Chana Dal is a b**** to cook

Chana Dal is a b**** to cook.  Yes, I said it and I stand by it. After all my day has been all but ruined because of chana dal. 

In the fashion of sitcoms of late, I am going to have to rewind a little for you to understand my anguish. (sqeaky rewinding sound) This morning's meal was an unmitigated disaster.  It started off rather unceremoniously as I placed the stainless steel plate (part of every Brahmin girl's dowry, lovingly provided for by her parents) on the up-turned pressure cooker cover (also part of every Indian woman's prized possessions - mine was Prestige, I am traditional that way).  The 'ever-silver' plate fit snugly into the up-turned cooker cover and no amount of shaking would budge it.  I decided to make it a science lesson for my kids and tried several ways of heating the cover, for the metal to expand, and then dumping ice cubes on the plate inside, willing it to contract.  To no avail.  The two clung to each other like a rich girl- poor boy Bollywood love pair daring society to pry them apart.  The spirited science lesson soon soured as better part of the hour was spent in this hot and cold experiment.  Finally, in desperation I banged the cooker cover against the floor in the service area, reasoning that a cracked tile or two in that area of the apartment would be palatable. Voila - a good knock on the head was was what was required as the plate slid from the clasp of the cooker cover. 

While relieved that the cooker cover was now available, I was flustered.  I had been proud earlier in the morning.  You will know of course, as I back up in super speed, a-la sitcoms, (to be read super speed without stopping for breath if possible) that my helper has been away for her vacation and while the first few days I almost tore my hair out trying to manage the housework as well as cooking - and by manage I mean excel really because you know, I want my mother to know that even if I employ someone to do everything around the house and by everything I mean EVERYTHING really, it's not because I cannot do it but because I choose not to do it- so even if it was difficult at first, after the 5th-6th day it turned out to be do-able and I was beginning to commend myself on my household skills as I was beginning to settle into a rhythm.  (and breathe!)

The 'ever-silver' plate busted my rhythm. 

Cooking seemed to start well actually.  Paruppu usili (crumbled lentils) was my menu for the day.  Not for the faint hearted - but given my re-introduction to cooking for about 10 days now, I thought I could handle it.  And in fact the paruppu usili had turned out quite well, crumbly the way it is supposed to be and not clumpy.  I was beginning to gloat a little.  I can cook - really it's a matter of confidence and practice, I said to myself. People make it seem to be something big just to make themselves feel important.  I can cook AND I had a reasonably successful career.  Take that, Maami-dom!  This hubris was to be my downfall.  I soon discovered the paruppu (lentils) for the sambar were not cooked well.  Then I discovered the cluster beans (Kotavarangai) for the usili was not well cooked - this after I added the beans to the usili, ruining the nice crumbly texture somewhat. Then an endless cycle of pressure cooking both items, in  desperate attempt to get them cooked, began. Never mind how they tasted.  The lentils remained firm no matter how many times I pressure cooked them, my crumbly usili was now clumpy although the cluster beans were more palatable. In the midst of this mayhem, my daugther whose long locks needed to be washed today had to have her hair untangled and brushed.  She had to be prepared for school and lunch and a snack was to be be provided for her.  I managed to do this while I did a mad medley of pouring the sambar into different containers trying to get the recalcitrant paruppu separated so that I could try cooking it again.  Don't think about about how much more this is adding to the dishes to be washed up, I said to myself.  Deal with one crisis at a time.  In desperation, I took some of the cooked paruppu, which resolutely clung to its pre-cooked shape, and I stuck it into the blender and turned  the blender on.  On cue, sambar bits splattered on the wall.  I was surprisingly calm. I had subdued the paruppu to my will and once I had dumped them into the waiting pot, I cleaned the mess up.

It is then that it struck me.  I had used chana dal instead of toor dal for the sambar.  

Chana Dal is a b**** to cook. Typically it is recommended that one soaks it before pressure cooking it.  It is hard to digest and hence not recommended in dishes like sambar.  But in smaller doses, in your adais and masala vadais as well as to temper your stir fry vegetables, it is a delight.  I had used the wrong dal and ruined my morning.  

