Two semesters in design school and I am just getting my feet wet- through inspiration persistence and the inescapable aggravation. The whole experience can be either enhanced or mitigated by the instructor that one has and like any group, they tend to vary. The best ones that I have found are those who ask the best out of us by letting us go wild, by being open to new ways and actually paying heed to our suggestions- 'cos they are mature enough to realize that we bring in certain experiences that they themselves may not always be aware of. But mostly, what makes these instructors good is that they do not necessarily teach what they know but what they have learnt. I am grateful to every single of my instructors who asked us to go crazy and think out of the box, to play to our strengths, make our projects 'special' and even develop what would normally sound ridiculous to them.

Often, in my life, I have seen that the best teachers are those who actually learn from their students and even accept when they are wrong even if they initially thought they were right. In a field like design, we can often get myopic and stop thinking like "regular" people- almost developing a sense of arrogance and a superiority complex about how things should look and feel. The best designers are those who are humble and I try my best to be so but it surely isn't as easy as it sounds- yes, despite having spent only a year in design school!

However, coming to the dark side of design school we have the teachers who are cocky, super-arrogant, stuck up and with absolutely myopic visions- and I feel that they are the ones who are a super bad influence o budding designers like me- and it works in two ways. Either students become like them or they become very aggravated- both injurious to the design process which calls for inspirational and exceptional thinking.

Sometimes, since we are students, we tend to look up to our faculty and oddly enough, I have seen people even gravitate to these dark Severus Snapes- and so far I have seen them to be either men or "programmers". Don't get me wrong, I have had some awesome male teachers but the others are the ones who should never be teaching in the first place- with their narrow outlooks or raging hormones. And it is even sadder when i see girls/women going all soft on them- reminds me of how even dirty old artists have women swooning over them despite the shit and filth that is coming out of their mouths and minds- kind of makes me question their sense of perception and intelligence. Also makes me think that I could get away with so much as a teacher! Sad. But, mind you, not all women are like that and those who are not get the rough end of the stick- but of course.

And then, there are those who don't want to stand up to these dictators-in-disguise teachers just 'cos they don't want to get into trouble and wreck their chances of a good grade. I think that often people forget that we are not here for good grades but to learn and create good design- even if it means going against what the 'teacher' thinks is the "correct" way to do something- and that can happen only if we have done our homework thoroughly, have faith in what we what researched and made. here is where we have to shed our own myopic outlook and over-dependence on our instructors.

And now, those people who spent a good part of their life learning the ropes of programming stuff, they have more often than not killed their chances of having good visual design because they start working within the strict constraints that they know and impose on themselves- and when they pretend that they are geniuses of visual design- its really pathetic. That said, I have been fortunate to have teachers who are programmers but who do not pretend to be great visual sense- honesty, a virtue I truly admire in everyone, especially designers and teachers. Here it is apt to remind people of the popular fact- you cannot do two things well at the same time. That should suffice for this argument.

I know that I probably have ended up sounding conceited, pretentious, arrogant, full of myself and very opinionated. I think the truth does make on sound like that. And all I am really saying is that the teacher-student equation is of equals to a certain extent especially when it comes to what each can offer the other. As students we have to be open to experimentation and realize that design is not just about making pretty things and that certain processes are important but they should never be something that dictates our own personal processes that works for us in individual capacities. Also, we need to always remember that we were once the "general public" and that we are still talking to them- and that we have to be humble about it and not become smaller versions of the little man from the 1940s with the short mustache and who wore a red band on his arm (yes, Hitler). Intelligent design comes from the acceptance of varied aesthetics, the individuality of projects, shedding dependence on familiar processes and the synergy of processes.

The worst phrases you can possibly hear in design school -

"I am not convinced"

"Stay within the grid"

"This is the only way to do it"

"There are some rules in design you have to stick to"

'We have to teach people good design"

'Sketching is archaic"

The best lines that I will always treasure -

"you can do it"

"Break the grid"

"Go crazy"

"Its possible"

"There are no rules in design"

"Everything is project specific"

"Sketching is important and fun at the same time"

"You are never done"

"Play to your strengths"

"Do not copy anyone else- you can always make your style work"

And that's why I still love design school despite the occasional speed-bumps. The bad guys are everywhere but it just means that we are being tested to be superheroes.

There were two farmers who lived on a moutain. The mountain was visited by strong winds and storms every year and there was always large scale damage. This had been going on for generations and yet neither of the families had ever moved out. Every year their house would break down and they would hav to take shelter in a little concrete cabin they built below the house. When the storms went away, they would rebuild their homes and carry on with their lives.

Farmer A continued this and it had kind of become like tradition. Farmer B was unhappy and he wanted to do something about it. He was recently blessed with a baby boy. He was worried that the baby wuld be scared if the house broke every year. He was worried the baby boy, when he grew up, would help rebuilding the house just as he had been doing since his childhood. He was worried, the boy would not be able to study and work for a better life. Thus, the farmer decided that he would make the whole house of concrete and as strong asa that little underground cabin. He did not wait for the storms to break his home, he went about it himself. He found it very hard to do so, because every corner reminded him of his past- how he used to play with his brothers in the corner, how they used to eat around the fire in the kitchen on winter days, how they would watch stars from the bedroom window...with a tear in his eye, he broke the house he had bult with his own hands. And had a new one built entirely of concrete. Farmer A chided him for breaking tradition, for giving up his memories, for selling out to 'modernity'...and for giving up so easily. Farmer B did not care what he said. Over the years, the boy had a little sister too...they played, went to school, went to college in the city and had fulfilling careers. Never once did they or their father hav to rebuild the house again even though the storms kept coming. They could just sit inside together as a family and drink coffee and have cake. After a few years, when Farmer A had and his family had started taking shelter, they would share the coffee and cake with them. Despite leading hectic lives of their own in different cities, the two kids always came back to this home where they had all their happy memories and none of which included rebuilding the home. It was always the same walls, the same corners, the same fireplace. And they loved coming home. And their father, Farmer B was a very happy man for he knew that even though he gave up his memories, he built new ones on those and these were even better.

Farmer A meanwhile also had two children but he never rebuilt his home in concrete because he was too attached to the same walls of his broken house and would rebuild on those itself. The children always helped out when the house broke down during the storms. Precious time was lost in rebuilding and it affected their studies. They preferred to hang out at Farmer B's house because, it had more light, was more warm and the two children gave them nice company. Farmer A often thought about putting up a concrete house but was always afraid that it would cost him a lot of money and tnat he would never be able to pay the loan and that if this one broke down, it would be even more expensive to rebuild...and most of all, all his memories would be buried in the ruins of his old house. His kids grew up and went to college and did not visit him that often. There was noone to help him when the house broke. He was getting old and he could only rebuild small portions of his house which, over the years, had started to look like a war-ravaged monument rather than a house. The familiar walls and the corners, and the fireplace..all were unrecognisable. Finally, Farmer B invited him to his own house and made him a part of his family. And they made new memories of their own- even in their old age.

Footprints in time can be wiped too
just as they r made
but we never go back to make them again
but start where we are
for the past doesnt call out to us
it asks us to learn
it asks to see
it asks us to believe
that life was once what it was
and it is what could have been then
and could be what it is not today
but something you might want
or like it to say.
Pride will kill you
Disrespect will dishonor you
Detachment will haunt you
Attachment will strangle you
But fear will destroy you
and thats all you'll ever know
and that's what will control you.
Believe life is a book
whose pages just keep turning
and should not stop till it has to
and when it does,
it should always make you smile.