A love story

I would like to tell you a story. It's a love story based on real events. You may have heard most of it before, and I may not have all my facts straight, but the sentiments are real. It's not Hollywood blockbuster material - there are no car chases or explosions - but I feel that it is a story worth telling.

Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Mildred, but all her friends called her Meow because she's just the kind of person who would embrace a nickname like that. She was born 40+ years ago in Singapore with a couple of physical problems. Firstly, she was born with extremely poor eyesight, with tunnel vision so severe that she is legally blind. Secondly, her kidneys weren't quite working properly.

On the other hand, she was blessed with an even temper, a keen intelligence and a gentle but slightly wicked sense of humour. I imagine that she had a pretty normal childhood where she did not let her physical problems get in the way. I'm sure she went through the normal teenager issues of making friends, trying to get good grades and basically growing up. She does, however, get annoyed rather easily at what she considers improper behaviour. For example, she once recalled to me that when she was 18 and studying for her 'A'-levels, she got distinctly irritated at her neighbour's bratty 7-year-old boy who was playing next door and making so much noise.

Time passed, and Meow continued to grow up. At some point she picked up a Master's degree from the United States, spent some time teaching English as a second language to non-native speakers, and just lived a normal life with grace and integrity. Oh, and that bratty neighbour's kid? His name is Drew, and he grew up too. After spending much of his schooling life in Australia, he returned to Singapore in his late teens or early twenties, and got reacquainted with Meow, the girl next door. I don't know the details of how they got together, but I imagine they bumped into each other around the neighbourhood, and a couple of casual conversations later there were sparks flying and angelic choirs in the background.

I met Drew in the army when I went back for 3 months to complete my disrupted service. We shared an interest in pop culture, computer games and the tendency to make completely unrealistic, grandiose plans, so we became friends pretty much immediately. We also talked about relationships sometimes (hey, guys do that too). Drew probably didn't realize it, but whenever he talked about the girl he was dating, who was 11 years older and blind, even then he was giving off subtle cues that he loved her and treasured her; he knew that he was on to a good thing and he was not going to let her go no matter what. Eventually we introduced everybody to each other, and that's how Meow, Drew, my then-girlfriend and now-wife Bernice, and I first became friends. But to be honest, we weren't really close at that point.

Time continued to pass, and life continued to move on. A few years later, Drew and Meow got moved to Sydney and got married. Having never been to Sydney, Bern and I took a holiday there and met up with them to just have a nice, relaxing time with nice people and pleasant conversation. It was so much fun spending time with them that we did it again the next year. And the next. I recall helping them move apartments once (and by "we" I mean me). This involved Drew and me lugging a full-sized bed and mattress into a small elevator, down the street, and into another small elevator, whereupon we realised that we should probably have unscrewed the legs of the bed first. When they moved to Perth, we naturally continued our yearly pilgrimage, staying over at their house like the couple of leeches we are.

It was just fun. We spent hours and days just sitting around the living room and chatting about issues big and small. We ate Domino's pizza and Hog's Breath mega-cut steaks. We embarked on TV series marathons, watching back-to-back-to-back episodes of Veronica Mars into the wee hours of the night. We played board games. We chuckled over how Meow had to fight to stop herself from scarfing down all of my mom's home-made pineapple tarts that we brought over from Singapore (she did love her food). Nothing unusual or earth-shattering happened, it was just a nice time with nice people. And we kept coming back, taking that flight from Singapore every year, because finding genuinely good people to spend time with is a rare and wonderful thing, a thing that we treasured dearly.

I wish the story could have continued like this indefinitely, but as time continued to pass and Meow's kidney problems worsened, something had to be done. A few years ago she was finally able to get a kidney transplant. She had prepared for this pretty much all her life, and all the necessary steps were taken to ensure a successful transplant. After the operation, for about a year, everything seemed great.

And then something happened. Meow developed a rare complication that prevented her body from absorbing nutrients by eating, which would cause her new kidney to eventually fail. Medical opinions were sought, experts were consulted, but the diagnosis remained. There is no cure. It was nobody's fault. It was just something that happened.

Over the last year, she grew weaker and weaker. She had to throw up every few hours, and was permanently hooked up to a machine. It was a miserable existence, one that nobody should have to go through. And yet, when we visited her earlier this year, for what turned out to be the last time, we were able to chat for a few hours. It probably took a lot out of her, but she didn't let it show.

It seemed like old times.

Mildred Ann Koh passed away on Sunday morning, 10th November 2013. Time has stopped passing for her much, much too soon, but it was a meaningful and worthwhile existence. She touched the lives of many by simply being a good person, living her life with kindness, helpfulness and integrity. In Drew, she had a husband who loves her completely and utterly, but for the rest of us that had the fortune to know her, we all love her in our own way.

I will not remember her as the blind one, or the sick one, or the one who had the audacity to marry someone 11 years her junior. Those are facts, but they are not the facts that define her; if she was none of these things, Bern and I would still be flying over every year to spend a good time with good friends. Instead, Meow is the nice one, the helpful one, the kind one, the sensible one, the one with the sense of humour, and the determination, and the unwavering principles.

I will miss her gentle chiding of Drew when he does something absent-minded. I will miss playing a silly board game with her and laughing as she tries to figure out what that blob of clay is supposed to represent. I will miss her intelligence, her insights, her laugh, her smile. I imagine that she is looking down at us right now with perfect eyesight, sipping a cool drink and munching on sushi with chocolate cake for dessert, chuckling at how awkward the morning service was and how uncomfortable I look wearing a suit. The world is a slightly less pleasant place without her around. I will miss her. We will all miss her.

Farewell, Meow. Rest in peace.

[Transcript of eulogy delivered on 19th November 2013]

The ICT Board Games Challenge 2013

Every year, ICT has a staff retreat where all the lecturers, managers and support staff spend a day or two away from the office so that everybody can get to know each other better in a casual setting. This year we went to Malacca for two days. The first day was spent seeing the sights in Malacca, including visiting a Baba Nyonya museum and a hike up a heritage trail. On the morning of the second day, I organized the ICT Board Games Challenge 2013, where five teams competed for fame, glory and some modest prizes. But mainly fame and glory.

Five games were played in the competition: For Sale, Las Vegas, Liar's Dice, Sneaks & Snitches, and Incan Gold. The competitors were divided into 8 teams of 5 members each. There were three teams from the IT department, two from FI, one from MMA, one from A3DA and one comprising admin and IT support staff (ISG - I have no idea what this acronym means). Each team sent one representative per game. For each game, there were two semi-finals with 4 players each, and the top 2 players in each semi-final advanced to the 4-player final. The exception is Incan Gold, which was played as a single 8-player game.

Players scored 5 points for 1st place, 3 points for 2nd place, 2 points for 3rd/4th place and 1 point for participation. Ties were broken with a coin toss where required.

The venue was Ballroom 2 in Hotel Hatten (where we stayed for the night). It was set up in a traditional ballroom configuration, and the room and tables were probably too large for board games, but everyone was happy to stand around or lean forward. I spent the entire time running around explaining rules, updating results and setting up pairings, so unfortunately I didn't have time to take pictures or monitor the matches closely. But here's approximately what happened.

