A precious instance of student agency

21/07/2021 

 

Last week, we had our dreaded MYP Audit. Through two weeks’ worth of blood, sweat, and mostly, tears we did manage to put on a good enough show. But putting aside whether we get authorized or not, the main takeaway was the insight we got into the IB program from actual IB professionals. 

One of the main points was that the auditors didn’t really see instances of student agency in classrooms. Now, student agency is a main IB principle. IB is all about empowering students- I mean learners (my bad), encouraging them to take charge of their own learning and blazing their own differentiated trails through the jungle of their academic careers. 

Let’s be honest, generally the way we teach doesn’t leave a lot of room for students to take control. Because hey, they’re kids: they can’t control themselves, much alone a daunting curriculum and the delicate balance of ephemeral elements that make a class. Hence the obvious solution is to teach with an iron board-marker, the teacher ruling over their own micro fascist state.

But that’s not the IB way. We have to give into the chaos. 

Fast-forward a week. Friday. Year 8, Language & Literature. 

 “Guys. We have to do the play.”

Cue the crescendo of anguished tweens wailing in absolute defiance in the face of utter tyranny. To be fair, their anguish isn’t entirely without cause. This cursed adaptation of Poe had been in the works for months with many an infuriating hiatus derailing any shred of momentum that we had been able to rally. But hey, when the boss says jump…

“SIR, NO.”

“We will protest.”

“I’ll burn the school down.”

“Do we have to do the play? We can do anything else please!”

“Guys let's sit-in on the basketball court.”

“But they’ll take away our field trip!”

“You got a match?”

You get the gist. 

On this particular Friday, I wasn’t really vibing with this display of cutesy rebellion and angst. It was a stressful enough day with nihilistic highschoolers and painfully bureaucratic accountants. The cacophony was getting a bit too much and me, generally being a nice person, instead of making a memorable example of a poor soul in my righteous fury, simply said: 

“Y’all let me know when you’re ready to do this, I’ll be outside.”

And I walked out, emailing yet another document to complete the ritual and satiate the Accounting demon’s thirst for paperwork. 

Couple minutes pass, and someone does come to get me. 

I return to a class of sullen faces, the air heavy with dejection. Chairs are dragged to the center of the room to begin rehearsals, their actions teetering on the edge of insolence and borderline insubordination. This is supposed to be a whole class thing but we are a divided lot. The “too-cool-for-you” crowd keeps on doing their thing, and the “please-don’t-notice-mes” still stick to their corner. 

Rehearsal starts with many a bickering and monotonous delivery. And I’m just not having it today.

“You know what? Pick two people to be directors of this play. I’ll be outside.”

Second walkout in the same class? New personal best. 

Five-ish minutes later I walked back in, having concluded my blood pact to get a cheque approved (don't even ask)  and overall very much near tears over the multiple stabbing turns this Friday seemed to be taking.

But I am greeted with something honestly spectacular. 

Two students, A (new girl, just joined, god bless her) and IM stand at the helm. A very obedient crew of actors perform their lines with as much rusty passion as they can muster. The rest of the class dutifully fulfill their role of extras, adding that perfectly timed oomph.

Picking my jaw up, I ninja-move to the back to observe this miracle: true student agency in action. Learners taking charge of their learning, assigning roles, actually working towards an objective. They said it couldn’t be done, a myth! And yet here I stood, recording on my phone to quell the naysayers. 

School in the time of COVID.

Hello everyone, and welcome to the summer vacation from HELL.

Where usually we would be trying to relax and catch up on thrilling turkish teleplays, waiting for our lives to restart come August, we are now catching up on those teleplays, while being quite annoyed about the whole global pandemic thing.

Seriously though, stay at home.

One of the things that was drastically affected by the pandemic and the subsequent lockdown was school.

Being termed as snotty germ factories more so than usual, governments all over the world cancelled school, sending everyone scrambling to the comforting arms of the internet.

I have felt that online schooling, or using the internet as a primary means of education, was an inevitability. The internet is supposed to be the “great equaliser” removing the cost of the physical infrastructure required to run a school, like buildings, desks, chairs etc. and providing easy access to literally all of the information and knowledge you could ever need. You know, like an actual school.

We saw this rising trend with initiatives like Khan Academy, UDemy, EdX, Coursera, Masterclass along with pretty much all major universities offering online versions of their courses as well.

