Saying "no" to my children

One of the most painful thing I do as a father is to say "no" (and all its variants, including "not yet") to my children. It is painful because no matter how I sugarcoat the "no" and explain why I cannot accede, they go away with a disappointed look - and it is painful to sadden your children. It is also painful because of the irony - I say "no" because I believe, out of love, "no" is in their best interest; but it is often interpreted by them as the very opposite, that is, I do not care what is in their best interest and therefore I say "no" to them. It is heart-wrenching to see that what is intended as an act of love be interpreted on the other end as an uncaring decision, no matter how hard I try to understand their position and to explain mine. This is especially so when it touches on spiritual matters. As a Christian father, many of my decisions are made on the grounds of what is morally right from a Christian perspective. But the children, when they have not personally owned the faith, may not yet share these same moral standards. For example, when my children were younger, some of them could not understand why I am insistent on not allowing them to skip family worship even when they were very tired and felt like sleeping instead. In times like these, you can see from the body language that they become reluctant participants. It is painful because you feel that what we believe is best for them is taken as unimportant and burdensome. In such occasions, we lean on God and trust that He will honor our "no" and will give us the courage to continue persevering - that the children will one day understand the true love and good behind our "no"s. But there is yet another kind of pain involved. It is this: very often, especially in the BIG decisions that is not so clearly on moral grounds, I am not very sure if "no" was really a better decision because we cannot ascertain how future events would unfold; but because we need to make a decision (and the buck stops at me), we had to choose one option. We do so painfully aware that a wrong decision can adversely affect them in significant ways further down the road in their lives. We can think of many such examples: "dad, should I enrol in the poly instead of JC?" "Dad I don't like to go to school, can I be homeschooled instead?" "Dad I prefer to study in school with friends. I want to come home later." "Dad, can I have a personal laptop? More and and more schoolwork are now online and I will be disadvantaged because most of my friends have their own computers. And I have to share with 3 siblings ..." "How about smartfones? My friends can't contact me through watsapp if dont have one and I will be socially cut off from them." These are hard questions for me and for my children. Taking a decision one way can result in significant career/social/lifestyle options open/close to them later on. It is also humbling because - up till now - we do not know if the decisions we made for each child is really working better for them. We just have to confess our inadequacy to our children and ask them to join us in trusting God for each turn in life. Despite the pains and uncertainties surrounding decision-making as a father, I am thankful for encouragement along the way. And it is most heart-warming when you hear it from your children. Recently, my eldest son shared this to me: a friend of his was complaining to him that he finds himself always running short of money despite getting significantly more pocket money than my son. He was curious to find out how my son coped with what he considered an unbelievably inadequate amount of pocket money. In the course of their mutual chats about money, his friend discovered that since very early days, I had said "no" to my son when he asked to have an ATM card as a way to help him manage his expenses. At that point of the 'story', my son paused and looked at me with a smile, "you know what dad, he says that there is wisdom in that decision". I thank God for these encouragements along the way. It does give me strength to continue these oft-unappreciated role of father-as-tough-decision-maker.

Father as leader of the family

In my casual chats with my children, I sometimes pop this question to them, "your friends in school - how do they they view their father?" On the whole, the portrait is one where the father is one they go to for money, and one enters into their lives when there are important events - like outings, holidays, birthdays etc. at its worst, some of them do not even wish to talk about their father. It is quite sad. It sounds like they do not think that their fathers have a significant part to play in their everyday lives. I had thought that this passive, hands-off approach to fathering belonged only to a bygone era. Perhaps the strain of juggling with work and family, not to mention the great challenge of communicating with teenage children, is a cause of the father-children relationship chill. This reminds me of how important it is to stay engaged with my children. It also means that active fathering cannot remain as a wish - it has to be a priority, one that has to be accompanied with a deliberate plan and concrete action. But this also prompts a more personal question,"how would I want my children to view me as a father?" I have never asked this question to my children (and, since my older children read this blog, they can perhaps answer this question as comments) nor to myself before. I took a while to reflect on this question. Many words such as decision-maker, carer, visionary for the family, protector, shepherd, stabilizer etc came to mind. But I suppose "leader" sums it all up. I would like my children (and my wife) to see me as one who provides leadership for the family - along spiritual, material, intellectual, and emotional planes. But as soon as you accept this role, you know why it is so tough - leaders have to solve problems, think a few steps ahead, set the example, chart the direction, do unpopular things sometimes, provide a stable environment, do all the above without getting appreciation, and get the blame for any mishaps. I must confess there are times I feel like shirking from it and just let the family glide along without direction and correction. But I know the cost is too great for them and for me. Above all, I believe it is God's calling for me to be a father-leader and He will give me strength despite my inadequacies.

