As dawn broke across Myanmar on 27 July, students, families, and teachers gathered at schools and examination centres to receive the long-awaited results of the 2025 matriculation examination. Out of 207,898 candidates, 99,924 passed, yielding a national pass rate of 48.06 per cent. For many, the day brought celebration. For others, quiet disappointment. But beneath the surface of these numbers lies a deeper story — one that challenges how we define success and how we support those who fall outside its conventional frame.
As dawn broke across Myanmar on 27 July, students, families, and teachers gathered at schools and examination centres to receive the long-awaited results of the 2025 matriculation examination. Out of 207,898 candidates, 99,924 passed, yielding a national pass rate of 48.06 per cent. For many, the day brought celebration. For others, quiet disappointment. But beneath the surface of these numbers lies a deeper story — one that challenges how we define success and how we support those who fall outside its conventional frame.
In a society where achievement is often measured by grades and distinctions, the term “non-achiever” has become a label too easily applied, and too rarely questioned. Yet for every student whose name didn’t appear on the pass list, there exists a reservoir of potential, unseen, unmeasured, and often misunderstood.
This is where mentors and life coaches become vital. They are not architects of ambition, but gardeners of growth. Their role is not to push youth towards a singular goal, but to help them discover their own compass. For those who didn’t pass, the options are not closed; they are simply different. Vocational training, creative arts, community engagement, and entrepreneurial exploration offer paths where academic metrics may have failed to capture true capability.
Mentors help reframe the narrative. “Underperforming” becomes “underexplored.” Life coaches guide young people through emotional terrain, teaching resilience not as endurance, but as graceful recovery. They celebrate micro-achievements: the courage to try again, the strength to speak up, the wisdom to reflect. These are not lesser victories; they are the foundations of lifelong growth.
In earthquake-affected regions like Mandalay, where students faced additional challenges and retook exams in June, the resilience shown was extraordinary. Even in adversity, distinctions were earned, and spirits remained unbroken. This is a reminder that achievement is not always loud; it can be quiet, persistent, and deeply personal.
As Myanmar reflects on this year’s results, let us also reflect on the stories behind the scores. Let us honour the mentors who walk beside the youth, not ahead of them. And let us remember that the garden beyond the gate is vast, filled with paths that may not lead to trophies, but to transformation.
As dawn broke across Myanmar on 27 July, students, families, and teachers gathered at schools and examination centres to receive the long-awaited results of the 2025 matriculation examination. Out of 207,898 candidates, 99,924 passed, yielding a national pass rate of 48.06 per cent. For many, the day brought celebration. For others, quiet disappointment. But beneath the surface of these numbers lies a deeper story — one that challenges how we define success and how we support those who fall outside its conventional frame.
In a society where achievement is often measured by grades and distinctions, the term “non-achiever” has become a label too easily applied, and too rarely questioned. Yet for every student whose name didn’t appear on the pass list, there exists a reservoir of potential, unseen, unmeasured, and often misunderstood.
This is where mentors and life coaches become vital. They are not architects of ambition, but gardeners of growth. Their role is not to push youth towards a singular goal, but to help them discover their own compass. For those who didn’t pass, the options are not closed; they are simply different. Vocational training, creative arts, community engagement, and entrepreneurial exploration offer paths where academic metrics may have failed to capture true capability.
Mentors help reframe the narrative. “Underperforming” becomes “underexplored.” Life coaches guide young people through emotional terrain, teaching resilience not as endurance, but as graceful recovery. They celebrate micro-achievements: the courage to try again, the strength to speak up, the wisdom to reflect. These are not lesser victories; they are the foundations of lifelong growth.
In earthquake-affected regions like Mandalay, where students faced additional challenges and retook exams in June, the resilience shown was extraordinary. Even in adversity, distinctions were earned, and spirits remained unbroken. This is a reminder that achievement is not always loud; it can be quiet, persistent, and deeply personal.
As Myanmar reflects on this year’s results, let us also reflect on the stories behind the scores. Let us honour the mentors who walk beside the youth, not ahead of them. And let us remember that the garden beyond the gate is vast, filled with paths that may not lead to trophies, but to transformation.
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Understanding the divide between progress and regression can unlock the path to personal development and collective success.
At every stage of life, we face a crucial choice: to move forward or fall back, to progress or regress. While the two paths may seem clearly opposed, the difference between them often lies in subtle decisions, shaped by mindset, habits, and environment. Recognizing and aligning this difference isn’t just a mental exercise; it’s a powerful tool that can steer our lives towards self-betterment and broader success.
Understanding the divide between progress and regression can unlock the path to personal development and collective success.
At every stage of life, we face a crucial choice: to move forward or fall back, to progress or regress. While the two paths may seem clearly opposed, the difference between them often lies in subtle decisions, shaped by mindset, habits, and environment. Recognizing and aligning this difference isn’t just a mental exercise; it’s a powerful tool that can steer our lives towards self-betterment and broader success. In this essay, drawn from both personal experiences and everyday observations, I explore how an honest awareness of our direction — whether advancing or retreating — can empower us to cultivate resilience, embrace growth, and contribute meaningfully to the world around us.
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, progress is defined as “forward or onward movement towards a destination” or “development towards an improved or more advanced condition”. In contrast, regress or regression refers to “a return to a former or less developed state”. While “progress” implies movement towards growth, improvement, and success, “regress” signals a fallback — often unintentional — to previous states that may be less effective, less informed, or even harmful. In Burmese, “progress” may be best translated as တိုးတက်မှု (toe-tet-hmu), capturing the spirit of advancement or upliftment, while “regress” aligns closely with နောက်ကျခြင်း (naut-kya-jin) or နောက်ပြန်ဆုတ်ခြင်း (naut-pyan-sote-jin), reflecting decline or retreat. Understanding these terms in both English and our native tongue helps us grasp not just their dictionary meanings but also their deeper implications in our personal development journey.
A Personal Journey of Progress: From Folktales to Dictionaries
My own journey of personal development began in earnest during the summer of 1979, after I passed the matriculation examination. With six or seven months of free time before the next phase of education, I was determined not to let the precious interval slip by idly. Encouraged by my mother, I picked up a Burmese folktales booklet by Dr Htin Aung — a title she and my father had studied in their school days. That small volume sparked in me a greater hunger for learning, especially in the realm of language.
