There is no nursery program at the church we attend. That's probably a big reason why there are few families with young children in attendance, except on Baptism Sundays. Sunday school is in place for children 3 and up, so long as the three year-olds are toilet trained. Both Devlin and Ceilidh seem to enjoy Sunday school as they both run off happily to their classrooms. Aisling gets stuck with sitting with us for the remainder of the service.
However, around Christmas time, she started to go into the class with Ceilidh. She would sit next to her big sister, and mimic the song actions, and also partake in the crafts. Aisling even took part in the Sunday school choir and the Christmas pageant. So, why, was she kicked out of Sunday school class yesterday? After weeks of attending with Ceilidh, the teacher decided to impose the "must be 3 years old" rule, even though she is completely toilet trained, and we've never seen or heard of any behavioural/listening issues about her.
Poor Aisling. When she was unceremoniously shown the door, she had a HUGE tantrum. All she wanted was to be with her sister Ceilidh, sing and colour. Along with the other children, and few toddlers. After Daddy calmed her down enough to come back into the church sanctuary and sit with Mommy, there were still tears in her eyes. She was subdued, but kept muttering "No" to every question. She even turned down a package of smarties!
As the sermon dragged on, Aisling became antsy, and the "No" chorus increased in volume. Time for a walk around the church. We ended up by the Sunday school classroom. Aisling tried to open the door. "I want to be with Ceilidh!" she cried.
I don't know why the teacher decided to not include Aisling in the class, but I will have a word with someone. The day was ruined for Aisling. "I don't like church" she announced as drove home. "I can't go to church school with Ceilidh."
When the nation's churches are hurting for members, this is not the way to encourage young families from rejoining the congregational flock.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Tiger Mother I am NOT - A rant about school projects
We recently had a meeting with Devlin's teachers, mostly about his continued behavioural problems, and partly to discuss his recent report card. The behaviour issues stem from his inability to curb his silliness during class times. Considering this is grade one, and he is a boy, we, the parents, are not overly concerned with it, but the teachers are. (But more about that topic in a later post.) Conversely, we, the parents, were concerned about the report card that was recently sent home.
It was the first report card that reflected his school work with letter grades. An array of Bs and one C+ in drama which was accompanied by generally positive comments regarding his abilities. We were not pleased by the letter grades. Aside from the fact that both of us are high achievers, we wanted to know why Devlin was only attaining Bs when his school work and test marks showed otherwise. He has no trouble with his daily homework assignments, he has made great strides in reading, and the report card comments accurately indicated he was attaining the provincial standards. So why not an A?
Well. an A, it was explained to us, would be clearly surpassing the provincial standards. Like being able to read Jane Eyre in grade one. Or calculating algorithms instead of single digit math equations. Or being able to explain Newton's three laws while the rest of the class was learning to spell gravity. Clearly, someone in the Ministry of Education has ridiculously high standards, or perhaps harbours a long-standing grudge against his or her peers who attained As easily while struggling to maintain a C level. Really - this new standard of evaluation is absolutely and utterly ridiculous! And you'll agree with me once you read the next part.
I was flabbergasted when the teacher explained the marking scheme. To get a better understanding, I inquired as to what would have been considered an A level in a recent recycling project Devlin had completed. The assignment entailed the students collecting items out of the recycling box at home and then constructing a playground structure. The students were instructed not to actually construct the items at home, but to list the recyclable materials being used, and to draw a labelled diagram of what they intended to build. I was careful to read the directions, since the last project (a diorama of a summer scene) had not been favorably graded because I failed to read the "label the picture" line. Devlin received a failing mark on the diorama because Mommy had forgotten the labelling of the picture, and because at the last minute, he decided to add play-doh and a lego boat but didn't actually list those items on the sheet. Yeah, whatever.
