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Saturday, 17 December 2016

Technical Intricacy of Modern Education

TECHNICAL INTRICACY OF MODERN EDUCATION

        
Education can be described as the imparting and acquiring of knowledge via teaching and learning, especially at a school or similar institution. In the words of G. K. Chesterton ‘Education is simply the soul of a society as it passes from one generation to another.’ No wonder every sane and rational society treats it as the fundamental factor required toward any meaningful development.

      
The earliest educational processes involved sharing information about gathering food and providing shelter; making weapons and other tools; learning language; and acquiring the values, behaviour, as well as religious rites or practices of a given culture. Prior to the invention of writing and reading, people lived in an environment in which they struggled to survive against natural forces, animals, and other humans. At the time, to survive, preliterate individuals developed skills that grew into cultural and educational patterns.

        
Education emanated from the human struggle for survival and enlightenment. It might be formal or informal. The latter refers to the general social process by which human beings acquire the knowledge and skills needed to function in their culture. Whilst, formal education refers to the process through which teachers instruct pupils or students, as might be the case, in subjects of study within institutions.

      
The modern day education makes one feel proud that s/he is truly educated, though formally or informally, everyone is educated. The real education, which is the overall development of mind, body and soul, can be acquired via any means. According to Carter Woodson, ‘Education means to inspire people to live more abundantly, to learn to begin with life as they find it and make it better.’

        
It’s noteworthy that modern education is aided with a variety of technology comprising computers, projectors, internet, and calculators, among others; this fact forms the basis of this discussion. Everything that can be simplified has been made simpler by introduction of the aforementioned gadgets into the modern day education. Science has obviously explored every aspect of human life; it suffices to say that there is now much to learn as well as more to assimilate. Internet alone provides abysmal knowledge, meaning literally that there’s no end to it.

        
Skill development and vocational education has added a new feather to the modern system of education. There is something to learn for everyone. Even an infant these days goes to a kindergarten. And a little grown – mentally and physically – is promoted to a nursery. The most fascinating part is that everything is being categorized ranging from kindergarten, nursery, primary, secondary, to tertiary; and each of these stages has a certain set of technical acquaintances. The truth is, modern pattern of education is a never-ending process. Aristotle Nicomachus stated that ‘Education is an ornament in prosperity and a refugee in adversity.’ This is exactly what modern education represents.       

        
However, it’s pertinent to acknowledge that the existing technical intricacy of modern education has caused colossal harm to the present days children. For instance, before now, devices such as abacus were used during Mathematics classes. Such an approach helped tremendously to educate the kids – ranging from ages 6 to 14 – on mental arithmetic, a knowledge that enables them to face any form of Mathematics problem in the future. But now, except in countries like India, Russia, China, Ghana, and what have you that still use counting frame or abacus, calculator has suddenly overtaken its use in Nigeria. Worse still, even primary school pupils are now exposed to scientific calculators.

         
Modern education has deprived most learners the opportunity of seeing the real events or scenes. Engineering students, for example, only see pictures of what is being taught, or what is expected to be produced by them. Final year undergraduates, and perhaps postgraduate students, presently do their projects or theses by merely downloading the required materials from the net. Most students don’t even know where the fabric they are wearing came from. The word ‘how’ is currently missing in our world, which causes ignorance.

         
Modern education has succeeded in spreading more ignorance than knowledge. It has produced a vast population able to read but unable to distinguish what is worth reading. Learners do more of cramming rather than memorizing, which can only be achieved by getting close to facts or the actual pictures. Albert Einstein once said ‘Education is that which remains if one has forgotten everything learned in school.’

        
For the technical intricacies involved in modern education to be advantageous to the learners, they must serve as supplements. They ought to be used for reference purposes. The pupils/students must get used to the real pictures or sites before introducing the use of tech gadgets to them. Their brains shouldn’t be complicated with those stuffs at early stage. These brains are still fragile, thus ought not to be juxtaposed with tech intricacies. More so, endeavour to let the practical segment be preceded by theory.

       
We must note that every invention was made for a purpose, and to be applied at a particular time. So if we end up misusing them, it becomes a problem when they are meant to serve as blessing. Think about it!  


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Facebook Palaver II

FACEBOOK PALAVER (II)

      “What have you done to me?” Abigail ranted, hastily stood up, got dressed and furiously dashed out of the room.