Recognizing this drive, my father gave me one of his most treasured possessions: U Tun Nyein’s English-Burmese Dictionary. It became my starting point — not just for vocabulary-building, but for shaping a deeper understanding of the English language. At 16, however, I faced steep challenges. Many of the words and expressions I encountered were far beyond the grasp of my school-level curriculum. I lacked the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary at that time, a resource I would come to value and use extensively later during my university years, when I majored in English Language and Literature at Rangoon University.
Yet, despite the difficulties, I pressed on. I wrestled with unfamiliar words, copied definitions, built mental flashcards, and slowly but surely, built up a basic yet solid foundation in English. That summer became a quiet turning point. By the time I enrolled in Regional College 1 in Botahtaung in 1980, I could already feel the fruit of my efforts. It was not just a memory of a youthful pastime — it was a clear marker of progress, earned through dedication and discipline. No steps were taken backwards, no signs of regression. Instead, what emerged was a growing sense of capability and confidence — the very essence of what personal development means.
From Foundation to Fulfilment: The Long Arc of Growth
The progress I made during that formative summer did not end with the mastery of new vocabulary or the satisfaction of overcoming academic hurdles. It laid the groundwork for much more — a mindset of persistence, a respect for learning, and a readiness to face unfamiliar challenges. These traits proved invaluable as I continued my studies at university, and later, as I took on diverse roles in life, including working as a seafarer and serving as an editor. Whether navigating the vastness of the sea or the precision of the written word, I came to understand that personal development is not a one-time achievement but a continual process. Each step forward, no matter how small, adds to a larger arc of growth, and even in times of uncertainty, it is the commitment to progress that keeps us from slipping into regression. Looking back, I see how one decision — to use a summer break as a stepping stone — shaped the course of my life in ways I never could have predicted then.
Lifelong Learning at Sea and in the Newsroom
My commitment to progress continued well beyond the classroom. As a seafarer, I seized every opportunity to improve my English on board the vessel. Surrounded by the language of international communication, I immersed myself in the terminology of the sea — learning words and phrases related to navigation, cargo handling, deck and engine operations, and maritime correspondence. Though I served in the humble capacity of an Ordinary Seaman (OS), my growing language skills allowed me to make meaningful contributions. I often provided what I like to call “assists” — borrowing the term from sports — by helping my Burmese officers with English-language correspondence to the shipping company. These contributions were not only appreciated but also reaffirmed my belief that any progress, no matter the role or rank, can lead to real value.
Later, as I took on the role of an editor, I brought the same hunger for growth to my professional life. Editing foreign news stories from agencies like AP, Reuters, TASS, and Yonhap, I never allowed myself to plateau. I refused to stay confined within a “comfort zone”. Instead, I observed, learned, and absorbed everything I could from my senior editors — from word choices to editorial ethics and precision in news language. I saw every article not just as a task to complete, but as an opportunity to improve my craft. I remained consistent, yes — but not stagnant. I advanced in my ability, judgement, and responsibility.
These experiences taught me that progress is not about grand leaps. It is about small, steady steps forward — steps that accumulate and shape not only the individual but also the community they serve. That’s why I hope younger generations will not settle for consistency alone, and certainly not for regression. True personal development demands courage to move beyond comfort zones, to keep learning, adapting, and evolving for the benefit of oneself and the society in which one lives.
Conclusion: Choosing Progress, Not Passivity
Progress or regress — the path we choose defines the life we live. My journey, from a teenage learner wrestling with a dictionary to a seafarer navigating international communication, and later, an editor shaping the national news narrative, is a testament to what consistent effort and a refusal to settle can yield. The difference between moving forward and falling back is not marked by circumstances alone but by our will to grow, even in the face of challenge. I believe each of us holds the power to choose progress, not just for personal gain, but for the betterment of the society we are part of. To the younger generation, my message is simple yet sincere: never stop learning, never cling to comfort, and never let regression become a habit. In forging your own path, let the spirit of progress guide you steadily, purposefully, and relentlessly.
“Small deeds done are better than great deeds planned.”— Peter Marshall
This quote reminds us that progress often begins not with ambition alone, but with action, consistent, quiet, and determined.
သင့်မြတ်လျော်ကန်တဲ့ တိုးတက်မှုဆိုတာ ကိုယ်ကိုတိုင်ကိုသာမက လူမှုအသိုင်းအဝိုင်း တခုလုံးကိုလည်း မြှင့်တင်ပေးနိုင်ပါတယ်။
(True, appropriate progress uplifts not only the individual but also the entire community around them.)
Photo - Medium
Understanding the divide between progress and regression can unlock the path to personal development and collective success.
At every stage of life, we face a crucial choice: to move forward or fall back, to progress or regress. While the two paths may seem clearly opposed, the difference between them often lies in subtle decisions, shaped by mindset, habits, and environment. Recognizing and aligning this difference isn’t just a mental exercise; it’s a powerful tool that can steer our lives towards self-betterment and broader success. In this essay, drawn from both personal experiences and everyday observations, I explore how an honest awareness of our direction — whether advancing or retreating — can empower us to cultivate resilience, embrace growth, and contribute meaningfully to the world around us.
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, progress is defined as “forward or onward movement towards a destination” or “development towards an improved or more advanced condition”. In contrast, regress or regression refers to “a return to a former or less developed state”. While “progress” implies movement towards growth, improvement, and success, “regress” signals a fallback — often unintentional — to previous states that may be less effective, less informed, or even harmful. In Burmese, “progress” may be best translated as တိုးတက်မှု (toe-tet-hmu), capturing the spirit of advancement or upliftment, while “regress” aligns closely with နောက်ကျခြင်း (naut-kya-jin) or နောက်ပြန်ဆုတ်ခြင်း (naut-pyan-sote-jin), reflecting decline or retreat. Understanding these terms in both English and our native tongue helps us grasp not just their dictionary meanings but also their deeper implications in our personal development journey.
A Personal Journey of Progress: From Folktales to Dictionaries
My own journey of personal development began in earnest during the summer of 1979, after I passed the matriculation examination. With six or seven months of free time before the next phase of education, I was determined not to let the precious interval slip by idly. Encouraged by my mother, I picked up a Burmese folktales booklet by Dr Htin Aung — a title she and my father had studied in their school days. That small volume sparked in me a greater hunger for learning, especially in the realm of language.