So, this time we carefully read the instructions. We (Devlin, Mommy and Daddy) spent the evening examining the items from our blue bin and listing them on the paper. Then, we let Devlin come up with a playground structure. He thought the toilet paper tube could be a tunnel, and the cardboard yogurt box a bouncey gym. The yogurt cups were climbing structure that led up to the tunnel. I helped cut a thick strip of cardboard for a teeter-totter, and Devlin decided to use the yellow plastic Kinder egg containers for the minions enjoying the playground. Devlin then drew a diagram of his playground and we carefully packed up the components for school. Considering the entire project was devised by our 6 year old son, I was disappointed it only merited a B.
But when I heard what earned an A, I was outraged.
Apparently one student taped together drinking straws to construct a swing set, and used thread for the swings with small pieces of cardboard. Another student folded up the cardboard accordion style to create a stair case that led to a plastic tube piping for a slide. Yet another student had glued a plastic cup to a metal spring for a bouncing ride. Right - a grade one student came up with that on their own, without any parental prompting. And since when is thread an item that goes in the blue box?
Rather than voice that particular thought, or the next one (that being "I didn't realize being a mother meant having to go to grade school all over again!") or the one after that ("Apparently Mommy is too busy at work to watch Martha Stewart's recycling class project 101."), I decided instead to direct my comment at Devlin.
I sorrowfully gazed at my son, and remarked, "I'm sorry Devlin. I guess our recycling box just isn't that exciting!"
If this is the new standard of testing, I fear that my capable son will not go far in his academic endeavours. I know my child is not only capable but has the potential to go far. He can also be lazy, and needs to be motivated. Rather than leaving his academic success at the hand so this incapable school system, we've decided to take matters into our own hands. No, we're NOT home-schooling. I'm not certifiably crazy. No, rather, we informed his teacher we do not accept Bs because we know his abilities. We requested more "homework" to be sent home so we could keep him challenged and one step ahead of the pack. It was clear to me that we parents have the ultimate responsibility in shaping our children's educational futures.
It was the first report card that reflected his school work with letter grades. An array of Bs and one C+ in drama which was accompanied by generally positive comments regarding his abilities. We were not pleased by the letter grades. Aside from the fact that both of us are high achievers, we wanted to know why Devlin was only attaining Bs when his school work and test marks showed otherwise. He has no trouble with his daily homework assignments, he has made great strides in reading, and the report card comments accurately indicated he was attaining the provincial standards. So why not an A?
Well. an A, it was explained to us, would be clearly surpassing the provincial standards. Like being able to read Jane Eyre in grade one. Or calculating algorithms instead of single digit math equations. Or being able to explain Newton's three laws while the rest of the class was learning to spell gravity. Clearly, someone in the Ministry of Education has ridiculously high standards, or perhaps harbours a long-standing grudge against his or her peers who attained As easily while struggling to maintain a C level. Really - this new standard of evaluation is absolutely and utterly ridiculous! And you'll agree with me once you read the next part.
I was flabbergasted when the teacher explained the marking scheme. To get a better understanding, I inquired as to what would have been considered an A level in a recent recycling project Devlin had completed. The assignment entailed the students collecting items out of the recycling box at home and then constructing a playground structure. The students were instructed not to actually construct the items at home, but to list the recyclable materials being used, and to draw a labelled diagram of what they intended to build. I was careful to read the directions, since the last project (a diorama of a summer scene) had not been favorably graded because I failed to read the "label the picture" line. Devlin received a failing mark on the diorama because Mommy had forgotten the labelling of the picture, and because at the last minute, he decided to add play-doh and a lego boat but didn't actually list those items on the sheet. Yeah, whatever.
So, this time we carefully read the instructions. We (Devlin, Mommy and Daddy) spent the evening examining the items from our blue bin and listing them on the paper. Then, we let Devlin come up with a playground structure. He thought the toilet paper tube could be a tunnel, and the cardboard yogurt box a bouncey gym. The yogurt cups were climbing structure that led up to the tunnel. I helped cut a thick strip of cardboard for a teeter-totter, and Devlin decided to use the yellow plastic Kinder egg containers for the minions enjoying the playground. Devlin then drew a diagram of his playground and we carefully packed up the components for school. Considering the entire project was devised by our 6 year old son, I was disappointed it only merited a B.
