Of tears and recriminations: a post mortem.

The end of the exams did not come fast enough for the twins. And they rejoiced, from the night before the last paper till the day they got the papers back. Then there was a bit of a pall in the house. One did better, one didn't do as well. The problem was that the one who didn't do so well, didn't do so well because of a lackadaisical attitude rather than general inability.

 

As with grief, there were different emotions that I encountered.

First it was denial.
Those scores couldn't be. The incredulity was greatest for English. After all, the twins are the products of two English teachers. How could it be that their English was so bad? I had to remind myself that my 8 year old self once spelt "other things" as "oether thinks". So, if my 8 year old self had crap English, why not the twins?

Then anger. 
When I saw the results and saw the mistakes that led to the results, it truly did make my blood boil. My emotional and irrational response was to wonder if I could get away with caning them. I had grown up listening to how my classmates got caned for bringing home less than perfect scores. Then I asked myself, to what end? How would my inflicting pain on them do anything beneficial? It might make me feel better especially since I would have an outlet for my frustration but I would not inflict pain on a child to make myself feel better. That would just be plain child abuse.

Then the big bad word came along. Guilt. 
I work. I'm out of the house 3 days a week till evening. By which time, I can manage a cursory glance at what they've done through the day. Most of the time, I leave them instructions as to what they need to do. Would it have been better if I had been home every afternoon and put a gun to their heads and made sure they did what they needed to? It was easy to blame myself for it. Could I have put in more effort? Could I have been more vigilant and drilled them a bit more? Then it occurred to me that I wasn't the one taking the exams and I wasn't the one who had to do the work. If it was only being done because I was there, then the work was done under duress. Admittedly, I think if I had drilled the twins more, they might have been in a better position for the exams. But what would they have learnt? That Mommy is their crutch? As they get older, it would get more and more ridiculous for me to be home just so that they would get their work done. So the uphill task that the rational part of me had was to convince the not-so-rational- penchant to be helicopter- tiger mom part of me that it wasn't my fault and my stopping work or staying at home more wasn't going to do the twins any favours. I haven't stopped feeling guilty but Packrat keeps reminding me that the twins have to take responsibility for their own learning and their own achievements.

So where am I now? At this point, while writing this, I think I'm still at  the bargaining phase, full of despair; trying to find reasons and solutions.
I ask myself "Why?" Why is it that the papers were so badly done?  I ask Packrat, what can we do? Of course, the million dollar instinct is to plough them headlong into tuition classes. After all, part of the problem comes from that fact that there is so little rigor in the school work that they aren't used to sitting and practicing for extended periods of time. They don't take, as seriously, the homework we set for them because they know that we aren't their teachers. But this is a path that I'm willing to explore but unwilling to take. The time, the cost and how it's still a short-term solution that breeds a certain amount of dependency and helplessness make it a less than desirable plan of action. We have sat and talked about it to death, coming up with reasons, justifications and recriminations. Eventually Packrat suggests a two-fold action. First we sit with them and ask them the following questions.

1. Do you think you could do better? (Rhetorical question that has to be asked)
2. What do you think you can do to make it better?
3. How can we help you to make it better?

With that, we devise a holiday work schedule (even though we promised no work during the holidays, the caveat had been that they had to earn it) where they stipulate how much work they are willing to do and stick to it. The pages would have to be done to the best of their ability. By the end of the holidays, we'll give them a 'supplementary exam'. If they still show that they aren't doing well, then we start thinking about additional help. The consequence of that, as told to the twins, would be that we will have less money to vacation and they will have less time to play.

I'm not sure if I've reached Acceptance yet though. I'm still annoyed with careless mistakes and and the low grades. I dread finding out what the consequences are. There is some calm albeit resigned acceptance; that these are the grades they were meant to get and the classes they get streamed into are the ones they were meant to get into for whatever reason. That and the fact that 15 years from now, no one will really care what they got in primary school and the ones who did well and the ones who didn't would have all levelled out onto the same playing field. Those thoughts need to become strong enough to block out the more negative, dark and twisty ones that convince me that with these grades at 8, come 12 at PSLE, we're going to be in trouble. Such dark and twisty thoughts have the potential to snowball into panicky, psychotic, crazy mother behaviour which benefits no one.

