Digitalia

I have set a timer for 20 minutes. I am currently sitting on the "grass" in my classroom, a section of the room where I have laid down about 200 square feet of turf for students to use daily. The past 2 weeks have been tough. I'm introspecting the value that technology brings to my life while also navigating how to teach Computer Science to 6-year-olds. And 12-year-olds who act like 6-year-olds. I have had the pleasure to formulate lessons that show the awe and power that electronics bring to us every day. The fact that a digital laser projector has millions of tiny mirrors that orchestrate an image derived from a red, green, and blue laser is just... incredible. What a tool it is! My board has a module to give it touchscreen functionality while still functioning as a white board. That makes my life easier.

What does not make my life easier is my phone. My phone can be one of the greatest affectors of my mood. The source of my hate, sadness, and fear all comes from one incredible, yet stupid app called... Twitter. It consumed me in ways I, at the time, could not identify as being unhealthy. I just pulled out my phone, opened the app, and read people's dumb and public thoughts and quickly formed my own opinions based on that information.

Using Twitter is not the issue, though. The issue is pulling it out when waiting in line, at stoplights, while actively (erm, passively) using another device, while eating dinner, while—I could keep going. From the game Zero Wing that brought us the quote All your base are belong to us also delivered us a very powerful message: Make your time

Our time—my time—is valuable. I have work, chores, a family, and my own interests that I need to tend to daily, like a cultivar; my life's greatest qualities should blossom. I'm not here to grow as many spuds as possible to stave off hunger. No. I'm here to plant and grow a beautiful bonsai, small and beautiful.

Distractions will prevent the bonsai from revealing its truest, perfect form. Sitting idly hoping for a screen to produce something that gives my life meaning, or to be the meaning itself will surely cause the bonsai to wilt. it might not even sprout.

One day at a time, I will shape my bonsai. Day-to-day, nobody may see a change in the tree despite all effort poured into it, but in the end, the bonsai will flourish, and I will finally sit back in awe.

30 seconds left on the clock.

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   Corwyn Yasuo Miyagishima