Recognizing this drive, my father gave me one of his most treasured possessions: U Tun Nyein’s English-Burmese Dictionary. It became my starting point — not just for vocabulary-building, but for shaping a deeper understanding of the English language. At 16, however, I faced steep challenges. Many of the words and expressions I encountered were far beyond the grasp of my school-level curriculum. I lacked the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary at that time, a resource I would come to value and use extensively later during my university years, when I majored in English Language and Literature at Rangoon University.
Yet, despite the difficulties, I pressed on. I wrestled with unfamiliar words, copied definitions, built mental flashcards, and slowly but surely, built up a basic yet solid foundation in English. That summer became a quiet turning point. By the time I enrolled in Regional College 1 in Botahtaung in 1980, I could already feel the fruit of my efforts. It was not just a memory of a youthful pastime — it was a clear marker of progress, earned through dedication and discipline. No steps were taken backwards, no signs of regression. Instead, what emerged was a growing sense of capability and confidence — the very essence of what personal development means.
From Foundation to Fulfilment: The Long Arc of Growth
The progress I made during that formative summer did not end with the mastery of new vocabulary or the satisfaction of overcoming academic hurdles. It laid the groundwork for much more — a mindset of persistence, a respect for learning, and a readiness to face unfamiliar challenges. These traits proved invaluable as I continued my studies at university, and later, as I took on diverse roles in life, including working as a seafarer and serving as an editor. Whether navigating the vastness of the sea or the precision of the written word, I came to understand that personal development is not a one-time achievement but a continual process. Each step forward, no matter how small, adds to a larger arc of growth, and even in times of uncertainty, it is the commitment to progress that keeps us from slipping into regression. Looking back, I see how one decision — to use a summer break as a stepping stone — shaped the course of my life in ways I never could have predicted then.
Lifelong Learning at Sea and in the Newsroom
My commitment to progress continued well beyond the classroom. As a seafarer, I seized every opportunity to improve my English on board the vessel. Surrounded by the language of international communication, I immersed myself in the terminology of the sea — learning words and phrases related to navigation, cargo handling, deck and engine operations, and maritime correspondence. Though I served in the humble capacity of an Ordinary Seaman (OS), my growing language skills allowed me to make meaningful contributions. I often provided what I like to call “assists” — borrowing the term from sports — by helping my Burmese officers with English-language correspondence to the shipping company. These contributions were not only appreciated but also reaffirmed my belief that any progress, no matter the role or rank, can lead to real value.
Later, as I took on the role of an editor, I brought the same hunger for growth to my professional life. Editing foreign news stories from agencies like AP, Reuters, TASS, and Yonhap, I never allowed myself to plateau. I refused to stay confined within a “comfort zone”. Instead, I observed, learned, and absorbed everything I could from my senior editors — from word choices to editorial ethics and precision in news language. I saw every article not just as a task to complete, but as an opportunity to improve my craft. I remained consistent, yes — but not stagnant. I advanced in my ability, judgement, and responsibility.
These experiences taught me that progress is not about grand leaps. It is about small, steady steps forward — steps that accumulate and shape not only the individual but also the community they serve. That’s why I hope younger generations will not settle for consistency alone, and certainly not for regression. True personal development demands courage to move beyond comfort zones, to keep learning, adapting, and evolving for the benefit of oneself and the society in which one lives.
Conclusion: Choosing Progress, Not Passivity
Progress or regress — the path we choose defines the life we live. My journey, from a teenage learner wrestling with a dictionary to a seafarer navigating international communication, and later, an editor shaping the national news narrative, is a testament to what consistent effort and a refusal to settle can yield. The difference between moving forward and falling back is not marked by circumstances alone but by our will to grow, even in the face of challenge. I believe each of us holds the power to choose progress, not just for personal gain, but for the betterment of the society we are part of. To the younger generation, my message is simple yet sincere: never stop learning, never cling to comfort, and never let regression become a habit. In forging your own path, let the spirit of progress guide you steadily, purposefully, and relentlessly.
“Small deeds done are better than great deeds planned.”— Peter Marshall
This quote reminds us that progress often begins not with ambition alone, but with action, consistent, quiet, and determined.
သင့်မြတ်လျော်ကန်တဲ့ တိုးတက်မှုဆိုတာ ကိုယ်ကိုတိုင်ကိုသာမက လူမှုအသိုင်းအဝိုင်း တခုလုံးကိုလည်း မြှင့်တင်ပေးနိုင်ပါတယ်။
(True, appropriate progress uplifts not only the individual but also the entire community around them.)
Photo - Medium
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Preamble
This reflection captures the essence of traditional Asian values and their quiet yet powerful form of strength. When placed in the context of the younger generation of Asians growing up in the Western world, it takes on added layers of complexity, resilience, and transformation.
Preamble
This reflection captures the essence of traditional Asian values and their quiet yet powerful form of strength. When placed in the context of the younger generation of Asians growing up in the Western world, it takes on added layers of complexity, resilience, and transformation.
Whispers of Strength in a Louder World
For young Asians raised in the West — children of immigrants or those born into diasporic communities — strength often wears many faces. Yes, it still whispers through discipline, perseverance, and deference, but it also must learn to speak up, to navigate cultures that value expression, autonomy, and visibility.
In Western classrooms, where individuality is often prized over conformity, many young Asians juggle dual expectations: the silent grind expected at home and the confident self-advocacy celebrated at school. The phrase “Dripping water hollows stone” still echoes — but now, the drip has to find its rhythm between two cultural worlds.
The Silent Curriculum: Discipline and Duty
Asian families in the West continue to carry forward a deep respect for education, but here, it’s often interpreted differently. To Western peers, success might seem like overachievement — violin lessons, perfect grades, coding at age 10. But behind this is an unspoken narrative: to honour the sacrifices of parents who came with little, to carry forward centuries of values in a land that often doesn’t fully understand them.
Education becomes not just an academic pursuit but a moral mission, where discipline is a birthright, not a burden. This can lead to quiet but fierce resilience — the kind that keeps going when no one’s watching, the kind that measures progress in small, daily victories.
Bicultural Brains, Multilingual Minds
Growing up in homes where English blends with Cantonese, Urdu, Tagalog, Tamil, Burmese, or Korean, young Asians develop more than just bilingual skills — they build mental flexibility. This mental code-switching doesn’t just help in conversations; it translates to a more adaptive mindset, one that can switch between worldviews, navigate nuance, and read the unspoken, crucial skills in a multicultural world.
