Jumat, 30 November 2007
All grade of education is already now, from the beginner till proffesional. The student are diffrences in culture, backround of the study, way of life, and age. The fact, student's catagory based on age. Young and adult. The succeed teacher can teach in difference situation. Teaching well means helping student learn well (Bruce Joyce).
The unique of teaching, we often finding it in teaching young learner. There is missundrestanding about teaching young learners. Teaching children is straight forward. In many society, teaching children is seen as an extention of mothering rather than as an intellectual enterprice. Teachers at primary level are then often given less training, lower status, and lower pay than their collegues in the same educational system who teach teenager or adult.
The problem is not too compicated. It located in the view of children. Children do have a les complicated view of the world than older children (teenager) and adult. But, this fact does not imply that teaching children is simple or straight forward. On the contrary the teacher of children.
- For the first reading relax. Read the selection casually, as you would some magazine articles, for whatever enjoyment or new ideas you can get it without straining. Do not stop to look up new words unles the sentences in which they are used are meaningless untill you do. But, have a pencil in hand and mark all words you are doubtful about, then go on.
- When finished with the first reading, put the book down; For a few minutes, think over what you have read.
- Then use the dictionary to help you undrestand the word you have marked. Do not make the mistake of finding the first or the shortest definition, and trying to memorize it. Instead, look at the various meanings, and for the words uses as noun, verb, and modifier. THink about them. Pronounce the word. Use it in a few sentences. I dentifying it with similar word you already know. Then see the author has used it.
- After you undrestand all the wors, read and think briefly about the assigned question and remarks following the selection. (The pargraph in each selection are numbered for easy reference)
- Then read the easy, pausing sometimes to ideas, marking sentences or phrase that seem to you especially interesting, miss leading, amusing, or well expressed.
- Then return to the question at the end. You will proably find that you have already provided most of the answer. If not, give them further thought, refering again to the essay need and to " A guide to term" or earlier explanations wherever necessary for though undrestanding.
- Next, try to evaluate the selection. What was the author trying to expalain? Did he succed in explaining? Was his endevour worthwhile?
Don't miss the imagination of the maker...
This 'really' awesome story begins from here till it ends below.....
Slowly scroll downwards and enjoy it!
HUMAN BEINGS ARE SUCH SMALL CREATURES, AREN'T THEY?
SO DON'T BE TOO WORRIED ABOUT EVERYTHING,
TREASURE EVERY MOMENT, DO WHAT YOU WISH TO DO.....
BROADEN YOUR VIEW, BROADEN YOUR MIND,
DON'T WORRY TOO MUCH ABOUT THINGS THAT ARE BOTHERING YOU,
DO TREASURE YOUR LOVED ONES, LIVE SAFELY AND PEACEFULLY,
ALWAYS BE HAPPY TO WELCOME THE COMING OF THE NEW DAY....... ENJOY THE SUNSHINE ...
ALWAYS LOOK AT THE BRIGHTER SIDE OF THINGS.....
Selasa, 13 November 2007
Malam sebelumnya, saya memutuskan berangkat ke Jogja atas bujukan teman. Tentu saja, dengan persiapan minim. Malam sebelum berangkat ke Jogya, saya packing barang dan menelepon teman yang bisa membantu saya disana. Saat itu, saya hanya memikirkan biaya, pakaian, penginapan, dan akomodasi disana. Ternyata saya melupakan hal prinsipil dari perjalan ke kota asing. Peta dan nomor-nomor telepon penting serta schedule cadangan. Hal prinsipil itu benar-benar mengunci saya. Bayangkan saja, tidak mengenal jalan maupun daerah yang kita lewati. Persiapan yang terlupakan itu mengakibatkan saya mengekor guide (teman yang mengenal wilayah itu). Dampaknya pun cukup serius, jalanan begitu ramai dan padat sehingga tidak sempat memperhatikan jalan.
Perjalanan alih-alih menyenangkan, menegangkan dan konsentrasi penuh. Akibatnya, kita tidak bisa menikmati perjalanan dengan nyaman dan tenang. Kita cenderung kelelahan dan tegang. Perjalanan yang seharusnya menyenagkan menjadi hukuman bagi diri sendiri. Sebaiknya kita mempertimbangkan segala sesuatu denagn matang sebelum kita melakukan perjalanan jauh. Contohnya, mencatat nomor-nomor penting, peta kota yang akan kita datangi, schedule cadangan.
Penggabungan manajemen biaya, waktu, dan tenaga. Pengalaman penggabungan ketiga manajemen yang kurang terasah. Ini terjadi pada jumat, 9/11/07 kemarin. Niat berangkat ke Jogya ngirit biaya transportasi malah keplanggrang (kehilangan banyak waktu-bhs jawa). Berdua, berangkat dengan teman dari kudus, jumat jam 6 pagi memilih opearan bis kesemarang. Sesampainya di terminal Terboyo Semarang, jam 8. Kemudian, kita memilih langsung naik bis ekonomi Jogya tanpa AC tanpa berfikir panjang. Sebelumnya, kakak saya menyarankan untuk meilih patas. Karena pertimbangan pengiritan, saya mengabaikan saran dengan pertimbangan pengiritan 50%.
Perjalanan awalnya menyenangkan, menikmati pemandangan sambil ngobrol. Ditengah perjalanan tepatnya di Magelang, ada kecelakaan beruntun. Terpaksa bus kita diajak tur pedesaan. Otomatis, perjalanan kita memakan waktu lebih lama. Permasalahannya, kita kehilangan waktu dua kali lipatnya dan kelelahan akibat dehidrasi. Perjalanan Kudus-Jogya biasanya cuma 5 jam, memakan waktu sampai 7 jam.