Seeing this trickle down to the Highschool level was something i felt would have been commonplace in say 5 to 10 years. However, COVID accelerated that timeframe to a matter of days, as schools all over the world jumped online trying to transition as seamlessly as possible.

Now in Pakistan, as is usually the case between those who are privileged and those who are not, this move split students across the country into two major categories: those who did transition to online schooling and those who could not.

According to different sources, Internet penetration in Pakistan is around 35% of the total population. Meaning that only 1 in 3 people has ready access to the internet. So we can’t really consider online schooling as a one-size-fits-all solution when the infrastructure needed to access that learning is in such limited number of hands

As such, the government did launch a commendable initiative in the form of Television based learning, which has a significantly higher penetration rate. But again due to the passive nature of the medium, it is a temporary stop-gap solution at best.

Since I teach at an extremely privileged school, let's talk more about the online schooling aspect.

I feel as teachers we had to adapt really quickly and as is usually the case with new technology, there are growing pains. It takes some getting used to the new format and medium of instruction, with all the parental pressure for perfection not making things any easier.

In the last couple of months I saw that there was either a tendency to go for very lecturey-late night-talkshow-host-monologuey lessons (like meself, I do like to babble), or to go for a much more assignment-heavy strategy. Honestly speaking i don't think either of the two strategies are ideal; we just ended up translating our strongest teaching styles into these online classrooms.

I think most of us teachers would agree that the most important thing that has been missing so far is that level of social connection we would have with students when we would occupy the same physical space.

By its very nature, that is something really hard to effectively translate online. When someone is speaking to you over the phone or even through video, as compared to in person, our attention tends to slip. And I think going forward focusing on this element would be crucial. Trying to make our lectures and assignments as interactive as possible, so that there is a conversation going on and it's not just passive learning.

Which brings me to the other side of the equation: the students.

To say that it has been challenging for y’all would be a disservice and a gross understatement. Suddenly adapting to a new mode of learning amidst a global crisis and the mental and emotional strain that comes with that, is incredibly hard. Having that shared physical space was important and had a tremendous impact on how we absorbed and analysed information and it really feels like online schooling is but a shadow of its former corporeal self.

That being said, I think there is a key realisation that we all need to come and it's that, this isn't going away any time soon.

There is no deadline on the virus as of yet and most experts agree that this will take at least months to solve. Even if schools are opened when things seem better, there is quite the possibility that they just might be closed again if the virus behaves differently.

For better or for worse, online schooling is here to stay, What we have to do is come to terms with that fact and realise that we will not be getting this time back. It falls on us to adapt to these changes and make the most of them.

As students who have spent their lives in a strictly regimented academic program, this might feel like uncharted territory. Suddenly, there is no authority figure monitoring your every move, keeping you on track. You are not surrounded by like-minded peers who are also striving for the same goals as you. Learning has suddenly become quite a lonely experience.

And it is in this state that it becomes imperative to take responsibility for whatever it is we are doing. It is in fact in these times of crises that we find ourselves maturing a lot faster. We have to learn skills that will help us overcome these challenges, chief among these being self discipline.

Without the proverbial danda guiding our actions, it will fall on all of us to give ourselves that motivation to keep going and accomplishing. For that we’ll need a lot of awareness and reflection as to why we are doing the things we are doing and finding those ambitions and reasons.

So engage as openly and extensively as you can with online learning and think of the fortunate circumstances that have allowed you this unique experience. And what you can do for those who were not so fortunate.

If this crisis has taught us anything it's that humans have the fundamental capacity to adapt and overcome. We are definitely all in this together and InshAllah we will get through this together as well.

Rumble in the Prehistoric Jungle - Thoughts on Far Cry Primal

I recently finished playing Far Cry Primal, the placeholder installment between Far Cry 4: Himalayan Hysterics and the upcoming Far Cry 5: Hear the Far-Right Cry.

This installment on its own however, was a surprisingly good game (7/10 on Steam, 8/10 on GameSpot). The land of Oros, the prehistoric valley providing the setting, is incredibly pretty. From unforgiving jagged snow peaks with roaming packs of sabretooth tigers (there's always more than one!) and horrifying mammoth graveyards, to boggy swamp marshlands with roaming packs of bloodthirsty wolves, to open plains and rivers with roaming packs of bears, rhinos, elk, jaguars, crocodiles, cave-lions, and *shudder* badgers. The theme of the game is indeed, that you will be killed by roaming packs quite a bit, until you either level-up or learn to run AWAY from the stampeding mammoth herd. (Don't run into the water though, that's where the real toothy-death lies).

