Stanford Memories

Bicycle Accident

I am not particularly proud of the following incident.

Because the road was long and straight, every bicycle was speeding as I headed for my dreaded statistics class. A young student was riding in front of me to my left. Without warning, he turned right. To my horror, I realized I was heading directly towards him at great speed. I steered wildly to avoid him. In doing so, my bicycle lost balance and crashed, throwing me off my bicycle. I landed hard. He saw me and stopped.

I got up and berated him, �Before you turn, look behind and check first!� He looked very apologetic and said, �Sorry, I am sorry." I still felt mad. I shouted again, �Look where you are going the next time."

Class was starting soon. So without examining my wounds, I picked up my bicycle and continued on my way angrily.

In class I first examined my wounds. One of my elbows was bleeding. I had cuts, bruises and road rash on both arms. It was nothing serious but painful. I had no Band-Aids, so had to endure it while in class.

I felt bad about losing my temper at the student. After all, he did apologize, and I was only very slightly hurt. I should have been more forgiving and said something like, �that�s ok, you are forgiven." Being angry and unforgiving wasn�t Stanford-like.

I'll be so happy if you could sign my guestbook.Thank you very much.

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Stanford Memories

Sick at Stanford - Struck by severe bronchitis just before start of quarter. But big help was on its way...

Proud to be at Stanford - Yes, of course I felt great pride to be at Stanford. But it is probably not for the reasons you are thinking....

Is Honesty Really the Best Policy at Stanford? Because of an error in computing scores, I was given a good grade for one of my exam papers. What should I do? And what did I actually do?

My Little Contribution - Something that made me feel a little proud of what I had done.

Schools that REJECTED Me - You'd think that just because Stanford accepted me, I had not faced many rejections from other schools. If so, you are dead wrong. Look at the long list of schools that rejected me.

This is a random collection of my Stanford memories. As I recall them, I'll just add the stories here. So they are always under construction, till the day I die (which may be soon). Most of them are short. They are not in any chronological order.

"Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them."
Bob Dylan

Should I go to Stanford?

A host of schools had rejected me. They are listed here. Only two schools accepted my application for master�s study � University of Illinois at Urbana-Campaign (UIUC) and Stanford University. Tough decision.

I was leaning towards Stanford University. Besides being more prestigious, Stanford University was my dream school. Moreover, the northern California weather was more like the Hawaiian weather that I had got used to. (I had done my undergraduate at Hawaii). UIUC would be freezing.

But Stanford would be academically harder too. Thus I had my doubts. I was not sure if I could compete with brilliant Stanford students because I wasn't academically inclined. More than ten years ago, I had failed an annual exam in Singapore. My recent academic success in Hawaii had not completely erased the ghost of this past failure. (More about this past failure: article I wrote for a newsletter). What if I were to fail again? There would be no second chance this time. Would I be demoralized? Studying at Stanford would be financially costly. I visualized myself out of place at Stanford, the land of geniuses and nerds.

But a friend's comment helped me confirm my decision to choose Stanford. I had just had dinner with my beautiful friend Sharon near Ala Moana shopping center in Honolulu, Hawaii. (I had a crush on her). I had just walked her home. We were sitting on a bench at her apartment lobby as we continued to chat. I told her about my doubts concerning Stanford.

She said that if I didn't try Stanford, for the rest of my life I would be wondering if I could have made it. I thought she was right. Here was my chance at Stanford. Why not at least try?

I decided to go to Stanford and I�ve never regretted it. What Sharon said holds true also for other challenges in life. If we don't try, we would never know what could have happened. So I did try Stanford. Read the following stories and the links at the bottom of this page to find out what happened.

Behind me is Hoover Tower, named after former US President Herbert Hoover, who was a Stanford alumni.

A Kind Stanford Girl

I had just arrived at Stanford the night before, so it was my very first morning at Stanford University. For the first time I saw this famous but still mysterious (to me) school in broad daylight. This was to be my school for the next two years.

But I was far from feeling good. My lower back still hurt because of my slipped disks. This disrupted my sleep the night before, making me sleepy and groggy. I had mixed feelings. I was eager to check out Stanford, like a child yearning to open Christmas presents. But I was anxious because of my lower back.

