Ethos Magazine | Issue 5

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ISSUE 5 | DEC 2014






THE CAGED PREDATOR Katerina Spinos





STREET SLEEPERS IN SHAM SHUI PO By Jessica Sinclair

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SLEEPER Kenji Tang

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JESSICA SINCLAIR

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Why it’s too peaceful granted time

people running, people walking

No. loud voices mercilessly yelling same thing round and round.

just sit with me.

cycle in which i tumble and tumble in and out again. stop the voices hurting me

KIMBERLY TSUI

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The Ephemeral Rose In the corner of my room, a rose, which you gave, Is wilting slowly in the dark, in its porcelain vase. By the window of my bed, at night it looks at the stars. They shine like gems hidden far away, in the darkness of the past, It’s so true how the most beautiful things in life, never seem to last. The warm summer breeze it never stays; The white winter snow soon melts away. After a while the fog began to fade, The quiet whistle the wind made, Became a screeching howl. The storm clouds came after the calm, Your hands no longer held my palm. The kisses before sweet as honey, In a moment of complete clarity, No longer held any sincerity. In your amorous eyes, I no longer saw the starlight, You wrote only of an ethereal being. You may as well have tried to catch a moonbeam. You wanted something immaculate. That was never me. You never did seem to see. And when the rain began to pour, There was no shelter from the storm. Your arms they seemed to disappear. The birds no longer sung. The sound of every note you strummed Sent a torrent of tears down my cheek For I no longer heard them. Like a beheaded rose from a thorny stem, A sense of loss.

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And so as the winter turned to spring, What remained was shattered and broken. My thoughts, I kept silently locked up and unspoken, Until I could bear the pain no more. You said you’d always longed for me, as your eyes shed misty dew. I desperately hoped you were speaking true, But I still forced myself to leave. I knew deep down in the darkest part of my heart, That you would not miss my soul, Not even me as a whole, Just the warmth and the sound of a breath. To deprive you of this, I apologize In the Autumn the leaves, they change, In a manner that’s odd and strange. And drift away in a dream like daze, Whilst the tree trunks remain exposed. In the corner of my room, a rose, which you gave. It has decayed slowly in the dark, in its porcelain vase. By the window of my bed at night it looked longingly at the stars. That shone like gems cast far away, in the darkness of the past. It’s so true how the most beautiful things in life, never appear to last. The warm summer breeze it never stays; The white winter snow soon melts away. NAMRATA GOGINENI

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my Home has changed

I

can feel my memories become distant every time I go back home. I’m left dangling delicately on the edges of my two worlds. When I go back now, the spices don’t smell right. But I remember how

envelope me as soon as I’d open the front door to enter. I’d stand there sweaty and tired after a whole day, holding the wooden door knob as it fought against the spices that waved in from the kitchen, and the simple familiarity of everything before my eyes was comforting. Rotis being made, steaming hot and fresh; TV running in the background, volume turned low; water cooler spinning fast, with fresh grass padding on its sides. It was all so normal that I never thought much of it until I left it all to come here. Every evening after playing outside, I’d come in with a joyful bounce in my step. I’d still be in the magically surreal world that I shared only with my friends. This was a world where I secretly rode bicycles that were too big for me without my parents’ permission because my friends were there for support. It was a world where we ran races, played ikkal dukkal (hopscotch) in backyards, scraped our knees when we fell, told each other stories and hid amongst tall, dark trees. Coming back home was leaving this world of magic and adrenaline. The smell of spices and dinner signaled the end of the day. There was a slight disappointment that I associated with this thought and it made the air feel a bit heavy. It meant that I had to prepare for the next day: school, work, boring things. Preparations made me feel uneasy because they required so much thought, planning and contemplation. School and homework themselves were not a problem - I loved my books, pages, letters, pencils and colours. It was the actual time that made me uncomfortable. The bridge of time between the end of one day and the beginning of the next felt like a void that I could get sucked into past rooted out of my thoughts and merged into each other until they confused me and worried me. I didn’t like the idea of my day ending. I wanted it to go on and on, to continuously extend so I could keep enjoying myself.

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any other child. And that life was a part of me. Even parts of it that I disliked were parts without which my picture couldn’t be complete.