For Sale

For Sale is played in two phases. In the first phase, players attempt to get valuable properties using a bidding process; you either raise the previous bid or take the lowest-valued property on show and take back half your bid. In the second phase, the players try to sell the properties for as much money as possible. The player with the most money at the end of the game is the winner. For more information, check out its boardgamegeek link or this video review.

The first semi-final was actually a 6-player game and was won by Connie, who was a first-time player. Unfortunately, she was not part of any team, so for the sake of fairness I had to advance the ones in 2nd and 3rd place (Wan Lee from IT01 and Choon Peng from IT02) to the final. Not exactly tournament conditions, I know, but the players didn't mind. The second semi-final was won by Mike (FI02) with $80K, with second place shared by Chee Chian (IT03) and Gabriel (ISG) with $74K each; Chee Chian advanced to the final after a coin toss.

The final was a close affair, where the rounds with high-valued properties saw some aggressive bidding and counter-bidding. The final scores were really close: Chee Chian ($69K), Choon Peng ($63K), Mike ($61K) and Wan Lee ($56K). So the winner of For Sale and title of Supreme Speculator went to Cheng Chee Chian.

For Sale is an interesting game that is deeper than it looks. It's one of those games where you might want to try different strategies, and experience does count (other than Mike, the other finalists have played the game several times before). Although there are chances to banter ("raise my bid, I dare you!"), it tends to be a quiet game with interesting decisions rather than a laugh-out-loud affair. Still, the participants did seem to enjoy themselves.

Las Vegas

In Las Vegas, there are six casinos numbered 1 to 6, each with a number of bank notes assigned to it. Each player rolls initially 8 dice, allocates all dice of one number to the corresponding casino, and retains the remaining dice for future rolls. This continues until all dice are allocated. At the end of the round, the player with most dice at each casino gets the highest valued bank note, and so on. Here's the catch: if you have an equal number of dice as someone else, neither of you get anything. More on Las Vegas at its boardgamegeek page and this video.

This game was by far the noisiest game in the competition, probably because Terence was there facilitating and instigating everything (if you know Terence Choo, you know what I mean). Everyone got into the spirit of things, making alliances, pleading, threatening and cursing (or cheering) dice rolls in the midst of uproarious laughter. Arguably the most popular game in the whole event.

The first semi-final involved Terence (IT02), James (MMA), Phil (A3DA) and, filling in for someone who was absent due to illness, our director Angela for the FI01 team. Despite the possible risks of beating the person who signs their paychecks, the game was won by Terence and James at $470K each, followed by Angela at $360K and Phil at $340K. Like they say, all is fair in love, war and board games (I'm paraphrasing). The second semi-final was close affair where the identity of the winner was in the balance until the last round, possibly the last roll. It was ultimately won by Fabian (IT03) with $420K, followed by William (IT01, $400K), Mei Lan (ISG, $390K) and Marcus (FI02, $290K).

The final was worthy of a HBO mini-series. The previous alliance between James and Terence in the first semi-final proved illusory. Deals were made and rapidly broken. The players used all the tricks of the trade, including but not limited to threats, guilt trips, and prayer (Terence shook his dice and declared his desired results as if he was asking for divine favour). At the end, the winner was determined by a combination of strategic placement and luck of the dice. One pivotal play in the last round occurred when William rolled a 2 on his last die, which created a tied situation with James with 5 dice each (James literally banged his head on the table when that happened). This allowed Fabian to roll a 2 on one of his remaining two dice to claim the big money. Final scores: Fabian $540K, Terence $360K, William $290K and James $230K. The winner of the Las Vegas competition and King of Casinos is Fabian Ng.

Liar's Dice

Liar's Dice is the dice version of the card game Bluff. Everyone rolls their dice and the first player makes a bid, e.g., "six 3's", which means that he believes there are at least six 3's out of all the dice rolled by all players; 1's are wild, so "six 3's" really means "six 3's or 1's". On your turn, you could raise the bid (e.g., "six 5's", "seven 2's" or even "three wilds"); when you raise, you could also reveal one or more dice and re-roll the rest. Alternatively, you could challenge the bid, whereupon everyone reveals their dice and whomever lost the challenge loses a die. The game then restarts with the next round. The last person with dice remaining wins. Liar's Dice is an old game with many variants, which you can read about on its boardgamegeek page.

Was it a coincidence that 3 out of the 8 competitors were female, and all 3 made it to the finals? There were certainly plenty of jokes made by the guys about the inscrutability of the female mind and how women were better liars than men. Anyway, first-time players Christina (A3DA) and Siti (ISG) made it through the first semi-final. The second semi-final went the full distance with all four competitors having one die remaining. After the smoke cleared, Joanne (MMA) and Andy (IT02) survived to reach the final.

In the final, Christina was the first one out, but Siti was unstoppable - she still had four dice when both Andy and Joanne had only one remaining. Joanne challenged Andy's "two wilds" bid and knocked him out when Siti revealed no wilds among her four dice. Siti then won comfortably by bidding "three 5's" that Joanne had to challenge, and there were indeed three 5's among her four dice. The Liar's Dice champion and Luckiest Liar is therefore Siti Nur Shahidah.

Sneaks & Snitches

In Sneaks & Snitches, you play the role of high-class thieves. There are a number of locations each with some items worth stealing. During each turn, all players simultaneously decide to place one snitch and one sneak at two different locations. A snitch at a location stops all sneaks. If your sneak is at a location without snitches, you get the items at that location. If there are multiple sneaks, though, they hinder each other and the players get a lesser reward. At the end of the game, the players with the most of each type of item get points, and the one with the most points is the winner. Think of this as the board game version of the Iocaine powder scene in Princess Bride. Find out more from its boardgamegeek page or this video.

This is probably the quietest game in the competition. During the game, you can see the players looking intently at the items dealt to each location, trying to outthink and outbluff everyone else. When the placements are revealed, there may be some muted groans or fist pumps ("yesss..."), but it seems almost to go against the spirit of the game to show any sort of exuberance. We're high-class thieves, after all.

The first semi-final was a 3-way tie between Steven (IT03), Susie (MMA) and Anh (ISG) with 7 points each. The qualifiers had to be determined randomly, and unfortunately Susie lost out. The second semi-final was really close with 2 points separating all the players. It was won by Swee Noi (FI02) with 7 points, followed by Ching Yun (IT02) and Anita (A3DA) with 6 points each; the coin toss put Ching Yun through.

In the final, Anh was not available, so her spot was taken over by Si Hao. Steven just could not get anything going, and he was never in the running. At the end, I believe Ching Yun with 6 points was just one cube away from tying with Swee Noi and Si Hao with 8 points each. Once again, a major decision was left to chance. A couple of die rolls later, Si Hao claimed the win. So the Sneaks & Snitches champion and the Sneakiest Scoundrel is Ho Si Hao. Special thanks to Weng Choh for overseeing the game across the entire event.

