Why Exams are Important Pt 2

So I get a message from Jordan's teacher yesterday.

She's been doodling a lot in class. Even when the teacher is teaching.

She's always been a doodler. She draws everywhere. Any time she gets her hands on scraps of paper, she'll doodle.

Sometimes, the doodling is effective because it helps her understand concepts better. Sometimes, it's just doodling for doodling sake.

Just a quick glance at her things all over the house, I found a variety of different sorts of doodles on everything from scrap paper to school test papers.

Hence, an annoyed school teacher.

To be fair, if I were the teacher, I'd be annoyed too since it's easy to assume that the child isn't paying attention when there is doodling. My own students do it as well.

Admirably, she admitted openly to the teacher that she doodles when she is bored (they've been going through exam paper after exam paper) and when she finds things hard to understand (that's how she unpacks things).

I also try and suggest to the teacher that instead of fully banning her from doing it and understanding that this is something that she does to process and to decompress, why not let her doodle as a form of note taking. To channel it into something the teacher can accept.

She seems to be open to that idea and I'm grateful.

Then, in the evening, I read about Nike's Chief of Design and how he doodles. All. The. Time. Part of me wants to send that article on to the teacher but the other part of me knows that's just being snarky. But it would be cool if her doodling allowed her to become chief of design, somewhere.

Read More

To the parent of a first time camper

Dear Parent of child going off to camp for the first time,

I recently went through the first of my children going to camp. It was a somewhat surreal experience that I feel I ought to share. In a grand scheme of things, it is in preparation for the mother of all camps, 8 years from now for my eldest boy child.

We knew that it was coming but we didn't think it would be all that bad. After all, she has had sleepovers before.

But everyone did miss her and everyone felt her absence. She's home now though and we're back to regular programming.

There was a sobby (I am assured they were tears of joy) reunion but all is good in my world now and I can now objectively think back to the last three days.

So here's what I've learnt.

1. You will want your child to call home. Don't.
Packrat went to the briefing and reported that teachers were inundated with questions about whether their children could bring air-mattresses, sleeping bags, portable diffusers. They faced disgruntled parents when they informed them that the children would not have access to their mobile phones and that no, they could not queue up to use the coin phone either.

This caused much distress and I think this was where the camp experience differed from a sleepover. A sleepover would have involved the constant exchange between the parents on what funny things the kids were up to and this sometimes included photographs and videos. This time however, there was a complete cut off from our children.

But, now that she's home and she's told me what went on at camp, I think the teachers were indeed wise. After all, they have done this year in, year out.

She told me that she went to the sick bay on the first day. It was a bad headache, despite drinking gallons of water. And she stayed there for 3 hours, napping before she felt better and more human. It was at that point, that I realised that, had she been able to call home or get in touch with me, she would have told me about being in the sick bay, possibly been weepy about it and I would have immediately asked if she needed to come home. There would have been a possibility that she would have said yes and then, the camp would have been a slightly extended version of a day camp.

Because I didn't know, because she had no idea that coming home would have been an option, she got  over herself and her headache and went back out to play.

So, the radio silence was great. It prevented homesick children from indulging in their homesickness and anxious parents from finding reasons to bring said child home early. I suppose if she really were unwell, they would have called me. And headaches, in their book, weren't serious enough to warrant a potentially heart dropping phone call for me to receive.

2. You will want to spy on your child. (See Above)

With 240 ten year olds away from their parents for the first time, there were bound to be anxious parents. And because Singapore is small enough and the camp location was made known to the parents, some showed up, testing their prowess at stealth hunting and paparazzi level stalking. There were also parents who worried that their children needed creature comforts and attempted to show up under the guise of delivering them or simply delivering pizza. Whatever was necessary to gain access to the child. 

I asked her if she saw parents hiding in the bushes or pretending to be trees. After she finished laughing, she looked at me in all seriousness and asked if I had been one of those nosy parents. I said no. She said good. I asked her why. She said it would have been an interference on the part of the parents. She said it would have been embarrassing (She tried to soften the blow by saying she would have been happy to see me but even then...). And she said it was only for 3 days and if she could miss me and didn't beg her teachers to send her home and didn't run away from camp to come find me, I didn't need to stalk and spy on them. 

Basically, she was telling me, in her 10 year old way that she needed this space to grow up. 

Wise one, my first born. 

3. You will underestimate your child. (Ditto the previous point)

Admittedly, I worried. I worried that she wouldn't be able to sleep in a sleeping bag. When I found out that someone snuck in a pillow (I didn't even think of getting her to pack beyond her packing list), I found myself wondering if she could sleep without a pillow. I found many other little things to wonder and worry about. Above all, I worried that she would not have a good time and she would be miserable.

Much as I hate to admit it, Packrat and the teachers were right. She had been fine and she came home brimming with excitement of all her achievements. She told me she abseiled down 7 storeys. She told me that she rolled her jacket into bundle and used it as a pillow. She slept like a baby. She, whose extent of cooking at home was to make a grilled cheese sandwich, was able to cook up her own meals on an open flame. She managed to also successfully put drops into her eyes like we taught her to at home. 

In short, not only did she survive camp, she thrived. 

So, my advice? Cede control, trust the school and child. 