It got me thinking.  Every dal has it's role as does every gal. I had spent most of the past few days proving to myself that I can be as good at housework as is expected of any woman (Oh come on, we have all heard the disparaging "She cannot even boil water" comments made to describe women who are less than adept at cooking).   But perhaps, I am the chana dal of womankind.  I could stand in and cook and tend to the house as well as anyone else.  I just need a little soaking. What I really enjoy doing is writing -  the past 20 minutes that I have been hammering the keyboard writing this mail have done wonders to relieve the tensions of the day. Maybe I should accept the fact that I am incredibly blessed that life has accorded me the wherewithal to hire someone else to delegate these duties to.  I do not denigrate them by doing so and I am no less committed to my family because I do so.  But I have been given this incredible opportunity to look for options to do things I love doing.  So far I have frittered away those opportunities somewhat by not actively pursuing my passions and languished a little in the fear that I am less than whole because I do not cook regularly for my family.  I do show concern in other ways, like tutoring my daughter in English because she does not want external tuition, even if it means I have to go through great effort to teach myself to teach her.  I may not be the toor dal in your daily sambar, but I am the crunchy chana dal in your masala vadai with your filter coffee on a rainy day.  If I can accept that fully myself, then perhaps it will release me to discover other wonderful things in life. 

The Power of Suggestion

I was on my way to the train station, when a lady from a makeshift beauty parlour popped in front of me with a "Miss, would you like to trim your eyebrows?" I have a rather relaxed approach towards grooming issues that plague fellow member of my species and even have the temerity to flaunt less than immaculately waxed legs in skirts - perhaps I was French in my previous birth.  But such is the power of suggestion that I peered a few times into reflective surfaces to check if indeed my eyebrows were so overgrown that it merited being waylaid on the street. Perhaps the black spots I keep seeing in front of my eyes were actually the ends of my unkempt brows, I was tempted to conclude. Then the scrutiny extended to other parts of the face - and before I knew it I felt like a hirsute abomination, fit to be showcased at the next travelling circus (Ok, I am exaggerating, but there seemed to be less face and more hair on my face than before).

It got me thinking about the power of suggestion. Could I boost people's self image similarly by popping up in front of them with random questions. "Could you PLEASE tell me what shampoo you use?" Would it naturally suggest that the person I intercepted has luscious hair and therefore explain my exigent need to know what shampoo bestowed that quality upon the said hair?  Or would it simply establish me as a lunatic? The power of suggestion works only to reinforce the negative it would seem. Why are we so willing to believe the worst about ourselves?  If I ever got a second look from a stranger on the street, my immediate reaction is to check for a "wardrobe malfunction" (thank you Janet so much for giving us that shorthand). Is it just me?

The Magic Number : 6.9m

It is interesting to read about the debate on that magic number, 6.9m, as population of Singapore.  Interesting not in the least because I myself am an import - the result of the early stages of the policy currently being debated - as I was given a scholarship to study here in Singapore (I swear I made no sex videos nor did I disparage Singaporeans by calling them names).  A GLC was made to do national service to pay for my education, so I did not burden the tax payer.  I interned with the organisation that sponsored my studies where my reporting manager for some reason singled me out amongst my cohort while explaining that the ultimate hope was that we would sink our roots here.  "Maybe one day you will marry locally and become a dutiful wife," I recall him saying.  Although to date, I can't confirm if it was beautiful or dutiful - I bristled at both adjectives.  Well, I did marry, became a citizen and have two Singaporean children who proudly hang their flag out, come August. My son discusses the anticipated NS with his friends in school.  My daughter recently declared for a planeload of passengers to hear as we touched down at Changi, "I LOVE Singapore!”

Yet even I am beginning to feel there are too many foreigners in Singapore.  Without offending the PRs whom I count as my friends - while I rejoice that GV now shows Hindi movies, I am also alarmed when I hear so much Hindi in Raffles Link, I have to remind myself I am not back in Pune.  I too was enraged by the Chinese service staff at a Subway who scowled at me - presumably because she could not understand what I was asking for and I was not speaking Mandarin.  While some of my friends who are PRs feel a little miffed (ok, postively enraged) at the almost xenophobic tone this discourse seems to take at times - the point I am trying to make is, if a naturalised citizen like me can feel this way - try and view it from the point of view of a Singaporean.  This view point is what the government needs to be cognizant of too. 