I don’t play ikkal dukkal anymore. A lot of my friends have moved to live in ‘how have you been’s. The beginnings of conversations are always a bit formal but

the social norms that I now live by. I ask questions about things that everyone there knows and don’t understand jokes based on the latest trends. They let me in on their out, is always a lot. I tell them everything new that has happened. We talk for ages. But I can’t deny that there will always be a gap between us. Sometimes it bleeds out But even then, there’s always a little crack. When I open the door to my house, I see how much has changed. That comfortable familiarity is no longer there. Most of the things are the same, but if I look close enough, it doesn’t take me too long to

don’t know the stories behind them. If I’m not told, I wouldn’t know that the vase was gifted by a family friend or that the saree was bought especially for a cousin’s marriage or that those curtains had to be replaced because someone accidentally spilled their drink on them. The ends of days don’t make me feel uneasy like they did before. Instead, I get that feeling in doses throughout my trip. I feel like I’m on another bridge, stuck between being a part of this culture and not. I’m a guest, an outsider, a visitor. I’m also a native. I belong there. My house itself is not the problem for it has given me wonderful memories. It is my nostalgia and longing to go back to the familiarity of the past mixed with my fear of losing my roots and disconnecting with my origin in the future that makes me uncomfortable.

KUHU SINGH

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Cul •ture | ‘kelCHer | (noun)

1. the arts and other manifestations of human intellectual achievement regarded collevetively. the customs, arts, social institutions, and achievements of a particular nation, people, or other social group.



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Fashion Acknowledgements MODELS | Simran Chhada | Kayley Cameron | Valentina Ting | PHOTOGRAPHER | Amanda Thorsen | MAKEUP ARTISTS | Tia Jotwani | Kayley Cameron | ASSISTANTS | Anika Sum | Eugenia Wan |

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\

the

dancer

BY NAMRATA GOGINENI

H

er pitch-black hair was pulled into a braid that fell over her

shoulder, like a thick rope made from glossy silk threads. The garlands of jasmine were ingeniously secured to the back of her head with what seemed like a hundred individual pins. Her graceful

Put on with mastery, they managed to draw attention to every movement her expressive amber eyes made. The delicately arched eyebrows framing her face were as beautiful as the gold earrings that hung on either ear like miniature chandeliers. She walked towards center stage. The bells around her ankles moved in a steady

she moved the perfect pleats fanned out like the feathers of a peacock

I

ntricate henna patterns adorned her hands, which changed from one gesture to another in perfect time to the tablas increasing tempo. Her feet moved swiftly to the beats. She was a storyteller without a voice. Her hands spread to look like a lotus, and drifted through the air as if it were water. The audience watched, mesmerized by the performance.

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A

s the curtains closed to the sound of applause, she slipped back

stage and went straight to her dressing room. She then commenced with the arduous task of letting down her hair and struggling through the knots with a comb. The streaks of twilight were setting behind the mountains now and a warm breeze flew in through the windows. Nothing could be heard but the caw of a solitary crow perched outside. The smell of jasmine was thick and sweet as she slowly drifted away in a daydream. There she was with her little brother, chasing the same crow through the rice paddy fields that stretched for miles past the mud huts of her village. She recalled following the bird as it flew higher and higher in the sky, straight into the sun which hung high in the sky. Her grandmother would tell her stories of how Hanuman, the god of strength had tried to catch it and eat it, because of how it resembled a ripe mango. She absolutely adored the taste of this delicacy. Especially in the summer, when they would grow so big that a single bite would send a trickle of golden nectar down her chin and hands.

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P

erhaps mother had brought her some mangos. She marveled at the

thought and ran to gather her brother and his friends from the tall toddy palm they had been attempting to climb. Night was setting fast and they had to get home in time. They ran back as fast as their feet would allow, sprinting along the mud path with palm fruit in their arms. She couldn’t wait for mommy to roast them for her- the smoky

thought made her move faster.

T

hey were halfway home now, and decided they deserved a rest. So

they sat by the stone well panting from exhaustion, cooling their hot feet with the water they pulled up from the cool ground. When all of a sudden a golden anklet fell out the tin bucket. It was beautiful and

one another.

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GIRL IN RED Namrata Gogineni


Our cultural backgrounds shape the way that we think, act, and connect with each cultures through the eyes of our school community’s teachers and leaders, to discover the roots of their identities, and their thoughts on

CUL URE Hong Kong

MS. FISHER WHAT ASPECT OF YOUR NATIVE CULTURE HAS SHAPED YOUR IDENTITY/BELIEFS MOST?