Still, nothing was going to stop me from checking out Stanford. Besides, I had never experienced the warm California sun before. So I slung my backpack on my back and walked into the California sunshine. I left the school dormitory and headed for the university center.

Along the road were many other students. Look at all these geniuses. They greeted one another, asking �hey, how was your summer?� Looked like everyone wasn�t new. I felt green, like when I was a new army recruit.

Suddenly I heard a sound like a zip quickly opening followed by a startling crash THUD THUD right behind. Something must have dropped, just missing me. I turned back and saw the contents of my backpack on the ground. So this was my first �impact� on Stanford. Great, I thought, just great. I realized that my dazed mind, distracted by severe lower back pain, had forgotten to zip my backpack completely. Books, stationeries, and folders were now spilled on the ground.

The eyes of all the geniuses turned to me, the clumsy new student. I felt embarrassed and self-conscious. But before I did anything, a pretty blonde girl with long straight hair started picking up my belongings. She was so quick that by the time I reached down to gather the remaining things, she was almost done. She said in a very soothing, pleasant and friendly manner, �Don�t� worry about it. Let�s put all these things back . . . . Here, there you go." I said, �Thank you" with as much gratitude squeezed into those two words as I could.

I was very grateful to her. No way could she have known that my injured back would have made it hard for me to bend down to retrieve the spilled contents. I looked fit enough to pick them up myself.

But it was more than what she did. It was also the soothing comforting tone of her voice. It was as if she said, �Welcome to Stanford. Don�t worry, your stay here will not be as bad as you think. Everything will be all right.�

Maybe I was reading too much into her little good deed, but I didn�t think so. It made me feel so much better. I needed comfort and encouragement. A severe back pain, which had affected my mood, made me feel like the odds at Stanford were insurmountable. But a single good deed brightened up my first day at Stanford. It also soothed some of my fears. Maybe this place wasn't full of snobs. Maybe people would be nice like this kind girl. Maybe I had made the right decision to attend Stanford after all. And maybe everything would be all right.

Thank you, kind Stanford girl.

Grace at Stanford

I walked towards the professor�s office in a downcast mood, a problem set homework in my hand. Earlier, at my university dorm, I had tried to solve one of the bigger problems in the set. This problem was worth many marks. I struggled. I cracked my small overloaded brain for hours, but I couldn�t solve it.

The deadline for the problem set was 7 p.m. that very day. It was fast approaching. At last, it was 6:40 p.m., and I still had no idea how to solve it. Reluctantly I gave up. I drearily cycled towards the young Professor Feldman�s office to hand in the problem set. I parked my bike and walked towards his office, dragging my feet.

I had tried my best, I told myself. Nothing to do now but to place my problem set in the box tray near the professor�s office door. I glanced at my watch: 6.50 p.m. Nothing more that I could do.

Still, like a song that keeps playing over and over again in my head, the problem wouldn�t leave my mind. I thought about it again with my problem set paper still folded in my hand. I didn�t know how it happened, but an idea popped into my mind. Yes, I thought I could solve it this way. I didn�t know if it was the optimal solution, but I had at least a feasible solution.

But alas, even if I could solve it, time was up: 6:57 p.m. But I had another idea. On previous problem sets, I had noticed that the professor didn�t physically collect the problem sets from the tray till a few hours after the deadline time.

So here was my last hope: turn it in before the young professor collected the problem sets. But I had to ask the Professor if I could do that. Who knows? This time he might make the collection right at 7 p.m. sharp, and my problem set would be considered late.

Would he be gracious? Would he allow me to turn in late without penalty as long as I put the paper into the tray before he actually collected them? Would he agree to turn a blind eye? In this intellectual place, was there mercy or grace? The only way to find out was to ask him.

I knocked. "Come in." I entered sheepishly. I asked him if I could have just one more hour to finish the problem set. I explained that a solution had suddenly grapped hold of me. Would he overlook my lateness (technically) if I placed my problem set in the tray after 7 p.m. but before he collected the contents? He answered, "I'll not see it. I'll not see it� and smiled. I knew what he meant.