The Pressure Paradox
High expectations — from family and community — can be both a torch and a weight. Many young Asians in the West feel caught between wanting to meet those expectations and yearning to explore paths less “acceptable” to tradition (like art, activism, or unconventional careers). This creates internal conflict, but also rich soil for growth, where identity is self-forged, not just inherited.
They are learning to blend Eastern endurance with Western self-expression, to be strong not just in silence but also in story, advocacy, and leadership.
Where Growth Truly Happens
So, what happens when bamboo is planted in different soil? It doesn’t just bend or break — it adapts. It might grow with new shoots, different leaves, or in unexpected directions, but it still carries the strength of its roots.
For young Asians in the West, success isn’t just survival or assimilation. It’s synthesis. It’s saying: “I carry the quiet strength of my ancestors, but I also find new ways to speak it.”
In Summary
• Hard work, family honour, and persistence are still foundational values — but they must coexist with individualism, freedom of expression, and evolving identity.
• Multilingual and multicultural upbringings sharpen cognitive and emotional flexibility.
• The pressure to excel is real, but it is slowly transforming into a desire to redefine excellence on one’s own terms.
• The new Asian generation is learning to nurture intelligence and wisdom, both through heritage and choice.
And in that delicate balance, a new kind of strength is blooming — still quiet at times, but also learning to roar when it needs to.
Source: GNLM
Preamble
This reflection captures the essence of traditional Asian values and their quiet yet powerful form of strength. When placed in the context of the younger generation of Asians growing up in the Western world, it takes on added layers of complexity, resilience, and transformation.
Whispers of Strength in a Louder World
For young Asians raised in the West — children of immigrants or those born into diasporic communities — strength often wears many faces. Yes, it still whispers through discipline, perseverance, and deference, but it also must learn to speak up, to navigate cultures that value expression, autonomy, and visibility.
In Western classrooms, where individuality is often prized over conformity, many young Asians juggle dual expectations: the silent grind expected at home and the confident self-advocacy celebrated at school. The phrase “Dripping water hollows stone” still echoes — but now, the drip has to find its rhythm between two cultural worlds.
The Silent Curriculum: Discipline and Duty
Asian families in the West continue to carry forward a deep respect for education, but here, it’s often interpreted differently. To Western peers, success might seem like overachievement — violin lessons, perfect grades, coding at age 10. But behind this is an unspoken narrative: to honour the sacrifices of parents who came with little, to carry forward centuries of values in a land that often doesn’t fully understand them.
Education becomes not just an academic pursuit but a moral mission, where discipline is a birthright, not a burden. This can lead to quiet but fierce resilience — the kind that keeps going when no one’s watching, the kind that measures progress in small, daily victories.
Bicultural Brains, Multilingual Minds
Growing up in homes where English blends with Cantonese, Urdu, Tagalog, Tamil, Burmese, or Korean, young Asians develop more than just bilingual skills — they build mental flexibility. This mental code-switching doesn’t just help in conversations; it translates to a more adaptive mindset, one that can switch between worldviews, navigate nuance, and read the unspoken, crucial skills in a multicultural world.
The Pressure Paradox
High expectations — from family and community — can be both a torch and a weight. Many young Asians in the West feel caught between wanting to meet those expectations and yearning to explore paths less “acceptable” to tradition (like art, activism, or unconventional careers). This creates internal conflict, but also rich soil for growth, where identity is self-forged, not just inherited.
They are learning to blend Eastern endurance with Western self-expression, to be strong not just in silence but also in story, advocacy, and leadership.
Where Growth Truly Happens
So, what happens when bamboo is planted in different soil? It doesn’t just bend or break — it adapts. It might grow with new shoots, different leaves, or in unexpected directions, but it still carries the strength of its roots.
For young Asians in the West, success isn’t just survival or assimilation. It’s synthesis. It’s saying: “I carry the quiet strength of my ancestors, but I also find new ways to speak it.”
In Summary
• Hard work, family honour, and persistence are still foundational values — but they must coexist with individualism, freedom of expression, and evolving identity.
• Multilingual and multicultural upbringings sharpen cognitive and emotional flexibility.
• The pressure to excel is real, but it is slowly transforming into a desire to redefine excellence on one’s own terms.
• The new Asian generation is learning to nurture intelligence and wisdom, both through heritage and choice.
And in that delicate balance, a new kind of strength is blooming — still quiet at times, but also learning to roar when it needs to.
Source: GNLM
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Introduction
Social media is a big part of youth culture, offering both opportunities and challenges. Imagine using social media not just to connect with friends, but to learn, grow, and express yourself creatively. This article explores how social media impacts youth and provides tips for navigating the digital world responsibly.
Positive Effects of Social Media
Introduction
Social media is a big part of youth culture, offering both opportunities and challenges. Imagine using social media not just to connect with friends, but to learn, grow, and express yourself creatively. This article explores how social media impacts youth and provides tips for navigating the digital world responsibly.
Positive Effects of Social Media
Social media helps youth stay connected with friends and family. A Pew Research study found that 81 percent of teens feel more connected to their friends through social media. It offers educational resources, like online courses and study groups, and is a platform for creativity, where youth can share their talents and passions.
Consider Emily, a high school student who uses Instagram to showcase her photography. Through social media, she connected with professional photographers who provided feedback and mentorship, helping her improve her skills.
Negative Effects of Social Media
However, social media can also have downsides. Cyber bullying and online harassment are significant issues. A study found that 34 percent of students experienced cyber bullying. Social media can exacerbate mental health issues like anxiety, depression, and FOMO (fear of missing out). The APA reports that more social media use correlates with higher rates of mental health issues. Excessive screen time can also lead to addiction, affecting physical health and school performance.
Take Jake, who found himself constantly comparing his life to others on social media. This led to feelings of inadequacy and depression. By taking a break from social media and focusing on real-life connections, Jake was able to improve his mental health.
Social Media and Identity Formation
Social media plays a crucial role in identity formation. It can boost self-esteem through positive interactions but also negatively impact body image and self-worth due to unrealistic beauty standards. A study found that exposure to idealized images on social media can lead to body dissatisfaction. Developing digital literacy and critical thinking skills is essential for navigating these challenges.