M S. F OXC RO F T WHAT WAS MOST SURPRISING ABOUT HONG KONG WHEN YOU FIRST MOVED HERE? It was a very long time ago, but I do remember at the time I was surprised by the enormous number of restaurants across the city; you can eat in one every day for the rest of your life and not visit them all apparently! The diversity of the cultures running experiences was incredible in a city which is so small in size.

Growing up in the tail end of Apartheid South Africa was an extraordinary experience and has shaped my thoughts about culture and equality on many levels. I always tell my students it’s why I became an English teacher. As a child I was blissfully unaware of Apartheid and its terrible implications for the majority of South Africans. It was only really when I got to university and opted for a course in Post-Apartheid Narrative that I started to read the stories of oppression and of hope in some very dark times that I began to really think about my naiveté and ignorance as a child. I was suddenly shocked by all the complacence I had been surrounded by, including my own. Writers and theatremakers such as Athol Fugard, Winston Ntshona, John Kani, Gibson Kente and Harry Bloom had told the stories of the people who had been on the other side of the fence and I started to imagine what that might have been like. It was a very disruptive and moving experience for me – and the slow realisation about the importance of art and literature in changing the way people think seemed to be something too important not to teach. ethos | 25


MR. HARDING WHICH CULTURE DO YOU IDENTIFY MOST WITH, AND WHY? This is a hard one for me! I am half Scottish and half English, and my nationality is British, but since I have spent my entire life in Asia, I

M R S. BAY

as Asian for obvious reasons (I am an ‘expat’) so I can only really identify myself as CaucASIAN (with the emphasis on the “Asian” part). Let’s just say that if Hong Kong play England in football, my allegiance is with Hong Australian society is based on the concept of Kong (although the score may egalitarianism. A country with a colonial history not be supported by this Australians, one may suggest, naturally shied away from the allegiance)! class structure of traditional British society. As such this concept of everyone being equal and as worthy as the next person became synonymous with the habit we have of calling everyone our ‘mate’. WHAT ASPECT OF YOUR NATIVE CULTURE HAS SHAPED YOUR IDENTITY/BELIEFS MOST?

In reality Australia has a chequered record of displaying this value. We have an appalling history of treatment of Aboriginals in our culture and historically we also have a tendency to be unsupportive when people strive to improve themselves or excel. We feel compelled to cut them down to size so to speak. We even have a term to describe this it’s called the “Tall Poppy Syndrome”. Despite this, it is the ‘ideal’ of egalitarianism that I identify with greatly with as a human and as an Australian. I strive in my life to treat people equally and fairly and identify myself as part of all humanity not higher or lower than the person standing beside me. I hope that this ideal can prevail in Australian society and stem the divide between rich and poor, between one cultural group and another and between the sexes. I think it’s an Australian cultural ideal worth preserving.

M S. H A N N A F O R D WHAT WAS MOST SURPRISING ABOUT HONG KONG WHEN YOU FIRST MOVED HERE? island. I had a picture in my mind that the island would be bursting at the seams with high rise buildings. The city is much more beautiful than I expected. I arrived in Hong Kong before SARS so I was also surprised by the lack of hygiene in the city. However, after SARS, things changed quite rapidly, as the city became much cleaner and people paid much more attention to good hygiene. The hustle and bustle of the city was It took a while to get used to the city and to not feel dizzy when walking around. Given that I grew up in the country on a farm in Australia, Hong culture shock for me. In the beginning, I could not work out how to walk from the ferry piers into Soho as I found everything quite confusing; like a lost country girl in the big city. Luckily, I adapted very quickly.