      Metu joined her in his shorts as she was about leaving the main entrance to the apartment. “Please, I am sorry.” He uttered, attempted holding her left hand.

      She abruptly stopped. “Don’t you dare touch me.” She warned, fiercely looking into his eyes.

      “Please, I am very sorry.” He reiterated in false pretence.

      “Shit,” she lamented. “I never knew I have been dealing with a monster.” She said, gushed out tears.

      “Baby, I am really sorry,” he lied. “I don’t know what came over me.”

      “Mark today’s date,” quoth Abigail. “Henceforth, you shall never know peace in your life.” She cursed, eventually dashed out and forcedly jammed the door.

      “To hell with your curse!” Metu trivialized as he stood behind the door. “Nah today..?” he added in vernacular, meaning literally he wasn’t a new breed in the game, thus stood to fear nothing.

                           * * * * * *

      When Abigail got to her school lodge on that fateful day being Sunday, at about 5.20pm, she wasn’t herself, couldn’t believe she was actually a victim of a monstrous act she had forbade right from her childhood. It kept ringing on her innocent mind like a mere dream as she lay weirdly in her humble bed.

      “Are you alright?” Her roommate – Kate – inquired the moment she stepped into the room having been away since morning after her church service.

      Abigail couldn’t utter a word, really appeared pale and depressed in the bed.

      Kate, who needn’t be told that all wasn’t well, hurriedly sat on the bed, gripped by fear “Abi baby.” she tenderly called, looking into her eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

       “I am fine.” She managed to say.

       “No, you are not,” quarreled Kate. “This is not you.”

        Abigail gushed out tears uncontrollably.

       “What is wrong with you?”

       “He raped me…!” she cried out.

       “He wha..t?”

        Abigail nodded.

       “Oh my God!” Kate screamed, stood up roughly. “You mean that bastard raped you..?” she ranted, gesticulating.

        Abigail kept sobbing.

       “How come?” enquired Kate. “How did it happen?”

       “He drugged me…” she cried out again.

       “You see,” said Kate. “I warned you but you wouldn’t listen.”

        She had earlier discouraged Abigail from embarking on the journey, stating it was too early and spontaneous for her to pay him a visit. However, in order not to begin with blame, she squatted and started wiping the tears with her bare hands. “I am so sorry, okay?”

        Abigail nodded in appreciation.

       “I bet you,” quoth Kate. “He must pay for this.”

       “Please, forget about him,” pleaded Abigail. “God will judge him.”

       “I am surprised at you,” quoth Kate. “I should forget about a man who did this to you?”

       Abigail nodded. “I don’t want my parents to know about this.”

       Kate was arrested by the last clause; hence, she jettisoned her thought of revenge immediately. She sat on the bed again and began to console her.

        * * * * * *

       “Hi dear!” Metu greeted while online, Facebook precisely.

        He just initiated a chat, as usual, with one of his newest female friends. This was happening barely forty-eight hours after his rift with Abigail. Before this time, the said lady had cancelled their friendship on the platform, thus they were not seeing each other’s account any more.

       “Hello.” she replied.

       “You are looking very beautiful, I must confess.” Metu flattered.

       “Really?”

       “Yea,” he typed. “From what I am seeing, there is no doubt about that.”

       “Okay ooh,” she wrote. “Thanks”

       “You are welcome.” He said, glanced at her profile name once again. “I am Ken. You?” he typed, ignoring her account name which read thus ‘Madu Nkiru Jovita’.

       “Nkiru.” She responded.

       “Alright,” he said. “So, you’re Igbo?”

       “Yep.”

       “What part?” he said. “I mean, which state? He supplemented.

       “Enugu.” She typed. “You?”

       “Abia.” quoth Metu. “Where do you stay?” He added in a jiffy.      

       “Calabar.”

       “Waoow.” he exclaimed. “Same here.”

       “Interesting.” enthused Nkiru.

       “You can say that again.” quoth the play boy. “So, what are you doing in Calabar?” He typed hesitantly.

       “Fashion designing.”

       “That’s lovely.”

       “Thanks.” she appreciated. “And you?”

       “I am into contracts.”

       “What type?”

       “Engineering and environmental.”

       “Ok.” She wrote.

       “Please, how old are you?” Metu inquired.

       “Why ask?”

       “Just wish to know; nothing more”

       “Ok, I am 29.” she typed. “And you?”

       “36.”     

        The chat took almost two hours before she excused him, claiming she was feeling asleep. It ended at about 8pm.

