Not gonna compromise on education

I have a humble beginning. Dad was an underpaid university lecturer, and mom was teaching at a high school I attended. True, my grandpa is relatively affluent, but that's it. I grew up in a very modest house, eating quite decent food. By decent, I don't mean red meat. Eating ice cream is a luxurious experience. I constantly dreamed of eating Kentucky fried chicken. Even our rice is of lower quality. You get the idea! We "buffet" on eggs, tofu, and tempeh almost daily.

Pampered with quality education

My mom once told me when I was still a high school boy that she'd rather leave me with books than cash or estates. That remark simply sticks to my core. My parents care about my education beyond their means, at least up to high school. I got a private math tutor as a first-grader. And not just any math tutor! I was educated at a place where affluent, "pampered" Chinese kids would go. The price for such tutoring, I believe, would be skyrocketing, perhaps much more expensive than my normal school's total expenses.

In 1999 Indonesia, although most people (like my family) were so poor, the Chinese were generally richer (not always, but almost always). There are many reasons why that could happen, from Chinese people's drive to excellence up to the fact that "native" Indonesians during colonial times were treated like third-class citizens in their own land for generations, resulting in them having inter-generational economic problems. Anyway, things have changed. But there's that for context. Yet, my parents, with all their limitations, managed to send me to study math in such a luxurious place that I am not less privileged.

But that's not the only instance. I got a private English tutor too. She'd come to my house and we'd start reading a highly technical book together. On the same line, I was given the chance to enroll at IALF, a fancy English school where classes were taught by native speakers from Anglophone countries from Australia to the U.S. (alphabetically), if I may categorize those countries as such. And the price for such a school? Again, probably equivalent to all the money paid for my public education up to that point. One that would be most recognizable in shaping me as who I am is when I was given a computer tutelage at age 8. By age 11, the Indonesian Museum of Records noted me as the country's youngest programmer.

I have seen more fortunate parents around me when I grew up. Yet not many of my friends experienced things I was "privileged" with. And we were poor.

That's about me, but how about my children's education?

Benjamin Franklin once said something to disagree I cannot: an investment in knowledge pays the best interest. My Harvard education is, by extension, no pun intended, the cumulative result of the privileges I have enjoyed and the effort I put in. As a Harvard man, I think it is "normal" to want your children to be Harvardians. I believe a Harvard education is thoroughly life-changing, and I hope my kids experience such a sort of education. Hence, my life is primarily dedicated to ensuring that as many of my kids go on to Harvard.

That being said, I don't like a dictatorial style of parenting where I have absolute say over everything. I would like to give my children all control over their own lives when they turn 7, and that includes choosing their own schools and what they want to be. Simply put, I just don't accept three things: (1) being dumb, (2) being murderous, and (3) being on illegal drugs. Doing any of those three can result in the absolute termination of parenthood; it is as if we'd never known each other. To the extent that, let's say, my children were to bring drugs into Singapore, knowing such is a criminal offense punishable by death, I'd be the first to call the Singaporean police. I believe that those traits of being dumb, murderous, and drug-addicted simply don't belong in a house of educated people. And I don't want other people to be affected by my children. To me, no home is required for those who want to live the way of the streets, and saying good-bye after all would be the best way for us adults to move on. Live and let live.

So it is clear: after my children turn 7, I'll treat them as adults. I want them to go to Harvard for what I believe is their own good, but I completely won't force them.

I wish to donate things to Harvardians

Harvard has changed me for the better, and it is natural for me to want to give back. In fact, I want to give back nearly everything I have so that there'll be future generations of Harvardians working hard for the betterment of the world in which we live. Whether that's finding the cure to cancer, a more equitable law for all, or solving the climate change crisis, I wish my donation would play a part in those big works, albeit small.