What saddens me the most is the way the government has introduced this whole debate.  It seems to me that it is a major PR debacle and I cannot wrap my head around the fact that the best and brightest of the land could not foresee it.  Firstly, the PM had only 20 months ago apologized to the electorate for getting things wrong on matters pertaining to housing and transportation vis-à-vis the virtual explosion in population.  Clearly, this white paper could have been presented as a blue print to address the issues that arose from that mis-step on the government’s part and to highlight that they have also learnt from their past mistakes and have now incorporated a plan to anticipate future population growth.  This is what every Minister is now trying to repeatedly convince us of – why then lead with the 6.9m number? Had they not lead with the number, Singaporeans could well have recognized the need for a number for planning purposes and would have then put the number in perspective and focused on the real news that there will be a concerted effort to ease transport and housing woes.  There are two conclusions I can draw from this – the government and our mandarins in the Civil Service are so woefully lacking in EQ that they could only think of this White Paper as a means of CYA (cover your a**, in corporate parlance) in case the population does hit the target they used for planning purposes. In that scenario, they could say – I know Singapore is very crowded and trains are congested, but I already told you in 2013 that we are probably growing to 6.9m. So live with it.  The other, which most people would like to believe, is that the government has already decided that 6.9m is the target for 2030 (planning purposes, my a**, they might add sotto voce). Planning for infrastructure development while simultaneously increasing the load on it sounds to Singaporeans very much like business as usual despite the sound bites of "We understand your pain." Both conclusions point to a severe disconnect between the government and the citizens of Singapore which cannot be good for the country.

The next issue that arises is of the perennial bogeyman of economic decline should immigration policies be tightened.  Even mothers stop threatening their kids with the imaginary Pontianak when the child is older.  What I am dismayed about is that I am told time and again that if we curbed immigration then wages would go up, costs would increase and businesses would suffer.  Singapore’s economy would stagnate and even decline and we would all be doomed.  ST tells me of the numerous Chambers of Commerce that have written to protest curbs in importation of foreign labour.  Khaw Boon Wan threatens that should an increase in the foreign labour quota not be increased – then the 200,000 flats promised will not be built.  Who will suffer then, he asks?  Ok, lets analyse this.  Firstly, everybody recognizes that foreign labour is required for certain sectors like construction.  Can one not believe that despite a cap on foreign labour the flats could still be built, if priority was given to allocating work permits to the sectors that require them?  Could we not believe that it should be made more difficult for retailers to hire Chinese salesgirls (even though I have met some lovely ones in my shopping experiences) who are cheaper than Singaporean salesgirls?  Yes, the business will suffer due to the higher costs of hiring the Singaporean – but is it ok for the Singaporean salesgirl to not find a job that pays her a decent wage so that the Singaporean retail business can continue to profit?  What are the other cost factors that are impeding this Singaporean retail business from hiring a higher cost local? High rents? Cost of training staff? Productivity lags? How can we alleviate these expenses to make it possible for the Singaporean company to pay the higher wage and yet continue to flourish?  I feel I have not been given enough information on the alternatives and why they need to be discarded, for me to make an informed decision to support the government.

Here we need to acknowledge the fact the while we have fanciful schemes, I am not sure how far these schemes trickle down to the intended targets.  We cannot expect that just because we have these schemes they will reach the intended target and thereby work.  What is being done to improve productivity amongst SMEs and given the fact that they have largely operated independent of government aid thus far – what is being done to reach out them?  Please give me more information on these matters, so that I am convinced that enough is being done to address alternatives – and despite that, I need to support the 6.9m number.  Otherwise, one can only be reminded of how during the hustings Minister Mah Baw Tan repeatedly assured us that there was sufficient housing to meet Singaporean demand – yet his successor admitted to exactly the opposite and is now on a drive to provide housing to meet pent up demand.  Am I to always believe that the government has got it right, in face of facts telling me otherwise?  Mind you, I am not saying that I do not think this government can’t get it right – but there has to be some effort to win back my unwavering trust.