The main issue with Sneaks & Snitches as a competitive game is the tendency to produce ties. All three games required a coin toss of some sort to determine important placings, and the rule book does not suggest any tie-breaking rules. Next time, I'll figure out some tie-breakers (if there is a next time).

Incan Gold

In Incan Gold, you play the part of an adventurer exploring an Incan temple, much like Indiana Jones. Cards are revealed one at a time. A card may depict pieces of treasure that is divided equally among all the players, with the remainder staying on the temple floor. It could be a valuable but indivisible artifact. It may also depict a hazard such as a fire trap or giant snake; the first such hazard is harmless, but if a duplicate of a hazard is drawn, then everyone still in the temple leaves empty-handed. Before each card is dealt, everyone decides simultaneously whether to leave or continue. If you leave, you get to keep your treasure along with whatever is on the temple floor, but you might get even more if you continue exploring...or will you get that second hazard? More information on this excellent push-your-luck game can be found on its boardgamegeek page or this video.

Unfortunately, I did not see much of the Incan Gold gameplay. After a trial game to introduce the new players to the rules, the players went ahead and played the final. The winner was Henry (MMA) with 25 points. Come to think of it, Henry has played this game several times and usually does well, so he has a knack for judging risk and reward (or maybe he's just a lucky fellow). Both Victor (IT03) and Kee Chuah (FI02) had 17 points, but Victor got second place on tie-break with one artifact to zero. 4th place went to Borko (A3DA) with 16 points. The Incan Gold winner and title of Exceptional Explorer goes to Henry Thet Swe.

Incidentally, I did see Anna, Borko's 10-year-old daughter, trying out a game of Incan Gold. She was also enjoying herself watching the antics over at the Las Vegas table. It's never too early to develop the next generation of board gamers. :)

After all the points were tallied, the team that won the overall championship and the title of Team of the Year is IT03, aptly named Champion Material with 16 points, which included the winners of For Sale and  Las Vegas. Second place went to the ISG team with 13 points, comprising the winners of Liar's Dice and Sneaks & Snitches.

On the whole, I feel that the (inaugural? annual?) ICT Board Games Challenge 2013 was a reasonable success. I think all the people who come regularly to the monthly staff bonding tabletop gaming sessions enjoyed themselves as usual; some may even have taken a bit more out of it due to the competitive element. There were a few people for whom this event was their first exposure to board games, and hopefully this has piqued their interest enough so that they will attend the monthly sessions in the future.

I understand that there is a proportion of the staff for whom board games just isn't for them, and I respect that. I just hope that everyone was at least able to see what board games are about (i.e., board games is not Monopoly) so that they can make an informed decision as to whether to participate.

You can see the final results here (sorry about the formatting; we had to increase the font size because the projection screen was on the small side).

Advice: on overruling others

This is my second blog post where I give out sage advice (after this one on love and relationships). What makes me think that I'm qualified to tell you how to live your life? Nothing, other than the fact that it's my blog and I can write what I want, so there. :)

Today's advice concerns making decisions where you might overrule others. In my various roles as module leader, cluster chair and section head, I've found myself having to do this quite frequently. It could be as simple as deciding where to have a meeting, or as sensitive as changing the way a lesson is taught when the rest of the team is against the change.

The advice is as follows: "Always consider the possibility that you might be wrong."

Nobody's perfect, and we all make mistakes. The reason we work in teams is so that we have multiple people with different levels of experience, viewpoints and expertise all trying to find the best way to proceed. Just because I'm the module leader or section head does not automatically mean that I'm smarter or better than the rest of the team, and it would be incredibly arrogant of me to dismiss the conflicting views of everybody else without giving them due consideration. It is important to avoid letting the power go to your head.

By the way, the corollary to the above advice is: "Always consider the possibility that you might be right." There is a fine line between giving others' viewpoints due consideration and being spineless and afraid to make the tough decisions. It's actually easiest to go with the consensus, that way you please everyone and the blame is shared should anything go wrong. However, if you have weighed the merits of all arguments and are still convinced that your decision is correct, then you must have the courage to be the villain and overrule everyone else.

When you do overrule, it is imperative that you explain your reasoning as clearly as possible to everyone concerned. I've been on the wrong end of this multiple times in the past. One of my previous bosses would declare an intention to make a big and (in my opinion) wrong decision. I would politely raise my objection, whereupon said boss would casually and completely disregard it. I would press him for his reasoning, and the only reply I would get is "I know what I'm doing." It drove me nuts.

It all boils down to making the best decision you can with the information that you have at that point in time. The trick is to consider all information calmly and objectively, even if it goes against your personal opinion. Besides, if you always reject other people's viewpoints, they'll eventually stop offering them. Then anything that goes wrong would be completely your fault. And you would deserve it.

Blogging blues

Boy, it's tough to maintain a blog regularly. It's been over two months and I haven't uploaded a new post (until now). This is despite the fact that it's term break, so I should theoretically have more time.

That's theoretically. In reality, I've got a bunch of projects, a module I've never taught before (User Interface Design) to prepare, a staff retreat in Malacca to organize and numerous other miscellaneous chores. There never seems to be an occasion where "make a blog post" is at the top of my to-do list. It's annoying how real life weighs me down and gets in the way of blogging.

You can't make a "blog" without a "log."

It also doesn't help that I've been trying to write my entries like a full-fledged article in the style of a site like www.cracked.com, complete with pictures and humorous captions (well, I think they're humorous anyway). Writing these articles take up quite a bit of time, which is in short supply. Quite often I have something that I want to blog about, but I don't because I want sufficient time to do the article justice. I tell myself that I'll get around to it when things settle down...and then months pass and my intended article loses relevance.

So here's my new plan. I'm going to get over myself and just make blog posts whenever I have something to say. The posts don't have to be long pieces of literature, and it may not have a single picture or joke. It might be just a couple of paragraphs of boring text.

On the other hand, at least I'll get it out there.

(Image source: http://media.boreme.com/post_media/2009/man-lifts-heavy-log.jpg)

What it means to be a PhD

I had just dismissed a class and was chatting with some students when I revealed that I took public transport to work. One of the students was genuinely surprised, and he asked me why I chose to take public transport. After all, and I quote, "You're a PhD, right? You can drive a Ferrari if you want to."

My reaction to the above.

After I recovered my composure, I realized that your average person on the street does not really know what it means when someone is a PhD. All they really know is that there are two types of doctors: a PhD and a real doctor. Both use the honorific "Dr", but my ability to model an imperfect comparison algorithm using a Markov chain is probably not what you need if you're bleeding to death from massive head trauma.

The average person's view of a PhD holder is heavily influenced by a number of stereotypes invented for fictional characters in books, movies and TV shows, along with a few super-famous real-life PhD's who spoil the market for everyone. And while there is some element of truth in most stereotypes, they don't usually tell the whole story. Let me examine each stereotype and talk about how closely it matches your typical real-life PhD. Note that I am assuming that the doctorate is in a technical discipline and obtained from a reputable university, i.e., not purchased from a website with a shopping cart.