And you'll get all the good bits. You'll get to hear the stories through triumphant rose-tinted glasses, you get to stand anxiously at the school gates waiting for that first glimpse of her and you get to get all the air squeezed out of you when she throws her arms around you and gives you a hug big enough to make up for all the time she was away.

I promise you. It'll be hard to do all these things. But it'll be worth it.

From a parent who survived her child being away at camp.

Read More

I Wanna Grow Up...

There's been a lot of talk about puberty lately.

For Jordan at least.

It came about because they had a talk in school recently about when it was necessary for girls to wear undergarments. The bits of information she came home with were hilarious and sometimes bordering on misinformation rather than information.


She read the Judy Blume books that deal with it; her favourite being Margaret who wants and NEEDS a bra and talks about getting periods. After the talks in school, she's gone back to reading them again. And I re-read it too because all I remembered from it was the chant, "I must, I must, I must increase my bust!" The charming thing about the book is that even though it's more than 40 years old, the anxieties mirror so clearly what goes on in the mind of a tween today.

Last week, Jordan got into the car and was very, very giggly. Her teacher had passed around a bra for the girls to look at and fiddle with. She went into great detail. One would have thought she had never seen one before!

Two days after, a growth spurt miraculously occurred in class and spread like wildfire across all 40 girls. All of a sudden, she was reporting that every other person in class had started wearing a bra too. I think it had to do very little to do with hormones and very much to do with all the discussion in class. Words are indeed powerful. So naturally, Jordan asked if she could have one too.

                                  

I gave her the same spiel my mother gave me. She'd have her whole life ahead of her to wear a bra. It would be hot to wear one under two layers of uniform as is. She didn't need to be in such a hurry. But there was no stopping her.

I guess if I thought hard enough about it, it was like that for me too, dying to be all growed up and wanting to have all the trappings of being a grown up. Envious of those taller and more mature than I was at that age. And like Jordan, I didn't listen to my mother when she tried to caution haste.

So, here we are. I have a Margaret at home now and I'm pretty sure she's asking God the same questions that Margaret did and promising to be good in exchange for some growth in that area.

And to counter all the misinformation she seems to be getting at school, I have ordered her some books to set the facts straight. The American Girl series for puberty is aptly titled The Care and Keeping of You which I really like because it really does normalise the entire process and answers questions in ways that make sense to these tweens.

While we wait for the books to arrive, I shall just sit back and watch this unfold, quietly lamenting the loss of my baby girl and the appearance of a full-fledged tween. 

Read More

The child becomes the teacher

Muffin has effectively completed the first term of Primary One. He's doing okay. He takes on everything with his usual cheeky outlook on life. Like his siblings before him, he isn't too big on homework.

Being the third child through primary education with older siblings whose academic demands regularly floor me, he ends up drawing the short end of the straw. On so many occasions, I've forgotten the spelling and ting xie and remember only to ask him the day after it's tested in school.

So I try to remember.

If I forget, I deputise one of the twins to go through his spelling with him. That often sends him to tears because there is actually something worse than the tiger mom. The Tiger Sister who is stricter and more demanding than the mom. She will berate him in a tone worthy of the Tiger Mom and lay down her strict expectations of his corrections.

But that's where the difference ends.

Unlike the Tiger Mom, the Tiger Sis will be taken in by his tears. She will cave and will try and carry  him. That's when she'll change her tact and surprisingly coax him into trying again. She's has also learnt that yelling at him doesn't work so she tries to be a little bit more encouraging so that she doesn't have to deal with his tears.

His worksheets then end up having encouraging words planted all over like her teacher does for her, I suppose. And she gets him to re-learn the spelling words he isn't clear of on the white board or with magnetic letters which I used to do for her.

In short, she has learnt some pedagogy.

He'd just as soon not do it if given the choice. His toys are still a big thing for him and he still spends long hours just re-connecting with his Lego and his Transformers toy or reading. 

So it's a fine line that we tread on. To make sure that he revises the stuff he has to for school but to give him time to read and be silly. This is where the Tiger Sis empathises with him and totally caves in; when he looks at her with puppy eyes and says he wants to just spend some time reading.

The young teacher still has much to learn.

Read More

Cinderella Syndrome

Jordan suffers from the Cinderella Syndrome.

She keeps losing her shoes.

Unfortunately, there isn't a Prince Charming that comes knocking at the door to fit her shoe on her foot.

I don't think he would waste his time.

She keeps losing her school shoes. Those aren't couture enough for Prince Charming to bother with.

At Primary 1 orientation, we were told to label our children's belongings. We were told repeatedly. And it wasn't just to label their books and bottles but their uniforms and shoes.

Even better if we did their socks too.

To illustrate their point, they told us about how children would return home with only one shoe on and none the wiser. It sounded like an urban legend that spread from generation to generation and got wilder and more exaggerated with each re-telling.

Then one day after gym, Jordan climbs into the car and just before we drive off, she squeals for the car to stop and hops out, running back to the gym. Bewildered, we wait for her to reappear. Panting, she explains that she forgot her slippers and was about to go home barefoot.

Okay.

Perhaps, it's a gymnast thing. After all, they spend all their time bare feet and they get used to the feel of the ground under their very very very black feet. So it doesn't occur to them that anything is amiss when they leave without their original footwear.