       The following week, Nkiru as she called herself landed in Metu’s apartment, which was about ten kilometers (10km) away from her residence.

       When the prospective host opened the door to usher her in, he was so overwhelmed over what he saw. She was exemplarily beautiful and endowed – fair, plump, and about 1.86 metres tall; among all, her boobs, hips, and bum were all abound and well positioned. She put on a bluish mini gown, well plaited hairs, black flat-heeled shoes, various jewelleries and designer perfume; her dress was obviously showcasing her endowments. She looked very sophisticated. “Wow, I am short of words.” He managed to utter, closed the door having ushered her in.

        She dished out an innocent smile. “What’s wrong?” she pretended.

       “You are looking extremely marvelous.”

       “Sure?”

       “Of course.” He replied as they walked towards the lounge room.

       They both assumed their seats. They sat on the same chair; a 3-in-1 cushion. “You are highly welcome, my dear.” He said elatedly, kept his eyes fixed at her magnificent ‘onions’ which were so glaring.

       “Thank you.”

       “So, what do I offer you?”

       “Stout or wine.”

       “Alright,” he said, stood up. “Please give me a few seconds.”

       “No problem.” She responded, smiling.

        Metu walked into his cookery and returned in one minute’s time with two canned stouts. He served her, placed the other one on the side-stool sited where he was seated, and resumed his seat.

       Few minutes on, the august visitor seemingly felt asleep, thus she lay on the cushion placing her head on Metu. No doubt, he had drugged her as his tradition demanded.

       He couldn’t wait, hence took her to his inner chamber, laid the body on the bed and started undressing her.

       Intriguingly, in the process, the supposedly drugged lady metamorphosed into a mighty snake. Little did he know that the so-called Nkiru was a ghost.

       Metu, who couldn’t withstand his sight, shouted at the top of his voice and attempted to escape in his boxers. As he was about being on his feet, the weird snake swallowed him and instantly vanished into thin air.

      That was the end of Metu Okafor – the so-called Ken Williams – and his generation yet unborn.

      Truly, one bad turn deserves another. Or, what do you have to say? Think about it!

 
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Facebook Palaver


FACEBOOK PALAVER

     “This Facebook is so boring today.” Metu thought, felt disappointed.

       The 36-year-old Metu, who was still a bachelor, had been a freak of the popular social media platform - Facebook – for years. There was no day that passed that he wouldn’t sacrifice at least three consecutive hours for chatting alongside other available informal activities. He was obviously a handsome and promising young man, and his pictures cum profile could attest to it, thus no one that came across his account that wouldn’t wish to engage him on a prolonged chat.

      The remarkable thing about him was that, rather than looking out for every inspiring and entertaining aspect of the platform, each time he came online, he was particularly interested in pictures posted by his new female pals so that he would compliment them and engage the owner on an unscheduled chat. Suffice it to say that, he felt more comfortable and relaxed chatting with female folks; and there was no lady he sent a message to that hesitated replying owing to the charming attribute of his image.

       So, whenever there was no one of opposite gender to hook-up with, he got embarrassed and depressed. That was exactly how he felt on that Saturday evening as he lay in his bed in his one-bedroom-flat apartment situated in Calabar, the capital territory of Cross-River State, Nigeria. He had already spent almost an hour to no avail, yet his expectation remained high; he couldn’t afford to go offline without sending at least ‘hi’ to a damsel.

       Few seconds later having been exhausted, though still agile to mingle, four gorgeously looking portraits were posted by one of his new female pals on her wall. He quickly glanced at each of them, liked them and dropped a comment. His comment read thus ‘These are indeed pictures belonging to an African queen.’

      In a few minutes time, the lady responded ‘Thank you so much.’

      He never bothered dropping further comment on the pictures, instead he thought it wise to send a message to her inbox; hence, he wrote ‘Hi pretty!’

      “Hello handsome!” she jovially replied in a jiffy.

      Metu smiled. “I must confess,” he said “this Facebook is meant for people like you.” He hinted, hastily perused her profile to ascertain the prospect of the intended relationship.

      The profile indicated that she was equally a resident of Calabar, thus he felt so elated.

      “How do you mean?” she verified.

      “I meant, beautiful damsels like you.”

       Probably she smiled. “Are u sure?” she wrote.

      “Of course,” quoth Metu. “Absolutely sure.”

      “I’m flattered.”