But when I heard what earned an A, I was outraged.
Apparently one student taped together drinking straws to construct a swing set, and used thread for the swings with small pieces of cardboard. Another student folded up the cardboard accordion style to create a stair case that led to a plastic tube piping for a slide. Yet another student had glued a plastic cup to a metal spring for a bouncing ride. Right - a grade one student came up with that on their own, without any parental prompting. And since when is thread an item that goes in the blue box?
Rather than voice that particular thought, or the next one (that being "I didn't realize being a mother meant having to go to grade school all over again!") or the one after that ("Apparently Mommy is too busy at work to watch Martha Stewart's recycling class project 101."), I decided instead to direct my comment at Devlin.
I sorrowfully gazed at my son, and remarked, "I'm sorry Devlin. I guess our recycling box just isn't that exciting!"
If this is the new standard of testing, I fear that my capable son will not go far in his academic endeavours. I know my child is not only capable but has the potential to go far. He can also be lazy, and needs to be motivated. Rather than leaving his academic success at the hand so this incapable school system, we've decided to take matters into our own hands. No, we're NOT home-schooling. I'm not certifiably crazy. No, rather, we informed his teacher we do not accept Bs because we know his abilities. We requested more "homework" to be sent home so we could keep him challenged and one step ahead of the pack. It was clear to me that we parents have the ultimate responsibility in shaping our children's educational futures.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Compliments from Ceilidh
Ceilidh is learning the art of flattery. Especially when she wants something. But sometimes, she will have no ulterior motive when she informs you that she likes the sparkly earrings you're adorning, or the nice skirt you happen to find in the back of the closet.
Watching Auntie Grace as she prepared to head outdoors, Ceilidh complimented her Auntie on her scarf.
"That's a pretty scarf! I like it, Auntie Grace."
"What about my hat? Do you like my hat?" her aunt queried.
Unfailingly polite, Ceilidh replied, "It's nice. I like it. You look like Mega Mind!"
Unfortunately I had to explain to Auntie Grace who Mega Mind was, and for some reason, Auntie Grace was not amused!
Watching Auntie Grace as she prepared to head outdoors, Ceilidh complimented her Auntie on her scarf.
"That's a pretty scarf! I like it, Auntie Grace."
"What about my hat? Do you like my hat?" her aunt queried.
Unfailingly polite, Ceilidh replied, "It's nice. I like it. You look like Mega Mind!"
Unfortunately I had to explain to Auntie Grace who Mega Mind was, and for some reason, Auntie Grace was not amused!
Friday, February 11, 2011
Running late with a smile
Ever notice when you need to leave on time, that's when all the road blocks appear to prevent a timely departure? School books can't be found, breakfast selection not to their liking, a run in the pantyhose,...there's always some event that keeps from leaving the house on time.
Yesterday was no different, although being delayed seems to have become a daily event since my monkeys arrived on the scene. Yesterday was school sport spirit day. The children were instructed to wear clothing reflecting their favorite sports. Knowing my hectic morning pace, I had already consulted Devlin and Ceilidh the previous night. Both had decided to wear their soccer team shirts. I had asked Devlin if he wanted to wear his hockey jersey. The answer was no because it was too big. (It is too big, even with all of his equipment on.)
Of course, Devlin decided to change his mind at the last minute. So I put away his soccer shirt and ran into the basement to retrieve the hockey jersey. I helped him fold up the sleeves several times. I put Ceilidh's soccer jersey over her outfit. Dispensed good-bye kisses and warnings to behave. Prepared to head out the door. As I put one hand on the door knob, Aisling noticed her older siblings' outfits.
"What about me? What I wear?" she asked.
Our nanny tried to distract her, but to no avail. So, I went back upstairs. A cursory search of the girls' closet didn't reveal any appropriate sports shirt. I grabbed Devlin's discarded soccer jersey instead. Ran back downstairs, and slipped it over Aisling's pig-tailed head.
The shirt swallowed her. It fell past her knees. But she was sooo happy.
