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.

Why study so hard?

As you know, it is exam season - O and A level - in my family now. A few days ago, one of them asked me this question, "dad, what actually is a good motivation for studying so hard?" I was stunned for a while. In that few seconds before I provided an answer, a number of thoughts ran through my mind (and still running ...). I couldnt make myself say, "to do well in exams so as to get a well-paying job next time." Although it is true that the correlation between good results and well-paying jobs is high, I am hesitant to give the impression that the greatest motivation for her to study is to land her with a well-paying job in future. It has too strong a pragmatic bend to it. And, if the ultimate purpose for a 'good job' is to earn lots of money, then there is a further materialistic ring to it as well. I am aware that other parents would have no qualms providing well-paying jobs as a motivation for their children to study hard, and I can understand why. But, as a Christian parent, I believe there should be more to it. It has to do with the goal of study - knowledge. [there is of course a difference between "study hard" and "study hard for exams". The latter is very narrow in scope; the former has to do with a disposition towards the acquisition of knowledge]. I would like my children to see knowledge as derived ultimately from God - it is worth acquiring in its own right insofar as it helps us to know God and His creation order better, not just because of the extrinsic rewards as a result of the knowledge acquired. In this sense, studying hard to acquire knowledge is one way to realize our potential as His creatures - to know Him and to understand the world that He has called us to subdue. Well, for obvious reasons, I didn't provide such a long answer to my daughter. I just said to her, "well, this is your current station of life - as a student - that God has called you into right now. For that, you need to be faithful to your calling - by studying hard."

Teaching cantonese

I have always wanted to get my children to learn their 'father tongue': Cantonese. Haven't been successful - in fact, a total failure. Well, I can blame many things, such as the school focus being only English and mandarin, my wife is hokkien, the low economic value of cantonese ... . But if I am to be honest, I don't have to look very far. The root cause is traceable to me. As always, without the parent modelling it [my default language is english], it is hard to expect the children to pick it up seriously. To be honest, I don't have a foolproof argument for why i think the children should learn cantonese. I just think that it helps to know another language, and the natural choice - among many vying candidates such as Japanese, Spanish ... - is the one that reflects our ethnic roots best. That knowing cantonese helps them communicate better with their grandparents (and even less incentivizing, makes them feel at home in Hong Kong and Chinatowns all over the world) is extra motivation. Well, I received an encouragement a few days ago. My eldest son - who is doing his 'A' level now - said that one of his resolutions while awaiting the call for military service is to learn cantonese! That gave me a boost to try harder. As always, it seems sensible to start with the one that offers the least resistance: the youngest 5-year old. For the last few days, I have been working on him; I taught him some stock cantonese phrases like sek fai ti, guai guai ... He has been lapping them up. I hope this will last ...

Crossing boundaries

The first time I was made to think more consciously about "lines" within society was when Lee Kuan Yew spoke about deep "fault lines" within our seemingly harmonious Singapore society. He was referring to racial lines that are invisible (especially during peace times) but are nonetheless very real (especially during turbulent times stirred up by regional radical elements) and can surface in ways that are catastrophic for societies - much like how fault lines surface in earthquakes. These lines are very much like boundaries between two states. They are not bad in themselves. They demarcate a border between two peoples so that there is mutual respect, and so that the people on the respective sides of the line can have a sense of jurisdictional integrity and identity. The problem is: a line also accentuates the differences between peoples on both sides of it. This consciousness of differences can be so heightened that it can alienate one from the other, become a barrier in communication, and ultimately threaten the unity of the peoples. In case you are thinking that I am writing a political commentary piece, I am not. I am using this as a reflection of all kinds of lines that separate people in society (in communities, and even families). I think of divides like rich/poor, local-/foreign-born, white-/blue-collared, academically/technically-inclined, and the list goes on. Each of these lines has the potential to fragment communities. In each case, the 'inferior' side of the line is sensitive to their lower status and the natural thing to do is to seek solidarity within the comfort zone of mingling solely among themselves; the 'superior' side is also usually insensitive to the feelings of the other side and are quite happy to interact among themselves. With time, invisible (but very real) walls are formed which create suspicion, fear, and disunity within communities. Which is why I think that in every community (including family), we need "boundary crossers" who naturally look beyond the differences and have the communicative sensitivities to bridge peoples across these divides through common causes. These bridge-builders are so important to our society that we need a lot of them around. Which leads to why I am writing this piece in the first place: it arises from a question I ask myself, "in educating my children, do I imbue in them this boundary-crossing mindset? Or worse, do I accentuate these divides by (unconsciously) modeling stay-within-this-side thinking instead?