Today in class we read "What, Me Care? Young are less Empathetic" which was published by Scientific America. The article discussed how newer generations are beginning to lose empathy due to the lack of being social, overuse of technology, and decrease in reading. Personally, I agree with much that was stated in this article as it does seem to be true that the younger generations are detatching themselves from the world, therefore losing their ability to show empathy. All I have to do is take a look around my school. Of course I'm not saying that the world is filled with cut-throat uncaring people. It just seems that this new era of technology is cutting people back from their ability to understand and show empathy for each other, which is one of humanity's first abilities.
I can agree with the author that the decrease in young adults reading literature has led to the downward scale of empathy, but I think the root of the problem began with technology. In this new technological era, the way humans were designed to interact, care, and show empathy for each other is being crushed. Of course there are some benefits to interacting with the wider world over the internet, as touched upon in the Stanford Daily. However it is often that this isn't the case. The increase of technology and social media has sent the world astray. No longer do people talk face to face and interact with each other as much as before. What seems even more far fetched is internet dating. What happened to meeting that special somebody without the help of a machine? This lack of empathy is growing so much that it can even be classified as some sort of disease.
Unfortunately the younger generation isn't headed towards a very good path either. It is now extremely common to see little kids playing with their parent's smart phone and already, at such a young age, they can work it better than many adults. Already attached to technology, kids will undoubtedly grow up to rely on technology. They will lose their ability to communicate comfortably when faced to speak to their co-workers or their boss in person. As the years pass by, a smaller amount of people are reading fiction. Scientific America revealed that people who read less fiction tend to be less empathetic. Bottom line is that people need to start tuning back in with the real world and perhaps put down that technology and actually be social the correct way. In other words, be more "human".
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Common Humanity
In class on Monday we read "On Compassion" by Barbara Ascher and that evening we were assigned to read "The Human Cosy of an Illiterate Society” by Jonathan Kozol. Though Ascher's essay was about two homeless men and Kozol's work was about the illiterate population, they actually were quite similar. Both of these authors were able to portray their message, drawing on the reader's sympathy through the use of relatable stories.
Both of these two works are reminding us that no matter how different people are through race, language, cultural, and class, we are still nonetheless equal due to our common humanity. Ascher reveals this common humanity through compassion. However, she does not believe that a person is born with it. Instead she says that people begin to acknowledge the existence of helplessness and become familiar with it enough to "begin to identify and empathize with it". To get her point across, she used the story of the two homeless men who are granted with food and some food from the bakery. By using this story, she is able to make her reader understand, because pretty much anybody has either helped out a homeless person by giving them money or seen someone else do so on the street.
In Kozol's work about illiteracy, just like Ascher, he helps his reader understand his message by making his examples relatable. It is easy to take simple things like being able to read a menu, fore granted. Personally, this essay couldn't be more relatable. Each summer I go to Taiwan and I live the life as an illiterate. There are just so many Chinese characters that I still don't know and I constantly have to primarily rely on my speaking abilities.
However, Kozol is still able to allow people who haven't been in that position be able to understand and sympathize for the illiterate population. It is due his incorporation of examples in which people struggle with what seems to simple, that allow people to comprehend and identify the hardship. And just like what Ascher preached, once the hardship is understood, people are able to show compassion or sympathy. Kozol's work may have a more fearful tone than Ascher's, but the feeling of fear is a commonality that humanity shares. Both these essays take a play on emotions of sadness and fear, putting the reader into a position to question what it would be like if they were put into the more unfortunate position. I'm sure Ascher would agree that once a person understands the hardship, it is no wonder why someone would reach out to help someone, whether it be through some spare change or translating a sign for an illiterate.
Both of these two works are reminding us that no matter how different people are through race, language, cultural, and class, we are still nonetheless equal due to our common humanity. Ascher reveals this common humanity through compassion. However, she does not believe that a person is born with it. Instead she says that people begin to acknowledge the existence of helplessness and become familiar with it enough to "begin to identify and empathize with it". To get her point across, she used the story of the two homeless men who are granted with food and some food from the bakery. By using this story, she is able to make her reader understand, because pretty much anybody has either helped out a homeless person by giving them money or seen someone else do so on the street.