Stereotype #1: PhD's are super smart geniuses.

Perpetuated by: Stephen Hawking, Isaac Newton, Albert Einstein, and pretty much every fictional PhD

Level of truth: 70%

If you've got a PhD, the reasoning is that you must be an extremely intelligent straight-A student who can play chess blindfolded and recite pi to a few hundred decimal places while patting your head and rubbing your tummy. Popular culture reinforces this view: other than parodies, you never see a stupid PhD on TV.

Show-offs.

Not to sound immodest, but there is some truth in this stereotype. In order to get into a PhD programme, you usually require a pretty good GPA on your Bachelor's transcript. Although I'm not a straight-A student, I did manage to get above the minimum requirement of a 3.2 GPA back when I started my PhD at the National University of Singapore. So yeah, like every other PhD, I'm pretty good at book learning. However, I certainly would not consider myself a genius, especially on those occasions when I walk into a room and forget what I went into the room for.

Your average PhD is just a reasonably intelligent person who knows a lot about a particular aspect of his chosen field. Granted, there do exist PhD's who are true geniuses, but bear in mind that nobody is good at everything. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, so don't be intimidated by a PhD just because he is better than you at math or programming or whatever. After all, even though I am no match for Stephen Hawking in the field of quantum physics, I'm pretty sure I can take him on at kickboxing.


Stereotype #2: PhD's are mad scientists.
Perpetuated by: Dr Frankenstein, Dr Evil, the entire faculty at Hogwarts
Level of truth: 25%

For those people who can't wait to get out of school, it is easy to believe that you have to be at least slightly mad to spend half a decade of the best years of your life to get a PhD. University undergrads often find their professors somewhat eccentric (I know I did). We also see plenty of examples in popular culture of PhD's with conditions such as necrophilia, megalomania and reallybadlatin-itis.

"Stereotypus Riddikulus!"

There are two parts to the "mad scientist" stereotype, namely the "mad" part and the "scientist" part. Let me first address the "scientist" part, which is the belief that mad scientist types are capable of doing something that defies the laws of physics, is extremely dangerous, and/or is just plain nuts. They also make really good plot devices for some of your favourite B-movies.

Actually, that's not so far off the mark. In order to keep his job, a research professor has to publish lots of papers, which means that he is constantly looking for new discoveries to advance his field. Admittedly, most of these new discoveries are less than earth-shattering ("my algorithm finds solutions to this obscure problem that are 1.87 percent better than the previous best algorithm!"), but every once in a while you get a polio vaccine or public key encryption, which is all kinds of cool. Like Sir Arthur C. Clarke (who's not a PhD) once said, "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." So yeah, PhD's do sometimes invent and discover new stuff, simply because it's part of their job description.

As for the "mad" part, you have my assurance that we're not mad (although that's what a madman might say if someone asked him if he's mad. Hmm...). Perhaps we tend to think outside the box more and have some crazy ideas, but that's how you come up with innovations. Nah, we're just as sane as the next person. In fact, that's how I came up with 25% for the level of truth of this stereotype: according to the World Health Organization, one in four people will suffer from some form mental condition in their lifetime. So look around you. If you see three people who seem completely sane, you know what that means...


Stereotype #3: PhD's are socially stunted
Perpetuated by: Sheldon Cooper, Walter Bishop (Fringe), that scientist played by Data who gets mind-controlled by the alien in Independence Day
Level of truth: 20%

The Big Bang Theory has made being a PhD seem kinda cool. Actually, if you watch the show, it portrays college professors as being so geeky and nerdy that they experience some kind of underflow error and come out the other side. Most PhD's in popular media range from stuffy old men in suits that speak in faux British accents using multi-syllabic words to awkward pre-pubescent prodigies with thick glasses and a pocket protector (what the heck is a pocket protector, anyway?). You never see a genuinely hip, suave PhD anywhere.

Party animals.

Well, this stereotype is true to the extent that PhD's tend to be socially responsible. We understand the annoyance of a bunch of teenagers having a loud party next door while we're rushing to write a paper before the conference deadline tomorrow. To us, YOLO means that we should make sure that we don't throw our one life away by driving drunk or abusing controlled substances. We're annoyingly sensible in that we know that being stupid is, well, stupid.

Within the boundaries of socially accepted behaviours, though, PhD's span the entire spectrum of cool. My PhD supervisor is this ultra-cool German dude who runs marathons and rides a kick-ass motorcycle. You know Brian May, the lead guitarist of Queen? PhD in astrophysics. There are PhD's who know martial arts, or are licensed pilots, or skydive.

And then there's me, who's a short, somewhat overweight polytechnic lecturer who plays board games and blogs. Like I said, the entire spectrum.


Stereotype #4: PhD's are sexy swashbuckling adventurers
Perpetuated by: Indiana Jones
Level of truth: 0.001%

Yeah, people don't really think this. I wish.


Stereotype #5: PhD's have no practical experience and are not worth hiring.
Perpetuated by: Lots of employers
Level of truth: 40%

After spending a good 4+ years working hard to get your PhD, you might assume that employers will be willing to pay a premium for your services. Unfortunately, this is rather far from the truth. Take a look at the comments for this post from a blog written by a PhD friend of mine and you should get a decent picture of how prospective employers view PhD's.

Suppose you're looking to hire a programmer. One candidate has spent the last four years in a software development firm programming and developing applications, so he's well-versed in the latest Java API's and PHP code. The other is a fresh PhD who has a couple of conference and journal publications but no work experience. Which one would you hire? The first guy, right? After all, you know he's got the skills you're looking for, and he's probably going to be cheaper. Why pay over the top for a fancy PhD?

A PhD? Next!

This, I believe, is the mindset of your typical employer, and it may very well be the correct decision depending on the position you're looking to fill. However, let's not be hasty and consider what you get if you hire the PhD. In order to earn the right to have "Dr" in front of his name, he must "make a significant contribution to the field and advance the state of the art". This Illustrated Guide to a PhD does a good job of showing what "significant contribution to the field" implies, and all PhD's go through this process. What kind of person would be willing and able to do this, to spend half a decade of the best years of his life banging his head against the wall hoping to discover something that nobody else in recorded history has discovered before?

Well, he'll require the following traits: (1) sufficient intelligence (or at least book smarts) to get the GPA required to qualify for a PhD programme; (2) the persistence and discipline to plow through volumes of boring articles in order to make sure his idea hasn't already been done; (3) the ability to see all sides of the issue and present a convincing argument that his contribution is useful and significant; (4) the ability to implement his idea (e.g., by coding it) and evaluate it objectively using a scientific method; and (5) language and communication skills that are good enough to get his thesis approved by the thesis committee.

Does this make the second candidate better than the first? Not necessarily, but I would expect the PhD to be able to pick stuff up quickly, be thorough in his work, and possibly find some innovative way to contribute to the company. Maybe the first candidate can do so as well, but I certainly wouldn't dismiss the second candidate based on his lack of working experience. Oh, and just because a guy has a PhD does not mean that he's looking for a 5-figure salary; he may be cheaper to hire than someone with 4 years' experience.