Since then, she's lost 2 pairs of school shoes. We've figured that there is a higher possibility for her to lose her shoes because she takes them off. Which means, there's a higher possibility she leaves them somewhere and not take them with her. The agreement has been that her allowance will be docked, to help pay for new shoes. Especially since they were brand new, this last time round.

If only she did a sport where she could keep her shoes on. It would be cheaper for everyone involved. In so so so many ways!

Read More

Listen to Mommy

She wanted to get her ears pierced.

We've been hedging. We told her that she had to do decently well for the exams. We told her it had to be during the holidays.

It's the holidays now. And she did respectably in the exams. Not fantastic or up to her usual standard but respectable.

So she started her campaign. She is nothing if not insistent.

Eventually, we told her she could and she chose Thursday to do it. A friend of ours told us to use a numbing cream on the lobes so that it wouldn't hurt and she had the cream. But she couldn't pass it to us in time.

I asked her to consider doing it another day, after we could get the numbing cream.

She refused.

Against my better judgement, I allowed her to go ahead with it.

Despite wanting to do it, she was very nervous and was breathing very deeply before even stepping into the shop. She took a long while to gather courage to allow the lady to do the first ear. Lesson number 1: Find a place that does it simultaneously.

After the first ear was pierced, there was a delayed reaction of shocked pain and then the very reaction where her eyes rolled to the back of her head, she turned rigid and collapsed into her Papa's arms. Her lips were white and so was her face. Apparently, she had worked herself into such a state that she was hyperventilating and then subsequently, passed out.

Of course, after that, with full knowledge of how painful it was, she covered her ears with her hands or tipped it into her shoulder, refusing to let the lady do the other ear. It took another half an hour of coaxing (and almost coercing on my part) before she allowed the lady to pierce the other side.

Eyes all puffy from crying

It took all of me to stop from saying "I TOLD YOU SO!" There was so much annoyance that I had to swallow because she was already so upset.

But in the end, I figured she'd learnt lessons.

1. If she's impatient and makes impetuous decisions, she has to suffer the consequences of it, especially when we tell her that waiting would result in a better experience.

2. She has to follow through once she makes the decision. She wanted to do just the one ear and come back another day. I told her that would mean the other earring would not be sterile and that she would then need to pay for a new pack and it would cost twice as much. Plus, it was still going to hurt. The same amount, if not more because she would have had time to exaggerate the experience in her head.

Then she wanted to just keep the one earring and we told her that wasn't possible either.; that would just look plain weird. She had to get the second one done and she had to do it straightaway.

3. Despite the fact that it sounds too much like the evil mother from Rapunzel, Mother KNOWS best.

That one, she had better not forget.

Read More

Journey to the gym

Jordan's been putting in a lot of hours at the gym. She had a club meet last weekend. And despite the fact that it wasn't a big competition and it wasn't exactly high stakes, there had to be full-hearted commitment of time and effort.

So over the last months, it's been 10.5 hours at the gym full on. And for now, we're done.

What came out of it?

1. Tempering expectations.
This was more me than her. She had no problems getting top grades last year despite hours at the gym. This year, it's been more exhausting and there's a lot more work. Some things don't come as easily and there's a lot more struggling. But I also knew that this was going to be more important than keeping her nose in the books all the time just so that her grades kept up with last year. So, we made the conscious decision to let go a bit, close an eye and let her use this to learn something that no amount of studying was going to teach her.


2. Oodles of discipline.
Even then, what came out of it was then a juggling act we all had to perform. To make sure that we could get what was necessary done, everyone had to be on a schedule. It went against giving her time to be creative and time to play but it had to be done. There was value to that as well, laying all her cards on the table, training, homework, sleep (which was very necessary seeing the number of hours she spent training) and having her see what she needed to do and giving her the space to process how to do it.

3. Moving beyond the complaining.
There was whining and there was complaining and there was comparing. But I had learnt that as long as I gave her complaints air time, she would go on to do what was necessary. And that in itself was something admirable. She would do it. Despite the exhaustion and sometimes, even tears, she would get it done. She would express her feeling of being overwhelmed, we would acknowledge it, comfort her and let her go on and that she would.

4. Grace under pressure.
One of the reasons why the girls trained so hard was so that the moves they had to make became part of them. That was essential because nerves tended to hit big time during competition. And when they were going to be jumping and twirling on a beam 4 inches wide, nerves would be what would cause them to fall. So, at training, they went through the routines over and over again. They got yelled at about everything, right up to the twirl of their fingertips.

And we saw how that paid off. At warm up, with all the distraction and noise, there was a lot of falling off the beams and tripping about. As spectators, that worried us; what if the same thing happened during the routine? But the girls took it in the stride, with eyes forward. And for each and every one of them, during their actual routine, where it counted most, they did not fumble or fall. The training and the mental wind-up got them through the pressure of performing. And all looked cool as cucumbers despite the fact that Jordan had told me her heart was going to explode out of her chest. None of them looked it.

5. Cheerleaders
I asked Jordan if she wanted her friends around for her competition and she said yes. She brought some paper to school and wrote some invitations to some of her closest friends to ask them to come watch her. And they came, armed with banners, flowers and gifts. When she saw them, her grin threatened to split her face. It helped dissipate her nerves and made it all the more enjoyable for her. She is also so much more in love with her friends because they came when she needed them and she couldn't help gushing about it. I think she also felt that she had her own audience she wanted to perform for. I was very wowed by the fact that her friends and their parents made the effort to come Sunday morning to watch her and thank God that she has friends like them!