In Kozol's work about illiteracy, just like Ascher, he helps his reader understand his message by making his examples relatable. It is easy to take simple things like being able to read a menu, fore granted. Personally, this essay couldn't be more relatable. Each summer I go to Taiwan and I live the life as an illiterate. There are just so many Chinese characters that I still don't know and I constantly have to primarily rely on my speaking abilities.
However, Kozol is still able to allow people who haven't been in that position be able to understand and sympathize for the illiterate population. It is due his incorporation of examples in which people struggle with what seems to simple, that allow people to comprehend and identify the hardship. And just like what Ascher preached, once the hardship is understood, people are able to show compassion or sympathy. Kozol's work may have a more fearful tone than Ascher's, but the feeling of fear is a commonality that humanity shares. Both these essays take a play on emotions of sadness and fear, putting the reader into a position to question what it would be like if they were put into the more unfortunate position. I'm sure Ascher would agree that once a person understands the hardship, it is no wonder why someone would reach out to help someone, whether it be through some spare change or translating a sign for an illiterate.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Salzburg
Two summers ago, Napa Valley Youth Symphony went on its first international tour. We traveled to Salzburg, Vienna, and then Prague. Despite the fact that I got sick and refused to eat all the fried food we were served, therefore losing five pounds over the course of ten days, it was the most memorable trip of my life. But don't be alarmed, I gained back all the weight that was lost and more once I went to Taiwan two weeks later when my grandma's only mission in life became to fatten me up.
The first city we visited was the city of Mozart: Salzburg. Right before we left the hotel to go to a nice restaurant, it started POURING. Do not underestimate the word pouring because I had never endured such fierce rain, and this is coming from someone who has endured countless typhoons in Asia. Since the streets are so old downtown, the buses couldn't travel very close to the restaurant and we were forced to walk the rest of the way. It was raining so hard that all of our rain gear, jackets, and umbrellas, became useless. By the time we entered the restaurant's staff was horrified to see that every piece of clothing we had on was DRENCHED. We were literally ringing our hair out on the front porch of the historical building. On the second day in Salzburg the weather cleared up and presented us with the perfect weather to complete a walking tour of Salzburg's castle, cathedral, squares, and gardens.
By that evening all of us were exhausted from jet lag and the afternoon of walking all over the city primarily up the stairs of the grand castle. Lucky for us, we had a performance that night. If the church didn't have so much echo, all of our mistakes due to pure exhaustion would've been all too obvious. Once we finished what seemed like the longest performance of our life, many youth symphony members said they didn't even recall playing parts of piece because they just zoned out. There was even a point in Mendelssohn's Reformation Symphony where I was the only first violin who didn't miss our entrance. Even though it was a performance that people could hardly even stay awake for, it is somehow the performance that nobody can forget.
After a good night of rest, we were off to spend three days in Vienna and another three memorable days in Prague. Below is a picture during our dress rehearsal before our grand performance in Vienna as the finale performance of the International Mahler Music Festival.
The first city we visited was the city of Mozart: Salzburg. Right before we left the hotel to go to a nice restaurant, it started POURING. Do not underestimate the word pouring because I had never endured such fierce rain, and this is coming from someone who has endured countless typhoons in Asia. Since the streets are so old downtown, the buses couldn't travel very close to the restaurant and we were forced to walk the rest of the way. It was raining so hard that all of our rain gear, jackets, and umbrellas, became useless. By the time we entered the restaurant's staff was horrified to see that every piece of clothing we had on was DRENCHED. We were literally ringing our hair out on the front porch of the historical building. On the second day in Salzburg the weather cleared up and presented us with the perfect weather to complete a walking tour of Salzburg's castle, cathedral, squares, and gardens.
By that evening all of us were exhausted from jet lag and the afternoon of walking all over the city primarily up the stairs of the grand castle. Lucky for us, we had a performance that night. If the church didn't have so much echo, all of our mistakes due to pure exhaustion would've been all too obvious. Once we finished what seemed like the longest performance of our life, many youth symphony members said they didn't even recall playing parts of piece because they just zoned out. There was even a point in Mendelssohn's Reformation Symphony where I was the only first violin who didn't miss our entrance. Even though it was a performance that people could hardly even stay awake for, it is somehow the performance that nobody can forget.
