And then, all of a sudden, something strange happened, and my car magically turned into a classic BMW, radiating its magnificent indigo luster in all four directions. I slammed on the accelerator and my speed zoomed up to a mind-blowing 100 miles per hour. The highway had become my playground. I immediately changed lanes, took a quick left turn to deviate from my usual routine, found myself at a round-a-bout that encircled elegant fountains dancing to an orchestra, climbed up a steep ramp, went flying past a meagre Mazda that trembled at my energy that was as boundless as the Pacific, cut a sharp corner as professionally as would Schumacher, mercilessly overtook the slow coaches who dared to drive on the express track, weaved my way in and out through the slow-moving traffic, waved hi and then bye to the roadside windmills whose rotating blades were giving me directions, climbed up a tall bridge, jumped across a sparkling, honey-filled river and finally came to a screeching stop at my destination. I looked back at my Mazda friends who choked and spluttered all along, barely able to make it through. My Beamer was an intrepid among them all.
I don't know what had happened, but at the end of it all, I had had seven gorgeous provincial examinations in my pocket, and a splendid diploma certificate in my briefcase.
The IB diploma programme was all nice, fun and challenging, but it looks
like Rajesh still had one dinky complaint. As I've noted from
~/Documents/emacs/rants.txt, it seems that there were a big lot
of sycophants in his class. I know he insinuated that as a joke, but to give
you my candid opinion, that isn't an awful big deal. Rajesh knew how to deal
with them with bulls-eyed precision. He's learned a lot from his friends,
particularly on how to be, and sometimes even how not to be. Many of
his friends became his guinea-pig for him to unsuccessfully try out his newly
acquired ideas and principles. "They were too smart to fall," he remarks.
Friends aside, what surprised him, and continues to do so even today, is the brilliant expertise possessed and demonstrated by his teachers. What's surprised him was the way they chucked their traditional pedagogical ways of teaching out the window, and came up with novel, designer brands for educating. Just imagine a world where students are exposed to such high-quality teachers right from Grade 1! Where would all of you then stand in relation to them?
And then there is the numerous nicknames he's had. He hasn't documented
too much of that, sadly. Someone used to say that he exclaimed "awesome" way
too often, radiating an abundance of positive energy into all four
perceptible dimensions. Little do they know that saying so is just a facet of
the 'Mind Programming' paradigm. I've been observing some files on my
hard-drive, and I've come to notice words similar in meaning to `hard',
`tough' and `difficult' indexed under /etc/bad_words.
Luckily for Rajesh, he didn't get himself into the eternal trap of infatuation during the turbulent years of adolescence. I remember him once saying:
It's amazing how much you can achieve in such short a time-span by simply eliminating two things:
His Aunt supposedly had asked him once: ``Rajesh, made any girl-friends yet?'' To that he replied: ``Friends I have made plenty, but if they turn out to be females, is that my fault?''
And fortunately for me, he hasn't turned into a hockey buff either, even after having lived in a Canadian province for a good part of three years. One of Rajesh's friends recollects him saying over an online conversation:
``If I had been a hockey buff, I would have failed magnificently in each of the Physics tests, would have done horribly bad on each of the Math tests, would have pushed Chemistry into the eighteenth dimension, and would have sunk into the infinite abyss of foolish IBers.'' (Over MSN, April 17, 2004)
What words of profound wisdom!
Recently, the two of us had a pretty hefty argument over the above phrase.
Rajesh vehemently argues that it's a well-formed oxymoron.
I argue that it's a tautology.
And so does his ex-chemistry teacher.
Who's right?
My humble impression of an
IBer.
But that needn't necessarily mean Rajesh didn't have fun during his stay at New Westminster Secondary. He has had his share of fun with his comical friends. His Math teacher put it succinctly:
``[You guys] Work hard, and play hard!''