On smartfones - again

For friends who have been following this blog, I can understand if your first impression is: talking about smartfones AGAIN? I can also understand if you read no further ... It is "again" because my family felt the need to revisit this topic a few days ago. It just occurred to me that, for many years, I had been insisting on putting the desktop computer out in the open in the living room for two reasons: (1) everyone else can see what we are doing - the sites that we are visiting - and that enhances accountability; and (2) others can help us keep track of the time we spend, especially on unproductive things, and so help to remind us not to over-indulge in computer time. But I just realized that the children's use of smartfones (and the easy wifi access anywhere in the house, not to mention 3G service everywhere else) directly sabotages the principles mentioned above. So while the home computer still sits in the living room as a semblance of accountability, smartfones are used everywhere all over the house and at all times without accountability. I was glad that we (parents and the two older children) could sit down and have a nice calm meeting to talk through our concerns and counter-concerns regarding smartfone-use in the home. In the end, we arrived at these 'rules': 1. Use of phones only in 'public' spaces in the home such as in the living room and kitchen, not in toilets and bedrooms; 2. Bedroom doors should remain open (of course, except when we need to change) so we can help each other in the monitoring; 3. No use of phones after 10pm; 4. When not in use, phones should be placed at a common space 5. When found to contravene these rules above, we should be prepared to give up the use of the fone without putting up a resistance. These rules apply to all, including me. So friends, if you send me a message after 10, you now know why you may only get a reply the next morning. I can understand a reader may find this too restrictive and even counter productive in the long term - one may argue for a case that this is replacing the self-discipline that children should inculcate for themselves in the long run. For me, I have seen that gadget-addiction knows no boundaries - it afflicts both children as well as adults (including me). I think it helps to maintain a discipline right from the start. What do you think?

Parents giving tuition to children

It just occurred to me that I have been giving maths tuition to my children for some 12 years now (since my eldest was Primary 1 and he is now awaiting his A Level results). When I began this regular twice-a-week tuition journey with my children, I didn't give it much thought. I was then motivated by these instincts: since I am a maths teacher, it seems natural that I teach my children maths; that I can save money by not engaging tutors is an added bonus! Recently, a colleague who is also a maths teacher remarked that he "can't teach his children and would rather engage a tutor". This prompted me to reflect on my practice of tutoring my children. In hindsight, there were indeed many moments of tension. The big difference between teaching my children and other people's children is this: i have a tendency to lose my professionalism. For example, when I am faced with a struggling student in class (or during one-one consultation), my professional mode kicks in - keep calm and patient, diagnose his difficulties, work out an internal remediation plan, and execute it with encouragement. But when it is with my children, two big problems crop out: I up my expectations (unconsciously) of their behavior and ability - to a point that I am setting myself up for disappointment; and, to make it worse, the children, because of their over-familiarity with me, tend to exhibit bad attitudes and behavior that they don't normally reveal to their teachers, further fueling the tension. When these problems cannot be overcome, the tuition sessions become charged with negative energy and emotional blockades rather than enjoyment and positive learning. I can therefor understand why some parents - even those who are teachers by profession - choose to avoid this potential strain in parent-child relationship. By I have also experienced many positives in this 12-year journey. As a parent, I have certainly grown more patient with my children over time. I have Learnt to accept that, like my students in school, they too find certain ideas (that seemed obvious to me) strange at first introduction and more time/explanation is needed before they sink in. I have also learnt - through tuition interactions - that each of my child has different academic orientations as well as psychological barriers. We can then work through some of these mental hindrances - whether it is a lack of confidence or distorted beliefs about maths - both during and after tuition sessions. As a teaching professional, the experience of teaching my children - and that over different year levels from P1 to JC - has opened up new perspectives of how different children learn (or find it difficult to learn), and allowed me to test out a range of instructional approaches. I believe that has also helped me to be a better teacher. In terms of parent-child relationship, if we can work out a certain routine - such as "no walking out from the tuition table" - I think it can help draw bring down potential inhibitions in out relationship. After all, they are used to asking me questions and hearing my answers during tuition, it would not be strange to approach me for advice on other things of life? These are, of course, purely from my perspective of things, I am quite sure you will get something different from my children. For sure, my wife gives a different assessment, "never seen such a lazy tutor! Doing his own stuff while giving tuition ..." Er ... I may this discussion over is last comment for a separate blog ...

