Sir Galahad and the Witch

Once upon a time, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, were galloping around Camelot when they were surrounded by a band of strange knights.

"Halt there, King Arthur. You are trespassing in the realm of King Olaff. I'm afraid we have to put you under arrest," said the leader of the band.

"You have reason, gallant knight. And you far outnumber us. As I do not wish to shed blood on such a matter, then we will just have to go with you," said King Arthur.

And so they were escorted to the castle of King Olaff.

"Good day, King Arthur. I see you have been galloping around again; too bad you trespassed. As per our agreement, you and your men will have to spend a week in jail," said the fat King Olaff, his fatty belly bouncing with every breath of amused movement.

"Hopefully not this time, good King Olaff. For I and my knights must prepare for Sir Percival's daughter who is coming of age in three days. Have you received the invitations?"

"As a matter of fact, I have, O King. But an agreement is an agreement. Nevertheless, since you are a gentleman, I will give you an option. Give me an answer to this riddle--and I'll give you a whole year to look for the answer. If you come back to me next year with the correct answer, you shall go. If not, you must spend time in my jail. You'll like the new bling blings I've added, by the way."

"Agreed, King Olaff. What is your riddle?"

"The riddle, O King, is this: What do women really want?"

Laughing inside, King Arthur says, "Are you certain you do not want a week? But, then, a year you say and a year it shall be. We shall return with the answer. In the meantime, I shall expect you at Camelot in three days?"

"You've given me a king's word, and I'll give you mine. What do women really want. Farewell!"

And off they went.

Almost a year later, King Arthur and his Knights were sitting around the Round Table. The mood was not quite right.

"We have 24 hours to find the answer to Olaffable's riddle. I do not wish to spend time in his jail, new interiors notwithstanding. How did I ever cram on this," sighed King Arthur.

"You were too busy on papers, presentations, group work. And some experts were not available for consultation. It's understandable," said Percival.

"Drop it," interjected Lancelot. "We've surveyed everyone who matters in this kingdom. We've gone to every barber, every fish seller, every mailman. Yet all gave unsatisfactory answers."

"OF COURSE!" exclaimed Gawain, making everybody jump. "There is still one more person we have not asked. A wicked old hag living in the very frontiers of Camelot."

"Then let's get to her, man!" says King Arthur.

"O King, it is not so easy," said Gawain. "For three reasons. First of all, she's evil incarnate."

"You don't know my mother-in-law," said King Arthur.

"She stinks."

"How bad?"

Gawain whispers something so disgusting to King Arthur's ear that he almost vomits.

"We'll bring a gallon of ammonia. Each." Then, to himself, "We'll probably have to throw in a flame thrower also." And speaking to Gawain, "What's the--(ewww!)--third?"

"She's very very ugly. As in."

"How ugly?"

"She looks like Kris Aquino, only thinner." (He was referring, of course, to Kris Aquino, King Arthur's plumber, whom historians say was actually a transvestite.)

"Fine. We're knights. We can do it. Let's not a minute waste! Ask the page to prepare the ammonia and the flame thrower ("Flame thrower?" whispered Lancelot.), get the horses ready, and off we go!"

So they made their way to the witch's domain.

It was clear they had arrived when rainforest abruptly gave way to shrub desert. Here was a dead bird, over there a dead rabbit, and over there a scabby dog gnawing at its own tail. And in the middle of all this wasteland, radiating evil 360 degrees, was a worn down cottage, its walls covered by dog hide in various places, its roof held in place by rubber tires; and in front, a sign that said "Forget the dog. Beware of--", the last word hidden by a knife impaling what oddly looked like a pig's heart dissected.

After bathing in ammonia, King Arthur ("I wonder what ek eks Olaffingstock added to his dungeon...") goes up to the cottage. "Hello. Anyone home?"

The door opens, and out comes the ugliest hag ever encountered in English literature. "Hus dis?" she says. "Wacha want?" She was eating a cob of corn. Through her nose.

"I'm King Arthur, and I need to ask you a question: What do women really want?"

The wicked witch continued to gnaw at her corn.

"Wellll?"

"Heh? Wana me t'answer dat? Shud'v sed so. Why d'you wana know?" Then to herself, "King, king, duzn't know t'speak clearly."

King Arthur explains.

Then to King Arthur she says, "Yeah, King Smells-Like-Piss, ahl answer dat. But I wana somethin' in payment."

"Agreed, witch. Whatever. What do you ask?"

"If wat ah say is right, you must give me one of your knights in marriage!"

At this, even the horses panicked, if not for the strong hands of their masters, who in deep despair looked at each other, and especially to their impulsive King.

After about two minutes of this, Sir Galahad spoke. "O King Arthur, it is clear that this knight should be me."

Everyone looked at him. King Arthur said, "I verily salute your courage; I would have said the same thing in your place. But why you, Sir Galahad?"

