Praise is Worth a Thousand P☺unds

"What an imagination, Kinley!" a teacher praised his student.

Kinley smiled and said, "Thank you."

The teacher then asked another question. All the students put their hands up.

"Let me…," someone said.

The teacher has a very complaisant and lively class. The teacher considers the students good friends, and the students see the teacher as the sun—a sun that shines warmly and equally on everyone.

The teacher uses encouraging remarks every time his pupils make slight progress. The students work hard to receive the best remarks from their teacher. They glow with interest, growing more curious, and prepare themselves to give the best responses. They are curious about what the next good word might be! They want to please the teacher, and the teacher wants to impress them—fulfilling both their objectives and goals in the end.

The teacher uses many forms of verbal and written reinforcement, such as: "How smart!" "I'm proud of you." "What a good listener!" "Magnificent." "That's the best." "Awesome." "Remarkable job." "Super work." "Outstanding." "Exceptional." (These are some frequently used remarks.) Besides these, the teacher also makes written comments, gives pats on the back, applause, smiles, gestures, gifts, and acknowledgments. The skill of reinforcement is a basic tool that a teacher uses to enhance teaching and learning.

For a systematic and successful teaching-learning process, feedback that is relevant, immediate or timely, factual, helpful, respectful, and sometimes confidential as needed, would be of great assistance.

Students also learn to do good things through good remarks. Pupils are like tender bean plants—if not supported, they will not flourish and bear fruit.

Scientific studies have found that a misbehaving person can become good in a pleasant environment or surroundings, and vice versa. Psychologists also argue that "students of teachers who emphasize teaching behaviors such as praise and encouragement tend to learn more than students of teachers who emphasize criticism and punishment," and that teachers who "check students' progress regularly and adjust instructions accordingly" are using effective teaching strategies.

Therefore, in the teaching-learning area, the kind of environment and strategies adopted will decide and affect students' studies and their lives throughout.

An encouraging class will be supportive and attentive, and by way of that, develops enthusiasm for learning.

If observed thoroughly, people's mannerisms will show that the magic of reinforcement in teaching has a profound effect on their studies and their lives.

What are soothing to our ears are nicely said, sweet words—just as sweets are sweet to our mouths. We desire them, and sometimes we demand them. Students, especially, must sometimes "deserve and desire."

Words Can Make You Cry

Words can make you cry.

They can break your heart into pieces,

forcing back the times you never wanted to remember.

Pains throttle you.

Memories deceive you-

deflated and deflected,

life moves on

always depleted.

Memories of unkind days

bring only streams of tears.

They are part of life,

and acceptance is a fate.

Hush, don’t weep.

No one will care.

You let go

And forget to remember.

That's the way.

A Dying Breed of Readers

Reading is to decode, understand, evaluate and foster knowledge and information. It leads to appreciation and understanding of the pluralistic nature of society, cultures, and values. Our people must read and access changing ideas and expressions.

Despite all the benefits books offer, Bhutanese are quite poor in reading habits. I would say reading habits have declined, owing to rapid development in our country. Bhutan has taken ‘a great leap’ within a short span of time, and this has affected our readers. Television, computers, the internet, and motor vehicles, among others, keep our youth occupied. Or are they conquered?

Just a decade ago, back in my village, when I was in my early teens, my family sat together and read religious canons, like Kanjur and Tenjur, to cleanse our sins and for good fortune. Now, hardly any youth has heard of the great books.

In this so-called ‘new life’, reading has to be forced. In schools, students are taken over by modern amenities. Reading habits are dying and may completely die soon.

In bookstores, the treasures are left collecting dust. Our children desire sophisticated gadgets, fancy miniskirts, skin-tight clothes, jeans and sugary sweets. But the books have more than all these to satisfy. Buying a book is buying a life’s wisdom.

The object of writing this article is because I am a bibliophile, a great lover of books. I would like to promote reading habits. I have persuaded my students incessantly to read and buy books. But sadly, the aforementioned reasons have conquered some.

I’ve also hoping to publish a book, hoping to give a typical Bhutanese author to our readers. However, it will not received well, i guess. The problem – too few readers! Hardly anyone visits the stores and picks up a book.

How can we have a knowledge-based society if we are not ready to read and learn? We had a knowledge-based-society a decade ago, when books were considered gold. Having modern imported gadgets and machines hinders our in-depth history and culture. It’s like trying to construct a road on a river. We become ignorant, even as we live in the so-called modern life because we ignore learning. We want ease and to be laidback; as a result of this, we are becoming a so-so group.

To build a knowledge center, our government must promote reading, through the formation of reading circles/groups, and promoting Bhutanese writers through some means. This in turn will promote readerships among our youth.

This article was published in K2 magazine, kuensel on16 December, 2010  

The Story of My Name

I wrote many names—many different names—when I was a kid and a student. It was a plaything. I wrote in my notebooks, on my geometry boxes, on my beds, everywhere. I wrote the names of kings and imagined them as my own.

I added "Drukpa" to my name. I added "K," "F," "D" to my surname. I played.

But one name that remained in school was Saacha. And the sound of this name changed permanently. It became "Saa" from "Shacha."

We had a very phony headmaster at Tsebar Primary School in the 1990s. He was a southern Bhutanese, and you know, they have some difficulty pronouncing certain sounds like "tsa" and "cha." I feel they don't have these sounds. Even English people cannot pronounce them. So really, it wasn't his fault—it was the universe conspiring against my syllables.

This phony headmaster was very particular about me. I was pulled by my ears in front of the whole assembly and asked to be a house captain for a year. Pulled by my ears. That's one way to offer a leadership position. No résumé required. Just cartilage. I did the job, and he liked it, I guess. Either that or he enjoyed the ear-pulling more than he should have.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he was also our Class VI teacher. During that time, Class VI had a common exam in Bhutan, and the results came from the board. It was a huge deal for us and meant a lot. We had to burn the midnight oil. I nearly got burned by the papers—literally. I think one of my notebooks still has scorch marks.

So, this is how my name got changed—from Sha... to Saa. He not only gave me this southern-sounding name but also assigned my date of birth, which would remain with me throughout my life.  He gave me a birthday. Like a gift no one asked for.

The school was my birthplace. Our mothers were at school in those days. Like me, many friends received their DOBs and names. Ngydrup became Nidup, Gyalpo became Gepo, Chedrup became Chedup, Drolo became Dolo. It was like a mass rebranding. No marketing team. No focus group. Just a headmaster with a pen and a lot of confidence.

He changed it all, and the school changed it all. We had no voice. The school was our name, DOB, father, mother, and everything. Such was the power of the teachers. They could have declared us born on Mars, and we would have nodded and said, "Yes, sir. Cold there, sir."

As for me, I did not tell my parents about my different-sounding name—otherwise, they might have thought I had an Indian-sounding name or type. I didn't bother much. Name or no name, it does not reflect who I am. Outer physical appearance, outer wealth, and such things do not define me. The real "I" is inside. It is a matter of self-worth.

Also, inside me, there is a small voice that still whispers: Your real birthday is probably in June.

But I keep that voice quiet. The headmaster might be listening.