Tag Archives: j

When Education Breaks Down

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Yes, J, it is hard to expect others to be as kind and gentle and understanding. It’s the third day at knidergarten for you, and the “daily report” from the school may seem discouraging, but that is the state of the education that kids, like you, go through nowadays.

Despite the effort by your mom in trying to find the best educational instituion for you, it is hard for us, as parents, to swallow when the feedback at the third day of school seems to think that “you cry a lot and hopes that you will be more easy-going in the future”.

I know that you don’t really cry that often at home. Even if you do, you are just a kid, and it is natural to cry as a sign of displeasure for you lack the ability still to make others fully understand you. I believe it’s because your teachers can’t understand you or can’t cope with your vivacity.

For about 20 years of your life, you will be in the process of formal education. You will be spending probably half your waking time during that 20 years in an education institution. You will be spending a quarter more on education each day of that doing homeworks and assignments.

If teachers in kindergarten can’t even understand your nature and behaviour, and as a 3-year old child, and see things from your level, don’t be disappointed. To most, it is just a profession where passion is a bonus, not a prerequisition.

School will be more crowded and will contain less individual attention once you head into primary education. It will be worse in secondary. By the time it is tertiary education, your lecturer will assume maturity and independence and responsibility, which you may or may not already have. This is the structured and rigid world we live in, and we are bound by it.

J, I guess the only way is not to hope for too much but only to take in the formal knowledge that will be transferred at formal educational institutions. Expect no more than that and you won’t be disappointed. When you need love and passion and understanding, you will always find it at home. From mom. From me. Forever.

Counting The Seconds For Nothing

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Little J is sitting next to me. And I’m sitting on the floor next to the master bedroom toilet. There is no one else at home except the two of us.

“Daddy, why are you not playing games on the computer?”
“I want to do some typing first.”

Even though we sometimes get on each others’ nerves, we will somehow work around it. I will miss her too much to ignore her, and I think she’ll miss my company too much to ignore me.

“Daddy, what is this flower game?” (J is fiddling with my phone.)
“I don’t know. Do you want to try it?”
“Oookaaay.”

We both play the game but she finds it boring. She insists I switch off the sound claiming that it is “scary”. After a while, we quit the game and she started playing something else.

“Daddy, do you want to play games?”
“Play what game?”
“Play the… the… the… the… numbers… and muddy, ok?”
“What’s the name of the game? Do you remember?”
“But I want to play… ermmm… ermmm…”
“Is it called Picma?” (actually, Picma Squared on Yahoo! Games)
“Daddy, I want some Picma.”

Before I could even start the game on the computer, we heard the apartment door opening. S is back.

I will still start Picma because J is tired. She played several hours at an indoor playground and she must be exhausted. I’d rather she have an early night than fall asleep now.

However typical and uneventful the day, it is days like these that sometimes make everything seem worthwhile. I am at home. J is next to me. And we are just counting the seconds but waiting for nothing.

Fast Enough to Right the Wrongs

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When J wanted some biscuits so soon after dinner and brushing her teeth, I really did not want to encourage her. After all, we should stop eating when we are full. But when she insisted along with encouragements from her Grandma, I can only tell her to “stop when full”.

It is funny how that parents often are stricter than doting grandparents. It is as if grandparents are making up and compensating for the way they brought us up. It is as if they want to make up for mistakes they made. It is as if they are better parents than us.

Even though I am only a three-and-a-half year old parent, I have decided on how I want to bring up my child. I will make up and compensate on behalf my parents. I will avoid the mistakes they have made. I will try to be better parents.

I don’t fault my parents style. I don’t blame them for their mistakes. I don’t hate them for their actions and comments. They are who they are, did and said what they thought was best then. There can be no absolute right and absolute wrong.

I am making this parenthood journey on my own now (with S, of course). Just like my parents back decades ago, I will make wrong decisions and bad choices. I can only try to realize them fast enough to right the wrongs with J before it is to late, and rather than make it up with the next generation.

And all I ask for from J is that she won’t fault me, or blame me, or hate me. Because I admit that I am only human, and perhaps she’ll understand that to forgive will be divine of her.

Sweet dreams, J.

See you in the morning.

Voyage of The New Cosmos

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When morning comes, everything in nature is affected. In the morning, robins chirp and morning glories bloom.

When morning comes, the Bibihood family shuffles around minding their own business. In the morning, I go to work, J wakes to a breakfast and morning cartoons, and S plans the day meticulously.

When winter arrives, nature comes to a halt. In winter, irides wither away, bears hibernate, maples shed their leaves, Monarch butterflies migrate south.

When winter arrives, the Bibihood family often get sick. It usually starts we me getting the seasonal flu. Then J will be next, and the strongest of us, S, may eventually buckle too.

When summer arrives, nature becomes busy. In summer, elk breeds and the sun works longer hours.

When summer arrives, the Bibihood family gets out more. We go out to feed the fish, head to the zoo, go to a kid’s museum, and maybe even to a holiday somewhere.

When the year changes, nature remains constant. The sun continues to rise, the ocean continues to be full and the moon still lights the night in a regular cycle.

When the year changes, the Bibihood family changes. S and I grow old together, and J gathers momentum to be her own universe.

And in that universe, there will be mornings and nights, winters and summers. I just hope that I am part of that cosmos, with S forever by my side in the voyage.

Language of Our Roots

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Many of our decisions in life are made based on our past experiences, especially those decisions that are in our control. It could be something as simple as deciding what to have for a meal. Or what to do over a weekend.

I’m quite sure that my Dad consciously spoke English most of the time to me when I was growing up, apart from Hakka. I learnt Bahasa at school and had to pick up the Cantonese dialect to communicate with friends, and especially with my darling S eventually. Hokkien, I learnt from my Mom.

Chinese, or Mandarin, was something I had to adapt into because it was part of the working environment that I could not escape. And a bit of Shanghainese mainly because it has been many years here in Shanghai. What I could not remember was why I spoke English to J. It wasn’t a natural thing, but it was the easiest language to use.

I remember singing English songs to her almost every night when she was still in the womb. I remember soothing her in English when she couldn’t stop crying as a newborn in the middle of the night. I remember teaching her the basics of language in English.

I believe now the use of English was partly due to my education. It was the only language that I could read and write and speak fluently. Naturally, it will be the language that I use most often. But I worry now about its effect on J.

Her only source of other languages comes from television. And it is only Chinese. Without an environment, she will not pick up the other dialects like Hakka and Hokkien of her grandparents. She might not be able to identify with her roots and start calling herself a Shanghainese if we stay on longer and she picks up Shanghainese.

A time will come when this unconscious decision of mine to use English will, in turn, influence J’s decision. Maybe it won’t influence what food to order, but definitely which menu to read.