Teaching is for

Teaching is for

Self-learning

Speed learning

TQME

Thinking

Collecting new ideas

Training the mind to think

Experiment

Innovation

Invention

Finding out new working Model

Long term memory (LTM) and

To become Entrepreneurs

Hate Should Die

The Land Where Hate Should Die

This is the land where hate should die--

No feuds of faith, no spleen of race,

No darkly brooding fear should try

Beneath our flag to find a place.

Lo! every people here has sent

Its sons to answer freedom's call,

Their lifeblood is the strong cement

That builds and binds the nation's wall.

This is the land where hate should die--

Though dear to me my faith and shrine,

I serve my country when I

Respect the creeds that are not mine.

He little loves his land who'd cast

Upon his neighbor's word a doubt,

Or cite the wrongs of ages past

From present rights to bar him out.

This is the land where hate should die--

This is the land where strife should cease,

Where foul, suspicious fear should fly

Before the light of love and peace.

Then let us purge from poisoned thought

That service to the state we give,

And so be worthy as we ought

Of this great land in which we live.

_Denis A. McCarthy._

True-love

"What thou seest when thou dost wake,

Do it for thy true-love take." Shakespeare

Prometheus Unbound.'_

73. _Song from 'Prometheus Unbound.'_

On a poet's lips I slept

Dreaming like a love-adept

In the sound his breathing kept;

Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses

But feeds on the aërial kisses

Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses.

He will watch from dawn to gloom

The lake-reflected sun illume

The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom,

Nor heed nor see, what things they be;

But from these create he can

Forms more real than living man,

Nurslings of immortality!

One of these awakened me,

And I sped to succour thee.

Heav'n Reflected in Her Face

WILLIAM COWPER.

24. _To a Young Lady._

Sweet stream that winds through yonder glade,

Apt emblem of a virtuous maid--

Silent and chaste she steals along,

Far from the world's gay busy throng,

With gentle, yet prevailing, force,

Intent upon her destin'd course;

Graceful and useful all she does,

Blessing and blest where'er she goes,

Pure-bosom'd as that wat'ry glass,

And heav'n reflected in her face.

Methods of Teaching

Methods of teaching are as important as materials of teaching.

There is no "The best method of teaching"

Different subjects need different methods of teaching

Research based teaching is the best

Integration of various method of teaching is most useful

Technical teachers are untrained teachers

Unconquerable Soul

WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY.

30. _To R. T. H. B._

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

Be Contented

66. LXXIV.

But be contented: when that fell arrest

Without all bail shall carry me away,

My life hath in this line some interest,

Which for memorial still with thee shall stay.

When thou reviewest this, thou dost review

The very part was consecrate to thee:

The earth can have but earth, which is his due;

My spirit is thine, the better part of me:

So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life,

The prey of worms, my body being dead;

The coward conquest of a wretch's knife,

Too base of thee to be remembered.

The worth of that is that which it contains,

And that is this, and this with thee remains.

Men - deceivers ever?

_Song from 'Much Ado about Nothing.'_

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever,

One foot in sea and one on shore,

To one thing constant never:

Then sigh not so, but let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no moe,

Of dumps so dull and heavy;

The fraud of men was ever so,

Since summer first was leavy:

Then sigh not so, but let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, nonny.

Everything Goes to Dust

Song from 'Cymbeline.'_

Fear no more the heat o' the sun,

Nor the furious winter's rages;

Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone and ta'en thy wages:

Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' the great;

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;

Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:

The sceptre, learning, physic, must

All follow this and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,

Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;

Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:

All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!

Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

Nothing ill come near thee!

Quiet consummation have;

And renowned be thy grave!

_Cambridge Shakespeare Text._

God's Help

"When a man is willing and eager,
the gods join in."
- Aeschylus

Getting Back to God

SONG OF THE SPIRIT

All the aim of life is just

Getting back to God.

Spirit casting off its dust,

Getting back to God.

Every grief we have to bear

Disappointment, cross, despair

Each is but another stair

Climbing back to God.

Step by step and mile by mile -

Getting back to God;

Nothing else is worth the while -

Getting back to God.

Light and shadow fill each day

Joys and sorrows pass away,

Smile at all, and smiling, say,

Getting back to God.

Do not wear a mournful face

Getting back to God;

Scatter sunshine on the place

Going back to God;

Take what pleasure you can find,

But where'er your paths may wind.

Keep the purpose well in mind, -

Getting back to God.

Life of Summer Birds

BIRDS IN SUMMER

How pleasant the life of a bird must be,

Flitting about in each leafy tree;

In the leafy trees so broad and tall,

Like a green and beautiful palace hall,

With its airy chambers light and boon,

That open to sun and stars and moon;

That open to the bright blue sky,

And the frolicsome winds as they wander by.

They have left their nests on the forest bough;

Those homes of delight they need not now;

And the young and the old they wander out,

And traverse their green world round about;

And hark! at the top of this leafy hall,

How one to the other in love they call!

"Come up! Come up!" they seem to say,

"Where the topmost twigs in the breezes sway."

"Come up! come up! for the world is fair

Where the merry leaves dance in the summer air."

And the birds below give back the cry,

"We come, we come to the branches high."

How pleasant the lives of the birds must be,

Living in love in a leafy tree!

And away through the air what joy to go,

And to look on the green, bright earth below!

How pleasant the life of a bird must be,

Skimming about on the breezy sea,

Cresting the billows like silvery foam,

Then wheeling away to its cliff-built home!

What joy it must be to sail, upborne,

By a strong free wing, through the rosy morn,

To meet the young sun, face to face,

And pierce, like a shaft, the boundless space!

To pass through the bowers of the silver cloud;

To sing in the thunder hall aloud;

To spread out the wings for a wild, free flight

With the upper cloud-wings,--oh, what delight!

Oh, what would I give, like a bird, to go,

Right on through the arch of the sun-lit bow,

And see how the water-drops are kissed

Into green and yellow and amethyst.

How pleasant the life of a bird must be,

Wherever it listeth, there to flee;

To go, when a joyful fancy calls,

Dashing down 'mong the waterfalls;

Then wheeling about, with its mate at play,

Above and below, and among the spray,

Hither and thither, with screams as wild

As the laughing mirth of a rosy child.

What joy it must be, like a living breeze,

To flutter about 'mid the flowering trees;

Lightly to soar, and to see beneath,

The wastes of the blossoming purple heath,

And the yellow furze, like fields of gold,

That gladdened some fairy region old!

On the mountain tops, on the billowy sea,

On the leafy stems of a forest tree,

How pleasant the life of a bird must be!

Optimism

ROBERT BROWNING.

4. _Song from "Pippa Passes."_

The year's at the spring

And day's at the morn;

Morning's at seven;

The hill-side's dew-pearled;

The lark's on the wing;

The snail's on the thorn:

God's in his heaven--

All's right with the world!

God's uncompleted work

TO THE TEACHERS OF THE YOUNG:

How large thy task, O teacher of the young,

To take the ravelled threads by parents flung With careless hands,

and through consummate care

To weave a fabric, fine and firm and fair.

God's uncompleted work is thine to do - Be brave and true!