So I rushed to the cafeteria nearby and wrote my solution. When I returned to his office, I noticed the uncollected tray in front of his doorstep. He had kept his promise. And he didn�t �see� that I had turned in late, technically. Later I learned that I received almost full marks for that particular problem. But more important than the marks, I learned two precious lessons.

First, never give up, even when all seemed lost. They say that it is ninety percent perspiration and one percent inspiration. Guess what? The one percent inspiration worked. After hours of perspiration, I couldn�t solve the problem. I was banging my head against an unseen impregnable wall of glass. But then 1 percent of inspiration came to my rescue as I was about to give up. So, never discount inspiration.

I also learned there was still kindness and grace at Stanford. Stanford was a demanding place, academically and intellectually. No doubt about that. People are smart. But still that professor extended grace to me by not �seeing� it.

Kindness from Nowhere

I was cycling home one late evening from the university as I had done almost every day. As usual, I was eager to get home quickly, so that I could do homework.

The road was long and straight, and it was getting dark. Ahead, I saw piles of paper, scattered by a strong wind, flying all over. A student was frantically trying to gather the papers, but it seemed futile. I stopped and started picking up the papers. I noticed they contained musical notes; he must be a music major student.

"It's OK. I can handle it. Don't want to waste your time," he said, but his tone didn't sound too convincing. He needed help.

"No problem at all." But even with my help, it was time-consuming. I began to wonder how long this would take. At the back of my mind was the problem set homework, but I did not regret helping. I was more determined to help this poor guy.

Just then, a van came out of nowhere. A guy and a girl got out. Without saying a word, they immediately began gathering the ton of papers. Both the music student and I were surprised but relieved by the sudden arrival of unexpected help. The music student thanked them. But there were no usual greetings of friends who had known each other. The two, like me, were most likely strangers to the music student.

So with four pairs of hands, the work was much easier, though still very tedious. Our music friend kept saying, �Thank you. You guys are awesome. Thank you." After we had finally gathered the papers, the guy and girl departed just as swiftly as they had appeared. Their van returned to the direction from where it came. Like all Stanford students, they had plenty of their own work to do.

The same applied to me too. Cycling speedily on my way home again, I thought about what had just happened. What struck me was the kindness of the guy and girl who turned up so unexpectedly. Such kindness was rarely seen in my home country of Singapore. Such kind deeds, especially to strangers, were foreign to me.

One thing I liked about Stanford was that people were helpful and friendly. I did not find any traces of snobbery but people helping others, even strangers. The bonus was that on this occasion, I was able to participate in the act of kindness myself. But that should not come as a surprise, because I was after all a Stanford student.

The "Backwards Walking" People of Stanford

A Stanford classmate called these people the �backwards-walking people." I had seen them around. They were usually spotted at Stanford's places of interests. I often saw them at the quadrangle right outside the Memorial Church. (That was because I often sat at the quadrangle, relaxing and admiring the beautiful church). They literally walk backwards -- at least most of the time. Who were they? And why were they walking backwards?

They were the famous tourist guides of Stanford. Most of them were undergrads. Following after them were the usual flocks of wide-eyed tourists. Oh, those tourists could be spotted a mile away. They didn�t realize how much they stood out at Stanford. Instead of carrying books, folders and diskettes, they were armed to the teeth with cameras and maps. They wore big round hats to shield themselves from the California sunshine. Their clothes were bright and colourful; looking so new I wouldn�t be surprised those clothes were bought that very morning at Stanford Mall. But unlike their guides, they actually walked forward.

Why were these guides walking backwards? Simple. They had to face the tourists while explaining the history of the buildings before them. At the same time, they had to lead the tourists in the art of navigation. The only way was to walk backwards: Stanford brilliance.

I often watched the backwards walking people and their eager flock while sitting at the quadrangle. I usually went there to unwind after the day's last class. It was relaxing to watch the setting sun, the beautiful memorial church, and even students and professors walking by. This helped cool me down before I went home to be buried in books.

The arrival of the backwards walking people and their flock gave me relief. They were relaxing distractions, like watching comic relief in a suspense movie. I didn�t mind.