And yes, that's what they've been doing. Outside of the classroom's walls, his friends were probably the stupidest jerks on Earth: Joking around, playing the fool, pulling funny tricks on friends, or simple partying like a bunny. They even, metaphorically speaking, smack each other with their left shoes when the need arises.
But in contrast, when it comes to inside the classroom, or when it comes to writing an essay or a test, they put on their IB thinking caps and act so maturely and behave so altruistically—helping one another and consoling each other at times of difficulty. When the Big Brains of IB come together, the resulting combination is simply unfathomable.
This sort of dual personality is one of the various reasons for the flat success of IB students. ``We've been bringing up a novel type of culture. We explain stuff to each other, we help make concepts clear to one another, we provide constructive criticisms on each others' work, and so on and so forth... The list is endless.'' As Homer would say: "We're like a family."
This sort of dual personality is one of the various reasons for the flat success of IB students.
So that's the story of his school. Outside of school, the tall high-rises of New Westminster seemed to pique his attention for no particular reason. So did trees. Rajesh believes that trees are nature's symbols of pride, wisdom and simplicity. I still don't, till today, get that one. If you do, let me know, and I shall pronounce you as the all-knowing.
After all the fun and frolic, he loved the daily to-and-fro commuting between Surrey and New West. Flying over the Fraser River in the sky train (which was nowhere near the sky, mind you) provided his daily dose of excitement. "Going to school and getting back was almost an adventure," he muses. He went out to see some nice Shaw plays which were slightly more than exciting. And then on one fine rainy day, he went out with his friends and teachers to the I-MAX theatre at Canada Place to watch a 3-D movie on the International Space Station (ISS). He was simply enthralled by the videography of the movie and the acoustics of the theatre. Supposedly, the ISS movie triggered a series of endocrine glands within him, and all of a sudden he decided to pursue a career in space-craft engineering. A secret: at first, he was planning to become an entomologist (whatever that means!)
And then there was the volunteering at the Vancouver International Children's Festival, which served as a fine break during the tough weeks of May. He put his photography skills to test there and posted a few pictures on the web for everyone to enjoy. The things he does … then yes, before I forget, he even received a service award (a bronze medal) in school on the 2nd day of June. And also a certificate of distinction for the Fermat Contest sponsored by the University of Waterloo. And also the Ground Award which I present him today for his excellent narrative prowess with the third person. He also composed his first (and last) French elegy this year. That turned out to be nothing short of a disaster. And then there was also the...
He learnt from studying about the Soviet Union the various five-year agricultural plans that took shape immediately after the Russian Revolution under Vladimir Lenin. Many many years later, India applied the same strategy to her own country and encountered the same success story. She's since had a Green Revolution, and in the recent past, a White Revolution too. The bottom line being: "These five-year plans can be tremendously advantageous" (Kumar, Rajesh. Reforms to the Soviet Economic System under Lenin. Oct. 2003).
"Why not learn from History, and apply the same strategy to my own life?" Rajesh began to question. What started there evolved into what is now known as the grand "Two-Year Plan" strategy in his terminology. The task ahead was not too complicated but it was exceedingly difficult to play the game consistently. All that needed to be done was to set high goals and then surpass them at the end of the two-year period.
And I still don't seem to comprehend how this transition to TV=0 hours took place despite my innate intelligence. I used to note that there was too much homework during the evenings, and the little spare time he was left with at the end of the day would pass by very quickly. He would decide to spend the last half hour before bedtime to watch some TV and get hold of the latest gossip in town (for the sole purpose of not being left out in any conversations among his peers), but something would invariably turn up, and Rajesh would find something more exciting to play around with rather than watch the television — like solving physics double-starred problems from Cutnell and Johnson. Breaking down, if not solving, physics double-starred questions quickly became his new all-time hobby, thanks to the spontaneous enthusiasm displayed by his fellow classmates and teachers.
My son seems to be
really busy studying these days...
"I am neither affected by triumph nor disaster," he used to tell me often. This was very true. He hardly used to feel exhilarated when he received a superb score on a test, nor was he sullen looking when he had done poorly on a badly-designed test. This consistency is crucial for the success of today's students. Not dwelling into either extreme is the bottom line.