Perjalanan yang melelahkan tapi merupakan pengalaman berharga. Kita seharusnya mempertimbangkan faktor selain finasial saja dalam menempuh perjalanan jauh. Lebih baik mengeluarkan biaya finansial yang agak besar untuk pengiritan waktu dan tenaga.
Ngirit tapi boros. Perjalanan yang memakan waktu lebih lama membuat kita dehidrasi dan kelelahan. Tidak hanya itu saja, kita kehilangan waktu dua kali lipat diperjalanan yang seharusnya bisa kita manfaatkan. Sebaiknya kita mempertimbangkan faktor lain selain finansial dalam menempuh perjalan jauh. Kita bisa mengirit tanpa pemborosan. Bukan ngirit tapi boros
Kamis, 08 November 2007
He gurgled softly and smacked his lips. I lifted him and cradled him against my chest, wondering at how small and vulnerable he was. It reminded me that I, too, had once been completely helpless. For most of life, actually, it seemed that way---and sometimes still.
My own father, however, had always been totally capable. He was a sort of magic man, always having the right thing to say, the perfect thing to do in any given circumstance---like magic.
This thought, coupled with the steady rhythm of my son's breathing, sent me back to one Christmas in particular. I have no recollection to how old I was, but I do recall how much I weighed: forty pounds. My jaw had nearly dropped when my mother announced the size of our turkey.
"Twenty-eight pounds," she said, pulling it from the oven and setting it upon the stove. "Enough to feed an army."
I bent my head to examine my own stature, thinking that surely this beast of more than half my weight had to be an anomaly of nature. "How...?" I began to ask, but my mother was already off, dashing about the kitchen in search of one utensil, then another. The mystery would have to wait because I was forced into dodging both left and right to avoid being trampled under foot.
Upon obtaining her quarry, she laid out a cutting-board and stood over the turkey holding a fork and spoon, but these were so oversized, I would swear someone designed them for the giant from "Jack and the Beanstalk." She examined the steaming bird from above, and nodding, she reached inward to extract it.
From my vantage, first fork, then spoon disappeared below the rim of the pot. With a lick of the lips, my mother began lifting. But, instead of turkey coming free, the pot rose wholesale from the stove. Worse still, in her straining, my mother leaned back, bringing bird with her, so that when she lowered it again, the pot rested only partway upon the range-top. When she relaxed her grip, it teetered forward and began to slide from its resting place.
I scrunched my arms to my sides. My mother, however, reacted like lightning. She stabbed fork and spoon back into the pan with a shriek and halted our dinner's free-fall.
"Are you all right?" my father's voice questioned from behind me.
"Your turkey!" my mother replied, pointing the fork threateningly at my father's chest. "It's stuck! And I almost dropped it on the floor trying to get it out."
"Hmm," my father mumbled. "Would you like me to help?"
"No," she blurted, "I wouldn't! So why don't you go back into the living room and finish your drink."
Instead of leaving the kitchen as my mother demanded, he placed his half-full glass onto the counter. "I'm sorry," he said calmly. "I didn't know you were having trouble." He extended his hand, "Please. I'm here to help."
Wiping her brow with her apron, she sighed, "all right," and presented him with fork and spoon.
My father took position before the stove. He shuffled his feet to gain proper footing and raised fork and spoon to shoulder height, preparing his attack. In one motion, the utensils disappeared below the pot's rim. And again, just as my mother had, my father lifted the whole thing from the stove. He puffed under the exertion, but fortunately he possessed both the strength and foresight to return it to a secure resting place before letting go.
My father shook his head at the turkey and said to my mother, "You're right."
With those words, I knew we were defeated. I imagined Christmas dinner without a main course: we'd be left with just potatoes, stuffing and cranberry sauce---and I hated cranberry sauce!
But just then, when we needed it most, my father worked his magic.
"Why don't we do this together?" he asked my mother.
After scooting the cutting-board as close as possible to the stove, he directed my mother to grasp the pot with both hands as he pushed his tools back into the abyss. But, before yanking at the bird a second time, he paused. He took one long breath and held it. The kitchen fell silent in anticipation. But, within the silence, my father breathed words which drifted into the air and reached my ears.
"Dear Lord," my father prayed, "by your grace." With those words, he winked at my mother and lifted.
Like my father, I held my own breath; afraid to watch, yet transfixed.
The pot rose slightly, but my mother forced it back down and my father strained harder. Suddenly, with a sharp report, the turkey cracked free. As it ascended into view, I saw that my father impaled one end with the fork while cradling the spoon beneath the other.
"Whoa!" I gasped as our main course flew from pot to cutting-board. Once safely upon its final perch, my father slid it away from the counter's edge.
"Now you get to carve it," my mother told him.
My father grinned, and as he began inserting the blades into the electric knife, he noticed me watching, hand over mouth, awestruck. For a moment, I believed he was going to bow like so many performers I had seen on TV. But instead, his grin widened to a beaming smile and, with a wink, he reached across the distance between us and patted me on the head.
My own son stirred, and I was moved away from the memory. He smacked his lips in the same way that had sent me into my reverie. I gazed at this beautiful baby, body so close that he warmed me like a furnace, and wondered if I would be able to perform feats of magic for him as well.
"Dear Lord," I uttered over my infant son, "by your grace, by your grace."
Copyright ©1997 M. Stanley Bubien. All Rights Reserved.
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