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M S. KO S H Y WHAT ASPECT OF YOUR NATIVE CULTURE HAS SHAPED YOUR IDENTITY/BELIEFS MOST? The ancient Indian values of free thought, constant questioning, life-long learning and a tolerance for other ways of thinking and being have shaped my identity. These were embodied for me by both parents who encouraged debate, free speech and democracy in our home at all times. They did this by giving me unlimited access to their bookshelves, taking me with them on their travels and allowing me to travel away from them and across the world as early as sixteen! Buddhism,The Bhagvad Gita and the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. I am grateful to have grown up in a culture where these have been carefully preserved over thousands of years, against great odds, and are still available to the world in their original form. The core values of Hinduism and Buddhism are very dear to me. As I grow older, I realise that every day is an experiment with owning these values and learning how they apply practically to the real world. WHICH CULTURE DO YOU IDENTIFY MOST WITH, AND WHY? I identify with Indian culture, Thai culture and the elements of Hong Kong Chinese culture that I am privileged enough to witness and understand on a daily basis. But the culture I most enjoy is the wonderfully kaleidoscopic culture of an international school. I love the strong IB ethos that these schools represent. Perhaps it is that sense of sharing so many cultures and languages at once, under one roof and that elusive suggestion that ‘we are the world,’ in microcosm. Although we all love to complain about the trials and tribulations of the IB, I do believe that it provides us with a loose but common framework from which to become better individuals as teachers and students. I would therefore argue that the IB is a culture all by itself, complete with languages, rituals, beliefs, symbols, and dare I say, high priests and priestesses! There is also the almost impossible Holy Grail of 45 points! Is there a better metaphor for karma than continuous assessment and CAS?!

M R S. B O E S E N B E RG WHAT ASPECT OF YOUR NATIVE CULTURE HAS SHAPED YOUR IDENTITY/BELIEFS MOST? In NZ we have a tendency to think that things will work out so I have a bit more of a wait and see attitude. My local colleagues were more concerned about things and worried about being “punished” if things went wrong.

M S. G O O D W I N Having spent 3 years in Cairo, Egypt and 5 in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam before arriving at West Island last year, we were looking to live in an exciting place - somewhere with lots of character, with a soul and history but somewhere that was a bit ‘easier’ to live. While I loved the craziness of Cairo and Ho Chi Minh City and Vietnam and Egypt were pretty amazing places to live, they both had their challenges. We were looking forward to a place where the electricity didn’t cut out, where the public transport ran smoothly, where we could hike and go to the beach easily and where we could still buy the odd treat from home. Hong Kong seemed to be one of the few places that managed this balance of contrasts. What surprised me most about Hong Kong was the fusion of old and new, western and asian, hot and cold, the countryside and urban life. I have been here for over a year now, yet I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of all the things to do and see here. For me, one of the most intriguing aspects of Hong Kong is the diversity. I love Hong Kong! ethos | 27


US The silk that reveals my modesty, is soft and shy between my fingers. I am hidden from reality, in my own universe. Nobody can touch me here, no one can judge me, and no one knows me. I am a prisoner yet I am a free man. Is this a curse? I am the invisible observer for you can never see my gaze. The aroma of spices that slithers down the streets of India reminds me of my aunt, her rickety house that emitted an intoxicating richness of the dishes that she enjoys to flaunt, her warm caramel skin; piercing lime green eyes and glowing heart. The mechanical whirring of the washing machine Triggers a memory that I thought had faded. The stained flourescent lights that exposed our flaws, as we battled to untangle and pinpoint the thoughts in our minds. It has left me beading with sweat and completely jaded. As I clip up the dumpling, a drop of oil slips off; it splashes back onto the plate creating ripples of joy as it conjoins with its former self. And we, as individuals are mere drop, poor boys, that feel the need to abandon isolation. What are we? How are we defined? Are we branded by our ethnicity or by our past experiences? By our emotions and age? Or are we defined simply by the desire to be somebodies? To exist properly in society We are the constantly morphing culture around us. Douglas Tsui

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Kayley Cameron

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CONFLICTED By Namrata Gogineni

I was born in the country of spices; cinnamon, cloves, and turmeric. It is home to the Snake charmers and Sitar players. A place with birds of emerald and sapphire, strutting around with their feathers fanned out so a hundred rainbow eyes stare back at you. I am from a realm where colors appear brighter, more vivid than anything you could imagine. At least that’s how I picture it, and the very thought drives me to the brink of despair each time. The very idea that the mention of this ‘home’ is always portrayed superficially and overly dramatized leaves me with nothing but the taste of regret in my mouth. It seems too much like a dream, too unfamilliar. As if calling it home would be the most dreadful lie to tell, because I will never know. I will never understand. I sometimes feel like an integral part of me is missing. I don’t have the stories or the myths. I don’t remember the traditions or the reasons for them. Neither can I recall the festivals or what they celebrate. I only have the dresses, the face and the food. The essence of my identity is non existent. The tale of my past is nothing but a whisper in the wind. A memory so old you begin to wonder whether or not you have fabricated it for yourself. Do I even deserve to identify with a culture I know nothing about? It just doesn’t feel right. However, this is not the only problem. I have grown up in Hong Kong, a whimsy of fate that has worked in my 30 | ethos