Sarah’s story is a good example. She struggled with body image issues due to the perfect images she saw on social media. By following body-positive accounts and learning about digital manipulation, Sarah developed a healthier self-image.
Privacy and Safety
Protecting personal information online is crucial. Only 40 percent of teens use privacy settings on social media. Understanding data usage and recognizing online predators are critical components of staying safe online. The FBI reported a rise in online exploitation cases involving minors, highlighting the need for awareness and caution.
Consider Mia, who learned the importance of privacy settings after a stranger tried to contact her. She adjusted her settings to be more private and shared her experience with friends, promoting safer online practices.
Balancing Online and Offline Life
Maintaining a healthy balance between online and offline life is crucial. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends limiting screen time to less than two hours per day. Strategies for reducing screen time include setting limits and prioritizing offline activities. Encouraging physical activities, hobbies, and face-to-face interactions promotes well-being.
Think about Alex, who realized he was spending too much time online. He set daily limits on his screen time and took up hiking. The physical activity and time spent in nature significantly improved his mood and overall well-being.
Parental and Educational Roles
Parents and educators play key roles in guiding responsible social media use. Studies show that teens who discuss online activities with parents make safer choices. Schools can implement digital citizenship programs, teaching students about the ethical and safe use of technology.
For instance, Lucy’s school started a digital literacy program that taught students about online safety and responsible use. Lucy found the program helpful and shared what she learned with her younger siblings.
Conclusion
Social media’s impact on youth is complex. By promoting mindful use and fostering digital literacy, youth can navigate the digital world effectively. Remember, you have the power to control your online experience. Use social media as a tool to enrich your life, and stay balanced by engaging in meaningful offline activities. With support from parents and educators, you can create a balanced and safe online environment that supports healthy development. Encouraging responsible use and open communication maximizes the benefits and minimizes the risks of social media.
YTM
Source: Myawady Daily Newspaper
Introduction
Social media is a big part of youth culture, offering both opportunities and challenges. Imagine using social media not just to connect with friends, but to learn, grow, and express yourself creatively. This article explores how social media impacts youth and provides tips for navigating the digital world responsibly.
Positive Effects of Social Media
Social media helps youth stay connected with friends and family. A Pew Research study found that 81 percent of teens feel more connected to their friends through social media. It offers educational resources, like online courses and study groups, and is a platform for creativity, where youth can share their talents and passions.
Consider Emily, a high school student who uses Instagram to showcase her photography. Through social media, she connected with professional photographers who provided feedback and mentorship, helping her improve her skills.
Negative Effects of Social Media
However, social media can also have downsides. Cyber bullying and online harassment are significant issues. A study found that 34 percent of students experienced cyber bullying. Social media can exacerbate mental health issues like anxiety, depression, and FOMO (fear of missing out). The APA reports that more social media use correlates with higher rates of mental health issues. Excessive screen time can also lead to addiction, affecting physical health and school performance.
Take Jake, who found himself constantly comparing his life to others on social media. This led to feelings of inadequacy and depression. By taking a break from social media and focusing on real-life connections, Jake was able to improve his mental health.
Social Media and Identity Formation
Social media plays a crucial role in identity formation. It can boost self-esteem through positive interactions but also negatively impact body image and self-worth due to unrealistic beauty standards. A study found that exposure to idealized images on social media can lead to body dissatisfaction. Developing digital literacy and critical thinking skills is essential for navigating these challenges.
Sarah’s story is a good example. She struggled with body image issues due to the perfect images she saw on social media. By following body-positive accounts and learning about digital manipulation, Sarah developed a healthier self-image.
Privacy and Safety
Protecting personal information online is crucial. Only 40 percent of teens use privacy settings on social media. Understanding data usage and recognizing online predators are critical components of staying safe online. The FBI reported a rise in online exploitation cases involving minors, highlighting the need for awareness and caution.
Consider Mia, who learned the importance of privacy settings after a stranger tried to contact her. She adjusted her settings to be more private and shared her experience with friends, promoting safer online practices.
Balancing Online and Offline Life
Maintaining a healthy balance between online and offline life is crucial. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends limiting screen time to less than two hours per day. Strategies for reducing screen time include setting limits and prioritizing offline activities. Encouraging physical activities, hobbies, and face-to-face interactions promotes well-being.
Think about Alex, who realized he was spending too much time online. He set daily limits on his screen time and took up hiking. The physical activity and time spent in nature significantly improved his mood and overall well-being.
Parental and Educational Roles
Parents and educators play key roles in guiding responsible social media use. Studies show that teens who discuss online activities with parents make safer choices. Schools can implement digital citizenship programs, teaching students about the ethical and safe use of technology.
For instance, Lucy’s school started a digital literacy program that taught students about online safety and responsible use. Lucy found the program helpful and shared what she learned with her younger siblings.
Conclusion
Social media’s impact on youth is complex. By promoting mindful use and fostering digital literacy, youth can navigate the digital world effectively. Remember, you have the power to control your online experience. Use social media as a tool to enrich your life, and stay balanced by engaging in meaningful offline activities. With support from parents and educators, you can create a balanced and safe online environment that supports healthy development. Encouraging responsible use and open communication maximizes the benefits and minimizes the risks of social media.
YTM
Source: Myawady Daily Newspaper
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IN life, there are often things we believe we are quite skilled at or have mastered, but in reality, our perceptions and judgments can be mistaken. In this context, the Myanmar saying “the teacher doesn’t teach improperly, the student doesn’t learn properly” carries significant meaning, and we should be mindful of it. There is a vast difference in outcomes between those who follow the methods and systems taught by their teachers and those who work without proper guidance or in a haphazard manner.
IN life, there are often things we believe we are quite skilled at or have mastered, but in reality, our perceptions and judgments can be mistaken. In this context, the Myanmar saying “the teacher doesn’t teach improperly, the student doesn’t learn properly” carries significant meaning, and we should be mindful of it. There is a vast difference in outcomes between those who follow the methods and systems taught by their teachers and those who work without proper guidance or in a haphazard manner. Here, I will share some personal experiences to illustrate just how important it is to learn and develop skills under the guidance of a good teacher and through proper methods.
This happened during my high school years in 10th grade, 1970. After failing the matriculation examination once, I had to return to school for another year in the same grade. Since it was a class full of repeat students, there wasn’t much discipline.