You play as chief manimal, Takkar, of the Wenja tribe, who has come to Oros to make colonizing the hip occupation of the late 10,000 B.C. But since sustainable co-habitation hasn't been invented yet, the Wenja are going toe to toe with two other tribes seeking prime real-estate domination: the cannibalistic Udam, and the fire-loving/hating Izila.

Apart from being probably the best pet simulator ("Tigers, Lions and Bears, oh my!" edition) that I have ever played, Primal captures the villains in a very interesting way. That is, they don't feel like villains.

"Who's my engine of death and destruction, who? It's you, yes you <3"

The Far Cry franchise historically has had very strong baddies, always more interesting than the very vanilla protagonists. The now iconic Far Cry 3: Drugs, Drugs, Drugs! villain, Vaas, exuded an evil aura with his calculated brutality and his interest in tumblresque philosophy. He also had a mohawk. However, the posited villains of Primal: the hulking Udam cheif Ull, and the Izila matriarch and god-queen Batari, are not out to sell drugs and corrupt the youth through questionable hairstyles.

Why.

Just like the protagonist's tribe, they also came to Oros escaping harsh conditions with dreams of settling down in a neighborhood where death by fauna wasn't as statistically rampant. The Udam, arriving in the north of Oros, suffer from a migraine epidemic, and chronic toxic flatulence (maybe from all the people eating).  The Izila seem to have been settled in Oros quite some time before the Wenja came, with organized religion, agriculture, battle-armor and a female leader (insert current political allegory here).

Sure, they are both out to cook and eat you (literally), but I can't really hold it against them. The tribes practice cruelty like its an art-form, but it doesn't necessarily feel evil. They are cruel because Oros itself is cruel and merciless. Go too north and you freeze to death, or die by toxic farts. Anywhere else and you get mauled, or drown, or fall down a cliff, or get food poisoning, or a cave-bear decides to invite you to dinner, followed by a badger putting you permanently to sleep. Danger and death roam free and wild in Oros, and it is those qualities that the residents inhabit to survive.

Ull, although a lover of bashing brains, is also a single-dad. Juggling parent-hood and leading a tribe of sick people-eaters definitely has its unique challenges and stresses (perhaps leading to more people-eating).

He has his father's lust for human flesh.

Batari, on the Izila side of things, is always getting her fashion-choices questioned, and not having her policies taken seriously (probably until she pushes the opposition into a pit of fire). It's not easy running a cultish flame flinging tribe of men, whose own houses are quite flammable.

Those eyes are aflame, with the bodies of her enemies.

As the protagonist, Takkar is no shining example of humanity either. Leaving a trail of corpses, both man and animal alike, in his bloody wake, he is no stranger to harnessing the cruel savagery of nature itself. Unleashing his menagerie of wild beasts on unsuspecting victims is Takkar's modus operandi. So is the Udam-signature brain bashing, the Izila-signature burning-you-alive, and Takkar's very own having-an-owl-bomb-drugs-on-you. So apart from the rampant murder, Takkar may be accused of cultural appropriation to boot.

The Far Cry protagonists have almost always been blank slates, into which the player may fill their own personality and character through their playstyle. It has been the villains who bring the flavor. The "villains" of Primal are as much a part of the landscape as the trees or the leopards. Because the most primal of human nature has always been about this: survival.

Image Credits: 
http://estookin.deviantart.com/art/DELIRIUM-Vaas-Montenegro-Far-Cry-3-453214055
https://assets.vg247.com/current//2015/12/far_cry_primal_Screen_Pet_Wolf_BeastMaster_Reveal_151204_5AM_CET-Copy.jpg
http://www.joshobrouwers.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/batari.jpg 

There's a Brexit inside us all.

The thirteenth sign of Qiyamat just came to pass with Britain (the "Great" now being questionable) voted itself out of the European Union.

The effects were immediate: the Pound fell, the EU threw up their collective arms in a Mexican wave of disappointment, and Facebook-warriors from as far as the colonies statused their sincere disgust at the obvious stupidity of 52% of the British people.

But is the outcome really that outlandish?

Sure, sitting a thousand miles away the fact that Brexit was even an option seemed bizarre. We all know that greater cohesion and cooperation between nations is the future of global economic growth. Britain reclaiming its "nationality" certainly seemed like a step backwards.