The thing is, the moment my children turn 7, not only do I treat them as adults, but I also regard them as young Harvard men or women. I would "donate" my money to them. They'd have monthly stipends; the amount should be large enough that it can cover their educational needs, such as paying for their own school. So yes, they'd decide on their own which junior or higher school to attend. What if the money isn't enough, though? Well, they need to work hard to figure out how. Being a Harvardian, or a problem solver for that matter, doesn't mean that everything is provided on the table. For instance, they can join extra, and if they win a championship, I'd generously gift them. Or yeah, doing anything like working at a McDonald's, interning at a local software engineering shop, or being a golf caddy, and so on and so forth. And thus, my children would be the earliest Harvardians I donated my money to, with the big hope that they'd help solve pressing issues of the time.

In fact, my will favors those Harvard children. I will give back mine to none of my children, if none attended Harvard. In that case, all that I accumulated should belong to my school, or Harvard. But if there's any, even just one, of my children who went to Harvard, then most will be for them, with the remainder going to non-Harvardian children. The will should have a no-contest clause, which means challengers to the ruling will be excluded from being even considered as legal parties.

This post is thusly written way ahead to set up my expectations for my children since the get-go.

Bacow shows Harvard has a soul

Does Harvard have no soul? In his book Excellence Without a Soul, Harvard College’s former dean, Harry Lewis, is convinced that “Harvard today tiptoes away from moral education” (Lewis, page 96). Like anything else, Harvard isn’t perfect. The first time Harvard let female students study in its halls wasn’t because it believed in gender equality but because men were drafted during the Second World War. But we must acknowledge that despite Harvard’s dark past, it keeps moving forward to become a better, more caring institution. We can acknowledge this through the words and example of Lawrence S. Bacow, Harvard’s 29th and current president, who is the son of a Holocaust survivor. He serves as shining proof that Harvard has a soul; that much is reflected in his letters. Naturally, I chose him as the subject for my CEO rhetorical analysis because, as the president of a local coding school, I want to learn from such a successful yet humble president. I believe it’s beneficial to learn President Bacow’s rhetoric at a time when strong yet humane leadership is needed more than ever. From his passive yet vivid voice that unites his readers to his skillful uses of pointer words that illuminate a case by answering the so what? and who cares? questions, this rhetorical analysis analyzes how Bacow’s rhetoric makes him sound relatable and, by extension, helps lend the image of a caring patron to Harvard. Three selected letters for this study are: “Climate Change: Update on Harvard Action,” “Message from President Bacow to Imam Khalil Abdur-Rashid,” and “What I believe.”

His candid and vivid letters seek to unite people without blaming others. There’re a few grammatical errors in his brief letters written in plain, clear English. Blaise Pascal, a mathematician best known for Pascal’s triangle, once concedes when addressing a letter to the Jesuits: “The present letter is a very long one, simply because I had no leisure to make it shorter” (Pascal et al., page 392). Writers know it takes longer time to write less and still convey information effectively. Bacow’s letters are concise at around 600 words on average; he cares what he writes. His sentences are mostly right-branched, meaning a subject precedes a verb. For example, his climate change letter convinces: “Climate change is the most consequential threat facing humanity” (Bacow 2021). Interestingly, all of his letters’ openings are right-branched, specifying who (or what) does what, which indicates an active voice. For comparison, the opening of his letter to Imam Khalil upholds: “The horrific shootings at the mosque in Christchurch shock the conscience” (Bacow 2019). Again, the subject is established early on. This active voice helps build the image of a confident and credible writer. Moreover, he uses a strong verb like “shock” instead of a weaker one, such as is shocking. Yet he also uses passive voice for a rhetorical effect to dramatically highlight the action’s target while keeping his readers united, such as when he points out: “Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated” (Bacow 2020), or how shocking “the senseless killing of yet another black person—George Floyd—at the hands of those charged with protecting us” (Bacow 2020). Incidentally, or perhaps not, both individuals are people of color. Those are sensitive issues, yet he focused more on the victim and less on the perpetrator to make himself relatable to all spectrums. Consequently, he unites his readers for a cause by avoiding blaming games that divide them into camps. Notwithstanding, his indirectness is compensated by vivid language that helps us extrapolate the subject.

