I volunteer at an afterschool program where I assist children with their homework. On my first day, I was assisting a second grader with his multiplication assignment. He had not memorized his times table and was not allowed to use a calculator. After he saw the assignment, he reached for his calculator and I reminded him that he couldn’t use it for this assignment. He turned to me and replied, “I’ll finish this later,” and he ran off to play with a lego set. I followed him and politely insisted that he should return to his assignment but he continued playing as if he didn’t hear me.
I empathized with the young boy. Solving ‘8 x 7’ does not seem very exciting to a child. Every time he saw the problem I would have to stop him from using his calculator and explain to him why he could not use it. I have always felt the long-term benefits of an education are too difficult for most children to understand. Until a child becomes interested enough to want to learn, parents, teachers, and even volunteers should strive to make learning enjoyable. On my first day of volunteering, I realized that completing my objectives would require some ingenuity and creativity.
I needed to capture the child’s interest to get him to learn. With this in mind, I printed out images of different Pokemon on the classroom’s computer and devised a quick learning game. I approached the child and asked if he wanted to play a Pokemon game with me. He excitedly agreed and I told him the way to win the game was by using your Pokemon’s strongest attack. Each attack move had a different multiplication problem tied to it that the child had to solve to uncover the damage it could inflict on an opponent. My plan successfully motivated the child to solve his math problems. The next day, however, I found the game’s novelty diminished along with the child’s interest in it. Ah, well! On to the next plan.
I cannot remember the first time I held a video game controller, but I was four when I formed my first memories playing video games. I recall joyous occasions when my dad would bring home a small suitcase containing a Super Nintendo console along with a game to play.
I was also four when the Nintendo 64 was released. My first encounter with the console is a vivid memory. I entered the local Toys R’ Us with my dad and sprinted to the video games department. Upon arrival, I stopped to gander at what was a small crowd of kids gazing upon a row of what was probably ten stations demoing Super Mario 64. I soon overheard a mom standing next to me call to one of the kids playing at a station to leave which, fortunately for me, had no onlookers watching. I casually walked towards the station the kid was occupying and the mother power-walked past me, took one of the child’s arms and dragged him away. I ran the remaining distance and successfully grabbed the controller before any of the other kids had noticed. Mischievous, I know.
On my fifth birthday, my parents bought me a Nintendo 64 as my very first game console. Sadly, I can only vaguely recall the event, but I do remember gawking at the console’s box. Specifically, I recall pointing at every picture on the box and telling my two-and-a-half-year-old brother that “I am going to get that game. Oh, and that game. Oh, and definitely that one…maybe that one too.” What transpired afterward is lodged too deep in the chasms of my mind for me to remember. I can only imagine that shortly after the box was unwrapped, that the console was unpacked and installed. Then, sounding out of my family’s TV for the first out of what would have to be a few thousand times: “It’s a-me, Mario!”
MedStudent: Qmars Kvani 