After a good night of rest, we were off to spend three days in Vienna and another three memorable days in Prague. Below is a picture during our dress rehearsal before our grand performance in Vienna as the finale performance of the International Mahler Music Festival.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
That devious boy
In Elementary school, pretty much every girl has endured that annoying little boy in their class who had a crush on them. Sadly as we have all learned, elementary school boys aren't exactly the best at flirting. By second grade, the idea seems to develop around the lines of if I poke her 100 times to get her attention, then she'll like me. These boys become the devil you don't want to get icky cooties from.
Ten years later, these girls still remember those sad stories when their fellow boy classmates went through unusual trouble to get their attention. Of all the weird ones I endured at Alta Heights Elementary School, the craziest one occurred when I was enrolled in school in Taiwan during the winter of second grade.
On my first day of school in Taiwan, my mom and the school principle walked me to my new homeroom classroom at the four story elementary school. Upon entering, every pair of almond shaped eyes turned to look at me. Never have I ever felt so white in my life. This was an unusual feeling since I had always been pegged for my half-Asian background. But at this moment, I felt like the only American on the face of the planet. I looked at the green chalk board and saw math far beyond my abilities, realizing I had entered a world future Einsteins. (Below's picture isn't actually my classroom but looks similar. Only difference is that the students at my school had to wear blue and white uniforms.)
Ten years later, these girls still remember those sad stories when their fellow boy classmates went through unusual trouble to get their attention. Of all the weird ones I endured at Alta Heights Elementary School, the craziest one occurred when I was enrolled in school in Taiwan during the winter of second grade.
On my first day of school in Taiwan, my mom and the school principle walked me to my new homeroom classroom at the four story elementary school. Upon entering, every pair of almond shaped eyes turned to look at me. Never have I ever felt so white in my life. This was an unusual feeling since I had always been pegged for my half-Asian background. But at this moment, I felt like the only American on the face of the planet. I looked at the green chalk board and saw math far beyond my abilities, realizing I had entered a world future Einsteins. (Below's picture isn't actually my classroom but looks similar. Only difference is that the students at my school had to wear blue and white uniforms.)
After shyly introducing myself and taking my seat in the back, I endured two hours of pretending that I understood the textbook while the students around me recited the text loudly in unison. I learned at a young age what it felt like to feel like an idiot. I endured this feeling of stupidity for a month. The only exception was English class, the only class I aced.
To my surprise I actually didn't have trouble making friends at this school. Everyone was interested in getting to know the American girl with naturally brown hair who could run faster than most of the boys. However, there was this one boy who never came close but still managed to make me nervous even if he was clear across the classroom. One afternoon during a break in between classes I went back into the classroom to fetch something from my backpack. When I looked up from my bag I noticed that boy standing in front of me smiling. I was confused by it, but thought maybe he wanted to be friends! Before any second thoughts, he grabbed me by my left arm with such force that I fell to the dirty cracked concrete ground. Instead of stopping and helping me up, he kept hold of his death grip on my arm and began running. He kept running and dragging my small body until he gave me the full tour of the amount of dirt on the ground between all eight rows of desks. By the time he finally stopped I was kicking, screaming, and crying. Scared and struck with disbelief, I looked up and saw that boy smiling. It was then that our second grade teacher walked in the classroom to find me terrified, crying on the floor covered in dust and dirt with that boy standing over me smiling like an idiot.
It wasn't until after my teacher shooed out that boy and cleaned me up that she explained to me the boy's reasoning to perform such a crude act. She tried to explain how that boy had a major crush on me and didn't know how else to confront me. As the victimized second grade girl, I was having none of it. Why would any boy do such a thing to a girl they had a crush on? I refused to believe her. That boy was the devil. But what I did learn was that a second grade boys' inability to flirt with a girl is universal.
The next winter when I went back to Taiwan, I once again went to school there for a month. Being in a new third grade advisory room felt like starting over, since I got to meet many new people. One afternoon, about a week into my month at the school, when I was walking up to the third story to get to a music class with some of my friends, I made eye contact with a boy in the hall. To my horror it was THAT BOY. Yeah, THAT devil. Except this time, to my delight, he exclaimed my name, dropped his food on the ground, and took off running in the opposite direction.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
What are essays supposed to be anyways?