Is parenting a gamble?

A few days ago, I heard this mentioned by a guest speaker of a radio talkshow: in life, there are full of gambles, for example, having children is gambling ... It took me a while to take it in. As preposterous as it sounds, as I dug into my recollections of interactions with people, I think many people subscribe to this comparison, though perhaps unconsciously. Many old folks I know who are disappointed with their grown children's treatment of them would somehow mutter a line, "if I knew then, I would have preferred giving birth to a charsiew (pork bun)". But this line of thinking about parenting is not very helpful. In fact, it can bring about much unhappiness ... First, gambling presupposes a motive of (usually monetary) gain. [of course, the reality is often very different ...]. I think any one who goes into parenting with the "what can I gain out of it?" mentality is not doing a service to themselves nor to their children. You may even be priming yourself up for disappointment. Parenting is the best place to practice and experience this truism, "it is more blessed to give than to receive." This does not mean, of course, that parenting cannot be rewarding. I am thankful that God has encouraged me over the years with many non-material 'gains' - a hug here, a smiling face there, and their warm company throughout the days. But, it is quite another thing to strive for gains in its own right. Second, gambling is a totally helpless 'game'- once you put the bet, it is left to 'chance'. I certainly don't like this picture of helplessness and inability-to-intervene applied to parenting. It renders the work of parenting passive and deterministic. I suspect some parents indeed unconsciously subscribe to this portrayal - children just 'become' good or bad regardless of what we do. But parenting is anything but that. It should involve a constant involvement in the lives of our children - not only in the 'big turns' of their lives but on a regular daily basis. I want to be right-there-in-the-mix throughout their sadness and joys, success and failings. If we are not 'in' in their everyday lives, it is unlikely they will let us 'in' in times of crises. Yes, it is true that we cannot guarantee any thing about our children no matter how hard we try. [as a Christian, we depend on God's grace for everything]. But it is quite another thing to adopt a resigned attitude towards how our children turn out. Third, in gambling, the final outcome is all that matters: win-exuberance, lose-dashed. It is very sad if one thinks of parenting in this way - one that is purely outcome-oriented. In my short 18 years of parenting, I have learnt that it should not be outcomes that we should look forward to; much of the pleasures (and, of course, pains and hence learning) is derived in the PROCESS of parenting. I believe I am now a different person as a father because I learn along my children's growth - about them, about myself, and about how we relate to one another. I urge parents to think of parenting as a long journey which in itself (not just the destination) is worth experiencing because we grow with the children through it. No matter how difficult a task it is, parenting should not be associated with all the negativeness of gambling. When I started parenting many years ago, all I knew was that this is God's calling for me and I am going to trust Him for that. There is a lot of positiveness and hope in this thought. I haven't changed my mind.

Virtual communication as good as "real"?

