Twenty

My recent leisure reading is What I Wish I Knew When I Was 20 by Tina Seelig.

It is a quick read – I finished half of it within a week and the rest on my recent flight to Singapore. The theme is simple (probably too much so): Unexpected opportunities are everywhere and we should tell ourselves everything is possible. Yes, that’s the kind of motto you hear from those self-help or mind-power courses. Nonetheless, the book is provocative and I do spend some time to consider what I wish I knew when I was 20.

Here are a few:

1. Investment is more important than saving.
2. There are no forever friends or enemies.
3. A people has died.
4. Revolution does not make things better.
5. I cannot do everything, but, for the few things that I could do, I should do them well.

Protest

(My discussion with Vivian continued.)

“Your argument appears water-tight. However, it doesn’t sound right to me.” My wife said.

“You know, a major assumption of my argument is the presentation that our trendy students were doing was a casual in-house event, and it really depends on your point of view.” I said, “On one hand, it is nothing serious because the summer research project is just a minor part of their curriculum, and no one would have to repeat the class because of a poor performance here. On the other side of the coin, the presentation is not a regular update of what they do, but the showcase performance of their project, and is attended by many of their supervisors and professors. Although I’ve seen many research students wearing T-shirts and sandals when doing their class presentations, I have never encountered a single student in that kind of attire in the oral defense of their thesis.”

“My dear, you are changing your conclusion! Are you for or against casual wear?”

“What I’m getting at is, students who insist to put up pajamas for their presentation are doing a protest subconsciously because they think that the summer project is nuts. The problem is not about costume, but the curriculum itself!"

Costume

During a casual discussion, Vivian asked if I had heard of the recent debate on Facebook about our students’ dress code.

“Who doesn’t?” I smiled, “From what I know, the story is simple. Some of our new generation students dressed up a bit too casually when they did the presentation of their summer projects. Others are more conservative and find it difficult to accept."

My wife nodded, "Quite true. What do you think? You are on the traditional side, aren't you? I must say I am getting more conservative as well. You know, I sometimes got mad when I see medical students - or even young doctors - going to the ward with funny T-shirts or sexy miniskirts under their white coat. Some of them even have their hair dyed in glittering colors!"

I chuckled, "My dear, you have a point there. However, I'm not sure I take the conservative side this time. There is an important difference between going to the ward and doing presentation of the summer project in front of your classmates. I suppose I have sufficient experience with postgraduate research students, both local and overseas, doing presentations when they are, literally, wearing pajamas! As long as it is an in-house event, I don't see any problem there."

Souvenir

After the visit, I received a souvenir from the headmaster.

Believe it or not, it is a one-page summary of my student reports for that six years.

For obvious reasons I shall not put up here the entire document. Nonetheless, I shall show you two small parts. I am sure they are self-explanatory.

PS. This small piece of paper is, no doubt, the best present that I ever receive in the past twenty years.

School

My alma mater changed a lot.

In the old days, it was in the middle of the Lion Rock, and used to run half-day classes. When the old public estate there was demolished and rebuilt in early 1990s, the school was also pulled down and moved to the bottom of the hill. Some years later, following the trend of every other primary school in the city, it is converted to whole-day class; the original morning classes continued to stay in the valley, while the afternoon ones moved to a new campus on the peak.

Not only the place is different, all teachers in my days have retired – the last one whom I knew did so three years ago, and the headmaster has changed more than once. This time, when I was introduced to the staff teachers and shown to the place, I suddenly came to realize what many people feel about their home country (祖國).

On one hand, the place is a stranger. On the other, you know absolutely well that you come from it and there is, somehow, a special affection.

Classmate

On a recent occasion, I had the opportunity of paying a visit to the primary school that I used to study.

The sequence of event is convoluted. I graduated from the primary school in 1979 and lost touch with almost all my classmates. Well, I have autistic personality disorder and could hardly make friend with any of them. The curious happening was, although I was studying the afternoon class in those days, I happened to be able to make acquaintance with a boy from the morning class while he was standing next to me when we took the graduation photo together.

He is YF. Our story continued to unfold in an amazing way. We went to the same secondary school and were in the same class for a whole five years. We studied medicine together – and he is now a radiologist doing private practice. Unlike me, YF continued to keep in touch with our alma mater. When the headmaster invited him to pay a visit recently, he asked me to join.

I duly followed.

PS. The very fact that he could communicate with someone with an autistic personality like me does not necessarily mean that he is also autistic; it could, and in this case it does, mean that he has an exceptional personal skill.

Delay

On a recent occasion, my colleague AC asked me why all stories that I outline in this blog are almost always delayed by at least a few days.

She was right, and my immediate response was nothing but evasive: Quite right. They are late.

In reality, I deliberately do so. Yes, it is easy to make a rush comment on whatever one encounter, and not too difficult a task to make it eye-catching. However, I would prefer to think it over, write it down, and leave it aside for one or two days before getting it published, so that I will not jump to the conclusion or write something that I will (easily) regret. The physiological principle is, when you feel hot, most of the blood goes to the skin, and your brain receives very little perfusion.

I write to express my considered opinion; the click-through rate is less of my consideration.

As William Shakespeare said (in The Merchant of Venice): I am not bound to please thee with my writings.