President Bacow also presents himself as if he and his readers are partners, making him even more relatable. To ensure that he and his readers share some level of understanding about an issue, he furnishes pointing words with an appropriate noun and a sensory adjective. That is, he is hesitant to let words like this or that go unseasoned. For example, in a letter about the Christchurch mass shooting, President Bacow conveyed how “this heinous act is not just an offense against Islam, it is an offense against all people of faith” (Bacow 2019). Though he could have written this is not just an offense against Islam, he specifically describes the act as heinous. No moral being will think a cold-blooded massacre of unsuspecting civilians is all right. He argues that the act is an offense against all people of faith. He felt the pain as if it were his own. A soulless Harvard won’t have a president who bothers to address a case happening in a faraway land that hardly disturbs the experience of the majority at Harvard. This way, again, he presents himself to be relatable and all-embracing. He is like you and me while being president of an elite, privileged, honored university.

Other than making the case clear (the so what? question), the overall surrounding sentences around the furnished pointer words are written in such a way as to let the reader empathize early on by addressing the who cares? question. Looking back again in his “What I believe” letter, he advances a case and makes himself relatable as he affirms: “In the midst of this incomprehensible loss, our nation has once again been shocked by the senseless killing of yet another black person—George Floyd—at the hands of those charged with protecting us” (Bacow 2020). The word senseless is an intense adjective that means wildly foolish. Again, we can see his pointer words are decorated in a format we can expect: an intense adjective followed by a noun. To boot, his vivid remark of “the senseless killing of yet another black person” answers the so what? question by maintaining that an injustice has been done repeatedly. This sentence also answers the who cares? question being the American nation. His rhetoric masterfully answers both the so what? and the who cares?questions, effectively helping his readers to empathize and connect from the get-go.

President Bacow makes his writing even more relatable to the reader by using the rule of three to drive home his argument. The rule of three refers to a trio of words, phrases, or sentences that deliver vividly comparable cases. His use of the rule of three falls into one of two objectives, the first being simply laying out some evidence. In his climate change letter, for example, he elaborates on how “[t]he last several months have laid at our feet undeniable evidence of the world to come—massive fires that consume entire towns, unprecedented flooding that inundates major urban areas, record heat waves and drought (sic) that devastate food supplies and increase water scarcity” (Bacow 2021). His skillful use of the rule drives home as much relevant experience as possible to make his case relatable. Thus, even if the reader doesn’t have a first-hand experience of being choked by haze, Bacow’s rhetorical strategy enables them to feel that the weather has been getting hotter for years. In another example, he invites his readers to understand that America was not at her best as he enumerates: “Cities are erupting. Our nation is deeply divided. Leaders who should be bringing us together seem incapable of doing so” (Bacow 2020). His second use of the rule of three is to construct parallels so that his readers feel that they are in this together. After referring to the shooting as a heinous act, for example, President Bacow pleads: “Whether something like this occurs at a church in South Carolina, a synagogue in Pittsburgh or a mosque in New Zealand, acts of hate and violence touch us all” (Bacow 2019). Notice how he splices three Abrahamic religions into the list to make a parallel. True, there must be readers who don’t subscribe to any of those religions—or any religion at all. Still, since Christianity and Islam are the two largest religions by the number of adherents alone, with Judaism having a significant presence in places like Harvard, most readers should feel directly related to a given issue. If that sounds like an exaggeration, readers should at least understand that the issue cannot be seen in isolation. This skillful use of the rule of three helps his arguments ring as truly and as closely as possible to the reader’s heart.

After he advances a case while making himself relatable to his readers, his concluding paragraph seeks to deliver a shared vision in a forward-looking tone by offering hope. However, when the mood is bleak, the president would extend his empathy instead. Regardless, a shared vision will be shaped. This concluding paragraph should convince both within and outside the Harvard community that Harvard has a soul. In his letter about climate change, for example, he states: “I believe that any problem caused by people can be solved by people too. If that seems overly optimistic, so be it. We are going to need a little optimism to preserve life on Earth as we know and cherish it today” (Bacow 2021). By saying so be it, which is an ironic understatement, a litotes, he assures his readers to be as optimistic as himself. In fact, this statement challenges his readers to be more optimistic than him. The by people highlights the fact that we humans are unique in that we have the agency to be both troublemakers and problem solvers. Also, this is an anaphora, a repeated use of words such as “go big or go home” that can strengthen a message by making it more persuasive. A shared vision with direct references to Harvard is sometimes put literally, such as when he acknowledges that Harvard has a role to play when he maintains: “Those of us privileged to work or study at a place like this bear special responsibilities” (Bacow 2020). Harvard, if soulless, would not compel its community to reflect on their privilege, let alone ask them to use their agency to make a positive impact.