So have we returned to reality and the living of a normal life?
On the surface, yes. For now, We're giving them a bit of breathing space to go nuts and just play. But deep down inside, I'm still upset and angry. But I know that it's important to move forward and use this as an opportunity to fix what they are weak at. I also know that they need to take on the responsibility of getting the grades they are capable of getting. The latter is a bit harder to teach because it involves us watching them by the wayside and not reacting even if it is a train wreck in slow motion.

There have been counter suggestions. Migrate. Leave this less than ideal system. We would still like to, at some point, but if we did it for this reason then we wouldn't be any better than who pay to get their kids certified as special needs and we'd be running away. Now, that would truly be something to feel guilty about.

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Exam prep, the 8 year old version.

It's the twins' first exams and it's bringing into very sharp focus the difference between the boy and the girl.

Preparation: 
Girl- She wants everything planned and sorted out. She wants to know exactly what she has to do each day.
Boy- He stares, jaw on the ground, at the practice timetable that I set up for the both of them and has no idea how to make head or tail.

Actual practice: 
Girl- She takes it seriously. She does every paper neatly and she wants it graded and she wants it scored. She checks off what she has done.
Boy- He sees it as time away from his Lego and his Harry Potter books. He sees it as an interruption and he needs to get back to the important things as soon as possible. That means, careless mistakes, messy work and haphazard answers. He rips off the Post It and crushes it up. I suspect the ripping and crushing is symbolic as well as literal.

Attitude: 
Girl- The exams are something meant to be feared. So she practices and practices. But she still fears to the point that she bursts into tears. When poked and prodded, she admits that she fears failing.
Boy- There's no sense of urgency. The exams are treated as an annoyance that need to be dispensed with as soon as possible. He tolerates the work we set him because he knows it's his passport to free time and TV time on the weekend. His stress doesn't come from the work but the thought of what he might be missing as he does his work.

The Exam Schedule.

Though the exams aren't over yet, these are my takeaways.

1. I get why people send their children to tuition. Trying to get through the twins' work and corrections  makes me want to run away to the office and hide there till the exams are over. I want someone else to do it.

2. But there's something to be said about going at it by myself. I know how long their attention spans are, I know where their weaknesses and strengths lie and I get a bit of insight into how their very bizarre brain functions.

3. The blood pressure skyrockets equally, whether it stems from the lackadaisical attitude or the uber anxious one. They make me worry in different ways.

4. It's definitely much more stressful to have my own children take exams, despite the fact that the twins' exam are no big deal and my work kids' exams are national exams.

So how have I been coping and how have I helped the twins to cope with mommy being replaced by a stern taskmistress?

1. There has to be mandated play time. It gets counter-productive, despite the fact that holidays and weekends seem the best time to force them to do more work, free of school homework and whatnot. But at some point, it stops working. We'd go out, either in the morning to the park or to lunch with friends or to swim dates in the evening. Wherever possible, we would break the monotony. It ensured that everyone, myself included, kept our sanity intact.

 

2. Work has to be done in short periods of time and the amount of work has to be realistic. My mother, who was way ahead of her time, believed that keeping a child seated for too long was just not healthy and I grew up being reminded of that. We took breaks at the hour mark and I declared ihandstand/ Potter breaks as well as scooter races up and down the corridor.

3. Keeping the goals short-termed. Long-term goals are abstract to the twins. They cannot fathom that they are working hard now for a 'better future' or whatever. They cannot even fathom how their actions now will impact something next year. Furthermore, if the goal is too complicated then they give up. They're realistic. They know they can't get to it, so why try? We've done them in baby steps.
a. Finish this paper and you get ten minutes out on the corridor.
b. Finish by lunch and we'll go out in the afternoon.
c. Complete all your tasks and you get to pick what you want to do after.

4.  Keeping to the schedule.
It is very tempting to ply the twins with more work once they are done, especially when they are all bright-eyed and chirpy after. But the reason why they cooperate when it comes to doing what they needed to do is the knowledge that when they are done, that's it. If I keep slipping them more work, I am not keeping to my end of the bargain and there wouldn't be any incentive for them to finish up because they would just get 'punished' with more work. That would just be plain sneaky.