"I'm the only one who's not married yet." Galahad looked very very VERY forlorn.

A pause. Then King Arthur said, "Well, I thank you for this sacrifice. If ever a greater honor than a knight there was, I shall have rewarded you with it. (Whose f***** horse trampled on that flame thrower?!?)" Then to the witch, "You have our word for it, witch. Sir Galahad here will marry you if your answer is correct. Let's get on with it."

"Wat do women really want, King Arth-urea? Wat women really want is that you LET THEM BE."

Since there were was not enough time even for a thanksgiving speech, the galant men rushed to Olaff's realm.

"King Arthur, indeed. Ha ha! You truly are a man of your word!" said the fat and bouncy King Olaff.

"If you only knew."

"So, my friend and colleague, ha ha! What do women really want, eh?"

"What women really want, Olaff my boy? Huh!?! What women REALLY want?!? Is that we LET THEM BE!!! SH*T!!! I SWEAR, THIS AMMONIA--"

"That is correct," said King Olaff, a sudden look of reflection falling on his face.

Everyone shuts up. Then all shout, "HURRAH! HURRAH!" High fives and esoteric handshakes straight from a Snow White movie are exchanged. Everyone, that is, except Galahad.

This sudden realization overtakes King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.

"What is it, King Arthur," said the visibly impressed and now worried King Olaff.

"Nothing, Olaff. You're invited, out of courtesy, to a marriage feast in three days. That is, only if you want--"

"Of course I'll be there! Who is it? Galahad? Your only bachelor knight? And who's the lucky lady?"

"Just show up." And with this they all return to Camelot like an army in rout.

Majestic preparations were made. The witch was picked up and escorted to the palace. In three days, Camelot was awash with bling blings and ek eks and colors. Young ladies everywhere were crying.

During the procession, the heartthrob Sir Galahad was in his best shining armor. His fiancee the witch was in her pajamas, her louse-infested hair unkempt, her teeth all black and green, laughing loudly at her own jokes, finger in the nose, nagging, burping on one end, blasting gas on the other.

And Galahad, through all this, acted like the perfect gentleman, showing nothing but affection and honor towards his brand new wife.

As afternoon turned to evening, and as the last party guests bid goodbye (he had been trying to delay their departure for the last eighteen and a half hours), Sir Galahad began to steel himself to encounter his wife in her bedchamber.

Standing before her door, he knocked. No answer. He entered.

The witch had disappeared.

In her place was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen! She was dressed in satiny robes, her skin smooth and white, her hair long, black, silky smooth. Galahad just stood there, his face in shock.

Then she said, with the sweetest smile, "I was the witch, Sir Galahad. But since you acted so much as a gentleman, treating me with honor and respect, I have decided to show you my true self.

"But there's a catch. I can be like this only in the morning or only in the evening. When do you want me to be like this?"

Galahad the wise, Galahad the intelligent, remembering the most important lesson of the past few days, finally answers, "As you wish, my Lady."

Then there was a terrific explosion. When the smoke and thunder and lightning cleared, the girl from the Close Up-shampoo commercial had disappeared! In her place was a BLONDE babe a hundred times more beautiful than the first, in bluish satin robes, wearing breakable glass slippers.

She said, "Because you are not only a gentleman, but are also very wise, I have decided to be like this...all the time!"

And they lived happily together for the next eight or so years.

The moral of the story?

Your wife or your girlfriend might be evil, bitchy, stinky. But, remember, deep, deep down inside...

She's just a witch.

(I first heard this story some years ago from a friend, Erik Santos. Dunno where he got it. The illustration is from http://www.sbceo.k12.ca.us/~vms/carlton/page17.html.)

Debate on homosexuals in the military

Following a 3-yr tradition, my biology class debated 13 March 2008 whether homosexuals should be banned from serving in this country's military.

The government panel that defended the ban consisted of Johann Diaz, Dan Miranda, and Michael Bato. The opposition panel had Angelica Angeles, Kristina Castellano, and Jonas Gonzalez. (In the photo: LR, Kristina, Michael, Dan, Johann, Angelica, Jonas).

Government argued that homosexuals should be banned from serving in the military because of security risks. These risks are divided into two. First, the risk of loss of morale resulting from homosexual behavior among soldiers in the combat units (Government did not include staff and other administrative services, except for the medics, in the ban). Second, was the risk of spreading HIV through homosexual behavior and contact with open wounds.

As evidence, they presented a document on the military code of conduct from the US that expressly forbids immoral behavior. They also presented recent findings showing a physiological and neurological basis for saying that homosexuals were different. They also presented data on HIV prevalence in the military. Having thus suggested that the risky behavior of homosexuals was rooted in biology and were, therefore, givens, they argued that homosexuals should be banned from serving in military combat units as a prudential measure.