And then, it was over.

And she had done really well. In all the ways that mattered.
She had enjoyed herself.
She had given her best in every routine she performed.
She had remembered everything the coaches had drilled into her.
And she looked like she owned the routines.

The medals were just the icing on the cake.

Read More

What mornings are like...

Picture essay of the first hour after the morning alarm goes off.

Pictures by Jordan.

The alarm goes off at 6 am. 

Is it a school day? 

Disgruntedly washing up.

Asleep but he remembers to lift the toilet seat.

Breakfast Reading

A hot breakfast with the sun streaming in.

Time to leave for school. Bye to Min the cat. 

Finally, feeling jaunty enough to head off to school.

Read More

Lessons from a sleepover

I've been away for a while hence explaining the blog silence. While away, I bought Jordan a night shirt with the words "I love sleepovers". She was chuffed because in a nutshell, she does. Once I had gotten over the jetlag, she set about bugging me for one. And if anything, that girl is persistent so we caved.

She invited some of her best friends and my head spun as I wrapped my head around the idea of 3 more girls in our house.

I'm happy to announce that post play date, my house is still standing and my sons haven't run away for good.

But here are some things I learnt from it.

1. Sleepovers are a misnomer.

There was no sleep to be had. For them and for the rest of the household. They were too excited and they spent all their time nattering. There were multiple toilet jaunts and declarations of one girl having fallen asleep but being woken up by the other 3 in one way or the other. No amount of warnings or threats, on the part of our exhausted helper, of "I will wake Jordan's Mommy and tell her you all are still not sleeping!" did anything to quell them. I walked in on them at 1 am to someone in a handstand on the bed in the dark.

Eventually, they might have ended up with about 4 hours of sleep not that anyone can confirm it because they outlasted everyone else in the household. They knew this for themselves. All complained that they hadn't slept much though it didn't deter them from anything.

2. Noise and Number of children; not an incremental correlation. 

Packrat had the 4 girls in the car and by the time he got home, he was a little bit on the deaf side. He was also sure that before the end of the night, one of our neighbours would have called the police on us. He said his ears were ringing from the high pitch chattering, squealing and giggling of the 4 girls. His exact description was that they were like Gremlins, fed after midnight and then sprayed with water. They laughed at everything and they were plotting against the boys.The most repeated phrase of the night was "Ssssh, I can hear you girls through 3 closed doors!" And even their whispering was loud. But when one left after lunch the next day, the noise level dropped massively. So our conclusion was the increase in volume rose exponentially with the number of girls. 

3. Household chores are fun too.

With 6 kids in the house, the probability of mess was going to be a high one. So in order to keep all our sanity, we declared that they have to make their own bed, clear up their own clothes, bags, towels, soft toys and clear the table after lunch. Any mess that they made, they had to clear up or Jordan would find herself very short of toys by the end of the play date. 

It worked. Everything was fun because they did it together. It was probably the only reason why the house was still standing by the end of the day. One of them declared that it was like going to camp but the bed was comfortable and there was air-conditioning. Jordan opened her mouth to suggest creating an adventure camp but one look from myself and the helper told her that it was as wishful as her desire for wanting a puppy. 

4. Plan outdoor activities. 

To give our helper time and space to actually clean the house and to prepare lunch, also to restore some of her hearing, I took them all out. 6 children squished into the car and all the way to the park where they could run wild. And run wild they did. It was the most peaceful three hours I had with them because they created their own games including the boys and run amok in the open space. They ran, they crossed stones, they sat on the swings,  they threw a frisbee around and they made up games. By the time I got them home, they had expended much of their energy, bouncing off the walls much less and deigned to play quietly after lunch. 

5. Separate the kids. 

Eventually I shipped the two boys off to Evan's friend's house for their own play date. Even though there were two of them, they really didn't stand a chance against the girls. They were laughed at, teased, excluded (on account of their being boys), made to play the monster/ enemy/ bad guys (on account of their being boys) and locked out of the room (on account of their being boys). It was going to end up in tears (on the boys' part) at some point so I thought it would be better if they went off to safer waters. And it helped. The boys were happy, the girls knew no better but I had a much more peaceful time because I didn't have to mediate the boys' whining about being left out, teased, locked out etc. 

6. As little sugar or chocolate as possible.
Even with minimal help, the girls were on such a high; talking loudly, laughing loudly and giggling at every.single.thing. If we had given them more sugar or chocolate, I think the house would have truly fallen down.

By the end of it, Jordan was exhausted. But apparently, the girls all went home talking about their "camp' non stop so I'm assuming they all had a great time as well. Despite making it sound like it was exhausting, it was really fun to watch the girls play, squabble, make up and natter. It made me hope that for Jordan's sake, she stays close to these friends of hers. And the boys, being boys, came home asking where all the girls were and were genuinely saddened that they weren't around. Jordan's already asking me when they can do another sleepover. 

But it's like jet-lag. It takes a while to recover from. So I'm going to tell her to ask me in a year's time. 