5. Managing the stress.
Managing my stress sometimes meant ceding the revision to Packrat. It would do no one any good to have a screaming and crazy parent.

Managing Evan's stress (his stress comes from not being able to do what he wants) means using the 'sandwich' method. First, commend his effort on something he's already done well (i.e. handwriting, evidence of checking, attempt at employing something we taught him before). Second, highlight the problem of the moment "Look at where you were careless!". Third, assure him that we aren't angry with him even if he just got a earful. Point out that it's what he did rather than what him personally that we had taken issue with. We also encourage him to try to see beyond what he feels is a 'gulag' existence right now. He cheers up at the prospect of no more work in exactly a week's time.

Managing Jordan's stress means using the sandwich method with different ingredients. First, acknowledge her fears (failing is scary and failing is bad). Second, ask her what we can do to help her not fail ( she needs to come up with this herself i.e. help her with spelling or run through her multiplication tables with her). Third, explain to her that there is nothing wrong with failure, if it actually does occur, because then she'll know what she needs to pay more attention to. That too, is rapidly followed up with the exhortations that our affection and love for them is not grade or achievement dependent.

We don't know how the twins will do in the exams but it is an experience for them, needing to work for something and having it long drawn. But how they do doesn't matter, what they take away does.   When a blood vessel in my head is threatening to blow, I am comforted by the knowledge that in the larger scheme of things, no one really cares about how they did in Primary 2. These achievement milestones are artificial. And that thought, among others, helps assuage the blood vessel and prevents me from losing my remaining marbles.

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No rescue for the forgetful, most of the time.

The last few weeks have been a record of sorts. The kids have been losing things left, right and centre. I usually keep a stock of ready water bottles for them to work their way through and there are none left. There's also the more than usual amount of random-leaving stuff in school- coming home with other people's shirts- rubbish happening. Evan has had to pay for a new school shirt because he came home with someone else's without checking that it was his (we label all his stuff for this very reason) and Jordan has had to break open her piggy bank to buy herself a new water bottle having lost two within the span of a fortnight.

This morning, there was a wallet left in the car. I toyed with the idea of bringing it to school and dropping it off at the office for the forgetful child. Then I remembered that there was a circular sent round requesting that we not do that. It inconveniences the office staff and it doesn't teach the child to be responsible. After all, why be responsible if Mom is going to break her neck, rushing down to school just to drop off the *insert forgotten item*?

And so, keeping in mind the the twins had been sent off to school with their water bottles and lunch bags, there wasn't a need to queue at the school, find parking just to walk in to the office and drop off the wallet. They weren't going to starve and die of thirst and even then, there were water coolers around and they had had breakfast. 

There has been a lot of talk about this. Or rather, rescuing the kid to the point that the kid has no clue how to rescue himself or herself. Much like the animal in captivity who is unable to hunt and has to wait to be fed. The helicopter approach to parenting. 

I'm pretty tough on JED but it's all an act. Left to my true neurotic nature, I want to be the mother who rescues them, who rushes to school to make sure that they have whatever they need. I want to check their bags and homework every day and make them correct mistakes in their work before they pack it back in their bags. But I don't allow myself to be. It's a very steep slippery slope and I don't want to raise helpless children. I learnt long ago that the helpless children I see at 18 are helpless because they've spent their lives being rescued. 

The other part of the reason I can be tough is because Packrat is a toughie. He'll say they need to learn. Forgot to tell us that they had a test the next day or to study for it, they can do badly in the test because there was no time to prepare. Forgot to have us sign something, incur the wrath of the teacher. Didn't live up to their end of the bargain, live up to the pre-stated consequences. 

We've recently negotiated contracts with them. On the days that I work, I often spend a lot of time missing them and looking forward to going home and seeing them. That illusion is usually shattered the minute I step into the house met by undone or badly done homework and a house where the floor cannot be seen. So, last week at the end of my tether, I called up Packrat one day in tears and threatened to go on strike. 

So, he stepped in, spoke to them, told them that they were old enough to live up to the consequences of their actions and proceeded to draw up a contract with them. 