Attacking the biological argument, the Opposition pointed out that women--who also differ from men--are NOT banned from serving in combat units (Government failed to show similar biological studies that would suggest that homosexuals and women were similar in brain structure and other aspects of physiology.). Attacking the psychological argument, they pointed out that homosexuality is not considered a mental disease nor as something that prevents correct functioning in battle. They cited evidence of high ranking and highly respected military officials who eventually admitted to having been homosexuals all along. They also pointed out that there is no evidence that an army has ever lost a war BECAUSE some of its soldiers were homosexuals. As to phobias, including homophobia, these potential causes of loss of morale are controllable matters and can be cured.

As to the HIV argument, this was not attacked by the Opposition.

Opposition also argued that all persons who wished to serve should be given that opportunity and not be discriminated against.

Finally, Opposition argued that if we banned homosexuals from the military, such a ban would be a good excuse for anyone who for any reason refused to be drafted; large scale refusal in times of war would be bad for any army. Basing themselves on the government's definition of homosexuality as a "preference" for the same sex, they pointed out that the test for preference was to simply ask the person concerned. Thus, anyone who wanted an excuse just had to say he was homosexual, and he will be banned.

The audience found cause in favor of the Opposition, mainly because they found the physiological basis for homosexuality to be immaterial in functioning. They also thought that the definition of homosexuality as a "preference" does provide a good excuse to refuse service in the armed forces.

Technically, all the debaters were very good speakers. They were aggressive and knew how to sustain a controversy. The audience had a lively exchange with the debaters as well. In fact, the head adjudicator had to step in several times to control the exchanges. The Government appeared to have done more research, but the Opposition was not far behind. Furthermore, at the start of the debate, it appeared that the Opposition actually prepared for the contrary position, and had to switch right after the first speech of the Government.

Ruthlessness in the University

I remember having read Peters and Waterman's bestseller "In Search of Excellence" in the late 80's. One point struck me for its simplicity: that good companies took care of their clients, their people, or their products. Furthermore, they specialized; which of these three they chose to emphasize depended on the company's choice and the nature of its business.

I remembered that book again about three days ago when a colleague of mine, a high ranking official in the university where I work, asked me what three areas I would emphasize if I wanted to have a good University. I said first ensure the high quality of the teachers; next, ensure the quality of the students; and finally, offer courses that are really useful.

Immediately I remembered Peters and Waterman: clients are the students; people are the staff; and products are the course offerings, generally speaking. The choice of emphasis, however, might be constrained by the idea a university has of itself.

One who has delved deeply into the subject was Cardinal Henry Newman. Discourse 6 of the Idea of a University is very instructive in this regard. Newman considers the University as a place for imparting knowledge. This is not simple 'downloading', but rather, knowledge that is acted upon by reason. The objective of the university might then be described as 'reasoned judgment'.

(to be continued)

Red Riding Hood: Assassin

Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Little Red Riding Hood. She had a sick grandmother who lived in the middle of the forest. Everyday, she would carry a basket with food and visit her.

This day was just like any other…

“Grandmother, what big eyes you have,” said Little Red Riding Hood to the sick old woman.

“Cancer of the cornea, my child.”

Little Red examines her grandmother’s eyes. “Metastatic. This looks terminal.”

“I am going to die, my child. But before I do, there’s something I’d like to tell you.”

But as Little Red leans closer to her grandmother the better to hear her, an old man silently enters the room, creeps up just behind Little Red, and knocks her out cold with a stick. Red crumples to the floor. The old man approaches the grandmother.

“At last, Gwendolyn. For the last 50 years I’ve been looking for you in every possible country. I finally found you. Now I will kill you.”

“Prince…Prince Charming…is that you?”

“Of course, Gwen, how many Prince Charmings do you know?”

“I’m glad to hear that. But before you kill me, I would like to tell you the story. The real story about what happened between Snow White and me 50 years ago.”

“All right. Go ahead, Gwen.”

“Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Snow White…”

Flashback to 50 years ago.

A fence named Humpty Dumpty sits on a wall with assorted genuine watches on one hand. Then two hip-hop hoodlums in leather jackets and shades come along from behind.

“Yo, ‘bro. I feel hungry,” says the one they call Doc.

“Yeah, me too Grump boy. Hey, see what I see?” He looks hungrily at the fence. They walk up to him. “Yo, egghead!”

“Oh, hey, hey, hi guys,” says Humpty Dumpty with a wide grin and a nervous but extremely annoying obstreperous tone. He drops a watch.

“Heard business’ doin’ good. Got any dough for us, man?” Grumpy steps on the watch.

“Hey, man, I payin’ my dues, see? Paid it all yesterday. Da watch’s yours!”

“What watch?” Grumpy crushes it under his foot. “Dat wuz yesterday, Dumby. I mean, whattabout now?”

“Ain’t got no dough, man! C’mon! Serious! Think ahm lyin'? Why should I Doc, eh, Grump? Eh? Hey! Hey!”

Grumpy and Doc beat up Humpty Dumpty, and walk away with some cash, leaving the fence squirming on the ground.