Read More

Respect the child's decision

- There are parts of this post that are spiritual in nature so consider yourself warned before you roll your eyes-

For the longest time, Jordan has been wanting to move schools. Initially, it was because she wasn't settled at her school. But even when she did settle and found her footing, she seemed to still have this inclination to move schools.

By then, we weren't so keen to do so because she had a group of friends that we liked and she could count on. She had strong teachers who were providing her good grounding. It was a good school with simple, decent and strong Christian values. There were no airs to it and we liked that very much.

Unfortunately, she kept picking on things like the girls beingnoisy and sometimes mean and the toilets being smelly and dirty. While we tried to assure her that she would face the exact situations in any other girls' school, she remained like a dog with a bone.

Since there was no dissuading her, we told her that it was then up to her to make it happen. We told her that we would submit her application for her but everything else would be up to her. She would need to

1. Provide consistently good results.

Her edict to herself as she worked towards the year-end examinations

2. Do whatever she felt necessary to get in.

3. Pray for God to open the door for her.

And then we left it. All I had to remember was to submit her results every semester. Jordan on the other hand, talked about it incessantly as if it were already going to happen. When we told her not to get her hopes up, she took it one step further and chose to write to the principal of the school. Jordan then convinced Grandma to drive her to the school and hand deliver the letter to the school office.

A day after her final term exams began, we heard from the school. They were offering her a place for next year. It was what we had been half hoping for for the last two years but thought was never going to happen. Once we got over all the hairs on our arms standing because we knew that it was by the Grace of God more than anything else, we were overwhelmed with nostalgia and reluctance. After all, her current school had done her no harm but in fact given her so much room to grow and develop as a person. And by taking her out, we were in some way hinting that it wasn't good enough for her. And by taking her out, we were throwing her into a brand new environment that she would need to get used to and make friends, all over again.

But the decision wasn't ours to make. That conflict was the hardest to bear. As parents, we are used to calling the shots for JED. But we had put the responsibility of her getting into her school of choice, into her hands. So it was only right to let her decide. We waited till her exams were over before we told her. In the ensuing days, Packrat and I went back and forth, weighing the merits of the new school but lamenting the loss of the her current school.

When we did tell her, we did so most dramatically. We pulled her out of school once her exams were over, took her to brunch and showed her the email. And as she read the email and chomped down on her buttered toast, a grin spread across her face, wide enough to split it. That was our answer enough. People asked if we would have pulled rank and demanded our preference over hers. That grin and the look on her face told us that we would be doing her and in the long term, ourselves a great disfavour, if we took that moment away from her. It was her moment. She did everything she could to get it and if we pulled it from under her feet, she would never trust us again.

                                 

Later on, I asked her what she thought were the reasons why she got into the school after such a long wait.

Her response was that
1. She had worked very hard and she had got herself some pretty good grades.
2. She had prayed. Very very hard.
3. She had written to the principal.

I asked her when she had prayed. In the words of those annoying click bait posts on FB, her answer blew me away.

Me: So, Jordan, when did you pray?
Jordan: Today, at recess.
Me: You prayed today, at recess that you would be able to move schools?
Jordan: Yes. And after recess, you came to pick me up and told me I got in.

Goosebumps.

So, with a heavy heart and trepidation on our part and an excited one on hers we're off on this new adventure, all because God heard the prayers of our 8 year old. May she always remember this as her first encounter of God's faithfulness to her.

Read More

Snail Mail

Some time back, we were part of this sticker club thing for the kids which was a little bit of a chain where we got an email invitation to send a packet of stickers to a child and then send on the email with your own kid's name in it to 6 kids who would then do the same thing. It was meant to allow our kids to experience receiving mail, in this day and age where for most part, nothing fun comes in the mail anymore.

Recently, I noticed that Jordan and the neighbours, less so Evan because he can't be bothered to write long rambling letters, have started sending letters to each other.

First, we found them in their school bags. They were passing letters to each other during recess. Then we started seeing pieces of paper slipped under our doors. The problem was that the girls would use recycled letters to write to one another and we often thought they were scraps lying around or junk mail and we would toss them out.

After a lot of indignation on their part and a lot of feigned blame on ours ("You shouldn't leave them lying around!"), the girls came up with the idea of making their own mail boxes and sticking it the front doors. That way, the seemingly ignorant mommies wouldn't toss their precious letters into the bin.

Unlike our regular post, this postal service seems to be very active in the evenings and on the weekends. That's probably when the girls see the least of each other. 

It's provided our front doors decoration and it is indeed a cheering sight to come home to a happy envelope on the door. They take it seriously and when they receive a letter, they read it and race off to pen a reply and slip out to drop it off. If only our local mail was so efficient.

It's funny how they implore each other to write and occasionally resort to using emotional blackmail.

We found a letter sometime ago and with permission, I've posted a fragment for posterity here. The rest of the letter was a plea to write to her because she had been grounded by her mother. The mothers routinely take photos of found letters and sent it around amongst us. We have laughed about it though maintaining a straight face and pretending to take the girls and the mail route seriously.

We'll see how long it lasts. I remember doing it when I was a bit older than they were. But because that was also part of the 'collect letter paper' phase of my life, I regretfully used fancy letter paper to write these letters.

Evan, on the other hand, totally enthralled by Potter world, thinks that Owl mail is the way to go and has recently asked for one. On account of there not being an Owl post network and his friends not having owls plus the fact that they poop indiscriminately and leave regurgitated, half eaten rats everywhere, I'm inclined to say no to that one.