When first entering AP Composition, Mrs. G told us to develop a coffee habit. Unfortunately I failed to do so the Thursday morning she handed out the two essays titled "The Essayification of Everything" and "Blogs vs. Term Papers". I now understand why I should've listened to Mrs. G's wise words of adopting a caffeine addiction because I was taken through orbit. My entire definition of an essay got flipped upside down, spun around, and smashed into little pieces until I didn't know what the word even meant anymore. Even worse I didn't even realize the first essay handed to us could be classified as an essay!
Just like the English language, styles of writing and ways of publications have been changing. The world is trying to keep up with the new innovative society. What Wampole points out, is that the essay has become a "talisman of our times". It has been completely changed as it has become easier for people to get hold of and even create themselves. The meaning of an essay has diminished as it suffers a "chronic undecidability". It has become difficult to peg down something about an essay with absolute certainty. However that is the beauty that still remains in essays. Readers are able to put aside what they believe and learn about someone else's opinion or viewpoint. Unfortunately that has also led to the developing human nature of only touching upon things and then simply abandoning them. Wampole points out that the Italian word for essay is "saggio" derives from the same root as "assaggiare" which means to sample. Essays have come to reflect todays society of "sampling" experiences by not fully indulging through things such as internet dating and online shopping. Another type of "sampling" would be blogging. However it isn't all that negative as Richtel points out. Though blogs do reflect the technological age that we have entered. To Wampole's digust, people are now able to post whatever the want for the general public without thinking it through. A week ago, I would have most likely sided with Wampole and sided against blogging. But after reading the essay "Blogs vs. Term Papers" and actually getting some hands-on experience, I have come to appreciate the world of blogging. No longer do I feel as if I'm writing to purely for a grade. People are actually able to get their ideas and thoughts out easier. Blogging allows normal people to actually reach the masses. If given the choice to either create a blog or write a term paper, I would now choose to blog. Before blogging I would deem it necessary to do a substantial amount of thinking before submitting my work onto the web where anyone can access it. Whereas with a term paper, a large portion of the gruelingly long paper just turns into pointless psychobabble to simply reach that minimum of ten pages.
Just like the English language, styles of writing and ways of publications have been changing. The world is trying to keep up with the new innovative society. What Wampole points out, is that the essay has become a "talisman of our times". It has been completely changed as it has become easier for people to get hold of and even create themselves. The meaning of an essay has diminished as it suffers a "chronic undecidability". It has become difficult to peg down something about an essay with absolute certainty. However that is the beauty that still remains in essays. Readers are able to put aside what they believe and learn about someone else's opinion or viewpoint. Unfortunately that has also led to the developing human nature of only touching upon things and then simply abandoning them. Wampole points out that the Italian word for essay is "saggio" derives from the same root as "assaggiare" which means to sample. Essays have come to reflect todays society of "sampling" experiences by not fully indulging through things such as internet dating and online shopping. Another type of "sampling" would be blogging. However it isn't all that negative as Richtel points out. Though blogs do reflect the technological age that we have entered. To Wampole's digust, people are now able to post whatever the want for the general public without thinking it through. A week ago, I would have most likely sided with Wampole and sided against blogging. But after reading the essay "Blogs vs. Term Papers" and actually getting some hands-on experience, I have come to appreciate the world of blogging. No longer do I feel as if I'm writing to purely for a grade. People are actually able to get their ideas and thoughts out easier. Blogging allows normal people to actually reach the masses. If given the choice to either create a blog or write a term paper, I would now choose to blog. Before blogging I would deem it necessary to do a substantial amount of thinking before submitting my work onto the web where anyone can access it. Whereas with a term paper, a large portion of the gruelingly long paper just turns into pointless psychobabble to simply reach that minimum of ten pages.