“Let’s get somethin’ t’eat.”


Meanwhile, in a room, three goons are sitting quietly around a table playing poker. The one they call Sneezy is smoking a cigar; Bashful has his foot on the table and is studying his cards; and Happy is looking at his cards and very seriously. Sleepy sits by the door sleeping. Dopey is talking into his cell phone.

After a moment of this Impressionist scene, Sneezy quietly speaks to Happy. “You’re cheating.” If looks can kill…

“WHA? ME CHEETIN? YOU CHEATIN! YOU CHEATIN! ME NOT CHEATIN!”

“Hey, cool it Happy! Cool it. We’re all brothers here, man! Brothers forever!”

Grumpy and Doc enter the room, looking very full, breaking the already broken tension. High fives and esoteric handshakes are exchanged.

“Yo bro’s!,” says Grumpy. “You ain’t gonna believe this bloke Humpty Dumb Ass. Said he got no dough. But we fixed him up real good, man, you know.”

“Yeah, real good. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put dumb ass together again, that kind of good, you know,” rejoins Doc. He walks up behind Happy, looks at his cards, and slaps him on the shoulder, with a big smile and a raucous voice. “Hey, man, you cheatin’! HA HA HA!”

“WHA? ME CHEETIN??? YOU CHEATIN! YOU CHEATIN! ME NOT CHEATIN!”

With hardly anyone noticing it, Sneezy, expressionless, with his eyes fixed on the nervous and unlooking Happy, calmly stands, puts a hand into a breast pocket. And just as he draws out a gun…

“Hello boys!” Snow White enters the room.

Everybody stops and looks at the alluring and regal matriarch of the dreaded Magical Mafia. “Good afternoon, Snow!”

“Sit down, sit down. Put that back Sneezy darling, I’ll have a job for you in a moment. Boys, I have an important announcement to make.” She shoves Bashful aside and takes his place at the center of the table. Bashful immediately gets a mirror and holds it for Snow White as she edits her make-up.

“Well, I foresee the imminent demise of our maleficent Queen Gwen, who made it a crime to sell choco-ecstasy in grade schools all over the kingdom and forced us into the bubblegum business. Worst of all, she’s threatening to take Prince Charming from me. Does she think the Prince will ever believe that I’m the boss of the Magic Mafia?”

“You ARE the boss of the Magic Mafia! Yoohooo!” exclaim the goons.

“Well, she won’t if she’s dead, would she? And that’s exactly what I’m announcing: my plan to eliminate Gwen. And here’s how it goes.

“First thing tomorrow, she gets a letter from a Mr. Adada Muhammudu asking her to deposit $10,000.00 in an overseas account so she can receive $20 million from the heirs of a Mrs. Jewel Howard Taylor. She will immediately trash the letter knowing that it’s Nigerian mail fraud. The wastebasket is by the window, which faces another window across the street. In that other window will be a naked man doing calisthenics. (I’ve paid good money for this, you know.) At the exact right moment, boys, Gwen will see the man, then call the police to report him. But the police line is tapped, and the call will reach Sneezy darling over here, who, disguised as a policeman, will go up to that floor with an antitank missile disguised as a walkie-talkie, and then fire it straight into the Queen’s window across the street, eliminating her.

“That, my boys, is the plan.”

Everybody stands up and applauds.

Then, suddenly, Sleepy by the door collapses. Before anyone could react, so does Bashful. Then one of the goons shouts, “It’s, it’s…!”

“Gwendolyn.” A hooded figure in red enters the room. She clearly is a powerful person, like a Jedi. She removes the hood. “Hello, Snow White.”

“Get her boys,” says Snow White calmly.

The goons attack. One by one or in two’s, it does not matter. She is a taekwondo expert and quickly gets rid of them all. Only Snow White is left.

“Impressive, QUEEN Gwendolyn. For your age. May I ask, dear, how did you find out?” She calmly turns her back and takes out a make-up kit and continues doing her face.

“Timing, Snow. Your window man? Was practicing. Booked him yesterday for indecent exposure. Started singing. Took 3 minutes.”

Then the two women started speaking in a language that only women understand. We shall do our best to translate it.

SNOW: "Bakit ayaw nyo pa rin sa akin kahit sosyal at maganda ako? Dahil ba mas sweet ang iba?". (I like your hair, dear. Where did you have it made ba?)

GWEN: "Pilitin mo man na alisin ako sa buhay mo, babalik at babalik ako! (Ricky did it. I like your bag; think it’ll go well with that blouse I showed you three weeks ago?)

SNOW: "Alam kong sa tingin mo, masaya ako! Pero bakit kayo ganyan?! Sa tuwing wala na kayong masabi, ako na lang ang ginagamit nyo! Pagod na pagod na ako sa pagngiti!" (Of course naman. But Ricky??? My gosh, he ruined my bangs the last time. Ruined! But you know what? I heard he’s getting married.)