But this wasn't just an economic issue, a problem that could have been reduced to its mathematical components and logically solved.

This was one of the many anti-immigration posters put all over the country, pleading the people to come to their senses and "take control" of their country. Using the refugee crisis as fuel for their fear-mongering, the UKIP leaders painted a dystopian picture of hordes of unwashed non-white refugees flooding their streets, taking their healthcare and jobs, spreading disease and extremism.

This was a race issue. This was a xenophobic issue. This was an elitism issue. 

Already, social media is rife with reports from minorities (read non-white) in Briton facing harassment.

This evening my daughter left work in Birmingham and saw group of lads corner a Muslim girl shouting "Get out, we voted leave". Awful times

— Heaven Crawley (@heavencrawley) June 24, 2016

@miqdaad My 13 y/o brother had chants of "bye bye you're going home" at school today. He insisted that it was "a joke" but it worries me.

— Yasin. (@Yxsinyoh) June 25, 2016

Oh, but there is more:

 

The racism and bigotry literally don't fit the page.

Can we really be surprised of these after-effects of a campaign based on hate, alienation, and fear of those different from you?

But these aren't just the symptoms of an immoral, ailing western society. Not even a few weeks ago, right here in Pakistan, we experienced our very own version of mass, outspoken xenophobia and racism.

Border guard killed in Pakistan-Afghanistan clashes

Things heated up with the recent border clashes with Afghanistan, which resulted in loss of life and several injuries. However, the following hate-storm on social media brought to light the ugly sentiments of the people, lurking just below the surface.

Tweet upon tweet called for the explusion of all Afghan refugees, for the borders to be sealed, many accompanied with blatant racism and ethnic slurs. Was this much different that the so-called "stupidity" of the British people? Did we not also succumb to the same forces of fear, racism and self-interest over all, forgetting that the refugees were forced to leave everything behind from a war-torn home trusted in the generosity and humanity of their neighbors? 

We all have the capacity for racism, for judginh and alienating people who are different. We can very easily ignore the plight of refugees and focus on our hate of the "other", of how they bring crime, drugs and poverty.

What we need to realise is that these are the symptoms, not the causes of the problems. The real issues are war, strike, unemployment, discrimination, persecution, and the list heart-breakingly goes on and on. Blaming the victims only serves to further the divide, exacerbates the problems, and leaves no room for positive discourse and improvement.

Empathy is a dying trait, and we need to try our damnedest to hold onto whatever shreds that our left in this world full of pain and suffering.

The problem was never the refugees or lack of border control. It is, and always has been, our selfishness.  

 

Reflections on education in Pakistan.

No words are minced when it's said that education in Pakistan is among the worst in the world. Pakistan has the highest number of out of school children. Various reports peg the exact number differently, based on different indicators used for measuring. The number ranges from between an unimaginable 25 million children (i), 12 million children (ii) to 5.4 million children (iii). However, the one statistic that has a consensus, and put these frankly ridiculous numbers into perspective is this:

About half of all children in Pakistan are out of school.

There are numerous excellent reports detailing the extent of the education crisis. The Government as well as international relief organisations are spending significantly across multitudes of programs in honestly an admirable effort to eradicate these issues. Most of the reports you will come across will be about statistics and dollars, challenges and risks, goals being met and not met. What I feel is not highlighted enough, is the on-the-ground reality of how the community reacts to these issues and the projects implemented to counter them.

Recently, as part of the assessment of the Department for International Development (DFID) funded Punjab Education Sector Project (PESP) and the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Education Sector Project (KESP), the largest education projects in the world, I traveled to the districts of Charsaddah and Lahore. 

It is DFiD's aim to build more than 20,000 classrooms across the nation by 2015 (iv). In regards to this project, I visited three government schools each in Charsaddah and Lahore and interacted with their respective communities. And in a word, the response I experienced has me hopeful for the future.

It is all too common to bash the Government, or the system, and focus on the negatives and the problems plaguing our societies, rather than on progress and the, granted relatively small, achievements. This trip, to areas ranging from rural to urban, poor to rich, filled me with optimism because of one common factor: the level of community participation.

As part of the project, leaders are sought from among the community to form a committee, which is to oversee the project's operations in their neighborhood's schools. A salient feature is to increase  awareness of the importance of education, and as a member of the project team put it very nicely: to make the community own their schools and the responsibilities to their children.