Though many view Harvard as belonging in a stratosphere of its own, that doesn’t mean Harvard should detach itself from the grassroots. Lawrence S. Bacow, who holds a special position as a president of Harvard University, exemplifies this. His message is all-embracing and relatable, written in a language most people understand. We cannot trace any superior, churlish tone in his letters. Indeed, as most people would consider his words and that of Harvard synonymous, his rhetoric ultimately lends Harvard the image of a caring patron. More than just talks and no actions, under his leadership, Harvard initiated the Harvard and the Legacy of Slavery movement. He also led Harvard in defending international students from unjust immigration rulings that sought to deport them during the COVID-19 pandemic. He cares about social issues, from terrorism to climate change. Whatever he did, he has proven that Harvard has a soul. That a person of such a humble origin can earn Harvard’s confidence shows the kind of soul the institution has. Now, to copy President Bacow’s rhetoric: may Harvard stays in truth.

Works Cited

  • Bacow, Lawrence S. “Climate Change: Update on Harvard Action.” Harvard Office of the President, 9 Sept. 2021.
  • Bacow, Lawrence S. “What I Believe.” Harvard Office of the President, 30 May 2020.
  • Bacow, Lawrence S. “Message from President Bacow to Imam Khalil Abdur-Rashid.” Harvard Office of the President, 15 Mar. 2019.
  • Lewis, Harry R. “The Eternal Enigma: Advising.” Excellence Without a Soul: Does Liberal Education Have a Future?, Public Affairs, New York, NY, 2007.
  • Pascal, Blaise, et al. “Letter XVI.” The Provincial Letters of Blaise Pascal: A New Translation with Historical Introduction and Notes. Hurd and Houghton, New York, NY, 1866.

Business rhetorical writing

I never thought there are writing techniques. Using those techniques, I have become a much better writer. I learned those rhetorical techniques by taking expository writing classes such as EXPO-15, and primarily EXPO-34. I am planning to take other EXPO classes as well. In EXPO-34, which is Business Rhetorics, I learned many things, among which is how we should divide the writing process into three stages following the Can Do Writing technique:

  1. Analysis stage (first stage) -> select the right facts, organize points into sentence outline
  2. Composing (2nd stage) -> learn the formats for introductions, summaries, and abstracts
  3. Editing (3rd stage) -> mechanical stage ensuring the our document has purpose, is logical, well organized, clear, concise and easy to read

This post is heavily influenced by the Can Do Writing book, but the EXPO-34 class I took with Prof. Randy Rosenthal is more than just that. I am glad I took his class.

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A 6th-grader eloquent answer to nil vs false

On the 7th test today, I received the following answer, verbatim, to a question asking them what is the difference between a null and a false in the Gara programming language:

Beda kelas dan makna, kalau salah memiliki makna tidak benar/tidak betul, salah berada di kelas boolean, sedangkan nil adalah suatu objek yang menunjukkan tidak adanya objek, nil berada di kelas nirdefinisi

Or in English:

They are of different classes. The false signifies untruthy condition, and is of the Boolean class, whereby nil is an object signifying an absence of an object, and is of class Nulldefinition .

The programming language being used here used the term salah for false, and nil for null, and the class of nil is Nirdefinisi which means without definition in Indonesian.

This is such an eloquently written answer from a student who has not written any code ever before. We can notice how they really understood the concept of objects and how, in this case, they were able to point some subtle differences between a false against a falsey object. Those are concepts that some undergraduate students here in Indonesia may struggle with.