GWEN: "You can cry all you want, you could always blame me. You said, itwasn't fair, that you just want life to be better. But remember, it's all your fault! You stabbed me with a knife! But, I won’t kill you, Snow. Not for Charming."

SNOW: “Let’s finish it all here, Gwen.” Snow turns around; she has a gun in one hand. She fires. Gwen is hit.

“Arggh!” Gwen drops to the floor. As she falls wounded, an apple rolls out from her dress.

Snow White picks up the apple. “You never even thank me for making you happy, Gwen, then you throw me away just like that. I hate you for using me, for making my life full of shit!" Smiling maliciously at Gwen, she takes a bite.

And chokes.

She crumples to the ground. But before the lights go out she says, “Akh! You won’t get away Gwen. You think you poisoned me? I poisoned Charming! He’s going to hunt you, chase you, make you wish you were never…Akh Akh… born. He’ll kill you, Gwen…Akh.” And with this she falls dead.

Gwen, wounded, limps her way out of the room and disappears.

Just then a dashing figure of a Prince comes in.

“SNOW!” He runs to the dead mafiosa. “Check the pulse, check the pulse,” he says to himself. “DEAD! What happened Snow, what happened??? An apple. With her lipstick. Hmmm…I’m beginning to see a pattern here…POISON! This could only be the work of…of… let me see… let me see…QUEEN GWENDOLYN! Yes! That’s it: poison! QUEEN GWENDOLYN, I SWEAR, FOR AS LONG AS I LIVE, I WILL HUNT YOU, CHASE YOU, MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!!!”

And with this he leaves.


We’re back in the sick room, the aging Gwendolyn on the bed with corneal cancer, and the aging Prince Charming with a gun pointed limply at the old woman, who is already unconscious. He speaks, “So, if she took the apple herself, then you didn’t kill her. Therefore, if she was the bad one, then you must be the good one. I’m beginning to see a pattern here…let me see…let me see…GWENDOLYN! I’M SO SOOOOORRY!!! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! YOU’RE THE ONE I REALLY LOVE! DON’T DIE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE! P--”

Little Red Riding Hood, who had been knocked out earlier, rises to her feet, unbeknownst to Prince Charming. She pulls out a gun with a silencer, walks up behind the Prince, calmly—professionally--points the gun to his nape. The cold, inevitable steel of the weapon makes him stop in mid-sentence.

Without a look of surprise and without turning, Prince Charming raises his head, and smiles. “Ahh, yes, The Little Red Riding Hood. Gwendolyn's best student. No, don’t speak. Yes, you might think I killed your grandmother today. That’s false. I killed her 50 years ago. She got rid of her royal life, disappeared into the criminal underworld, rather than give the order to eliminate me, something she could have done so easily herself for she was the empoisonneuse par excellence and grand mistress of a sorority of assassins! She has trained you well, I see.

No, don’t speak. I shall be rather thankful if you killed me now.”

Red Riding Hood hesitates.

At this dramatic point, Bambi the Deer prances in, singing this song:

Love is a song that never ends

Life may be swift and fleeting

Hope may die yet love's beautiful music

Comes each day like the dawn

And Red Riding Hood, the world’s greatest assassin, shoots Bambi dead.

The End.

(Thanks to the IT's: Cheks, Jazel, Jenny, Je, Matthew, Andrew, Arvin, Rowel, Jay, Sam, Chester, Iggy, Kat, and Ulrich. We all got together to write this story one afternoon, while acting it out.)

The Art of Writing is in Editing

We've all probably heard that in one form or another. But have we really considered what this means for a teacher?

For me it means two things. First, a student learns how to really write and think through revision. And second, if a student could achieve a good level of writing with revision, then why not publish the product?

A student learns a little more with each new draft. He gets to critique his thoughts and his manner of expressing them. He gets to look at other points of view, assess his evidence, and question his beliefs and biases. In many cases, he would have discussed with peers and debated with teachers. Teachers who only grade first drafts fail to provide these finer points of rhetoric.

As to publication, isn't this what university is for, to contribute to knowledge? This is true for students and teachers. One does not have to get to graduate school to write for a public.

Publication--the chance to be read and critiqued by the world--implies that there must be a "universal" standard to which all useful writing should tend. For me, a grade of 100 means "you could send this for publication in the Philippine Daily Inquirer", in my opinion. In a graduate class, the standard will be for the Journal of Toxicology or something like it. Of course, each magazine or newspaper will have a different set of standards and may require further editing. Neither does a 100 mean readers will agree with or like the article. More often than not, in fact, papers are rejected. But at that level, they are rarely rejected for blatant errors.

All can achieve this standard given enough time, so why not give them that time? I think that students should be allowed to revise as often as needed to reach publication level. The difference between the more talented and the less talented will be in the number of revisions it takes to reach that level, a number I do not take into consideration in the grading.