Although I have come to develop a liking for blogging, I do agree with Reeves who believes that writing term papers is actually useful as it helps students with critical thinking and argumentation needed in both college and their future career. It is necessary that a balance is found. Teachers should not dwell in the past and only teach the "old ways", but it also would not be beneficial to completely switch over to keep up with the innovative world, as valuable skills would be lost.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Me, Myself, and I
Before getting to know me, one may mistake me for just a typical brown hair brown eyed American. However, when I start speaking in Chinese when I pick up a phone call from my mom, strangers and aquaintances are confused. Truth is, I am half Taiwanese and half American. I was born in Port Townsend, Washington, but my mom is from Taiwan. Throughout my life I've lived in Port Townsend, Trukee, Santa Barbara, and Napa. We almost moved to Idaho, but when we visited I wouldn't stop complaining about how cold it was and that's why my family lives in California now. Even though we live in America, my mom and I travel to Taiwan every year to visit family. It seems like every time I gain about five pounds because I become so overwhelmed by all the amazing food.
Outside of school, my life is insane. Once the bell rings at 3:00 I begin an afternoon and evening of running and music. This year I am the cross country girls' varsity captain. Generally from 3:00 to 5:00 I can be found running the streets of Napa under the hot sun with the team. Once practice ends, I re-enter my world of music. Depending on the day I'm off to a rehearsal for Youth Symphony or for some other music group I probably shouldn't have agreed to be part of because I quite literally don't have time for it. But if for some reason I don't have a rehearsal to get to, I'm off to have a piano or a violin lesson. Piano is my first instrument. I began as a wee little five year who couldn't reach the foot pedals. Today I'm still learning classical music, but now jazz has become my main focus. Each year I take the next level up of Certificate of Merit which consists of theory and ajudication, and in May I am judged on a ten piece memorized program for National Guild Auditions. As for violin I began in the fourth grade at Alta Heights. Even though I've been in countless ensembles throughout the years, I'm not sure how I'm even half decent given the miniscule amount of time that I actually practice. I've just learned to be a good sight reader as showing up to rehearsal without looking over the music once has become all too familiar. As a result, I still haven't come to believe that I'm concert master of my high school orchestra. In my musical life I'm not just a student, but also a teacher. My job outside of school is to teach private piano and violin lessons. I have students that range from the first grade whose feet dangle off the piano bench and young violinists who only have a tiny little half sized violin, to students who are just one year older than me and sometimes even grown adults. Though life is busy, I enjoy every last minute of it. That even includes when I'm left completely baffled when my jazz piano teacher demonstrates how I'm supposed to be able to improvise. Ever get that idiotic feeling when you have no idea what just happened in front of you? Like in AP Chemistry? Sadly it does sting a little at first, but that's how we all improve and without it I wouldn't be where I am today. For me, life is a constant drive towards dedication and learning to stretch myself past where I thought my limits were.
Outside of school, my life is insane. Once the bell rings at 3:00 I begin an afternoon and evening of running and music. This year I am the cross country girls' varsity captain. Generally from 3:00 to 5:00 I can be found running the streets of Napa under the hot sun with the team. Once practice ends, I re-enter my world of music. Depending on the day I'm off to a rehearsal for Youth Symphony or for some other music group I probably shouldn't have agreed to be part of because I quite literally don't have time for it. But if for some reason I don't have a rehearsal to get to, I'm off to have a piano or a violin lesson. Piano is my first instrument. I began as a wee little five year who couldn't reach the foot pedals. Today I'm still learning classical music, but now jazz has become my main focus. Each year I take the next level up of Certificate of Merit which consists of theory and ajudication, and in May I am judged on a ten piece memorized program for National Guild Auditions. As for violin I began in the fourth grade at Alta Heights. Even though I've been in countless ensembles throughout the years, I'm not sure how I'm even half decent given the miniscule amount of time that I actually practice. I've just learned to be a good sight reader as showing up to rehearsal without looking over the music once has become all too familiar. As a result, I still haven't come to believe that I'm concert master of my high school orchestra. In my musical life I'm not just a student, but also a teacher. My job outside of school is to teach private piano and violin lessons. I have students that range from the first grade whose feet dangle off the piano bench and young violinists who only have a tiny little half sized violin, to students who are just one year older than me and sometimes even grown adults. Though life is busy, I enjoy every last minute of it. That even includes when I'm left completely baffled when my jazz piano teacher demonstrates how I'm supposed to be able to improvise. Ever get that idiotic feeling when you have no idea what just happened in front of you? Like in AP Chemistry? Sadly it does sting a little at first, but that's how we all improve and without it I wouldn't be where I am today. For me, life is a constant drive towards dedication and learning to stretch myself past where I thought my limits were.
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