"Thank you Mommy," she gushed as she jumped around with glee.
I was late for work. I broke the speed limits. But I had a huge smile on my face because I had made my baby's day.
Yesterday was no different, although being delayed seems to have become a daily event since my monkeys arrived on the scene. Yesterday was school sport spirit day. The children were instructed to wear clothing reflecting their favorite sports. Knowing my hectic morning pace, I had already consulted Devlin and Ceilidh the previous night. Both had decided to wear their soccer team shirts. I had asked Devlin if he wanted to wear his hockey jersey. The answer was no because it was too big. (It is too big, even with all of his equipment on.)
Of course, Devlin decided to change his mind at the last minute. So I put away his soccer shirt and ran into the basement to retrieve the hockey jersey. I helped him fold up the sleeves several times. I put Ceilidh's soccer jersey over her outfit. Dispensed good-bye kisses and warnings to behave. Prepared to head out the door. As I put one hand on the door knob, Aisling noticed her older siblings' outfits.
"What about me? What I wear?" she asked.
Our nanny tried to distract her, but to no avail. So, I went back upstairs. A cursory search of the girls' closet didn't reveal any appropriate sports shirt. I grabbed Devlin's discarded soccer jersey instead. Ran back downstairs, and slipped it over Aisling's pig-tailed head.
The shirt swallowed her. It fell past her knees. But she was sooo happy.
"Thank you Mommy," she gushed as she jumped around with glee.
I was late for work. I broke the speed limits. But I had a huge smile on my face because I had made my baby's day.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Puppy Love?
February 14th is just around the corner. In preparation for the day, the kids have been writing out Valentines for their classmates. They have selected cards featuring Tangled princess Rapunzel for the girls and Spiderman cards for the boys. Ceilidh uses the larger cards for her classmates with longer names since she can't reduce her printing yet. Devlin has chosen the larger cards to represent the depth of fondness for a particular classmate.
Last week, he announced he had a girlfriend - Susan. Just in case I doubted her existence (remember the whole Paige incident?), he pointed out Susan in the class photo. Nice looking, brown hair, brown eyes. A little plain, but I'm no supermodel myself. She is a nice girl, who would often play with both Devlin and Ceilidh at the parks during the summer.
Getting back to Devlin - he was quite enthusiastic about Susan. Apparently it was not by any great desire, but rather by circumstance that he hooked up with Susan. Since his (current) best friend likes Sherry, and Susan is Sherry's friend, Devlin is now Susan's boyfriend so everyone can play together at recess and lunch time without feeling snubbed. Devlin told his father he had even kissed Susan, but when cross-examined by his mother on this topic, he denied doing anything more than holding hands. Holding hands? Where?!
"In line-ups and during circle time, because they can sit where-ever they want," he explained.
That may explain why there hasn't been any notes from the teacher in the past week about Devlin's misbehaving during circle time. If this little girl is keeping Devlin on the straight and narrow path during class, then how I can object to her and positive influence?
So he selected a larger valentine for Susan, after asking his sister Ceilidh for a pretty card from her collection. While he was full of stories about Susan last week, he hasn't been as forthcoming this week. Perhaps this puppy love has already run its course? Almost as long-lasting as a Hollywood romance!
Last week, he announced he had a girlfriend - Susan. Just in case I doubted her existence (remember the whole Paige incident?), he pointed out Susan in the class photo. Nice looking, brown hair, brown eyes. A little plain, but I'm no supermodel myself. She is a nice girl, who would often play with both Devlin and Ceilidh at the parks during the summer.
Getting back to Devlin - he was quite enthusiastic about Susan. Apparently it was not by any great desire, but rather by circumstance that he hooked up with Susan. Since his (current) best friend likes Sherry, and Susan is Sherry's friend, Devlin is now Susan's boyfriend so everyone can play together at recess and lunch time without feeling snubbed. Devlin told his father he had even kissed Susan, but when cross-examined by his mother on this topic, he denied doing anything more than holding hands. Holding hands? Where?!
