Featured Blogs & Columns
In the workplaces where we’ll be employed when we’re older, the structure for cooperation is well set. The boss runs things, our coworkers share the workload and maybe some interns run the photocopy machine. You know what you’re getting into.
High school work groups are a little more chaotic, but in every grouping you’ll find a structure. These are the people you work with in high school.
Every Thursday before lunch, classrooms in Hanoi’s United Nations International School (UNIS) fill up with students gathered for ‘service meetings’.
Vietnam is full of schools claiming to be ‘international’. Just because a school is working in English or because it has the words ‘British’, ’American’, ‘Australian’ or even ‘International’ in its name does not mean it is truly international. So, what is it that truly makes a school ‘international’? And how can parents tell which schools will be the best for the development and education of their children?
It has already been seven weeks since summer break started, and now I’m left with just seven more days of this holiday. I have entered the ‘panic stage’ of the holiday as I — along with all the other teenagers in the world — have finally noticed the large pile of summer reading and projects that I had hidden in the corner of my memory. While lamenting the misfortune of the ‘return of school’, somewhere very deep in my heart a small speck of relief and comfort sparkles.
Summer, just a few years ago, was a time of beaches, islands, palm trees — or, when not taking on any outdoor activities, eating in bed and generally being lazy. It was the time of ‘fun’, a whole two months of the fun and freedom that we yearned for all year. But our lives changed as we passed through middle school, through ninth and tenth grades, and so has our summer. Its ‘fun’ has now dressed itself in a work uniform.
If there’s one thing anyone who knows me can tell you, it’s this: I’m not a good driver. Motorbikes are fine, but put me behind the wheels of a car and it’s a much different story.
When I was 13, I got my first-ever cell phone — a tiny black Nokia phone, with a screen as big as my thumb. Four years later, I’m sitting here with a 4.5-inch screen full-touch smart phone, an iPod containing my favourite 347 songs, and a Fujitsu tablet, its screen capable of spinning 180 degrees.