Read More

Piano Recital

Jordan has begged for piano lessons over the last few years; we've hedged for a variety of reasons. One, we didn't have a piano. Two, it costs money. Three, she was so over-scheduled we couldn't find time to do it. Four, I didn't have very good memories of piano exams. So we didn't budge for a long time. Jordan kept negotiating, like a dog with a bone and eventually, sometime in April we caved. We borrowed a keyboard and set her up with a piano teacher. The deal was piano lessons but she had to practice each piece 5 times a day and she had to do her theory homework.

And the girl has kept to her end of the bargain. She practised and she conscientiously ran her drills and pieces every day. It paid off because not six months into her lessons, her teacher asked if she wanted to be part of a duet for a recital. Her teacher thought it would be good exposure and it would train her listening and sense of rhythm. So we agreed. She would play the duet with her cousin. But for the entire month of August, she practised on her own. She had to learn her part and be able to play it properly before we got her playing with her cousin. That being said, she did need to practise being in time with someone and her teacher, realising that I had the rudiments of piano playing, deputised me to play her cousin's part.

In the two weeks or so that I played with her, I saw how her ability to count, listen and adjust her speed instinctively improve massively. It got to a point where she played it better than I did and I was the one making the mistakes because I wasn't the one practising it every day and I wasn't the one who had learnt the piece by heart. She would, bless her heart, slow down when I couldn't keep up and count the bars for me when I got lost with the chords. By this last week, both of us had it down pat. I could hear her playing in sync with me and I knew how to make sure that we hit the right bar at the right time.

Today was the recital and she dragged me out of bed early this morning to rehearse one more time before we left the house. I whined about being sleepy and blurry eyed and she told me to stretch my fingers and assured me that she would count for me while I tried to wake up. Once she was sure I was able to play it, even though I was still trying to fully pry my eyes open, she dragged Packrat out of bed to record it on video. Packrat was merciful enough to petition on my behalf that I get bathed and  dressed before videoing it, pointing out that it didn't look so good videoing us with mussed up hair and in our night clothes.



While half awake and playing through half opened eyes, my mind randomly wandered back to an article I had read some weeks back; When Kids Want to Quit and how we could not expect that our kids to stick to their activities forever and that as long as they kept their word and finished what was expected of them, we couldn't expect much more. But what I kept thinking about pertained more to me than to Jordan.

"I remind myself that I was once a quitter myself. Violin, piano, ballet, flute, gymnastics, modern dance – none lasted more than a handful of years. These activities may not have led to Julliard, but they did cement a lifelong love of music and dance. As a semi-professional singer, I rely on the sight-reading ability that I honed at the piano to learn new songs quickly. And I can walk into any exercise class confident that I’ll at least be able to follow the instructor. If my daughters can broaden their horizons and uncover an enjoyable hobby, I’ll consider that a success."

The realisation was that for me, all those years of piano lessons, while not amounting to much except a bunch of ABRSM certificates and still a dismal inability to hear or sing tone, allowed me to be Jordan's stand-in duet partner. It helped that she could play with an adult, whom she could pretty much trust not to botch up so that she could focus on her bit. It helped that there was someone at home to help her get through the difficult parts in her section without having to wait for her lesson with the teacher or get screeched at for getting it wrong. And it helped her become confident enough to play amidst mistakes and be able to adjust for miscounts. It also didn't feel so much like practice for her because it was a "her and Mom' thing and even if it was all I had time to do with her that day, she was happy. It put her in the right frame of mind to go up on stage and play in front of a crowd. It made it fun for her.



That my piano lessons as a child prepared me to be able to do this for my own child, I'll consider that a success. Now to convince my own parents of that my scrawling on the baby grand's keys in permanent marker was part of a larger divine plan

Read More

Something had to give

Our first born is an overachiever. Packrat claims that she takes after me. I guess. At one point, Jordan was doing ballet twice a week, gym twice a week, art once a week, swimming once a week. And at that point, she was doing extra Chinese twice a week and Math once a week. It was a scheduling night mare and it just did not sit right with us because there was too much on her plate and she needed time to play. Some told us we were doing the right thing and comforted us by telling us that since most of her extra stuff was not school related, it was play. Unfortunately, that wasn't our definition of play. So we kept asking her quit something. In response, she asked for piano lessons.

Eventually, she had to choose under duress but not really from us.

At the end of May, Jordan competed in another gym competition and did not fare as well as she did previously. This was about the same time that we were hearing that actually, the gym she was at wasn't all that great for building foundation and skills properly and we were shopping around for another gym. Jordan became taken with this other gym that was run by China coaches and insisted on switching there despite our reservations of it being too great a leap from a 'play' gym to a gym run by China coaches. She dug in her heels and they insisted that if she wanted to join them, she had to put in a minimum of 6 hours a week.

That was the gun to her head.

She chose to give up everything; ballet, art and swimming. We had decided on giving up Math without consultation with her anyway.

That was when you could hear two hearts shatter in unison, from a mile away. Both Packrat and I were extremely saddened at her decision to give up ballet and art.