In case you're wondering, I computed my 40% level of truth for this stereotype as follows. Yes, a fresh PhD has no work experience (50%), but he does have experience in working to get the PhD (-10%). And no, I do not agree that a PhD is not worth hiring simply because he's a PhD. This may be a biased view, but as a PhD I have the ability to see all sides of the issue and evaluate it objectively, so you can trust me. Right?

So there you have it. A "PhD", which stands for "Doctor of Philosophy", certifies that this person has the ability to philosophize, i.e., he can think of an argument and support it in an, objective, organized and logical manner. When the mood takes them, a PhD would debate about something for hours, figuring out the pros and cons, using analogies and what-if scenarios, and just figuring the heck out of the problem. These are the sort of people who would argue about whether it should be spelt PhD or Ph.D. or Phd or some other combination (and don't get me started on the plural).

Other than that, a PhD is pretty much like anyone else. Which brings me to...

This is gonna take a while.

Stereotype #6: PhD's are super-rich.
Perpetuated by: All those PhD's in popular media. If they're famous, they must be rich, right?
Level of truth: 1%

Probably true if you're a Nobel prize winner, or wrote a bestselling book, or have your own show on the History Channel. For the rest of us, no. Just, no. Hell no.

(Picture sources:
knowyourmeme.com
wikipedia.com
http://motoredbikemagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/Gene-Wilder-Its-Alive.jpg
http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l4l620OMGA1qc1kau.jpg
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXIYfpHT5rGl22ML7XxioDuqOk8CtTAmwoPMQUhyphenhyphenc90-jvVHX54tAV-fexLEq3POn8v-U8-OHeK1bqPwIZ5yeNa5QmTYyPRxePMpgAru3SYeOXJEhaKng5KDtWNkKLcEAZ7sHzBRwXMJE/s1600/independence+day+scientist.jpg
http://www.iaam.com/artimages/careers/Resume-Mistakes.jpg
http://www.prezzybox.com/data/media/12172.jpg)

I've got some new responsibilities

I was appointed Section Head for the Cloud Computing & Data Analytics (CCDA) section in April. At the same time, I was also given the post of Cluster Chair for the Analysis & Design cluster, which is part of CCDA. Since I am relatively new to the organization, I really appreciate my bosses' confidence in my abilities. It does feel like I've been thrown into the deep end a little bit, but I am eager to take up the challenge. Besides, how bad can the deep end be?

The deep end.
(Source: http://www.1000words.com.sg/words/images/2013/shark%20in%20pool.jpg)

So now I find myself with a bunch of new responsibilities. For example:

• We've just announced two new specializations, namely Cloud Computing and Data Analytics, and both of them fall under CCDA. I need to make sure the new modules for these specializations are properly designed and taught, and the first new modules may be offered as early as next April.
• Of course, I also have to ensure the smooth delivery of existing modules under the Analysis & Design cluster (there are currently eight of them).
• To achieve the above, I need to identify and assign lecturers for each module. If required, I must also arrange for them to receive training so that they keep their skills current. This probably requires a more sophisticated system than drawing names out of a hat.

All this really cuts into the time I have to goof off. It's now much harder to justify spending time at work playing games or watching youtube videos (um, not that I do those things anyway. Um.). Or updating my blog. Yeah, I'm making excuses for not updating this blog for weeks (sorry).

On the other hand, I suddenly find myself in charge of all the lecturers in my section because the Section Head is also the Reporting Officer (RO) for everyone in the section. I'm now the guy who will help decide their teaching duties, approve their leave, and conduct performance evaluations that could greatly affect their bonuses and promotion prospects. So... much... power! I won't let it go to my head, I promise.

Kneel, minions.
(source: http://www.ctzine.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/King-Joffrey-in-Game-of-Thrones-Season-2.jpg)

While I'm thrilled to be given these responsibilities, I have a problem. Even though I've been here for a year, I haven't had a chance to work directly with many of the people in my section. When you're not in the same teaching team or committee with someone, there isn't much to do besides say "good morning" as we pass each other in the corridors. Furthermore, every single one of the lecturers under my charge have been at ICT longer than I have, and some of them have been here much longer. At this point, the only things they know about me are (a) I've got a PhD; (b) I'm nuts about board games; and (c) I'm now, suddenly, their boss.

This problem has to be rectified as soon as possible. I have to get to know them well enough to make informed decisions about task allocations, and they have to get to know me well enough to feel comfortable about approaching me if they have issues or suggestions. To that end, I have organized a section meeting next week to break the ice.

And it will be an all-you-can-eat buffet lunch at a 5-star hotel restaurant sponsored by yours truly.

In case you're wondering, yes, I'm trying to get into their good graces by bribing them with food. I'm working under the premise that one is more inclined to listen to one's new boss if he's just filled your tummy with yummy out of his own pocket; after all, this tactic will work with me, but maybe that's because I'm a greedy pig. Oh, and I also invited my own RO to this shindig because a little brown-nosing to improve my own bonuses and promotion prospects doesn't hurt.

People management.
(source: http://www.sickchirpse.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/Wall-E-2.jpg)

My plan is to get everyone comfortable and relaxed and chatting. Come dessert, when everyone is chilling out over ice cream and chocolate fondue, I'll start the meeting proper by giving a bit of a speech that can be pretty much summarized as "I'm a nice guy, help me out, pretty please?" I will apologize in advance for bugging everyone with lots of silly questions and clarifications in the near future since it will take me some time to familiarize myself with all the modules under my charge. In the meantime, I will defer to their expertise in terms of how the modules are delivered, and I won't be making any huge sweeping changes just for the heck of it (so no, I won't be insisting on open-book exams for all modules). On the other hand, if anyone has any ideas to improve the modules, I'll certainly consider them.

I will also appeal for everyone's help to make the launching of the Cloud Computing and Data Analytics specializations a success. In particular, we need to send staff out to receive training in these relatively new fields so that there are enough lecturers to both design and teach the module materials. I am therefore looking for those who have some interest in adding these new skills to their arsenal (and curriculum development to their performance reviews). Volunteers also get a cookie.

I suspect this upcoming section meeting will have a major influence on the success or failure of my reign as Section Head (I feel like David Moyes). It's important to get off on the right foot, to clarify everyone's expectations and allay any doubts. My job is not to impose a bunch of policies and order people around, it's to get all the talented individuals I have in my section working together so that the modules are taught in the best possible way. It's a cliche, but it really is all about teamwork. In the end, all the lecturers in ICT care deeply about the students, and we all share the common objective of giving the students the best education.

Now if I can only stop myself from abusing my position...

"Thou Shalt Attend All Staff Bonding Tabletop Game Sessions! So Sayeth Thy RO!"
(Source: http://www.overthinkingit.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/heston_moses.jpg)

Classroom game: 'Cher Says

So here's the story. For the 2-day Freshman Orientation event a few weeks ago, I was asked to give an administration briefing to a lecture theatre of about 400 eager freshmen in the morning of the first day. The purpose of the briefing was mainly to inform the freshies about the agenda for the next two days. However, there was a concern that the programme that morning might be too short, so I casually mentioned that "at worst, I could run a game."