"In line-ups and during circle time, because they can sit where-ever they want," he explained.
That may explain why there hasn't been any notes from the teacher in the past week about Devlin's misbehaving during circle time. If this little girl is keeping Devlin on the straight and narrow path during class, then how I can object to her and positive influence?
So he selected a larger valentine for Susan, after asking his sister Ceilidh for a pretty card from her collection. While he was full of stories about Susan last week, he hasn't been as forthcoming this week. Perhaps this puppy love has already run its course? Almost as long-lasting as a Hollywood romance!
Friday, February 4, 2011
East vs. West Rant
A couple of weeks ago, there was a lot of hype in the media about a Yale law professor who boldly claimed that the Chinese method of parenting of superior. Amy Chua was promoting her newest book, a memoir about raising her two Chinese-Jewish daughters in the same manner in which she was raised. If you read any of the numerous articles, editorials, opinions, blogs, comments that followed her interview in the Wall Street Journal, you'll know her beliefs stirred up lots of emotions everywhere. Despite her assertions that she wasn't referring to Chinese parents per se, but rather the parenting styles of Asian immigrants, many Chinese folks either took offence or stood proudly. There were individuals who pointed out that while such parenting styles may produce high achieving, top scoring students who did well in maths and sciences, these same students were poor at thinking outside the box or taking on leadership roles. Others wrote in about having psychological and deep emotional scars from being raised in such a regime, where piano or violin playing competed with doing math sums for hours on end. Some folks couldn't understand the controversy in the parenting techniques since the Western laid-back style is now producing a generation of lazy, self-entitled idiots while Asian countries are still producing academic superstars. There was also the population segment who felt supported and vindicated by Amy Chua since their parenting methods clearly did produce "superior" beings.
When the articles came out, I was hot to trot to blog my own response. However, I thought I'd wait to read the actual book before editorializing. But, alas, I haven't found the time to purchase the book, much less read it, since I've been too busy being a tamer version of the Eastern mother. I've been standing guard at the piano, coaching Devlin on his songs, correcting the wrong notes and counting the beat out loud in unison with him. I've been sitting next to him, teaching him how to count money and testing his spelling, and helping with his weekly reading assignments.
While others may haven been horrified at Amy Chua's parenting style, I wasn't. In fact, I saw a lot of myself in her. Okay, I have never rejected a hastily drawn birthday card. I echoed her sentiments in that western parents seemed to give their young children way too much autonomy. For instance, it's true that many Asians are still tinkling the ivories for many years after their western counterparts have moved onto other types of music lessons. Since when does a seven year old know he or she doesn't like the piano/violin/drums/dance etc? If I let Devlin quit an activity every time he complained that he didn't enjoy it, there would be nothing left for him to do. I am all for teaching independence, self control, self assertion and the like, but it starts slowly, and in moderation. Considering all the articles and talk about eating nutritiously, I wonder how parents who are so concerned about goes into their children's bodies are able to adopt such a "devil may care" attitude about extra-curricular activities. Okay, maybe I'm being harsh. But I have heard parents say they are not signing up for another session of gymnastics/soccer/music/etc because their child hated it or didn't seem to enjoy it or didn't "take to it". There are days when I don't enjoy being a parent - can I quit?
Last week, we had yet another meltdown over piano practising. Let's be clear - I am not Amy Chua. There is no way I would make my child practise 3 hours a day. Unless, my child was a concert pianist or majoring in piano at the Julliard School of Music, in which case, 3 hours a day would NOT be enough. But even I never practised 3 hours a day when I was a child and had my own Tiger Mother hovering over me as I banged on the ivories. (Of course, there weren't enough hours in the day for 3 hour practice sessions, considering there were three of us girls who played piano and one boy who tortured us all with the violin.)
But I digress. Devlin was removed from the piano bench since he wasn't able to treat the musical instrument with respect. Until he was calm and tantrum free, he was left to sit on the naughty stool. So he sat. And as he sat, he muttered, "I don't like piano. I already know piano. I've been playing for years and years. I don't know why I have to play piano. It's boring. I don't like piano. It's never going to help me. Piano is no fun."