      “Please don’t be.” he urged. “That’s what you are.”

      “Thanks.”

      “U’re welcome.” He typed, took a quick look at her name as written on the account. “So, what do I call you?” he enquired, ignoring her Facebook name – Abigail Johnson.

       “Abigail.”

       “Ok, I wanted to be sure.” he wrote. “You know, most people don’t use their real names on Facebook.”

       “Sure?”

       “Yes,” quoth Metu. “Especially ladies.”

       “Hmmm.” she typed. “Why?”  

       “Reasons best known to them.”

       “Alright.” quoth Abigail. “So, you are Ken, right?” she verified based on his profile name, which was ‘Ken Williams’.

       “Yea,” he lied. “Ken Williams.” He added.

        Fascinatingly, his real name was Metu Okafor.

       “Alright.” said Abigail.

       “Please,” Metu wrote. “how old are you?”

       “25.” Abigail responded. “You?” she added.

       “36.”

       “Waoow,” she typed. “You’re an old man oh!”

       “I quite agree with you.”

       “So, are you not married?”

       “Not yet.”

       “Still searching?”

       “Yep.” He replied. “So, what do you do?” he added in a jiffy.

       “Student.”

       “School?”

       “UniCal.” she replied, meaning University of Calabar.

       “Discipline?”

       “BF.” She wrote, meaning Banking and Finance.

       “Interesting.” Metu complimented. “What level?” he added.

       “400.”

       “So, you’re in your final year?”

       “Yea.”

       “Waoooow,” he typed. “I never knew I have been chatting with a big girl.”

       Perhaps she smiled. “Thanks.” she appreciated. “So, what do you do?” She added.

       “I am an engineering contractor.”

       “You must be a big man.” She teased.

       “By God’s grace.”

       “You live in Calabar too?” Abigail enquired, ignoring his profile which indicated he was a resident of the city in question.

       “Yep.” he clarified.

        The chatting, which spanned over hours, lingered till night.

        In barely two days time, they became best of friends on Facebook that they could spend several hours chatting about frivolous issues. Sometimes, he would even sound so romantic and vulgar without minding that they were yet to meet, let alone becoming real intimate friends. Funnily enough, she would respond accordingly without picking any offence; in other words, she was enjoying every bit of his company all along as if she was being charmed.

       The following week, he invited her over to his apartment, and she succumbed without even considering using delay tactics, which were synonymous with ladies. By her mode of respond, he understood she longed for the invitation.

                                  * * * * * *

       “Oh, my God ..!” Metu exclaimed on sighting Abigail as he opened his door to welcome her having received a knock. “You are indeed prettier than you look on Facebook.”

       She was dark, slim and about 5.5-foot tall, and was irresistibly beautiful. She wore ash jeans trousers, pink top coupled with pink high-heeled sandals, and ash handbag. Her hairs were newly and gorgeously plaited; it seemed she plaited the hairs purposely for the outing.

       She smiled, remained speechless, and was equally moved by his handsome look.

       He was fair, plump, about 5.8-foot tall, and was clad in white Pajamas spotted with red flowers.

       They majestically walked to the parlour and sat adjacent to each other. “You are highly welcome!” Metu exclaimed.

      “Thank you.” she appreciated, smiling.

      “Please, what do I offer you?”

      “No, don’t bother.”

      “How do you mean?” he frowned. “This is your first time in my house for crying out loud.”

      “Okay, any soft.”

      “Alright,” he said. “Please, give me some seconds.” He enjoined, stood up and walked away.

       Few minutes later, he returned with two canned malts for himself and the guest.

       While taking the drink, she slept off right in the brownish settee where she was seated.

       Sure, he had drugged her, as usual. Metu wasn’t new in the game; that was the umpteenth time he would indulge himself in such ungodly act. His womanizing nature was the sole reason he never bothered settling down, and that was also why he was making use of fake names on social media.

       In about an hour’s time, Abigail woke up only to find herself in his bed covered merely with a wrapper. She felt so exhausted, ashamed and flabbergasted.

      “Wha…t?” she shouted. “Where am I?”

        It was unarguably the most devastating and horrific moment in her entire life.

       Metu who lay right beside her in his purplish shorts, looked at her and kept calm, though felt guilty.

       What happened thereafter was more terrifying. You can’t afford to miss it! Meanwhile, if you were in her shoes, what would be your reaction afterwards? Think about it!

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http://facebook.com/fred4nwaozor                

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