Next thing I knew, the official programme schedule says Administrative Briefing & Games, and I was committed to running a game for 400 people. Jaw. Drop.

The red ellipse represented the bloodbath that would occur if the game fell flat.

There aren't many games that can accommodate 400 people, and even fewer in a restricted environment like a lecture theatre. The students will be seated in rows with classmates that they have just met, clutching their goodie bags and wondering what exciting thing is going to happen next. I needed a game that could keep everyone involved (or at least interested) for maybe 10 minutes, which doesn't sound like much until you realize that we're dealing with a bunch of impatient, worldly and cynical 17-year-olds.

There was really only one choice. I was going to have to try a version of Simon Says.

'Nuff said.
(source: http://backseatcuddler.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/simoncowell.jpg)

If you've gone through kindergarten or been to one of those kiddie birthday parties with balloons and clowns, then chances are you know the rules of Simon Says. On the off chance that you've had a deprived childhood, the rules are as follows. One person plays the role of Simon, and he gives a series of instructions. If he gives an instruction preceded by "Simon says," then the players must follow the instruction without hesitation (e.g., "Simon Says, raise your right hand."). If the instruction is not preceded by "Simon says,", then the players must do nothing and maintain the previous position (e.g., "Raise your left hand."). Anyone not following these rules is out, and the last one remaining wins the game.

Sounds like a boring kids' game, right? Well, educators have recommended Simon Says as a good game to teach children how to follow instructions, improve their concentration, practice logical thinking and motor skills...oh, who am I kidding? I want to run Simon Says because it gives me the chance to be a troll (or, more accurately, it gives me a chance to trololol).

The success of a game of Simon Says depends completely on the instructions given by Simon. If the instructions are boring, the players get bored. If they are unfair, the players get resentful. The key is to design the instructions with misdirection in mind so that as the players drop out, they realize their error and are impressed by the deviousness of the instructions. Hopefully, they will continue to pay attention to the rest of the game in order to figure out what trollish trick I was going to play next.

The game I played is identical to Simon Says, except that I called it 'Cher Says because, well, my name is not Simon (it's 'Cher). Also, I stated that the game is active only when the Scumbag Steve cap is on the screen. After I explained the instructions, I started the game. 

Hat on screen - Game On!
(source: http://i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/masonry/000/160/673/ScumbagSteveHat.png?1313097115)

Here is a partial transcript of the instructions I gave. As an exercise, try to read each instruction one at a time and imagine how you would react.

1. OK, everybody stand up.
2. Simon says, stand up.
3. 'Cher says, stand up.
4. Sit down.
5. 'Cher says, everybody look to the left.
6. 'Cher says, everybody look to the right.
7. Can you feel that? We're paying with love tonight! It's not about the...I'll stop singing now.
8. OK, look front.
9. 'Cher says, look front.
10. Let's take this up a notch. 'Cher says, for the next 10 instructions, when I say "stand up" you must sit down, and when I say "sit down" you must stand up. These instructions will not be preceded by "'Cher Says." Ready?
11. Stand up.
12. Sit down.
13. Stand up.
14. Stand up.
15. Sit down.
16. Stand up. 
17. Sit. That was 7 instructions.
18. Stand up.
19. Stand up.
20. Sit down.
21. Stand up.

Would you have sat down on instruction 21? Well, you would have been out because that's the 11th instruction, and since I did not say "'Cher says" you had to do nothing. Only 4 students caught that trick, and they were all awarded prizes.

This game is largely limited only by your imagination, and a variety of tasks that test logic, dexterity or teamwork can be instructed to the players. I had a whole bunch of other tricks up my sleeve (e.g., "'Cher says, raise a prime number of hands." How many hands would you raise?), but didn't get to use them. In fact, I had prepared a slide with a number of random items on it (like a cake with 3 candles, a cat, etc.) and intended to show it to the players for 10 seconds. I would then give instructions based on the slide (e.g., "raise a number of fingers equal to the number of candles on the cake"). It is also possible to give instructions based on an audio clue, or get players to play little mini-games ("'Cher says, win a game of rock-paper-scissors with a person next to you." Note that the players can play more than one game!). Just make sure to phrase your instructions clearly and concisely so that there is no room for misinterpretation, and then let your inner troll run wild.

(source: http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/trollface-coolface-problem)

By the way, you know that instruction to raise a number of fingers equal to the number of candles on the cake? I didn't say "'Cher says." Did you catch that?

Classroom game: Werewolf

Last week, I was involved in an activity for the Ngee Ann Polytechnic Board Games Club (NPBGC). The idea was to host a game for a number of Asian Nursing students from non-English speaking countries like China, Vietnam and Myanmar. The students were divided into four groups of about 18 students each, and we had around 25 minutes with each class. Also, the game should promote communication in English (or whatever version of English we happen to speak in Singapore). Given these constraints, we pretty much immediately settled on running Werewolf.

It's clearly a family game.
(Image from http://boardgamegeek.com/image/1534745/ultimate-werewolf-ultimate-edition)

In Werewolf, the players take the roles of villagers. One morning, the villagers wake up and discover that the mayor has been murdered in the night. There are werewolves in the village! At the start of the game, every player is dealt a card that is kept secret from the other players. If your card says "villager", your aim is to kill all the werewolves before everybody gets eaten. If your card says "werewolf", your objective is to kill enough villagers until there are only as many villagers as werewolves, whereupon you rise up for an all-you-can-eat villager buffet with doggy bags. There is also a special villager called a "seer" who acts as a sort of spirit guide for the village (if she survives, that is). Finally, there is a referee controlling the action (i.e., me).

The game plays in alternating "Night" and "Day" turns. At night, all the players close their eyes. The referee then instructs, "werewolves open your eyes," so the werewolves know who their allies are on the first night. On any night other than the first, the werewolves would silently decide on one villager to kill (by pointing to her), and then they close their eyes again. The next instruction is "seer open your eyes and point to someone you wish to know about." When the seer selects a player, the referee silently indicates to the seer whether the player is a villager or a werewolf using a previously explained hand signal. Finally, the seer closes her eyes, and then day begins, whereupon the werewolves' victim is notified of her grisly fate.

During the day, the villagers get to select one among their number for lynching (isn't this game wholesome?). If a player is accused of being a werewolf and someone else seconds the accusation, then the accused gets about a minute to defend herself; here is where the ability to make a convincing argument (in English) could save your life. At the end of the defence, all the villagers vote simultaneously with either a thumbs up or a thumbs down to decide whether the accused gets to live; a majority "nay" vote and the villager is summarily executed by the mob, and then she reveals her role. If she's a werewolf, there're celebrations and congratulations all round; if she's a villager, then an innocent person has been killed by an unthinking mob, and the werewolves are that much closer to winning.