I find this scene an increasingly common sight: a couple around a dinner table in a restaurant seated opposite each other; they hardly talk to one another, rather, their eyes are glued onto their respective phones/tablets. They are physically near to one another, but their minds are linked to others faraway at the other end of the cyber highways emanating from their electronic devices. I suppose this is a picture of modern 'communication' - conversing primarily through the gadgets on our palms rather than through the traditional 4-eyes meeting. "But what's wrong with that?" Some may respond. "This shows we are tapping on technology to communicate in ways and in speeds of interaction not previously possible." Yes, I have personally experienced the wonder of such possibilities: such as skyping with someone faraway - the closest thing to being next to the person. But, my discomfort is not in the prudent use of these communication devices, but the over-reliance on them to the point that one spends a disproportionate amount of time on it - there's no end to Skype, Facebook, SMS, watsapp, email etc - and little time on face-to-face interactions. Worse, I fear that some (including adults) are so honed to these virtual interactions that they have lost the art of "real" interactions. I know I am sounding really old-fashioned when I say this: but I think "real" communication face-to-face is of a very different nature from the virtual one. Just a few weeks ago, a friend shared to me about a hard lesson he learnt: he was maintaining friendship with someone exclusively through exchanging emails with the person. Months later, the correspondence ended in a very big misunderstanding that no further attempts at clarification could salvage the friendship. The person understood his emails in a very different way from what he had intended. There is a place for written correspondence - to deny it is to conclude foolishly that letter-writing in the past did not serve its purpose. But I suppose today, with the speed in which we type messages and obtain responses, we are sometimes lulled into a false sense that these online exchanges are identical to (and perhaps, can replace) face-to-face communications. The beauty of these traditional ways of interaction is that all of the multiple senses that God has given us can be brought into use in the communication process bi-directionally: we look at the body language, we listen to what and how things are said, we feel a nudge on our shoulder or a pat on our back [not to mention the catalytic effect of sipping coffee while enjoying all of the above]. I share these because I am concerned that our children will slip into this predominant virtual mode of communication and slowly lose the ability (through lack of practice) to enjoy interaction in actual social settings. I am beginning to see traces of such awkwardness when some youngsters gather. The ubiquity of smartphones and tablets do not help this cause. I suppose one of the best 'practice ground' for social interaction is the home. In the home, they start with familiar folks and they get to interact with people across a range of age groups - a microcosm of the wider social community. The key, I guess, is to create plenty of opportunities to communicate with one another in the family - and enjoying the process while we are at it. And one more thing: I ban the use of phones around the meal table. Too extreme?

Coping with stress

There has been a lot of talk lately about stress our children are experiencing because of the major exams. Most agree that some stress is helpful - to prevent complacency and mediocrity; and too much can detract from the holistic goals of education - no time and passion for anything else except drilling for exam performance. It is nice to know that this issue is now raised to a level where serious discussions are conducted, with the hope of structural changes to alleviate the over-stress problem. But, policy tweaks can only do so much. There are other sources of stress (which I suspect are more fundamental), not least of which is internal stress generated by being kiasu (fear of failure). If we accept that stress is something our children need to cope throughout life in Singapore, it is perhaps more useful to help our children learn to deal with stress than await some magic solutions to happen from the authorities. In this regard, looking at how my two older children are so stressed out over the recent exams, I am clearly not doing so well. This explains the following thoughts ... Internal stress usually starts when we compare with others around us. The problem, though, is not with comparison per se; rather, it is with the wrong response to the comparison, such as being seized by fear of losing out if we do not catch up, or being driven solely with the obsession of wanting to beat our competitors to stay on top. I like to think that the right response to comparison is: "I see they are better, how can I learn from them?" Or "our strengths are in different areas; how can we work as a team to complement each other?" Another way to deal with the 'comparison issue' is to change the object of comparison. Instead of comparing with others, we should compare with ourselves, ie, instead of looking at how I fare in relation to others, focus on how I fare against my potential, given the constraints. If we are honestly able to say that, given the time, talent, and resources, it is the best we can do, then I don't see why we need to over stress ourselves with feelings of guilt that we can't perform as well as others. Well, the most important way to deal with stress is ultimately to learn to commit our ways to God. It is to confess that, no matter how hard we try by ourselves, we cannot meet the standards - not even the ones we set for ourselves. We need to depend on God to take us through all of life's challenges. It is to entrust ourselves in His care, knowing that He knows what is best for us even when we think it is not the best for ourselves. This is one lesson that is easy to articulate but hard to live out. I pray that my children and I will not only know this propositionally, but also experientially.