There were about forty students in the class, and during the times when the teacher wasn’t around, the boys would gather at the back of the classroom and chat. I was among them, too.
One day, four students from our class went missing. After investigating, we found out it was Tun Kyi, Tin Aung, Soe Naing, and Myat Tun. In reality, they hadn’t disappeared at all. They were representing our school as the selected athletes for the Badminton competition at the Pathein District Schools Sports Meet. That’s why they weren’t in class; they had gone to Pathein for the competition.
About three weeks later, Tun Kyi, Tin Aung, and Soe Naing returned, but Myat Tun didn’t come back. I asked Soe Naing, and he told me that Myat Tun had been selected as a district-level athlete and was continuing his training in Pathein. He said that if Myat Tun were selected as a permanent Badminton selection for the upcoming Ayeyawady Region Badminton Competition, he would compete, and if not, he would return. Myat Tun ended up missing school for about two months.
Eventually, he came back after being selected as a representative for Pathein District. He returned only after the competitions were over.
One day, during a time when the teacher couldn’t come to class as usual, the students gathered at the back of the room and started chatting. The conversation covered all sorts of topics, and Myat Tun, in his bold manner, began sharing his fresh experiences as a district-level badminton competitor. I was just sitting there, half-listening to his stories. My friends were listening too, but I had a feeling that, like me, they were secretly feeling a bit envious.
As Myat Tun kept boasting, he suddenly challenged us.
He said that anyone brave enough to play badminton against him could do so, and he would give us a 14-point advantage in a 15-point game. He even suggested that we place a wager on the match!
The wager was set at five kyats.
For those reading this today, it’s worth considering how much five kyats meant around the 1970s compared to today’s value. Back then, five kyats held significant value, and its worth in today’s terms would certainly be much higher.
So, dear readers, you can imagine how much that amount could buy at the time.
All of my friends fell silent, deep in thought. As for me, I began to realize that with a 14-point lead, I only needed to score one point to win. No matter how skilled Myat Tun was, even as a district-level athlete, I was confident I could manage at least that one point.
The thought, “I can win this!” filled my mind, and I boldly accepted his challenge, saying, “I’ll play!” Myat Tun, with a smile, said, “Alright, great! Tomorrow morning at 8 am, let’s meet at the court. Just the two of us. I’ll come pick you up from your house.” He set the match.
At that time, our town had an indoor court where youth and middle-aged badminton enthusiasts would gather. It was located at the back of the cinema, and they had converted it into a proper indoor badminton court. The club was known as the “Myoma Badminton Club.”
On the morning of the match, Myat Tun came to pick me up from my house. His appearance was striking — his skin was fair, and he was dressed entirely in white. He wore a white t-shirt, white shorts, white ankle socks, and white canvas shoes, and he even carried a brand-new white shuttlecock in his hand. On the other hand, he held a brand new Yonex racket.
He looked just like a young prince, and that image of him is still vivid in my mind to this day. Let me describe my situation a little as well. I wasn’t someone who knew how to play badminton properly; I just thought I could manage to score that one point.
Unlike Myat Tun, I didn’t have any fancy outfits. I simply wore an old sleeveless vest and a traditional longyi tied up at the waist. Since I didn’t have my own racket, I stopped by Tin Aung’s house on the way to the court and borrowed one from him.
When we arrived at the court, Myat Tun unlocked the door and turned on the lights. On each side of the court were three four-foot fluorescent lights, brightly illuminating the space.
Under the glow of the lights, Myat Tun, dressed all in white, looked every bit like a young prince. On the opposite side, there I stood, barefoot, in my old sleeveless vest and longyi, ready for the match.
You can imagine the contrast, dear readers!
Before the match started, Myat Tun made a request. He reminded me, “Since I’m giving you a 14-point lead, I’ll start with the serve.” I agreed without much thought. And so, the match began.
As soon as it started, Myat Tun scored one point after another, almost effortlessly. It felt like I was being chased around the court like a dog while he, without breaking a sweat, calmly accumulated points.
Meanwhile, I was running from the front to the back of the court, entirely out of breath, while he didn’t even seem to perspire.
By the time he reached 10 points, I was still at zero, and I was already exhausted. Myat Tun, however, appeared as composed as ever. I started wondering if scoring even a single point was going to be possible. Was he really this good? And could I even manage to win one point in this game?
Before long, the score reached 14-14. Up until this point, I hadn’t even returned a serve that landed on Myat Tun’s side of the court. In other words, I hadn’t managed to hit the shuttlecock onto his side to make it fall on the ground. At 14-all, it was clear that whoever continuously scored the following two points would win. Whether he scored two consecutive points or I somehow managed to do so, the victor would be decided in the next few moments.
By now, dear readers, you might already have an idea who was going to win. Yes, I lost. In a 15-point match, I couldn’t even score a single point. After the game was over, Myat Tun walked over to my side of the court, patted me on the shoulder, and smiled like a true victor. I, on the other hand, reluctantly pulled out the five kyat notes I had tucked in my waistband and handed it to him.
That night, I struggled to sleep well, replaying the events of the day in my mind. Myat Tun and I were the same age, physically similar in appearance, and even shared the same classroom. Yet, in this 15-point badminton match, I couldn’t even manage to score a single point against him. I found myself pondering the reasons behind my defeat.
We were both in the same situation: same age, similar bodies, and equal academic standings, as we were both in the tenth grade. So why was it that I failed to score even one point? I continued to question myself, trying to find answers to my thoughts. However, as the night deepened, I still hadn’t reached any conclusions.
The day’s events were etched in my heart, a reminder of the competition and the need to improve.
After a few months, I finally found the answer I had been seeking, and it came from Myat Tun himself.
Here’s how it went: during that summer break, Myat Tun’s family moved to another city. However, his father stayed behind in our town due to work responsibilities. Unfortunately, Myat Tun’s father got married again to a lady in his office, and now he was living with his new wife. Being the eldest in his family, Myat Tun would return to our town about every two months to visit his father for various family affairs. During these visits, he often stayed at my house for about three or four days.
One time, he asked me, “Aren’t you going to learn how to play badminton?” He mentioned that he could teach me. I listened intently as he spoke. He had been away from our class for about two months, participating in a selection process in Pathein District, where he had been training. One day, the Pathein District team travelled to Yangon for further training, coinciding with a time when the Aung San Stadium in Yangon was hosting a workshop with the Chinese Selection Team for national badminton selectors from Myanmar. During that training, they were fortunate enough to receive instruction in badminton techniques and Chinese methods from the national and Chinese coaches. At that moment, China was at the top of the badminton atmosphere across the world.