On the whole, the game was a success. At the start, I needed to prompt them a bit, but these Nursing students are a pretty canny lot and they picked up the strategies for the different roles very quickly. Early in the game, the defence put up by the accused is pretty weak (e.g., "I'm a kind person", "I'm a vegetarian", or, my personal favourite, "I am a villager"), and they're invariably toast. As the game progressed, the arguments became more elaborate and convincing. In one game, a particular student was accused twice and spared twice. Once, she saved herself by telling her accuser, "if I am a villager and you kill me, you should be killed next," which certainly gave everyone pause.

She was a werewolf. (Awesome!)

Werewolf is a combination of deduction and role-playing. If the aim is to help foster communication skills, it's  an excellent game if the referee is active in prompting for responses, e.g., "why do you think she's a werewolf?", "is that all you want to say in your defence? Remember, your life is on the line!" It's also just a fun game that is suitable for a classroom of around 20 people, just to bring people out of their shell.

Oh, and all you need to play Werewolf is a few slips of paper with the words "werewolf", "villager" and "seer" on them. The standard Werewolf is a public domain game, while Ultimate Werewolf pictured above provides cards for up to 68 (!!!) players along with several fun new roles.

Some other lessons learnt:

• Try not to be the only male in a class full of females. Twice, the sole male was the first on lynched. Coincidence?
• I should have put my cards in card sleeves for protection. Students tend to clutch the cards when they're excited, and I ended up with a bunch of crumpled cards. Not that I mind all that much - it's nice to see the students so emotionally invested in the game.
• Talking non-stop for two hours is hell for the throat, especially if you're trying to keep order in the midst of flying accusations. Fun, though.

What's the deal with board games?

As part of the Staff Bonding Committee, I organized a one-and-a-half hour board game session for my colleagues last week. The main aim of the session was to get everyone together to socialize, enjoy themselves by playing some board games and get to know each other a little better.

Sounds boring, right? A bunch of working acquaintances forced by an over-zealous committee (probably formed by a manager who has read Happy Workplace Management for Dummies one too many times) to play Monopoly? It's like going through Chinese water torture, except that you're also forced to make awkward small talk.

Well, another objective of the session was to show my colleagues that tabletop gaming is not Monopoly, and there are literally thousands of better board games out there. Objectively speaking, Monopoly is a terrible game. You can't really affect the outcome of the game because there are almost no useful decisions to make (it's pretty much always a good idea to buy any property you land on), so you're completely at the mercy of your die rolls. In terms of useful decisions, Monopoly is in the same category as Snakes & Ladders, Battleship and flipping a coin, except that you have to do it for hours if not days (pop quiz: how long was the longest Monopoly game ever played?). Ain't nobody got time for that.

Listen, if you just feel like spending a couple of hours rolling dice and moving a top hat around the board with a couple of like-minded friends, by all means go ahead. Maybe you sometimes need to switch your brain off for a while, and who am I to judge? However, if you feel that board gaming is boring based on the faulty assumption that all board games are like Monopoly (or Risk, or Chess, or Cluedo), you could be missing out on something that you'd really enjoy. This is the curse that Monopoly has wrought on the board gaming hobby.

"All who think of board games shall think of me! Muahahahaha!"
(sources: http://www.thelmagazine.com/binary/a429/1251222802-moneybags.jpg,
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:MargaretHamiltoninTheWizardOfOz.jpg)

To give you an idea of the possibilities behind board games, let me briefly describe the game that got me into this hobby. It all started in 1999 when a good friend hosted my wife and me on our honeymoon in Melbourne at his house. When we got there, we saw a board game on the dining room table and got curious, so we asked him to explain the rules to us (on hindsight, I think my friend planted the game there with an ulterior motive). The game was called The Settlers of Catan. 

"Who has wood for my sheep?" - Sheldon Cooper, The Big Bang Theory
(source: http://boardgamegeek.com/image/268855/the-settlers-of-catan?size=original)

The board is modular and made out of individual hexagons that are randomised for every game, as are the numbers on the hexes. You begin the game with two settlements. The aim of the game is to be the first player to get to 10 points, which you achieve by building roads, settlements and cities using resources. Two dice are rolled every turn, and the number rolled determines which hexes produce resources; if you have a settlement or city adjacent to such a hex, you get that resource. Therefore, it is better to build your settlements next to hexes with more probable numbers (e.g., 6 or 8) instead of the improbably numbers (e.g., 2 or 12).

Each turn you can also trade resources with other players, or trade four of one type of resource for one of another. If you have a settlement or city next to a port, you get a better trade ratio, but since ports are on the edge of the board, the settlement will be adjacent to at most two hexes (compared to three hexes for an internal settlement). The trading aspect is a major part of the game, which requires creating temporary alliances and negotiating mutually beneficial trades. There are a few other mechanics in the game (like the dastardly Robber that steals stuff when a 7 is rolled, or development cards you can buy for a one-time boost), but this is mainly how the game is played.

Wow. For a guy whose previous experience with board games came solely from Parker Brothers, this game blew my mind. Just by having the rules explained to me, I immediately thought of a bunch of tactics and strategies. Do I prioritise getting wood and brick to build roads early (required to expand since settlements can't be built too close together), or just go for the most probable numbers and trade for the wood and brick I need? Is it worth having a port settlement? Should I get a wood for his sheep? (Sorry, had to throw that one in there)

If you're not particularly inspired by my description of The Settlers of Catan to try playing board games, I'm not surprised. There is a vast difference between reading a description of a game on your monitor and actually seeing and playing the game. The objective of my post is just to explain that there are thousands of board games out there that are much, much better than Monopoly (and some of them don't even require boards). If you are at all interested in getting together with a few friends around a coffee table for a fun social activity, where you get to talk, taunt and laugh at each other, then you might want to look into the board gaming hobby. It's an alternative to watching a movie or playing an online game.

As for the staff bonding session, I got a decent turnout of about 20 people, and I think quite a number of them had fun. Admittedly, I suspect a few of my colleagues did not quite get into it, but I appreciate them for giving the games a try. For this first session I focused on party games and other lighter fair, and I wasn't afraid to toss a few silly "children's" games into the mix. For the record, the games that saw play were:

• Rattlesnake (something I threw out for early arrivals as I set up the other games; helped to blow the "board games = Monopoly" mindset out of the water)
• Liar's Dice (the big hit of the party; saw constant play throughout the session)
• Dixit and Dixit Odyssey (very much enjoyed by one group, less so by another)
• Say Anything and Say Anything Family Edition (played by two groups with moderate success)
• Squint (didn't work too well for some reason)
• For Sale (quick and fun)
• Martian Dice (note: it is interesting to see math lecturers arguing probabilities as they play)

Epilogue: We got permission to hold another board gaming session, and this could potentially be a monthly affair. Any gamers reading this with suggestions for suitable games for the next session, please comment below!

My teaching style

In order to be successful at anything, you have to play to your strengths and downplay your weaknesses. Being an effective lecturer is no exception. There are several tried and tested styles of teaching that have been proven effective for other people. Unfortunately, none of them are entirely suitable for me.