The sight of these tourists reminded me of my lonely army days. This part is hard to explain, unless the reader has been in the army. In the army, the mere sight of civilians brought relief to me as though I was seeing people from another world, a normal world where I longed to be. It felt like being out of the water just for a while, so I could breathe, before going under again. It is like seeing the world outside a prison.

Though this feeling at Stanford wasn�t as intense as in the army (at Stanford I was a civilian after all), I felt I was in a very intellectual and academic world, a world where I was not completely comfortable. These tourists intruded into my Stanford world for a short time, reminding me that there was a world outside Stanford, where not everyone was a genius, where the atmosphere was not as intimidating: a world more normal.

I couldn�t help but feel a healthy pride. The tourists reminded me that Stanford was a famous school and that it was a wonderful privilege to be at Stanford. Of course, mentally I knew this to be true. But somehow, it had not really sunk into the recesses of my heart. Having a very humble academic beginning, I found it hard to believe that I was now at one of the top universities in the world. I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn�t dreaming. How could I, who used to struggle so much with my studies, be at Stanford? But here I was. So, yeah, I wasn�t going to hide my pride at being at Stanford. Just as I was proud to be a commando, I was proud to be a Stanford student.

Some of the tourists took a glance or two at me. I imagined what was in their minds. Perhaps they were thinking, here is a Stanford student, a genius, I wonder what latest theories, research, formulas and ideas must be in his mind right now, wish I could tap into his brain. But I was thinking about the silly jokes I cracked the night before over dinner, making my apartment mates roar with laughter. Or about Priscilla, a beautiful Stanford graduate, with whom I had a crush on. Or about missing my commando training years ago, when we punched, kick, and throw one another, shouting, "KILL! KILL! KILL THEM ALL!"

So, thank you, my backwards-walking friends and their flock. Thank you for reminding me to be grateful to God, my family, and my friends who had been supporting me. They had helped me get into Stanford. Thank you for reminding me that though I was in the world of Stanford now, I belonged more to the �normal� world outside.

See My Stanford Picture Album

The Logic of the Logic Class

To complete my degree requirements, I had to get through a logic class. It was one of the more challenging classes - or so at least to me. Your mind had to twist and turn, proving or disproving this or that hypothesis. A friend once said that I was a �logical� person, perhaps too logical. So I took it as a personal challenge. I wanted to learn if my logical thinking could translate to success in this class. Apparently not.

Also, the class was intimidating. Some of the students taking the class were doing PHD work related to logic. How was I to compete with them? (Like most classes at Stanford, we were graded on a curve, so competition was always keen.) What chance did I have?

I struggled throughout the quarter. To my surprise, I was doing fairly well. I had one last great hurdle though: the final exam. Again, to my pleasant surprise, I was also doing well for the exam, until I faced a big question I could not solve...

This question was worth a crucial 10 marks. The loss of 10 marks would be a massive blow. Though I tried and tried, I wasn�t able to solve it. Panic began to seep in as time was running out.

Then something told me to stop. I recalled an illustration I had seen on TV. The motivational speaker explained that, like flies hitting a glass window again and again, we do the same thing again and again expecting a different result. Being like those flies was not logical. So I stopped, calmed myself, and took a few deep breaths. I began to pray, O Lord, help me with this problem; I know there�s got to be a way, but I just can�t solve it; help me with this last shot.

To approach the problem afresh, I cleared my head from all previous attempts. I suddenly realized that a straightforward application of a formula would solve it. My mind, so used to twisting and turning in this class, had imagined that the problem was much harder than it really was!

So I applied the formula diligently. But there was one enemy I still had to conquer: time! Time was running out. Just as I finished, the professor said, "time's up!" That was close. Relief and gratitude swept over me.

On the way back to my dorm, I stopped by at the Memorial Church. It was night, and the lights of the church looked lovely. I sat outside the church, with my parked bicycle beside me. This was the usual place I went for solace and prayer. Thank you, God, for helping me.

Just today (June 2, 2006) I read the following verse, and realized that it reflected my sentiments. "Not to us, O LORD, not to us but to your name be the glory, because of your love and faithfulness." Psalm 115:1 Bible (NIV). Now that�s God�s logic.

Slipped Disks during Exam - Suffered a slipped disks after a 10km run, just 2 weeks before my final exam. Here is my story...