In a nutshell, their signing it would mean that they were agreeing to be responsible for their homework and revision. They were also agreeing to put in effort (we've emphasising that it's about putting in effort to do things accurately, neatly and not leave half of it blank rather than scoring good grades). They're also agreeing to facing the consequences if they don't do what they've committed themselves to. 

Tall order. But he thinks they're ready. 

But at the same time, I still cut them slack. I like how this article puts it. I tell them that if there is homework, they do that first. And if they've been at their work for more than an hour, I send them off to play with their word that they'll come back to finish it up and I make sure they do. If they are really tired and it's been a long day, I tell them to finish up the next day and quietly on the side, set them less to do the next day. I compliment them when they've done their parts and they still go out of their way to help each other complete stuff. They've got a log, to keep their Good Effort stickers and it's dated. 5 stickers a week for a passport to weekend TV. They haven't decided how many stickers they have to get to go to Phuket but it'll be significant. And Packrat has already stated uncategorically that he'll cancel their plane ticket and take the rest of us.

I don't know how long it'll last but the bottom line is that they gotta learn how to swim on their own and we can't always be their crutch. We'll step in of course, if it gets too much, but the lesson still has to be that. 

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Peer Pressure; The Gadget Edition

Over the Chinese New Year season, one of mrbrown's updates was "Words I find myself saying the most to my kids during ‪#‎CNY‬: "Oi! Put the iPad/iPhone down!"

It was a refrain too true for us as well. JED know that iDevices aren't kosher when it comes to entertaining themselves. And they are all good about it until they are faced with some other kid whipping out their iDevice then everyone gravitates toward it. Moths, naked flame, that sort of them.

While they know the rules by heart, their sense of self-restraint is as strong as everyone else playing by our rules. Unfortunately, we are in the minority and that makes it hard for our soon to be 8s and newly minted 5 to resist.

We go visiting or, during the non-CNY season, go out with a bag loaded with non-tech entertainment. Crayons, colour pencils, paper, magnetic puzzles and books; all stuff that JED are happy to play with on a regular day at home. The problem is that these work at home because there isn't an iDevice for them to fall back on. But it's a losing battle that we end up always having to fight; an uphill battle when many around us whip it out as their first resort to resolve boredom. Analogue toys and entertainment don't stand a chance when they are put beside their loud, flashy and digital cousins.

We do need to state on the outset that occasionally, JED do get time on the iDevices, like the last hour of budget-non in flight entertainment- flights where we need a breather from the non-stop stream of conversation that they've held since the plane took off or when they've displayed incredible patience, maturity and resistance in a situation or when there are sharp instruments about and we need them to stay perfectly still.

The point is that we don't want them to rely on the gadget as a first pick antidote against boredom. Because truly, they are harder to parent with the gadgets as child-minders. We've seen how when Muffin gets too much screen time and we try to take it away, there is much screaming and tantrum throwing. We've seen how the twins fight over a gadget because each feels that they haven't had enough time on it. We've seen how they turn into mindless drones unable to answer the simplest questions when they are watching pissed off birds attack alien green pigs. Our solution then, is to remove offensive gadget for more peace round the house. And every time we are at gatherings where these devices reign supreme, we go home with more angsty, demanding and indignant children.

In desperation, Packrat and I eventually resorted to telling them to pick between being able to watch television at home (another rare and treasured occurrence) and crowding around an iDevice to watch someone build something or plant crops. Yes, perhaps it is replacing one evil with another. Our defence is the television is more easily controlled by us and JED have to always come to a common consensus as to what to watch before the television goes on. That and the fact that television is purely a public holiday or weekend indulgence for them.

It is a sad day when the least of all the evils is the television set and it is a viable alternative to 5 kids staring at the glow of one tiny device. 

We've tried everything.

a. Rationalising with them that non-screen games where they can include everyone else are more fun.
b. Lugging about the aforementioned bag of tricks.
c. Rewarding them for not being on the device.
d. Warning them of a future of rapidly increasing myopia.
e. Intoning the dangers of how these devices cause their brain cells to disintegrate and dribble out of their ears.

Sometimes one works better than the other, sometimes they need to work in tandem and sometimes none work at all.

While I love my gadgets as much as the next person, I really don't love how complicated it's made child rearing.