I have now clearly understood the answer. I have learned the lesson that there is a significant difference between someone who has been properly taught and trained by a good teacher in a systematic way and someone who knows nothing at all, like a complete novice. No matter how similar in age, appearance, or educational qualifications, I have realized that I can never match someone like Myat Tun, who good teachers have taught in a disciplined manner. That’s the answer I’ve come to understand.
Source- The Global New Light of Myanmar
IN life, there are often things we believe we are quite skilled at or have mastered, but in reality, our perceptions and judgments can be mistaken. In this context, the Myanmar saying “the teacher doesn’t teach improperly, the student doesn’t learn properly” carries significant meaning, and we should be mindful of it. There is a vast difference in outcomes between those who follow the methods and systems taught by their teachers and those who work without proper guidance or in a haphazard manner. Here, I will share some personal experiences to illustrate just how important it is to learn and develop skills under the guidance of a good teacher and through proper methods.
This happened during my high school years in 10th grade, 1970. After failing the matriculation examination once, I had to return to school for another year in the same grade. Since it was a class full of repeat students, there wasn’t much discipline.
There were about forty students in the class, and during the times when the teacher wasn’t around, the boys would gather at the back of the classroom and chat. I was among them, too.
One day, four students from our class went missing. After investigating, we found out it was Tun Kyi, Tin Aung, Soe Naing, and Myat Tun. In reality, they hadn’t disappeared at all. They were representing our school as the selected athletes for the Badminton competition at the Pathein District Schools Sports Meet. That’s why they weren’t in class; they had gone to Pathein for the competition.
About three weeks later, Tun Kyi, Tin Aung, and Soe Naing returned, but Myat Tun didn’t come back. I asked Soe Naing, and he told me that Myat Tun had been selected as a district-level athlete and was continuing his training in Pathein. He said that if Myat Tun were selected as a permanent Badminton selection for the upcoming Ayeyawady Region Badminton Competition, he would compete, and if not, he would return. Myat Tun ended up missing school for about two months.
Eventually, he came back after being selected as a representative for Pathein District. He returned only after the competitions were over.
One day, during a time when the teacher couldn’t come to class as usual, the students gathered at the back of the room and started chatting. The conversation covered all sorts of topics, and Myat Tun, in his bold manner, began sharing his fresh experiences as a district-level badminton competitor. I was just sitting there, half-listening to his stories. My friends were listening too, but I had a feeling that, like me, they were secretly feeling a bit envious.
As Myat Tun kept boasting, he suddenly challenged us.
He said that anyone brave enough to play badminton against him could do so, and he would give us a 14-point advantage in a 15-point game. He even suggested that we place a wager on the match!
The wager was set at five kyats.
For those reading this today, it’s worth considering how much five kyats meant around the 1970s compared to today’s value. Back then, five kyats held significant value, and its worth in today’s terms would certainly be much higher.
So, dear readers, you can imagine how much that amount could buy at the time.
All of my friends fell silent, deep in thought. As for me, I began to realize that with a 14-point lead, I only needed to score one point to win. No matter how skilled Myat Tun was, even as a district-level athlete, I was confident I could manage at least that one point.
The thought, “I can win this!” filled my mind, and I boldly accepted his challenge, saying, “I’ll play!” Myat Tun, with a smile, said, “Alright, great! Tomorrow morning at 8 am, let’s meet at the court. Just the two of us. I’ll come pick you up from your house.” He set the match.
At that time, our town had an indoor court where youth and middle-aged badminton enthusiasts would gather. It was located at the back of the cinema, and they had converted it into a proper indoor badminton court. The club was known as the “Myoma Badminton Club.”
On the morning of the match, Myat Tun came to pick me up from my house. His appearance was striking — his skin was fair, and he was dressed entirely in white. He wore a white t-shirt, white shorts, white ankle socks, and white canvas shoes, and he even carried a brand-new white shuttlecock in his hand. On the other hand, he held a brand new Yonex racket.
He looked just like a young prince, and that image of him is still vivid in my mind to this day. Let me describe my situation a little as well. I wasn’t someone who knew how to play badminton properly; I just thought I could manage to score that one point.
Unlike Myat Tun, I didn’t have any fancy outfits. I simply wore an old sleeveless vest and a traditional longyi tied up at the waist. Since I didn’t have my own racket, I stopped by Tin Aung’s house on the way to the court and borrowed one from him.
When we arrived at the court, Myat Tun unlocked the door and turned on the lights. On each side of the court were three four-foot fluorescent lights, brightly illuminating the space.
Under the glow of the lights, Myat Tun, dressed all in white, looked every bit like a young prince. On the opposite side, there I stood, barefoot, in my old sleeveless vest and longyi, ready for the match.
You can imagine the contrast, dear readers!
Before the match started, Myat Tun made a request. He reminded me, “Since I’m giving you a 14-point lead, I’ll start with the serve.” I agreed without much thought. And so, the match began.
As soon as it started, Myat Tun scored one point after another, almost effortlessly. It felt like I was being chased around the court like a dog while he, without breaking a sweat, calmly accumulated points.
Meanwhile, I was running from the front to the back of the court, entirely out of breath, while he didn’t even seem to perspire.
By the time he reached 10 points, I was still at zero, and I was already exhausted. Myat Tun, however, appeared as composed as ever. I started wondering if scoring even a single point was going to be possible. Was he really this good? And could I even manage to win one point in this game?
Before long, the score reached 14-14. Up until this point, I hadn’t even returned a serve that landed on Myat Tun’s side of the court. In other words, I hadn’t managed to hit the shuttlecock onto his side to make it fall on the ground. At 14-all, it was clear that whoever continuously scored the following two points would win. Whether he scored two consecutive points or I somehow managed to do so, the victor would be decided in the next few moments.
By now, dear readers, you might already have an idea who was going to win. Yes, I lost. In a 15-point match, I couldn’t even score a single point. After the game was over, Myat Tun walked over to my side of the court, patted me on the shoulder, and smiled like a true victor. I, on the other hand, reluctantly pulled out the five kyat notes I had tucked in my waistband and handed it to him.