And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
- Percy Bysshe Shelley
1792-1822
Half way through the two-year plan, Rajesh began to notice fundamental problems within his infrastructure. Everything worked smoothed and frictionless, but he knew that the old traditional practices would no longer function effectively in the new environment. He had heard big stories about how sophomore year of IB had been a nightmare, and so he started taking the necessary precautions and planning for the foreseeable future. Now was the perfect time to apply the principles contained in Dr. Spencer Johnson's acclaimed Who Moved My Cheese? The result? A complete re-engineering of his educational standards. Education and day-to-day studying was converted into a professional undertaking. Every single thing to be done was master-minded at the start of the week and was meticulously carried out during the course of the week. Central planning deemed to be necessary more than ever. At this instant, a catechism would never be as appropriate:
Why does one study?
To get good grades.
Why does one need good grades?
To succeed in University.
Why does one need to succeed in University?
In order to be respected by his parents, friends and relatives.
Why does one need to be respected by his parents, friends and relatives?
Hmm, I pass. I really don't know.
How does one distinguish between a good boy and a bad boy?
A good boy is one who studies daily, and a bad boy is one who doesn't.
The one thing I enjoyed during this grand revolution was the setting of standards—dynamic standards. Why, even I got be part of this portfolio! Rajesh had become obsessed with standards compliance and he was smart enough to realize that if he set well-formed standards for himself, he would have no other option than to comply. He's one of those few persons who crave for professionalism in every single conceivable undertaking. He pays such pedantic attention to detail that sometimes it becomes so laborious for even me to please him. This, coupled with his tacit nature, was enough to put me down even during times of unrestrained enthusiasm.
There is nothing more enjoyable than managing one's time. This was one of the weekly tasks that gave Rajesh intense pleasure, and he loved being as creative in this vocation as would an artist with his pastels. It gave him joy to mix and match the various activities of the week with the various possible positions on the time-table. It was like putting multi-colored candies into a box of your choice. You prepare a list of activities for the week, and you allot for each, a spot in your time schedule. Once this was accomplished, all you had to do was remember to stick with your budgets and audit your performance occasionally. At the end of the week, you will feel, like you have never felt before, the zest of self-satisfaction.
Here, below, is a sample from one of his time-tables. This particular week doesn't seem to be terribly busy, and happens to have been tailored for a "take-it-easy" week.
+----------+------+-------+---------+--------+------+--------+------+ | Rajesh |Monday|Tuesday|Wednesday|Thursday|Friday|Saturday|Sunday| +----------+------+-------+---------+--------+------+--------+------+ |6:00-6:30 | Read | Email | Sleep | Audit | Read | Sleep | '' | +----------+------+-------+---------+--------+------+--------+------+ |6:30-4:30 |School| '' | '' | '' | '' | Demand |Demand| +----------+------+-------+---------+--------+------+--------+------+ |4:30-5:00 | Eat |Z-Block| Eat |Z-Block | Eat | Walk | Misc | +----------+------+-------+---------+--------+------+--------+------+ |5:00-5:15 |Agenda| Z-B | Agenda | Z-B |Agenda| Study |Music | +----------+------+-------+---------+--------+------+--------+------+ |5:30-7:00 | Read |Eat/HW | Text | Math | HW | Study |Pro-D | +----------+------+-------+---------+--------+------+--------+------+ |7:00-7:45 | HW | HW | Notes | Phy-D | HW | Review | Chem | +----------+------+-------+---------+--------+------+--------+------+ |8:00-8:45 | Misc | Reply | HW | Phy-D | Misc | Text |Relax | +----------+------+-------+---------+--------+------+--------+------+ |9:00-9:30 | Eat | '' | '' | '' | Eat | '' | '' | +----------+------+-------+---------+--------+------+--------+------+ |9:30-11:00| Comp | Relax | Web | Read | Read | Type | SI | +----------+------+-------+---------+--------+------+--------+------+
I know exactly where Rajesh stores his schedules and time-tables. It's on my hard-drive, after all. But, as bad luck would have it, it's in an encrypted or proprietary format that I currently do not possess knowledge of. I just can't wait to decrypt his schedule for May and April 2005. Someone told me he was having a set of examinations around that period…
