The Dummy

How do I stand here

Naked on this pedestal

Among strangers clutching scissors

Ready to cut to size and rend and sew

And drape these words on my clumsy tongue

Gracefully, gracefully?

To Hit or Not to Hit? (Ask a silly question...)

So yesterday was a very exciting day for our Malaysian children whose PMR results were finally out. For many parents, it was a nail-biting moment, when our children went to school to get their results. While some parents accompanied their children to school, others opted not to, or some could not go with their children to school due to work commitments or some such reasons, real or imagined. Being a lady of leisure (so NOT!), I was one of the parents who decided to go to school with my Teenage Son to collect his results. I tell you, the atmosphere at his school was highly-charged! It was a total pandemonium with shrieks, screams, whoops and laughters - all executed in the highest of high-pitch – ruled the day. And then, there were the  tears.

One of my FB friends also has a child who collected his PMR results yesterday. While his child got an A for one of the subjects, the impression he gave was that he was not satisfied with his child’s result, and that felt that father and son need to ‘talk’ and ‘strategize’ for the next big exam. And rightly so, because in this time and age, a good education becomes top priority in order for our children to have a good future. Whilst I do laud his concern for his child’s education, I also feel that when faced with such matters, sometimes we parents tend to overreact.

At my son’s school yesterday, many times I saw students who got their result slips from the teacher, and their faces shone with a light that was akin to happiness. However, this light turned into a grim face bordering on the tearful (well, some were tearful, indeed) as soon as the parents took a look at their slip. My guess was, while the children thought their grades were good, their parents did not think so and they said so too, blowing the happy light out. Do we have to be such spoilsports? I mean, come on!

I was reminded of myself when I was a lot younger (btw, I’m now 25! If you believed that you’d believe anything! Hahaha!) Being the teacher that I am, I took it upon myself to teach English to my son during school holidays. I feel that English is my forte, I teach it to other children, and they are successful, and so, if I taught my son, he should be successful too. That wasn’t the case. My son’s English was below average. While I am the most patient of teachers when it comes to teaching children who are not my own, with my own flesh-and-blood, I turned into a total monster that nightmares are made of. I pushed and pushed and scolded and pushed and scolded and pushed some more, until finally I broke his spirit and he cried. I just couldn’t understand why he could not get it. I’d always been a star student, ergo, my son should be too. If I could understand English so easily, so should he. Why? Because he’s my son! Boy, was I wrong. As soon as he started sobbing, my heart just broke. What have I done? I had an epiphany right there and then. What was I thinking? He’s not me. He’s him. He can never be me. He’s a unique human being, just as I am a unique human being. He is his own person. I have to accept him as he is, all his good sides, his warts and all. It hit me that I was being unreasonable, to put it mildly. I calmed down. I became more understanding of his difficulties, and more importantly, I understood myself more that day. It was my young son who taught me a lesson that day. I was the student. Being good academically throughout my academic life, I always got good grades – mostly As and Bs. As these came easily to me, I could not understand the difficulties other students faced when learning these subjects. That’s the danger of being good at everything – you tend to not understand why others find them hard. My son that day taught me what ‘patience’ and ‘empathy’ really mean. But the shame of what I did to him stays with me till this day. He really taught me well.

Then, when he was 13, my ex (son lives with him), called me out of the blue. He was very upset because my son didn’t do very well in his final exam. He told me he had caned my son repeatedly until my son cried. If he was asking for validation from me, he certainly did not get it. Upon hearing what he said, my blood boiled, and I saw the reddest of red. This is what I said to him: “How dare you! How dare you do that to my son! Were you such a smart student when you were his age? Did you pass all your exams with flying colours???” (Answer: NOT! He’s always been an average student. He even failed his SPM Bahasa Malaysia and had to take the July Paper, which he only managed to scrape through, and don’t even get me started on his Math skills, which was zero, back then.) He tried to defend his actions, that he did it because my son failed, or nearly failed, a couple of subjects, but I would have none of it. I gave him a stern warning to not lay a finger on my son, or pinch, hit, let alone cane, my son ever again, if he knew what’s good for him.

So, yes, I do have a problem with parents who think it’s OK to hit their children for failing their school subjects. What good would that achieve? I am sure our children have done their very best every time they sit for their exams. Hitting them for not doing well in their exams sends a wrong message to our children - that their best is not good enough. What would that do to their self-esteem? Not much. How would that help foster a good relationship with our children? Don’t count on it.

The thing is, we tend to look at our children as an extension of ourselves – we are narcissistic that way. If they did well, it MUST be because they had our genes. If they didn’t do well, well….that sucks, now everybody will know our children are stupid – surely it’s not from OUR genes – so maybe this less-than-brilliant intelligence could be ‘beaten’ out of our children. The point is, our children are unique individuals…special beings that need to be nurtured in order to thrive, not beaten into submission. Think back to the time when we were facing a difficulty, and think how much worse it would be if, because of that, our parent also beat us, or tell us how useless we were. Wouldn’t be much fun, would it? So, why would we subject our children to the same treatment? It just defies logic. Let’s not use the ruler (or cane, or whatever your preferred choice of weapon – yes, it is a weapon) to beat our children when they don’t do too well at school, because it does not serve a purpose. It only makes our children fear us, resent us, and not respect us. They have done their best, and they can’t help it if their intelligence is not the same as ours. If they didn’t get a good result, be rest assured that they wouldn’t be feeling too great about it either – be rest assured that they know it in their hearts of heart. Be rest assured too that they are disappointed, so let’s us parents not make them feel even worse than they already do. Let’s not kick our children while they are down. That’s low, and that is totally unnecessary.

I don’t have a good ending to this article – it really is just me ranting, but my logic is, if I as a teacher do not hit my students when they do not do well (because their parents will kill me if I did), so why should I as a parent think it’s OK to hit my child…simply because he is my child? Our children are god’s gift to us, gifts that we are entrusted with to love, to look after, to care, until they are old enough to spread their wings and fly…and then, we would have done our job.

Any comments are most welcome.

Man, Sleeping (22nd February 2011)

I saw you sleeping like a child

On a grimy pavement one Saturday afternoon

In dirty clothes and black shoes

That had been everywhere

And certainly seen everything

Your half-eaten meal of curry and rice

Was lying open to the dogs and dust

I was sure an angel blew Slumber in your eyes

And whispered, “Sleep now, sleep here a while!”

At least you were sleeping so soundly

Leaving your worries for a moment

While you dreamed your dreams – big and small -

Oblivious of heeled feet

Hurrying around you, feeling so mixed.

Better you, sleeping so peacefully,

Than me, who had just forked a tidy sum

For a tuxedo so formal, for a gala so extravagant

And paid more than necessary for a big lunch

That I’d complained wasn’t even that nice.

At least your eyes weren’t open while you’re dreaming

But mine are closed, and I am not sleeping.

Rainy days and Sunny spells

Perhaps it is the pitter patter

Of rain on the roof

Making splashes on the patio

That only yesterday

Was baking in the sun.

Or the heat of the yellow rays

Caressing my dark brown skin

With stories I know so well

Like a long lost friend.

I am like the rain and the sun

I have my sunny spells

And days when rain is welcome.

December 2011