I struggled to keep my "mad" face on. It was hilarious to hear his rant because it was the EXACT SAME rant I did when I was his age, having to practise piano. So, I tuned it out, aside from pointing out that it hasn't been years and years of piano, rather just weeks and weeks.
So should I let him quit because he dislikes it so much? NO. Life is not about fun and games. We don't always get to do what we want, or follow our whims and desires whenever we feel like. In "forcing" our children to continue with dreaded tasks or sometimes unenjoyable activities, we are also teaching our youngsters to persevere, to learn that hard work is necessary, that skills are learned and not simply acquired without blood, sweat and tears. As much as Devlin complains about piano, or whines about hockey practice, he has shown remarkable improvement in the short weeks he's been involved in these activities.
I know I've picked on Devlin for this blog, but I'm sure Ceilidh and Aisling will not disappoint me. I'm quite certain I will hear the same "I can't, I hate, I don't want" refrain from their lips in a matter of months or years.
Do I agree with everything Amy Chua supposedly preaches? Probably not. I'll let you know for certain once I read the book. Do I think she makes some valid points about the Asian ways of parenting. Probably. Do they work? Probably, considering my siblings and I were products of Asian immigrant parents who stressed academic success, music lessons and who frowned up sleep-overs. Are North American parents complete pushovers? No. Is the Asian/Chinese parenting style superior? Depends on the situation. Is the Amy Chua parenting style only unique to Asian parents. Nope. Is the Asian parenting method really any different from the rabid hockey parents? What about Tiger Woods' dad? Andre Agassi's father? Venus and Serena Williams' dad? Have you seen the figure skating parents rink side? I'd say the energy and importance stressed in academics is similar to that given to athletics here in North America.
All I know is that after the reading the Wall Street Journal article, my mother called and said, "I'm waiting to hear a "thank you" from my children."
When the articles came out, I was hot to trot to blog my own response. However, I thought I'd wait to read the actual book before editorializing. But, alas, I haven't found the time to purchase the book, much less read it, since I've been too busy being a tamer version of the Eastern mother. I've been standing guard at the piano, coaching Devlin on his songs, correcting the wrong notes and counting the beat out loud in unison with him. I've been sitting next to him, teaching him how to count money and testing his spelling, and helping with his weekly reading assignments.
While others may haven been horrified at Amy Chua's parenting style, I wasn't. In fact, I saw a lot of myself in her. Okay, I have never rejected a hastily drawn birthday card. I echoed her sentiments in that western parents seemed to give their young children way too much autonomy. For instance, it's true that many Asians are still tinkling the ivories for many years after their western counterparts have moved onto other types of music lessons. Since when does a seven year old know he or she doesn't like the piano/violin/drums/dance etc? If I let Devlin quit an activity every time he complained that he didn't enjoy it, there would be nothing left for him to do. I am all for teaching independence, self control, self assertion and the like, but it starts slowly, and in moderation. Considering all the articles and talk about eating nutritiously, I wonder how parents who are so concerned about goes into their children's bodies are able to adopt such a "devil may care" attitude about extra-curricular activities. Okay, maybe I'm being harsh. But I have heard parents say they are not signing up for another session of gymnastics/soccer/music/etc because their child hated it or didn't seem to enjoy it or didn't "take to it". There are days when I don't enjoy being a parent - can I quit?
Last week, we had yet another meltdown over piano practising. Let's be clear - I am not Amy Chua. There is no way I would make my child practise 3 hours a day. Unless, my child was a concert pianist or majoring in piano at the Julliard School of Music, in which case, 3 hours a day would NOT be enough. But even I never practised 3 hours a day when I was a child and had my own Tiger Mother hovering over me as I banged on the ivories. (Of course, there weren't enough hours in the day for 3 hour practice sessions, considering there were three of us girls who played piano and one boy who tortured us all with the violin.)