favor considering my love for Chinese cuisine. Despite the fact I have lived here my entire life and have been learning Mandarin as my second language, I find that whenever people ask me where I am from, I have no idea what to say. Do I simply ignore the slight surprise that flickers in their eyes when I say I am from Hong Kong? Or am I meant to give the expected response and say I am from India? Being the indecisive socially awkward wreck that I am, the result typically ranges from a frenzy of stuttering and jumbled words to an


illegible murmur as I desperately avoid eye contact. Don’t get me wrong, I love the way I am able to learn about different cultures and traditions, and am happiest when I get to travel to new, interesting countries and soak in a different atmosphere. Knowing more about the world around me shapes my perspective and gives me an open mind. However, I sometimes can’t help but wonder what I may have missed out on by losing touch with my roots. I tend to hear Indian music from time to time, since my mother is a fan of the classics. I sometimes try my best to decipher the meanings. This effort is always in vain, as I am sure anyone who is bilingual will know meanings are often lost in translation. The beauty that resonates from the sound of word, as well what connotes, always tend to be distorted to such an extent that the integrity of its meaning is lost to the rest of the world. This identity crisis seems like an inescapable maze. One without an exit. This begs the question of whether or not there will ever be a single answer. Perhaps this conflicted combination is my identity; being able to vaguely identify with both - a gift, and unable to completely comprehend either - a curse.

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Stuck stand still. trees, people skies, wind, sun, days, emotions, places rush away slip through my trembling fingers. I run but can never catch up to the hustle and bustle before I know it im back here standing stuck waiting.

Kimberly Tsui

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Hannah Mould

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REMINISCING Kenji Tang


Street Culture Old meets New. An exploration into the manifestation of history in today’s society.


Standing the Test Of Time Katerina Spinos

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Kayley Cameron

Douglas Tsui

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Deconstructed Katerina Spinos


Kayley Cameron

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Kenji Tang

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Corrosion Katerina Spinos

Streets Kenji Tang

Afternoon Market Kenji Tang

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Crammed T

he sight of anxious parents and grandparents prostrating and engaging in intense prayer at packed Buddhist temples and shrines signals the return of exam season in South Korea, during which some seven hundred thousand students across the country must take the notorious eight-hour College Scholastic Ability Test (or CSAT), a single set of multiple choice tests that assesses a student’s aptitude in a multitude of

Because the CSAT is the sole indicator and measure of a student’s academic achievement, his or her performance on the test will determine whether or not the student will be admitted into one of the SKY universities, which refer to the three universities that compose what is regarded as South Korea’s version of the Ivy League in America: Seoul National University, Korean University and Yonsei University, which are themselves stepping stones to securing permanent positions in the state civil service or at one of the country’s big chaebols, sprawling family-run conglomerates that dominate the CSAT is often regarded as the most important task in a person’s life, since it determines their higher education and employment opportunities, not to

By Howard Chae

Small wonder that the national obsession with education has become embedded into the South

of standardized testing is not without its supposed

form of standardized testing available- a single set of tests can easily identify the intelligent students by claim is that the CSAT upholds the virtues of a meritocratic society by encouraging students from hard and attain high scores so as to advance to the

a dedication to education is widely credited as one of the main driving forces behind South Korea’s dizzying pace of economic growth- its meteoric comparable to those in countries in sub-Saharan and the home of such brands as Samsung, LG and Hyundai has been appropriately branded as the that South Korea’s educational model is the envy of

female students losing “ clumps of hair don’t seem at all surprising ”