For example, there is the disciplinarian. These educators lay down the ground rules along with the penalties for breaking them, enforce them strictly, and impress the students with integrity and fairness. The rules usually relate to professionalism issues like punctuality and in-class behaviour. When the students follow the rules, it creates an atmosphere that is conducive to learning. The best practitioners of the disciplinarian approach are also excellent communicators who are able to deliver their material in an engaging manner, so that eventually the students want to listen and following the rules is no longer a chore.

A classic disciplinarian educator. Notice the smouldering glare. Staring deep. Into your soul.
(source: www.imdb.com)

I am poorly suited to the disciplinarian approach. I'm just really bad at keeping a serious tone when scolding someone, so I'm not an effective scolder. It's also difficult to come up with a punishment that is proportional to the crime. Suppose a student is late; other than marking him absent, what else would be an appropriate punishment? Taking marks off seems too harsh, and barring him from the class defeats the purpose of getting him to learn. Me, I just pause the class and greet the tardy student as brightly as possible, and hopefully his classmates will heckle him a bit.

Another method is to be a dynamic educator, to come up with some interesting and innovative hook that keeps the students coming back for more. If you're an ex-marine, you could display your karate skills. If you're an award-winning stand-up comedian, you could teach MacBeth using your John Wayne impersonation. Or, if you're like one of the lecturers here at Ngee Ann Poly, you could entertain the students with magic tricks (seriously - and by all accounts, he's an effective and well-liked lecturer).

Dynamic educators. The fact that a student died in all three movies is probably a coincidence. Right?
(source: www.imdb.com)

Being a dynamic educator is pretty tiring because you need to constantly keep it fresh with new and engaging tactics. There are excellent lecturers who have a complete utility belt of tactics that they employ with ease, including the use of technology, activities, audio and visual materials, etc. I'm trying to be more dynamic in my teaching (e.g., by using games), but I'm not there yet.

Of course, it helps if you look like Sidney Poitier, Michelle Pfeiffer or Robin Williams. Me, I'm a 1.62m (5 ft 4 in) nerdy guy with glasses who looks barely out of puberty. Some educators overcome this problem by being an expert. The expert educator is an authority in the subject, and the students feel honoured just to have the opportunity to tap his wisdom. This works best if you've created a seminal work on the subject, or have a theorem or mathematical constant named after you, or had your life story made into a movie by HBO. Unfortunately, I'm just not that smart.

An expert educator. At everything.
(source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Stephen_Hawking.StarChild.jpg)

Therefore, I had to develop my own style of teaching, which I call the excited puppy. Allow me to explain.

One of the main elements of my teaching philosophy is to be enthusiastic when delivering the material. The idea is to try to show the students that the concept being taught is fun and exciting, thereby raising the energy levels of otherwise uninterested students who would much rather be scrolling through Facebook. I do this by giving examples of ways to apply the concepts to real-life situations so that the students can better imagine their applicability. Furthermore, I don't mind overselling the "coolness" of the material and making a bit of a fool of myself if it keeps my students' attention.

My inspiration.
(source: http://www.chumpysclipart.com/)

I suspect I take this tactic to extremes sometimes. I actually use the word "cool." I gesticulate in a way that justifies the use of the word "gesticulate". I have even been known to unconsciously perform a little hopping dance in the midst of a particularly enthusiastic exposition. A good friend of mine, Prof Michael Jahn, once said of my teaching style that "you are so enthusiastic when you teach that the students just get carried along for the ride." Or, as an amused and bemused Computing Mathematics student so succinctly put it last year, "why are you so funny?"

The excited puppy strategy suits me perfectly. My less-than-mature looks are actually an advantage, because if someone who looks like Lee Kuan Yew acted the way I do, it would look incongruous and possibly creepy. This strategy also provides a solution to my inability to scold people; instead of showing displeasure at a transgressing student, I show my disappointment. If I do it properly (I stop just short of actually giving a sad puppy whine), hopefully the student feels enough guilt that he'll correct his behaviour in the future. Nobody likes to disappoint an excited puppy.

"Was it something I did?"
(sources: http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/okay-guy; http://www.123rf.com/photo_10120743_sad-puppy.html)

In all seriousness, the way I teach is not a calculated tactic. This is simply the way I naturally act, and it just happens to have some benefits. I think the main difference between my teaching style and most other lecturers is the fact that I de-emphasize the teacher-student divide, i.e., I don't act like the boss of the classroom. I prefer to conduct a lesson as a collaborative effort, where everybody's working together to achieve the objective of learning the material. Nothing would make me happier than giving A-pluses to everyone, and I want the students to know that.

That's why I'm so "funny".

Classroom game: Wits & Wagers

At the end of my first Advanced Object-Oriented Analysis and Design (AOOAD) lessons back in October 2012, I divided the students into groups of 3 or 4 and played the party game Wits & Wagers:

Image from http://boardgamegeek.com/image/521431/wits-wagers

Wits & Wagers is a trivia game with a twist (you can get the official rules here). All the answers to the questions are in the form of numbers (e.g., In centimetres, how tall is Yao Ming?), and the questions are difficult or obscure enough that nobody is likely to know the exact answer. The participants try to guess a value that is as close to the correct answer as possible without going over, and they each write down their guess on a small erasable board,. The answers are then arranged in ascending order, and each answer is assigned a payout (e.g., 2:1 or 3:1); the highest and lowest guesses pay out more than the middle-of-the-road guesses.

Here's the clever bit: the participants then get to wager on up to two answers, and they don't have to bet on their own answer. If the answer you bet on is the closest without going over, you get the corresponding payout (the one who made the closest guess also gets 3 bonus points).

This game is essentially a multiple-choice quiz in disguise, except that the participants come up with the choices themselves. It also mitigates one of the main problems with trivia games, namely the tendency for the class genius to crush everyone else with his savant-like knowledge of trivia, because if you suspect that someone knows the answer, just bet on his answer. It's a really cool mechanic.

Like any trivia game, how fun it is depends heavily on the questions asked. Unfortunately, the questions that come with the commercial game are extremely USA-centric (will you guys go metric already???), so I came up with my own questions. I also spent some time coming up with a nice Powerpoint presentation with a ticking timer for the game (I had some problems with the sound effects though); you can download it here. The most boring question is probably Question 2, which is the only question that related directly to AOOAD, but hey, I had to toss a relevant question in there, right?

How did my students like it? Well, the response was generally positive I think. There were a few students who didn't really participate, but those who did seemed to have a good time. I might make a few changes if I do this again though. For one thing, I would allow more than 45 seconds for guessing and 30 seconds for bidding. I might also use the Wits & Wagers Party Edition rules instead, which simplifies the payout process.

All in all, the game did ok. I admit that it wasn't a great match for AOOAD, and would probably work better for a topic where more questions with numeric answers could be asked (e.g., math). I'm not teaching Computing Mathematics this upcoming semester, but I suspect Wits & Wagers would be a better fit there ("Given these 200 numbers, what is the mean? You have 45 seconds...").