There are a few difficulties to this. One is that a teacher will have to check many papers. For instance, the most number of revisions that a student of mine required to reach 100 is eight; the median is four (The talented ones can do it in two; but no one gets even close to 100 at the first try.). Thus, if one had 30 students, each requiring 4 drafts to reach publication level, then one will be checking a total of 120 papers.

I get around this difficulty by requiring all students to write on a different topic every meeting, but I collect only five papers at random every day (failure to submit when called means a zero for a long exam; this zero can not be removed). Because the entire student list is randomized every day, a student may be called several days in a row, whereas others will never be called. I require the latter to take a long exam, which is also a revisable essay. Furthermore, I only ask for papers up to the second third of the semester; the rest of the term is exclusively for revisions.

Revisions can be turned in at any time. I return the annotated drafts at the following class meeting. The grade of each new draft replaces the draft previous to it (the grade does not necessarily improve with each new draft). Many of my students do not stop until they get the 100.

Isn't this tiring for the teacher? Yes. That is why I was thinking of requiring only three students to submit instead of five. Another strategy is to require each student to submit a fixed number of articles on fixed dates. I prefer, however, to have them always on their toes, and that's why I use a random system.

Shouldn't there be a limit to the number of revisions? Yes. Mine is a few days before the final exams. This deadline applies to all papers, even those first written at the start of the semester.

What about the on-the-spot essay exam? I still use them. But I make it clear that the answers should be short (few paragraphs), will not be published, and will be checked for logic and not for grammar (to some extent). I used to require 1-3 page papers for on-the-spots, but I regret those days when I used to give final grades to first drafts; with my standards then, many failed. Now, my standards are even more strict. Thus, when I hear of teachers who do not allow revision of major papers, it makes me doubt the quality of their teaching; not that they're bad teachers, but rather that they do not teach as well as they could. At the very least, neither they nor their students can escape the charge of lack of diligence. I even think part of the failure in education can be traced to putting final grades on first drafts in major papers.

Finally, won't this system lead to too many high-graders? Well, if the intention of the teacher is to give low grades, what can we do about that? But, even when the students get high grades on essays, there are still the usual "objective" or memory exams that can kill. I give these everyday, and they do pull grades down. I also require recitations, and they can be as fatal. Besides, many students have the tendency to delay making their revisions towards the end of the semester. They regret too late that 100 was within their reach, but laziness and lack of time management stole it from them.

The system I now use is tiring for me and even more for the students. But, in the end, even they think it was worth their while. What they end up with are works of art and scholarship that in a sense are certifiably good, especially if the works are published. I have already lined up the 100's for publication in various media, including this blog.

Is Smeagol Guilty?: A mock trial, 10 March 2008

My class debated this question last 10 March in a mock trial. The main objective of the exercise was to synthesize and use knowledge of neurological phenomena, insanity in this case. Another objective was to give the students a practical exercise in rhetoric.

The defense team consisted of Marc Villaluna (counsel, right photo, standing), Bea Araneta (Dr. R. Wen, psychologist, right photo at the computer), and Adrian Portugal (Smeagol). The prosecution team consisted of Jorenz Perez (counsel, left photo standing), Charmaine Cheung (Shelob the Spider, left photo sitting), and Christina Villanueva (Frodo).

The defense argued for insanity on the grounds that the defendant, Smeagol, did not understand what he was doing, was not aware of his actions, and was under the control of an external and irresistible force. Expert witness Dr. R. Wen tried to show that Smeagol showed evidence of a disturbed mind at the time of the alleged crimes.

The prosecution tried to argue that Smeagol demonstrated planning skills and was, therefore, aware of what he was doing. Smeagol showed evidence of such skills when he “conspired” with Shelob. Shelob testified to the effect that she was offered food in the form of Frodo and Sam, although she did not specify whether the food was offered dead or alive. Smeagol also showed planning skills throughout the time that he was guiding Frodo and Sam on their voyage to Mount Doom. Frodo testified that he thought Smeagol has planning skills.

The jury (president Gabrielle Cruz) found that there was no evidence that Smeagol killed Deagol; there were no witnesses, and the body was not found. The prosecution was willing to drop the charge anyway. The jury also found Smeagol not guilty for conspiracy, on the grounds that the agreement with Shelob could not clearly be shown to constitute a plan to commit murder; Shelob herself stated that it was not clear to her whether the food to be provided was dead or alive. However, the jury found Smeagol guilty of theft. The jury agreed that he was capable of planning, and that this showed he was aware of his actions and, therefore, not insane at the time of the crimes. Furthermore, the jury thought that ownership of the ring has historically followed the "finders, keepers" rule; therefore, the de facto owner of the Ring at that time was Frodo. Smeagol desired to possess the ring, and he carried out that desire by biting Frodo’s finger off, as Frodo himself testified.