One thing that Rajesh liked is the fact that The International Baccalaureate program provides ample opportunity to write papers. Certain lonesome fellows still complain that writing papers are of little use, but Rajesh believes that it's a boon to be writing such high-quality papers even before entering University. Such was his profound interest, that it compelled Rajesh to write an entire essay on the diverse benefits of writing papers. This essay can be found here. Armed with all these papers under his belt, Rajesh knows where and when he can wage war. Let's see, over the course of the last 2 years, he has produced around 5 papers of noticeable importance:
And then several Mathematics Portfolios were published, as well as the countless Document Based Questions (DBQs) that he had to produce while taking History. Rajesh's favorite paper was the second World Lit, perhaps because it was the only one that had anything of substance in it. And then came the IB exams which were a month-full of fun. Mr. Robson. supposedly his History teacher, once wisely said: "The IB Exams exist to test what you know, not what you don't." And Rajesh notes that "the IB Exams never test what you may have learned in the last week, but what you have learned throughout the two-year span." If there's one genuine advice he could give anyone planning to take up the IB programme, it's this: "Don't take up any more than three higher level courses." Trust people who speak from experience. Of course, this doesn't apply if you have a superior understanding of your own capabilities, or if you think you can complete the IB Diploma as easily as sipping orange juice on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Pardon me for the horrible simile, but hey, I'm only a program.
We've had abundant opportunity to write. His only complaint, I guess, is that there hasn't been too many chances for collaborative writing. In academic literature, this kind of work is called Computer Supported Collaborative Work (CSCW). We simply write documents for ourselves, but we rarely get into groups and produce a good piece of a lab write-up together. These can be a very educational experience, and also helps put into practice the rudiments of team-work.
Sometime last summer, Rajesh had an epiphany while asleep, and got the notion of publishing an electronic book. It was to be entitled 'The Ultimate IB Reflections Book,' and any interested IB student could pick a topic of their choice and write. For example, Miss Maple, the classroom blonde, could write about the social strains (if any) experienced by IB students while undertaking the Diploma. Mr. Joe, the classroom nerd, could write about the quality of education, the importance of goal setting, time budgeting, or anything along those lines. It just had to do something related to IB. Rajesh was planning to write his chapter on the IB culture, which he believes is unique and thoroughly fascinating to observe and understand. After all, the IB culture is the cornerstone of every students' success. Its evolution is a sophisticated process, and its topology mosaic.
It's an e-book, so anyone could read it as a PDF, or could be published as a HTML document on the web. It could be submitted to teachers for proof-reading, and could finally be circulated around the globe for the 200,000 and odd students to read and relish. It could also provide a rich source of information for Grade 8 students on the fence, pondering on whether or not they should contact their IB coordinators for forms.
Alas, the whole idea was dropped, mostly because Rajesh wasn't prepared to discuss his ideas. As I told you in the beginning, his ideas need to circulate more, and that is one of the primary reasons I'm defying his Hammurabian code-of-conduct.
None. There simply isn't any. Everything went exactly as hypothesized, and the results perfectly match the empirical observations. The method of experimentation is clearly the most efficient, the most practical, and the most accurate. There really isn't any room for improvement. Even if there were, it would be much too hard to go back and repeat the experiment again.
Welcome comrades, to the lab of life!
Looking back at all this and reminiscing his enjoyable movements at his alma mater, all Rajesh can do is laugh. Laugh, smile and laugh again. But why not laugh? Laughter, after all, is the fundamental melody of human expression, the symphony of nature.
You concur?
Joy to the world.
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