That night, I struggled to sleep well, replaying the events of the day in my mind. Myat Tun and I were the same age, physically similar in appearance, and even shared the same classroom. Yet, in this 15-point badminton match, I couldn’t even manage to score a single point against him. I found myself pondering the reasons behind my defeat.
We were both in the same situation: same age, similar bodies, and equal academic standings, as we were both in the tenth grade. So why was it that I failed to score even one point? I continued to question myself, trying to find answers to my thoughts. However, as the night deepened, I still hadn’t reached any conclusions.
The day’s events were etched in my heart, a reminder of the competition and the need to improve.
After a few months, I finally found the answer I had been seeking, and it came from Myat Tun himself.
Here’s how it went: during that summer break, Myat Tun’s family moved to another city. However, his father stayed behind in our town due to work responsibilities. Unfortunately, Myat Tun’s father got married again to a lady in his office, and now he was living with his new wife. Being the eldest in his family, Myat Tun would return to our town about every two months to visit his father for various family affairs. During these visits, he often stayed at my house for about three or four days.
One time, he asked me, “Aren’t you going to learn how to play badminton?” He mentioned that he could teach me. I listened intently as he spoke. He had been away from our class for about two months, participating in a selection process in Pathein District, where he had been training. One day, the Pathein District team travelled to Yangon for further training, coinciding with a time when the Aung San Stadium in Yangon was hosting a workshop with the Chinese Selection Team for national badminton selectors from Myanmar. During that training, they were fortunate enough to receive instruction in badminton techniques and Chinese methods from the national and Chinese coaches. At that moment, China was at the top of the badminton atmosphere across the world.
I have now clearly understood the answer. I have learned the lesson that there is a significant difference between someone who has been properly taught and trained by a good teacher in a systematic way and someone who knows nothing at all, like a complete novice. No matter how similar in age, appearance, or educational qualifications, I have realized that I can never match someone like Myat Tun, who good teachers have taught in a disciplined manner. That’s the answer I’ve come to understand.
Source- The Global New Light of Myanmar
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THE widespread use of mobile phones, particularly among students, has raised concerns about their impact on mental health and learning. In response, some U.S. states and countries like France, Finland, Sweden, Australia, and Russia have enacted laws banning mobile phone use in schools. These measures aim to reduce distractions and safeguard the well-being of students.
THE widespread use of mobile phones, particularly among students, has raised concerns about their impact on mental health and learning. In response, some U.S. states and countries like France, Finland, Sweden, Australia, and Russia have enacted laws banning mobile phone use in schools. These measures aim to reduce distractions and safeguard the well-being of students.
Initially designed for communication, mobile phones have evolved into powerful devices with advanced applications, making them essential in daily life. Youth, in particular, are drawn to these technologies. However, the increasing reliance on mobile phones, computers, and other digital devices among school-age children has created several issues. Excessive mobile phone use can lead to social problems, mental health challenges, and harmful behaviours such as cyberbullying and cybercrime. These issues often occur in schools, disrupting students’ learning, health, and well-being.
In Myanmar, although mobile technology is not as advanced as in other countries, there is still a need to address the potential threats posed by mobile phone misuse among students. Proactively educating students on the responsible use of mobile phones and limiting their access during school hours can help mitigate the negative impacts of these devices. If done correctly, the younger generation will be better equipped to use mobile phones efficiently in their daily lives without succumbing to harmful effects.
A 2023 report by the PEW Research Centre revealed that 95 per cent of teenagers aged 13 to 17 worldwide use smartphones. Surveys indicate that teenagers spend an average of 4.8 hours per day on social media platforms. Studies show that using mobile phones for more than three hours a day can lead to mental health issues. Despite these risks, the number of young people using smartphones continues to rise.
Given these trends, it is crucial to consider how mobile phones are used in schools carefully. Restricting phone use during school hours is essential to ensure that students can focus on their education and avoid the adverse effects associated with excessive screen time. By limiting mobile phone access, schools can create an environment that fosters learning, protects mental health, and prepares students for a balanced future.
Currently, countries around the world are striving to improve communication technologies to enable smoother and more efficient connections. Technological advancements benefit society by reducing the time needed to accomplish tasks and enhancing socioeconomic conditions. However, it is important to ensure that young people do not overuse smartphones, as excessive reliance on applications can lead to negative consequences.
THE widespread use of mobile phones, particularly among students, has raised concerns about their impact on mental health and learning. In response, some U.S. states and countries like France, Finland, Sweden, Australia, and Russia have enacted laws banning mobile phone use in schools. These measures aim to reduce distractions and safeguard the well-being of students.
Initially designed for communication, mobile phones have evolved into powerful devices with advanced applications, making them essential in daily life. Youth, in particular, are drawn to these technologies. However, the increasing reliance on mobile phones, computers, and other digital devices among school-age children has created several issues. Excessive mobile phone use can lead to social problems, mental health challenges, and harmful behaviours such as cyberbullying and cybercrime. These issues often occur in schools, disrupting students’ learning, health, and well-being.
In Myanmar, although mobile technology is not as advanced as in other countries, there is still a need to address the potential threats posed by mobile phone misuse among students. Proactively educating students on the responsible use of mobile phones and limiting their access during school hours can help mitigate the negative impacts of these devices. If done correctly, the younger generation will be better equipped to use mobile phones efficiently in their daily lives without succumbing to harmful effects.
A 2023 report by the PEW Research Centre revealed that 95 per cent of teenagers aged 13 to 17 worldwide use smartphones. Surveys indicate that teenagers spend an average of 4.8 hours per day on social media platforms. Studies show that using mobile phones for more than three hours a day can lead to mental health issues. Despite these risks, the number of young people using smartphones continues to rise.
Given these trends, it is crucial to consider how mobile phones are used in schools carefully. Restricting phone use during school hours is essential to ensure that students can focus on their education and avoid the adverse effects associated with excessive screen time. By limiting mobile phone access, schools can create an environment that fosters learning, protects mental health, and prepares students for a balanced future.
Currently, countries around the world are striving to improve communication technologies to enable smoother and more efficient connections. Technological advancements benefit society by reducing the time needed to accomplish tasks and enhancing socioeconomic conditions. However, it is important to ensure that young people do not overuse smartphones, as excessive reliance on applications can lead to negative consequences.