For me, part of it was vicarious. Because I had danced, I had wanted her to. I am not ashamed to admit that. But it was also because when she danced, there was pure joy and musicality and I would miss watching her move with the music.

For Packrat, there wasn't the vicarious reason but he loved watching her dance and how she immersed herself in it. With the art, her eye for detail and how she drew every time she found a piece of paper made us feel wistful that she chose to give it up.

Putting these away was difficult.

Our consolation was that with the numerous hours of gym she was going to put in, if she wanted to go back to ballet, it would not be all that difficult.

And art was something that she could do on her own and there would always be opportunity. A case in point was when she went off for a day with a friend from church and when I picked her up, she had a canvas painting of the both of us for my birthday.

At the same time, we had to remind ourselves that it was what she wanted to commit her time to and that we had to respect the decision she was making. So, she now spends an inordinate amount of her time upside down and has core strength and abs that put us to shame and she's happy. 

So while we mourn for what she could have done with the ballet or the art, the sparkle in her eye after gym despite 3 hour long classes makes us realise that she knows herself best.

Read More

Girl Justice Jordan

My daughter literally gave a boy an ass kicking two days ago.

Part of me was horrified. Using violence is something we do not endorse. My initial reaction was "SHE DID WHAT??!!"

She tried to defend her actions.

The boy in question was eleven. He's been pretty mean to his sister. His sister and Jordan are very close friends. So she tells Jordan about it. Jordan has told me quite indignantly that he's mean to her friend. She begged me to tell her mother. I guess she decided enough was enough and she took matters into her own hands.

So two days ago, said boy was in our house. He was bending over to pack his bag when Jordan walked in with his sister. She saw that he was bent over, walked over to him and delivered a swift kick to his behind. Literally, a kick in the ass.

Pissed off he was and yelled at her. She yelled back. He hurled names at her.
"DON'T CALL ME STUPID FRIED EGG!" She bellowed.

They had to be physically separated. Almost garden hose style.

She was upset after that. She cried.

We haven't made a big deal out of it for two reasons. One, we don't really know where we stand on the whole thing. Don't hit, yes. But protecting your friend, also yes. Two, we figured she felt bad enough. And when I did mention it, she was still indignant about how the big brother was being mean to his little sister and we could stand by and help. I've promised to talk to the siblings' mother. The only thing I've said to her regarding the issue, very clearly, is that she should never, ever, hit anyone. Well, there may be exceptions but for now, we're going for black and white.

That's our Jordan. Girl Justice Jordan packs quite a punch and looks out for the underdog. This is coming through very clearly; that she has a very strong sense of morality and justice. Both of them do but she's more proactive in responding to it. Sometimes, it comes across as tattling though Evan does that quite well too. But the other part of it is that she wants to act as the mediator and the one that smooths things over (of course, they are on her terms) and she wants to right every wrong (both perceived and real).

Another conversation I had with her was about helping others. I was trying to explain to her that sometimes, telling people how to act or behave isn't very welcomed. In fact, sometimes people might not take it well. It can come across as imposing and judgemental; in kid terms, downright bossy.

Jordan: But what if they are fighting? I can stop them and help them make friendship. My power is to make friendships.
Me: But they may not really want you to. You can go up to them and ask them if they need help. But when you ask them if they need help and they say no, what do you do?
Jordan: Walk away?
Me: Yes.
Jordan: But what if they don't know they need help?

Good point. But also the beginnings of a superhero complex.

Superhero training

So what do we do? We haven't quite figured it out. Vigilante superhero justice isn't as clear cut in real life. Whatever it is, she's got to learn that with great power does come great responsibility.

Read More

Conversations with the ballet student

I never had very much luck with ballet exams. I would get sick, my toes would get infected and my toe nails would fall out. Thankfully, Jordan seems to have better luck. She took her Grade 2 exams today. Unlike the previous time she took it, she understood the gravity of the situation and the stress that went along with it.

She's been nervous for the last week and it showed with short tempers, being rougher with her brothers and tantrums and fits about stuff unrelated. But at the same time, she was very amenable to all the extra sessions that the ballet school lined up for them to fine tune the little things.

After she was done and the look of relief had fully flooded her face, I thought to ask her, over lunch, what she thought about the whole experience. After all, she is almost eight year old and extremely astute so she would have lots to say.

What did you dislike most about the whole experience of preparing for the ballet exam?

The hairspray. (The hairspray is something part of any ballet dancer/ school's arsenal. It's industrial strength and the very reason why ballet dancers can be drenched in sweat and on stage for hours nary a hair out of place).

Was there anything that upset you while practising for the exams? 

The teachers yelling at me. It made me want to cry sometimes. Sometimes, it made me want to give up.

Do you think the teachers helped you by yelling at you? 

I guess so. I can remember all my steps and I can do them very well now. But I don't like yelling teachers.

What do you think if the teachers didn't yell so much? 

- with a big grin- I won't be so deaf. 

- becoming serious- I wouldn't be so good. 

What were your favourite steps in the exam? Why?

I liked the dances, especially the character dance with the skirt and flowers. You can look cheeky and proud at the audience when you do it. 

What was the one reminder that everyone kept saying to you that helped you through the exam?  

To smile and to let the music flow to the tips of my fingers and my toes.

What did you do just before you started the exam? 

I looked at my toes then I took a deep breath and tried to smile. It was quite hard because my heart was beating very fast.