But I digress. Devlin was removed from the piano bench since he wasn't able to treat the musical instrument with respect. Until he was calm and tantrum free, he was left to sit on the naughty stool. So he sat. And as he sat, he muttered, "I don't like piano. I already know piano. I've been playing for years and years. I don't know why I have to play piano. It's boring. I don't like piano. It's never going to help me. Piano is no fun."
I struggled to keep my "mad" face on. It was hilarious to hear his rant because it was the EXACT SAME rant I did when I was his age, having to practise piano. So, I tuned it out, aside from pointing out that it hasn't been years and years of piano, rather just weeks and weeks.
So should I let him quit because he dislikes it so much? NO. Life is not about fun and games. We don't always get to do what we want, or follow our whims and desires whenever we feel like. In "forcing" our children to continue with dreaded tasks or sometimes unenjoyable activities, we are also teaching our youngsters to persevere, to learn that hard work is necessary, that skills are learned and not simply acquired without blood, sweat and tears. As much as Devlin complains about piano, or whines about hockey practice, he has shown remarkable improvement in the short weeks he's been involved in these activities.
I know I've picked on Devlin for this blog, but I'm sure Ceilidh and Aisling will not disappoint me. I'm quite certain I will hear the same "I can't, I hate, I don't want" refrain from their lips in a matter of months or years.
Do I agree with everything Amy Chua supposedly preaches? Probably not. I'll let you know for certain once I read the book. Do I think she makes some valid points about the Asian ways of parenting. Probably. Do they work? Probably, considering my siblings and I were products of Asian immigrant parents who stressed academic success, music lessons and who frowned up sleep-overs. Are North American parents complete pushovers? No. Is the Asian/Chinese parenting style superior? Depends on the situation. Is the Amy Chua parenting style only unique to Asian parents. Nope. Is the Asian parenting method really any different from the rabid hockey parents? What about Tiger Woods' dad? Andre Agassi's father? Venus and Serena Williams' dad? Have you seen the figure skating parents rink side? I'd say the energy and importance stressed in academics is similar to that given to athletics here in North America.
All I know is that after the reading the Wall Street Journal article, my mother called and said, "I'm waiting to hear a "thank you" from my children."
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
The ultimate compliment
We parents know there will come a time when we will be too un-cool to be seen in public with their off-spring. Our children haven't reached that stage yet. Fortunately, Mommy and Daddy are still considered to be super-heroes, except of course when we are being "mean Mommy" and "mean Daddy" and enforcing bedtimes, breaking up fights, and demanding toys to be picked up.
We're still at that stage where my little girls ooh and aah over my outfits when I am headed to the office, or when we get the occasional date night. "You look pwetty", "I like your neck-a-lace", "Nice dress", often spill out of Ceilidh's and Aisling's mouths.
The other day, Daddy got to be on the receiving end of the flattery.
As Daddy donned his new leather jacket, Aisling commented, "I like your jacket!" Devlin looked over and added his own compliment - "Daddy! You look like a dude!"
Later that evening, as Daddy and I prepared to leave on a date, Devlin one-upped his earlier compliment.
Taking in Daddy's outfit - jeans, casual shirt, leather jacket - he exclaimed, "Daddy! Cool! You look like a rebel!"
I think Daddy had trouble zipping up his jacket as his chest puffed up with pride.
We're still at that stage where my little girls ooh and aah over my outfits when I am headed to the office, or when we get the occasional date night. "You look pwetty", "I like your neck-a-lace", "Nice dress", often spill out of Ceilidh's and Aisling's mouths.
The other day, Daddy got to be on the receiving end of the flattery.
As Daddy donned his new leather jacket, Aisling commented, "I like your jacket!" Devlin looked over and added his own compliment - "Daddy! You look like a dude!"
Later that evening, as Daddy and I prepared to leave on a date, Devlin one-upped his earlier compliment.
Taking in Daddy's outfit - jeans, casual shirt, leather jacket - he exclaimed, "Daddy! Cool! You look like a rebel!"
I think Daddy had trouble zipping up his jacket as his chest puffed up with pride.
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