As regards technique, I noted that the counsels were inexperienced in the mock trial format. This was evident in that they did not distinguish cross examination from direct examination. At one point, the defense’s expert witness, who could easily have been discredited, instead controlled the cross examining counsel. The quality of the evidence left much to be desired; the teams had access to the films, but clips showing the sanity and insanity of Smeagol were not presented. The acting was not also very good. Smeagol, for instance, was supposed to act insane but kept giggling to himself in a self-conscious way. Shelob shot herself in the foot by claiming from the start that she thought Smeagol to be insane. More would have made this exciting. I also pointed out to the teams that mastery of the language was more important in a mock trial than in asian parliamentary, because there is more extemporaneous delivery, and greater theatrical possibilities, in the mock trial.

This is the third year the Smeagol trials in my class. It has always been interesting for teams and audiences alike. It is a rather fitting and memorable way to end a semester.

Jean Guitton on putting thoughts in order

Jean Guitton (1901-1999), the French philosopher and teacher, used to tell his students “that the art of expression consisted in saying the same thing three times.” In other words: 1) say what you are going to say; 2) say it; 3) say what you said.
This advice is good for reader and writer. The reader benefits from repetition. The art consists of repeating the same thing in different ways, so as not to bore the reader.
The writer benefits from a process to “transform intuitions into conclusions” by working backwards from the goal. Like solving a maze by starting from the exit. Guitton used to teach his students to make the first sentence they wrote on a fresh white page appear down at the bottom as their concluding sentence, prefaced by words to this effect: “Thus it is that…”.
But what about the transitions? Guitton provides a device: to ask yourself if you can conclude each section with the formula, “There is more to come.”
That said, whatever way you may have organized your material, there is always an alternative way: there is no perfect order.

(Ref. Guitton, J. A Student's Guide to Intellectual Work, University of Notre Dame Press, 1964)

Conversations with Marvin: Is the University for all?

My student Marvin Sy (left) and I had one of those regular conversations over merienda yesterday. The topic of our debate was whether all students in the University ought to be there.

I immediately answered, "No." For I believe that only those with certain skills--abstraction, articulation, and the pursuit of ideas in books, according to Jacques Barzun (The Intellectual Life)--are fit for University work. This does not preclude the fact that there are brilliant people who should not be in University but, instead, would do better to enter specialized schools, because their talents are in practical matters and not in the abstract work peculiar to the University.

The distinction between abstract and practical may be more refined if we group jobs in this world under three general kinds based on the three transcendentals, namely, truth, good, and beauty.

The "truth" professions--if we can even call them professions--include the thinkers whose job is to contemplate and to research the truth. Liberal artists like philosophers and historians, many kinds of scientists, medical doctors (before residency), and lawyers are traditionally trained in Universities.

The "good" professions are those that deal with making things or making things happen. These include the engineers, managers, farmers, soldiers, and manual laborers. Their training consists not in abstractions but in the application of techniques. These are trained in special schools that offer heavy practical apprenticeships.

The "beauty" professions are those that deal with art of all sorts, that is, musicians, painters, architects, actors, and chefs. Again, they are offered many apprenticeships, with the difference that aesthetic talent is more important than practical talent.

The distinction of professions into three areas does not mean the categories are mutually exclusive. What is important, however, is that the way students are trained is matched to their dominant talents and the demands of their chosen profession, be it abstraction, practicality or aesthetics. The specificity of the training argues for a difference in the educational systems designed to implement that training.

Thus, management as a practical subject should not be a University major, concerned as the latter is with the "truth" professions (i.e., the liberal arts, cf. John Henry Newman, Idea of a University). The case of the HEC (Hautes Etudes Commerciales) school in France illustrates the point. This very prestigious school attracts some of the brightest students in the country, but it is not part of the University system. The same may be said of some business schools identified as separate institutions from their mother universities.

In the case of the University of Asia and the Pacific (UA&P), where Marvin studies and where I work, something similar has been done in the case of the Entrepreneurial Management program (EMP).

The EMP exists side by side with a regular business program (MScM), which in its first two years is a liberal arts program and, therefore, part of the University. MScM students move to the more practical School of Management by their third year. In contrast, from day one, EMP students, although they take some liberal arts, are still taught somewhat differently from their MScM cousins. The students are presumed to be different. EMP students are admitted on the basis of criteria that are not applied to MScM students: EM character traits best described as street smarts, intellectual traits best adapted to concrete rather than abstract problems, and pockets deep enough to finance a new business venture as part of the course requirements. Many students now in the liberal arts program may, on the basis of these criteria, be better in EM.

Thus, future MScM students must spend two years in the liberal arts, which in some cases will not match the students' talents. Is this practice counterproductive?

A special school with many business subjects and few liberal arts subjects would turn out great businessmen but weaker humanists. A heavy dose of liberal arts is motivated by a desire to form great humanists as well. But those subjects take away time from business subjects. For a practical man, this might prove boring or repulsive in the short term. In the long term, however, the liberal arts might be an asset, since business nowadays involves abstraction skills taught in the liberal arts; but whether they will, in fact, be an asset depends on whether the man learns those skills, and THAT depends on whether the subject is taught to match his talents.