Even as these kinds of classes were very new to them, we can see that there is some potential here. This class is by no means easy for them. Many of whom don’t even have PCs at home. No student scored an A–yet. Regardless, this signifies that computer science education, when taught with the right tools and syllabus, can be understood by a 6th-grader. I will run the same kind of research and experiment with 5th-graders this year.

There are more than can be achieved.

Students at the computer science class in an elementary school in East Java Indonesia

Students at the computer science class in an elementary school in East Java, Indonesia


In The Making: Coding as Part of Primary School Education

This morning today marked a new beginning as we finally able to collaborate with a school in the city of Gresik. A collaboration that saw for the first time the introduction of computer science into the school’s classroom.

But what’s the purpose?

My wish and desire to build a programming language stretched many years back when I was still an elementary school student. (I am not joking.)

At that time, I created a simple language that I thought would be cooler than C/C++, and so I called it D. It was a poor man’s attempt.

But what’s the purpose?

Learning programming language is difficult. Even more so when we have to, at first, be convenient at commanding a third, unrelated language. When I was an elementary school student, I tried to teach computer programming to my own younger brother, and the eldest son of my neighbor …and rightly so, it was a tremendously painful experience for all of us, due to, for the most part: the language barrier.

But this morning was different for me as I entered a new chapter in my life I have long been waiting to do so.

Intro to Computer Science 101

Remember that my younger brother and my neighbor’s eldest son was having a bad time learning a programming language with me?

It hasn’t changed that much. I still don’t see computer science being taught at schools the way math, physics do.

Children these days may be comfortable using various software on their PCs or mobile phones. But, how those things are made is beyond everyone’s guess.

So the question remained: how can we bring computer science education into Indonesian classrooms without making them feel they are absolutely not gonna make it. Believe it or not, for various factors, this has not been easy.

As this is something new, I made a basic agreement with my students that there’s no stupid student in my class, and by extension, there is no stupid question either.

Although we started slow, as we try not to left anyone behind, we learned together various new concepts such as string and integer. This Saturday, we will learn iteration. I can clearly see their enthusiasm.

Students were indeed very enthusiastic. For example, not all computers were working as expected. For those unlucky few, they couldn’t just accept the fact that they were not able to register and hack together what we’re learning. They wanted me to address the issue to the point I feel sad and I feel bad for answering their nagging by asking them to join their friends with working computers. Luckily, in the end, theirs started to work as well thanks to the help from the school’s teacher.

I am happy that in this intro 101 class, I can see that level of enthusiasm. In addition, I have not seen any indication of language barrier. The issue I faced years ago when teaching how to code to my own brother and my neighbor’s oldest son is gone without a mark. A great starting point.

But, how could the barrier be gone?

That the language barrier is gone is a fact (although I have not done a further research to back this claim). I said it as a “fact” because I did not receive a blank stare. Instead, questions/problems have moved to be so much more technical:

  • Why the program throws an error when a string literal is missing a double quote
  • What is a null?
  • Why calling a function cannot have a space in between of the function name and the right parenthesis.

How is this possible? I suspect, this is in part because in the class, students are learning using a programming language I carefully develop, inside a platform not unlike HackerRank but so much simpler.

Future works

I want to bring these kind of smiles to more and more students.

I truly have never felt this much satisfied/happier/determined/purposeful than ever before:

But this is just the beginning. I wanted to expand this offering to as many more schools, to as many more classes, to as many more labs throughout the country. I wanted to see computer science be like any other “normal” subjects normally taught at schools.

Would it be possible? I don’t know. I will keep updating on this journey as promised. At least if I failed, future generations have something to learn from; something to refer and offer a much better solution.

Thanks to Sayuti Mulyo, Amin, and SD NU 1 Gresik’s principal and teachers who have been very open to this program since the beginning. Harvard has played a part in this journey as well, as from the class of Prof. James Frankel, the professor teaching Compiler Design and Implementation, I have gained a much better understanding of compiler-making. I will always be forever indebted to the Extension School as its mere existence was the starting point that made all of this a possibility.