What was the most important thing you learnt from taking this exam?

It is very important to have courage.

And what was my take away from this?

1. Kids understand stress, even at this age. They fear performing, making mistakes and failing. They really don't need us to add on any sort of stress onto them. They pretty much do that all by themselves.

2. There is a fine line between keeping the child eating healthy and keeping the child happy. With the many hours at ballet and the amount of time she spent away from home while her brothers vegged out in front of the television, it was about plying her with nice cookies and allowing her to eat the Easter eggs she got to keep her her spirits and mood.

3. While my eyes were fixed and they work pretty well on a day to day basis, the technique wasn't aimed at allowing someone to sew silver buckles that reflect light and black press studs with black thread onto a black waist band at night in yellow lighting.

4. My daughter's a pretty tough cookie.

So while we hope that she does well, just going through it was all worth it.

Read More

Service and Sharing

When I volunteered to get Jordan into school, I brought JED on occasion. When that extended to an island wide search for crickets and they asked why volunteering meant I had to do so much, I explained the difference between just finishing my job of volunteering at school and serving the school. I explained that service meant helping others without really expecting anything in return and that while I had volunteered to help the school to get Jordan in, I didn't expect that my going out to buy crickets every two days was going to give me an extra or better chance of getting her in.

I didn't think they heard or understood me but towards the end of last year, Jordan came and asked me if she could serve at her kindy. Her reason was that if Mommy could serve, so could she. When I asked what she wanted to do, she said she wanted to read to the children or help them at art or something. When I asked her if she expected to get paid, she said no. She emphasised that she wanted to go back and just serve.

The trick was trying to find something she could do and not make more work for the teachers. There was also the problem of trying to figure out when she could go what with her own school and crazy schedule.

It's taken us all these months to find a slot and something for her to do. Eventually, we did; something totally up her alley.

On the last day of the term, she returned to her kindy to share with the K2 children how she wrote stories. They were about to embark on a book project in the next term and she had done one when she was their age. She brought in her manuscript as well as the eventual book that got published and like a visiting dignitary, went to each of the classes.

The teachers like me didn't know what to expect so we had to wing it. She went in with her bestie from the same kindy, Chloe. We introduced them and got her to read her story to them and ask questions. She was noticeably nervous and she couldn't make her voice louder. By the end of the first reading, she was audible from the back but still tentative. To make things better, we got her a mike that she could strap around her and that changed everything for her. The performer in her stepped forward.

Even though she claimed that she was still nervous, she read her story with a song sing lilt and answered the questions clearly. All this was done in utter seriousness.

By the second class, she had her schtick down pat.

First she would introduce herself as would Chloe. She would tell them what she was going to do and then she would do it. She would read her published version while Chloe flashed the identical pages from the manuscript. After that, she would take questions. The teachers and I felt like we were staffing her, telling her where to go and picking out the questions she would address.

This is a sampling of the questions she took.

1. How do you write stories?

A: I have to think very carefully. I use the pictures I have drawn to make stories. Sometimes I add in actions to make the story more interesting. 

2. What is the most important thing on the cover of the book? 

A: The title.

3. How long do you take to write a story?

A: This book that I read took me one week to write. But sometimes I write them in one hour. Or sometimes, ten minutes. (See more about this exchange below)

4. What steps did you go through before the book was finished?

i..  I draw the pictures then I coloured them with crayons and drew the outline with marker.

ii. Then I told Auntie C (her teacher) the story and she typed it out.

iii. I cut out the text and stuck them to the pictures.

iv. Then they got printed and they stapled the book in the middle twice. (She was very obsessed with the stapler and the book being stapled. She went on to explain how to use a stapler.)

5. Why did you write about butterflies? (Her story was The Butterfly Trip)

A: Because I could draw butterflies very well.

Listening to her, we came to the unanimous conclusion that she looked and played the part of the writer pretty convincingly. Quirky clothes and accessories.

On top of that, she seemed to have a knack of facilitating the questions, getting the children to answer questions just like they asked her. No surprise for a child born of two teachers, she had all the teacher mannerisms down; stopping mid sentence when the children spoke over her and giving them a look, shushing them, ending questions with a finger flourish to indicate that it was for children to respond.

Funny things she asked or said to the children.

1. The question was which Starlight (K2) class was she from. Her answer was "I was from..... (insert drumroll) Starlight 4..... + 4! And WHAT'S that?" (pointing at the children)

2. Each time she read the book, she added a little bit extra into it, ad-libbing as she went along.

3. When explaining the back page which was the 'About the Author' page, she pointed to her signature and delivered a public service announcement.

" This is my signature. It's curly and it's special because I am the only one who can sign it. If you copy my signature when you are an adult, you can go to jail! That is called forging!"

4. When asked how long she took to write the book, she tossed the question back to the children with

"You guess how long?"

"1 second!" was the response.

"How can that be possible? 1 second is like you counting 'one!'"  she countered.


5. She pointed to the photograph of her at the back of her book. "This is me. 2 years ago! Like you, now!"

She was on a high after that. She smiled and waved and promised to come back.


When I asked her what was her favourite moment, she said she didn't know because she just loved being back at kindy and hoping that what she said would help them write better stories.

Some days, it's easy to forget that she's not yet 8.

Read More