Thus, if we must teach the liberal arts, we should not teach them in the same way to all students. Perhaps, we should not give them the same teachers. Separating special schools from the University is one way to make this happen.

The question remains: if there is a mismatch now, what do we do? Live with it. I argued that should his liberal arts subjects prove to be always above his head (Marvin being a practical man), he should do his best to fill the deficiencies by some practical exercise, like challenging his teachers to a debate.

And when he debates with me, better over some merienda or beer.

Debate on Sex Education, 6 March 2008

My students in biology debated the position "This house believes that sex education should be required by law in the Philippines". Asian Parliamentary format, modified to include an open forum.

Top: Government (LR) Marvin Sy (rebuttal), Julian de Leon (DPM), Benj de Leon (PM). Bottom: Opposition: Sabrina Tan (LO), Judy Alarilla (DLO), Pam Francia (rebuttal).

The main argument of the Government was that sex education, understood as "informing students about the consequences of sex", was needed to bring down the incidences of these consequences, such as unwanted pregnancies, abortions, and the like. The belief was that badly informed people, acting out of curiosity, tend to act irresponsibly, that is, oblivious to the potential unwanted consequences of their actions. Ergo, informing them--which in no way implies forcing them to follow a norm--would make them act more responsibly. As to the curriculum, it would consist of biological and psychological facts; counselling would be included. References to religion and morality were specifically left out of the proposed curriculum; how to use contraceptive methods was also not to be included.

The Opposition's argument was that any information-based program was either not effective in bringing down these incidences, or else might actually increase them because of natural curiosity combined with "hormones". The Opposition pointed out that that the problems of teenage sex were problems not of information but of values. Furthermore, the Opposition argued that the school was not the proper venue, and that it was in the intimacy of the family home that sex should be taught instead.

The audience, acting as adjudicator, found cause in favor of the Opposition, on the grounds that the Government failed to demonstrate with example that a sex education program based solely on information is effective in bringing down the numbers of unwanted consequences. It was pointed out that statistics existed for various countries such as Holland and the United States, but these were not used by the Government. Furthermore, the Government's refusal to include religion in the curriculum of sex education did not address the main cause of the problem, namely, a deterioration of values among the young.

As to technique, there was very good research on both sides, except for the lack of statistics on the effectiveness of sex education in reducing incidences. On the other hand, there was much information provided regarding the incidences of various sex-related problems in the Philippines.

The best speakers in this debate were Pam, Benj, and Marvin. Sabrina, Judy, and Julian made fine performances also. Pam had a fans club in the audience, which I think is understandable, because she has a rather passionate--I would say, even agitated--way of arguing; rivetting and entertaining.

Thanks to RJ Dino for taking the photos.

Coming up next: Is Smeagol guilty of murder and conspiracy to commit murder? See the blog on March 10.

Batchmates kicking Rudy out, to Canada

Rudy Depakakibo is flying off to Canada this coming Saturday, 8 March. But before that, we got together first at UCC Podium in Ortigas. (LR) Ferdz Fernando, Johnbee Sioson, Me, Rudy, Gil Cacha.

This picture was taken 4 March, a day after Rudy turned 40.

Lourdes School homecoming, 23 Feb 2008

LSQC Homecoming 2008 at the Elementary School grounds! Top: Joey Escolar saluting. Middle: (L-R) Martija, Diokno, Artie Cajefe, Julius Carlos, and Gil Cacha. Bottom: (L-R) Arthur Magpantay, Vince Cumpas, Mervin Lechuga, and Raul Firme. In the background, much older Lourdesians.

Drinks were flowing, but we're drivers, so we were moderate.

Rudy's 40th birthday

High school classmate Rudy Depakakibo is turning 40 today, March 3! Johnbee Sioson, relatives, and some other friends of his organized a surprise party for Rudy at The Columns in Makati. I haven't seen Rudy since 1985.

Here we are. (L-R) Me, Gil Cacha, Rudy, and Johnbee. Gil is a finance executive, Rudy a banker, and Johnbee a lawyer (I'm a college prof). This is more or less how great we looked in high school. I think it's a question of keeping fit, and of having the right attitude (i.e., denial plus childlike excitement about everything).

I'm not slowing down in my badminton, biking and martial arts activities, for example, until injury or death force me to take a leave. Johnbee, in mind and fact, continues being a student, his wish ever since he was a young boy, and we've known each other since we were 10. Gil is into biking and pranic healing and so doesn't get sick; he wants to put up a religious congregation, or a political movement modeled after Hamas or Hezbolah. Rudy travels; he should've been in Paris at this time (he speaks fluent french), but Mom wanted him home. I mean, mon ami, c'est ton 40eme anniversaire!