percent of all high school students go on to pursue


Such advances, however, have come at huge costs that are beginning to cast doubt on the so-called merits of the educational model that is currently in place, the most obvious of which being the immense psychological pressure thrust upon test-taking teens. In the year leading up to the exam, it is not uncommon for students to forgo rest and recreation in exchange for time they can spend cramming- the average South Korean student devotes thirteen hours a day to studying (both in and out of school) and just five and a half hours to sleep. Consequently, many young South Koreans suffer from the physical and psychological symptoms of academic stress. Stories of female students losing clumps of hair don’t seem at all surprising given the extreme stress they are put under. The perpetual struggle for academic superiority has also stimulated astonishing levels of teenage depression - up to a third of all teens have suffered from it, according to a survey conducted by the Wall Street Journal in February of this year. The same survey also indicated that just over half of all South Korean teenagers had admitted to having suicidal thoughts. Insecurity over academic progress was cited as the main driving force behind these figures. Even more worryingly, teenage suicide rates have nearly doubled in the past decade and suicide has overtaken auto accidents and cancer as the leading cause of death amongst South Koreans aged fifteen to twenty-four.

over half of all South “Korean teenagers had admitted to having suicidal thoughts

The consequences of the current educational model are by no means limited to the student; its negative ramifications have seeped into every aspect of South Korean society. Approximately one hundred thousand ‘cram schools’ (tuition centers) and an army of publishing houses dedicated to churning out volume after volume of CSAT workbooks cater to a nation of overzealous parents willing to spend

a sizeable share of their income on private tuition. In fact, the financial pressures of providing children with the best possible private tuition have become so burdensome, many South Korean women put off having more than one child so as to concentrate as much of their income on one child’s education as possible. As a result, fertility rates have plummeted to 1.24 births per woman, among the lowest in the world and well below the two births per woman necessary to maintain a stable population, compounding fears of a possible demographic nightmare in which the desperately outnumbered working age members of the population struggle to provide for dependents.

produced legions of highly skilled workers

South Korea’s position as Asia’s fourth largest economy and a technological powerhouse is, undoubtedly, the culmination of decades of an extraordinary work ethic, both amongst the workers responsible for such rapid economic growth and the students who are locked in a continuous cycle of academic competition. The implementation of current educational models involving the CSAT has produced legions of highly skilled workers, ready to carry on South Korea’s endless march towards further economic prosperity. However, the ongoing epidemic of teenage depression as well as spiraling household debt rates fuelled by excessive spending by parents on their children’s education have begun to raise doubt on whether or not such an educational model can survive the shifting expectations and circumstances of South Korea’s new age of affluence. Perhaps the time has finally arrived for South Korea’s over-stressed, over-worked students to take a long deserved break.


perspectives WHICH CULTURE IS THE MOST SIGNIFICANT FOR YOU? WHICH CULTURE DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

WITH MR. CALVER

WHAT ASPECT OF YOUR NATIVE CULTURE HAS SHAPED YOUR IDENTITY/BELIEFS MOST?

brought up in a boarding school near Ipswich (in IF YOU COULD GO BACK TO WHEN YOU WERE IN HIGH SCHOOL AND TELL YOURSELF ONE THING, WHAT WOULD IT BE? “When computers and the internet come along keep WHAT WAS THE MOST SURPRISING THING ABOUT HONG KONG WHEN YOU FIRST MOVED HERE?

WHAT’S ONE THING EVERYONE NEEDS TO HEAR AT SOME POINT IN THEIR LIVES?

I was most surprised at the amount of UK food DO YOU HAVE A MOTTO TO LIVE BY? was little chance of buying it in Hong Kong, but while keeping your eye slightly forward to the as long as you are willing to pay the price!


WHAT THREE WORDS WOULD YOU USE TO DESCRIBE YOURSELF, AND WHY?

HAS A BOOK EVER MADE YOU CRY? WHICH ONE? I remember crying as a young lad whilst reading

WHAT’S ONE INSTANCE WHEN A STUDENT SURPRISED YOU? I’ve been surprised all the time in my teaching career, particularly by how amazing the students at

IF BOOKS WERE PEOPLE WHICH BOOK WOULD BE YOUR A) BEST FRIEND? B) MENTOR? WHAT IS YOUR RATIONALE BEHIND THESE CHOICES?

“When you get in trouble for not starting your There are so many other instances - too many to count - ranging from students who outperform in

The rationale needs no words (philosophy students will get this!)

during Year 7 camp by kicking me in the shin in the dark!

INTERVIEW BY Kuhu Singh PHOTOGRAPHS BY


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