Literacy

Yesterday I went to my daughter’s school to find out how it looks like during the Literacy Week.

Her teachers are serious about the event. Kids are encouraged to "Stop-Drop-Read" during the lunch recess, when they can visit the library and enjoy a story. My daughter was also eager to attend the Book Fair and learn to purchase books she wished. And it felt so good, you know.

To those who care about literacy, the scene of their kids ploughing through dozens of books rouses feelings not only of gratification but of ecstasy. It's a pity that I can't go to her school today when I am on call. Students will dress up as their favourite characters in a book, and bring that book along to school.

There are no firm rules for how to inspire children to take up reading as an enriching pastime, but I trust her school's way to make it happen. I don't know the way to assess my daughter's reading level, either. Difficult as it is, I prefer the reading proficiency test designed by Rafe Esquith's fifth-graders. The test consists of three questions and goes something like this:

Have you ever secretly read under your desk in school because the teacher was boring and you were dying to finish the book you were reading?

Have you ever been scolded for reading at the dinner table?

Have you ever read secretly under the covers after being told to go to bed?

My secret wish is that my daughter will pass this test, like her dad. Maybe, just maybe. One day.

Balance

I wrote at least one blog post each time I was on conference leave. And why not? Conference leave invariably means more personal time at night.

The schedule of my conference leave is always much the same. I would arrive one day before the event starts, and fly out the day after the conference finishes. In other words, it isn't easy to set aside more than one day to travel. Okay, at least not the off-the-beaten track experience within the tight schedule.

To balance my own travelling needs with those of formal attire in the conference, I find it a good idea to wear a pair of not-too-casual black running shoes. (Yeah, I guess that's the time I saw the envious faces of those ladies who wear high-heel shoes.) For my conference in Korea this week, I used the same strategy. I can hardly add one World Heritage site in my itinerary. It's impossible when I spent the bulk of my time inside the convention centre.

Still, I enjoyed the few short trips the way Koreans relish the banchan (side dishes). A bit from one dish, then a bite from another. A tiny morsel a time but enough to create balance in the meal. This is certain.

Title

The topic of addressing people is always complicated. This is even more complicated when you have more choices than first name and family name. The third choice, in my case, is the title called "Doctor."

Being addressed by my doctor colleagues as "Dr. Chow" has become unbearably heavy. And yes, they sometimes call me like this even in casual conversation or e-mail. If you think this is more appropriate than calling me "KM," I will not argue otherwise. In theory, courtesy is good, right? Well, you can't blame a person for being polite. But I find this way of calling me too polite, and sometimes awkward. As it turns out, the title makes me squirm more often than not.

The way I want to wriggle away from being called "Dr. Chow" is somewhat personal, I know. This could be contrary to what most people think. Today, I know I'm not alone after reading Emily Transue's Patient by Patient. I brought this book by the inspiring professor of clinical medicine for my conference trip to Korea. As Transue wrote in her book, she hadn't always been comfortable being called "Doctor."

Thinking back, she realised that her experience with the title "Doctor" was titillating, and even more so when she was a medical student. Consider it a dream title for someone who is still on the bumpy road to becoming doctor. The title "Doctor" seems distant and precious for young students. Medical students view the title "Doctor" the way children view their parents' clothes - they can try on them and it's okay to play in them, but unimaginable that they would fit someday.

With time - and years of working experience under her belt - Transue was no longer bothered by the question of identity. She knows very well she is a real doctor, even without being referred to as "Dr. Transue." And me too. So yes, if at all possible, call me "KM."

Crayons

Hugh MacLeod believed that everyone is born creative and everyone is given a box of crayons in kindergarten. For him as for most people, puberty means taking the crayons away and replacing them with dry, uninspiring books on algebra, history, etc. Being suddenly hit years later with the "creative bug" is just a wee voice telling you, "I'd like my crayons back, please."

When did that voice come back to me?

After my daughter has arrived, of course. Well, I enjoy the crayons.

Now I know that having a kid is a supple springboard for the right to reclaim my old box of crayons. And in turn, getting the crayons helps keep our children busy with many creative projects. Crayons simply means a "useful box" of tools. That could refer to left-over egg boxes, bottle tops, straws, bits and pieces turning into new designs.

Truth be told, most of the credits go to my wife. After all, she has been at the helm of many projects at our home. My daughter is incredibly fortunate to grow up with her creative mum. When our sister-in-law moved house the other day, we were given many of her left-over carton boxes. Treasure boxes, yes. Alas, we improvised an automobile from those boxes. This project lasted for two months. We cut out windows, assembled the car, decorated the vehicle with fog light, steering wheel, rear mirrors and name plate. We added the finishing touches today after buying a skateboard.

Big enough for the kids to drive. Whirrrrrrrrr. Off we go.