A Load of Hot Air

 A Load of Hot Air

Latihan Dalam Perkhidmatan or LDP for short, translates to in-service training. In Malaysian schools, this form of training is often held throughout the year and can span various topics from coverage of latest changes in the curriculum, classroom management and teaching, to online data input workshops. Whatever the subject matter is, it pertains to our careers as educators and the aspired improvement of quality of the teaching service. It is compulsory for all teachers to attend, as this too is keyed into the system in the form of “hours clocked”.

That being said, there is a disturbingly increasing number of instances, whereby LDP is used as a platform for salesmen to peddle their wares. A friend lamented that the teaching staff of his school was made to attend an LDP slot that turned out to be a sales pitch for LCD projectors. Another former course mate recounted a compulsory “yoga session” in which teachers listened to how yoga could improve overall wellness and were then sold an exotic cream to apply on “unruly children” to calm them down.

One such “training” session was organised in my school. Announcement of this LDP was met with the usual groans because it meant arriving in school two hours earlier than usual. As we all took our places in the computer lab, brightly coloured brochures sat on each table signalling a clue to the mysterious training we were about to undergo. On the front, was a collage of articles related to obesity and diabetes in Malaysia. There were numerous statistics and findings that highlighted the country’s war against the dreaded disease. I immediately cheered as this was clearly going to be a much needed health-related talk. Looking up, expecting to see a healthcare professional or nutritionist, I was surprised to note that the speaker, simply dressed, was lugging something that resembled a vacuum cleaner.

He greeted everyone warmly and apologised for taking up our time. The introduction, much like the brochures in front of us, cited the scary reality of Malaysia’s plight against obesity and love for all things sweet. A few teachers shifted in their seats uncomfortably at the mention of this. There was laughter in his voice as he chided us, and revealed that although hard to reverse, diabetes could certainly be managed through proper exercise and weight loss. I listened intently, excited to see how he would make use of the vacuum cleaner, perhaps as some sort of cool analogy or demonstration tool. My patience was soon rewarded.

We soon entered into the topic of saunas. Our esteemed speaker became increasingly animated as he praised the thermal therapy as a form of treatment for weight loss (gasp) and, apparently all ailments under the sun. He unboxed his contraption which turned out to be a steam producing machine. He waved it around and flicked it on. There were oohs and aahs as a stream of hot mist jetted out. Here’s the gist of his sharing. Post-partum weight gain? Steam your belly! He demonstrated this, directing the nozzle at his own abdomen. No time to jog? No worries. Steam yourself for half an hour daily and see results! He sat on a chair, brought out what looked like a small tent and held the steamer inside. Your own personalised sauna. Along with your perspiration, dissolved fat would also be released through the pores. I stared at my colleague, mouth gaping, aghast, horrified. What had we walked into?  Spewing some pseudo-scientific details, it quickly dawned on me that this person was nothing but a salesman. What were the words to the old haunting nursery rhyme? This old man, he played one, played us all out just for fun…

Not able to take it anymore, I stood up and as nicely as possible, quoted a doctor friend who had criticised the myth of visiting steam rooms as a legitimate way to shed the pounds. I slowly explained the logic behind the drop in pounds – just the body losing water weight.

Quickly realising that I wasn’t a fan, he interrupted me and hurriedly reassured his audience that doctors too made mistakes and were only human after all. He then launched into the cost aspect of this magical device. Teachers in our fortunate school were given a fantastic discount and instalment plan to ease our financial burdens. Obviously an old hand at playing the emotional card, he concluded his pitch by  disclosing that he spent nearly every penny he had developing this machine, and wouldn’t have done so if he hadn't not put absolute faith in it.

I believe I burnt more calories listening to the hogwash than I ever would in a sauna. Although I do believe that you have every right to market your goods, there is a time and place for everything. School administrations should really pay closer attention to the people, quality and content of in-service training sessions. Failing to do so, not only wastes teachers’ precious time, but also paints a deceiving picture about what a meaningful intellectual discussion looks like. Its sad that teachers are the unwilling victims herded into these traps in the name of duty and obligation.