I believe that the idea here is beautiful; to encourage the community to take ownership of its own assets, to be aware of their social responsibilities, to feel protective of their children and to think in their best interests; all these result in a stronger, more cohesive, more productive, safer community. The people are aware that the children are their future and that a good sound education is exactly what is needed to make that future brighter. 

At one school in Charsaddah, the committee was made up exclusively of elder community members. Their sons had initially been nominated for the posts, but they took over because they could give the time they thought the project deserved: they visit the school every single day, from morning till dusk. The school has had one classroom for 23 years, where more than a hundred students study, sometimes having lessons in the playground due to lack of space. One of the committee members excitedly told me how the community had themselves funded construction of a new classroom, and of a new water well for the students. After the project's completion, this school will have at least four classrooms.

Keeping in mind that this was quite a poor rural community, their level of zeal and dedication is truly inspirational. The community banding together, taking responsibility, and tackling a prevailing social issue is exactly what gets things done and brings progress to society.

I found the same level of admirable and heart-warming participation in urban Lahore.

At the renowned Kinnaird High School, a 150 years old institution, I had the pleasure of meeting with the president of the Parent Teacher Council, with a history of more than 50 years. Representing more than three thousand parents, she had taken the mantle of president after her own mother. She had galvanized parents to take an active part in the educational affairs of their children, a feat which she impressed was no easy task. She said that parents of private school going children are inherently active regarding their children's education, considering that it is a significant investment on their part. The same cannot be said for government schools, where parental involvement is unfortunately a rarity. Changing the attitude and mind-set of parents in this environment is all the more impressive.

It is heartening to see that awareness of one of the most fundamental rights, the right to education, is spreading. These ideas will take root when they start from the bottom up, from the communities themselves. We all need to take a step back, and realise our responsibility in promoting education and building a better brighter future. Following in the example of these incredible people, there is a need, now more than ever in these times of growing distances and distrust, to unite for a common noble goal. And what goal is nobler than striving for a parha likha Pakistan.


References:
i :  25 Million Broken Promises, a report by Alif Ailaan
https://d3n8a8pro7vhmx.cloudfront.net/alifailaan/pages/540/attachments/original/1415950791/25_million_broken_promises_-_Summary-lowres.pdf?1415950791
ii : UK/Pakistan: Education April 2014, by Foreign & Commonwealth Office, UK
https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/ukpakistan-education-april-2014/ukpakistan-education-april-2014
iii : Financing Education in Pakistan, a Country Case Study for the Oslo Summit on Education for Development
http://reliefweb.int/sites/reliefweb.int/files/resources/pakista.pdf
iv : DFID Pakistan
https://www.gov.uk/government/world/organisations/dfid-pakistan

Current State Of Mind - 3/15/16

If you are hoping to find guidance, or direction in life, then please for the love of gawd backspace outta here! This is a canvas for the disjointed, undecided, and totally confused thoughts that have taken up too much residence in the prime headspace of my Craniumtown.

I have no clue what to do with my life. No, that’s not exactly true: I have too many ideas of what to do with my life, but no concept of prioritising, and plagued with indecision, which leaves me akin to a fat penguin, floundering on ice.

FLAP FLAP FLAP.

I think the problem comes from the fact that I’m too easily swayed. I talk to my family and develop a picture of a future with a traditional degree, stable 9-5 job, wearing ties, summer getaways. Exposed to my friends for too long, and I’m coming up with blueprints for our newest food sensation (Kabab Biryani, patent pending). Having an extended chai break with colleagues, and I’m either committing myself completely to work from that moment forth or thinking of immediately handing in my resignation and doing “what I really want” to do.

Trouble is, I don’t know what I want to do. Being the soon-to-be twenty-three old that I am, I am expected to have it all figured out: career; priorities, both professional and personal; long term goals etc etc. But I don’t, and that’s the fact. I’m rather defiant in my indecisiveness. Because that’s just it, I do want to do all those things. I want to be good at the job I’m in, get the degree my parents want, I also want to write, and cook, and travel, and get a phD! But I am told I can’t do all of that, and need to pick one path. And honestly, with age or maturity, or my increasing jadedness towards life, I’m coming to terms with that.

I’m really not happy about that.

Couple days back, I came across this article by a writer for the economist. In it he was comparing the working styles, and priorities of his generation and his father’s. I related heavily to it considering that the writer (Accountant Dad, Economist-Writer Son) was pretty much me from an alternate universe, with a few minor tweaks.