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Building buckets of character

Some one recently commented that of all three, Jordan had the most serious disposition. If I think about it, I suppose it's true though Evan does come in a close second when he starts thinking about things a little too much. For Evan, it's part of him. He's the worrywart and he's me. For Jordan, it's because of circumstance.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing but it is painful to watch her have to grow up so quickly. Her seriousness comes from a strong and recently acquired of a sense of responsibility.

She was recently appointed Assistant Class Monitress and that sent her into a planning frenzy to get to school early. Packrat and I were suitably chastised when she asked if she could go to school on the school bus. When we asked her why, seeing that it meant she would need to get up earlier, she said she needed to be in school for her duties and the time we usually dropped her off was too late. When we promised her we would get her to school by 7 the next morning, she was by my bedside by 545 am shaking me awake.

To be told by our first born, in not so many words, that we couldn't be trusted to get her to school on time was a big metaphorical kick in the nuts.

Some weeks ago, she came down with the flu and had to stay home for 2 days. When she returned to school, she was given a whole stack of homework to catch up with. It was impossible for her to get it all done within the day and we didn't expect her to. But it evidently seemed that she expected herself to. 2 hours after she went to bed, she was up and out of bed pulling out her unfinished homework from her bag. Even though she kept dozing off, she kept at it till we forced her back to bed.

A lot of good that did because she spent the whole night sleeping fitfully and waking with a start and with worry because of her unfinished work. When I eventually woke her up in the morning, she burst into tears because she was so exhausted.

Our instinct was obviously to blame the school for giving her so much work but to be fair, it was work she would have completed had she gone to school. And when we spoke to her teachers to ask for the weekend to finish the work, they told us that she hadn't been given any deadlines. The expectations had been self-inflicted. Her teachers had noticed that about her as well and knew to reassure her that she wasn't being tardy with her work.

It's admirable that she took it upon herself to finish up her work and that she was tough on herself when she didn't. It's great that she's developed a great sense of accountability and it's difficult for us to watch her beat herself up about it because she's still our little girl. At the end of the day, she's only 7 and we've got to step in and temper it or she will end up being wound too tight.

That means, giving her the space to be silly and clown around and to chuckle and giggle like a 7 year old ought to.

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Fear of the Father

Packrat picked me up from work last night looking slightly disturbed.

I asked him why.

He said the JED are terrified of him.

Apparently, they made a grand mess on the floor. It included sparkles, glue and them trying valiantly to sweep it off the ground. Muffin wanted in on the sweeping but was denied a broom, leading to wails and Packrat emerging to see what the fuss was about. That led him to see the mess and asked irritatedly why they did that without laying paper underneath it and how much work it was going to be for our helper. It prompted them to employ what I call their 'pre-emptive strike' manoeuvre- Cry First, Ask Questions Later. When Packrat made them apologise to our helper, more tears, Evan refusing to go near Packrat, Jordan bawling and Muffin, now happily ensconed in Packrat's arms oblivious to the situation that his cries triggered!

My response was that at least they were scared of someone and that he didn't have to yell or punish to make them fear.

In his book, fear isn't quite a good thing, especially for kids.

In my book, I think it's a good thing. They aren't as worried of getting into trouble with me. Perhaps, it's familiarity since I am with them a lot more of the time. Perhaps, it's because I'm yelling all the time and therefore shouting is "Mommy's default volume". Someone commented that we mums were known as NASO or SONA (No Action, Shout Only) (Scream Only, No Action) and that didn't do much to instil deep deep fear.
 

Fear of the Father is my ultimate weapon with JED. And it was what my mom and his mom used with us. The ultimate threat was "Wait till your Dad gets home". So, not only did we get into trouble with Mom, which was bad but not that bad. What was worse was that we had to wait for Round 2. And the waiting was what killed us. I suspect, that's how it works for JED (well, at least the older two) right now.

It really isn't about how he will roar at them or brandish a cane (things he refuses to do) but because of his eyes. My eyes- the Ng eyes, are just full anger, frustration and annoyance when they get up to their shennanigans.  But Papa's eyes tell a whole different story. Papa's eyes, when they get up to no good or have misbehaved is about disappointment.

That is what they fear. 

Technorati Tags: JED, Discipline, Fathers

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