He talked about how his dad worked till retirement (just like my Pa) and that the financial reward from his job was his main priority. For the writer however, he wanted emotional satisfaction as well as financial gain, something which baffled his dad. And it’s true, my generation is very much focused on finding not just a job but something which has meaning, makes them feel important, that they are making something, or bringing about some change. That they matter.

I was fully on board with the writer, as he extolled the virtues of letting his work dominate his life, because it made him feel good and alive, he got to interact with interesting smart people, got to tackle challenging problems, live in a capital of the world, socialise with high brass, the lot. I thought that this is the good life that I want, this is what I’m working towards, and that society will appreciate me for it.

I shared this article with my fiancé-to-be, and she saw it in a different, and honestly mind-blowing way. She said that she saw it as an addict justifying his addiction.

I gave it another read, and I saw it as clear as day. The writer tried really hard to be unbiased and it showed: he wasn’t just preaching the virtues of his life-style, he was balancing it out with what he was losing as well. Every facet of life was dominated by his professional occupation. Everything from relationships, to moving to London from North Carolina to be closer to the Economists HQ, social goals, late working hours, were all motivated by and related to his career.

This made me think, when does hard work become workaholism?

For me workaholism would be slaving away day after day at a job that I don’t like or appreciate, where I feel I’m not making a change and that it’s ultimately pointless in the grand scheme of things. However, I would consider working day and night on my own business or project as dedicated hard work.

It’s all based on perception. Long working hours are the norm today, and society appreciates how work-oriented you are. It is considered a sign of having your priorities in order. We want our actions and choices to be justified by others, and what better justification is there than “everybody is doing it”. If you go against popular opinion, you are derided and punished because you call into question everybody else’s choices as well. And people are generally averse to introspection.

I asked my dad if he thought he was a workaholic, and he said yes. He thought about work most of the time, and it weighed on him. I asked him if he would have taken a lower paying job to get better hours and spend more time with his family or on himself. He said yes he probably would have but also that he gets plenty of time now.

He pulls a 9am to 7pm on average, and works at least another day most weekends.

I’m not saying at all that my father is an unhappy man, or that I’m judging him for his life. It’s this very life that has allowed me to live in utter luxury, which in retrospect may be the reason behind my predicament.

My father’s goal was financial gain, and he worked extremely hard for it. He provided for his siblings, and his family, to the extent that by the grace of god and the universe, we have never wanted for anything.

I’ve never been hungry, or cold, or faced even a shadow of poverty. My father did, and he worked his life to change that.

Maybe that’s why I don’t have the amount of motivation he does, I have never needed to struggle, and everything was given to me, so I don’t know what it is like to strive for something greater. It seems paradoxical, as most popular motivation theorists say that if your physical needs are met, you have the potential to work even better and accomplish even more. Yet I define my life with the same mentality of financial gain being the only worthy objective, and working being the only noble pursuit.

My father said that retirement scared him because he wouldn’t know what to do with all the time. I’m afraid of all my time being eaten up by things I don’t want to do. But I’m scared of taking action and changing my life around, because of the reaction of others, and how I would be perceived as a failure, or a quitter, as somebody who is deluded and doesn’t have their priorities in order. Financial considerations are also a factor, considering the social lessons of wanting more, more and more are ingrained in me from birth.

Wanting more is equated with surviving, maintaining the current standard of life. The only improvement to this situation is assumed to be more of everything. More possessions, more friends, more respect. We are terrified of the assumed alternatives, that we would lose all that we have acquired.

We don’t explore the full potential of our futures because again, we are scared of failing. Sticking to the straight and narrow, to perceptions and life-styles that are seen to be working is the safe thing to do. Sylvia Plath said it best when she described life as a branching fig tree, with each fig representing a path that she could take. But picking one fig meant losing all the others. Plagued by indecision, she waited at the foot of the tree, until all the figs fell off the tree, dead.

Being undecided is okay. Being inactive isn’t an option. I’m taking steps to get out of the slump I’m in right now, giving myself a platform from which to do something I want to do, when I figure it out. I don’t have to conform to the rules if I don’t want to. I have to be aware of that means though. Maybe I won’t have the same material assets that my counter-parts do, not the same level of social acceptance they would enjoy.

But I think, I would be happier.

And isn’t that what everything’s all about?