Let’s talk about MNCs and the impact wage increases will have on them.  Companies have been leaving Singapore steadily, despite our attempts to keep wages down through import of cheaper labour.  Can we effectively stem this tide?  Apart from labour we have become an expensive locale with respect to other costs as well.  Once tax holidays and other incentives expire, it would be foreseeable that these MNCs would move to the source of this cheap labour we keep trying to import.  Should we have not anticipated this trend to re-align our strategy about what industries attract and what type of incentive structures we provide them?  Is it not analogous to the housing scenario of we know what we are doing, there is nothing to be changed. Trying to feed MNCs through a tap of cheap labour is a strategy that is bound to fail at some time in the future – unless we keep subsidizing their operations with tax credits and other incentives.  Why can’t this spend be used to give credits to SMEs to employ more Singaporeans at higher wages? 

The other trend in MNCs and major companies is the importation of foreign talent at higher levels – in increasing numbers than the cheap labour that has been discussed previously.  While acknowledging the irony of me being one such “foreign talent” imported into Singapore and trying not to alienate my PR friends who possibly fall in this category, let me try and make my point.  Some banks in Singapore are known to be literally teeming with PRs from the Indian sub-continent – so much so that hiring managers at one point were given instructions not to hire from that demography to ensure diversity.  I can’t help but wonder if there really is such serious lack of talent in Singapore that these banks cannot function without importing PRs to do Relationship Management jobs.  I have great respect and admiration for the intelligence and drive of the people from the sub-continent, but really before their entry en masse into the Singaporean banking scene – it was on the strength of work done by Singaporeans within and outside the banking industry that made Singapore attractive for banks to locate regional/global offices here.  So what changed – why did the talent that was present in Singapore before suddenly vanish?  Ok, let’s say the advent of a new global era for the banks required talent that was hitherto absent amongst Singaporeans.  Does that mean that Singaporeans are not even trainable in this arena – that for the 20 years that these banks have operated in Singapore they could not have a structured training program to ensure that there is a big enough pool of Singaporeans to fill these positions at potentially lower cost than an expatriate and to reduce reliance on imported, even if top notch, talent.  Perhaps the argument is that global operations need multicultural talent - agreed. But why is there a surfeit of non Singaporeans in country level positions in these banks?  This might be a contentious point, but I can’t help but empathise with some people who lament that hiring often gets done on cliquish lines – because of course, comfort and the lack of cultural differences might make it easier for birds of a feather to flock together.  While I do not wish to paint of picture of a conspiracy of sub-continental takeover – one does wonder if enough is being done to show no suitable Singaporean exists for a job and on lines of what Inderjit Singh mentioned – it should be made mandatory for the companies to start doing so. 

There are difficult issues to be settled in this regard - no one is denying that.  My husband describes how it is difficult to hire Singaporeans to work in the building materials industry - despite the offer of higher wages.  They even approached former convicts under the Yellow Ribbon project - who declined these jobs.  Some objections are as frivolous as "Wah, the place so ulu one. I don't want to travel so far to work." But can this be a reason for us to perennially turn to foreign labour to bridge the gap?  My husband says yes, no choice.  But would a better transport network eliminate this frivolous excuse of insurmountable distance.  Maybe Sugei Kadut IS really difficult to travel to from Tampines - hence maybe the objection is valid.

Have we really examined the underlying reasons for people's lack of interest in certain jobs - apart from the expedient one of Singaporeans are spoilt and lazy and do not have fire in their belly.    

Clearly there will be trade-offs and discomfort if policy decisions were realigned - but the current argument seems to the citizenry to be that - "Look everything else will be too painful for businesses and our economic growth - so ultimately it’s you lot that needs to bear with higher cost of housing and the great MRT rush hour crush."

For the average Singaporean who is being jostled at the Jurong East train platform as he rushes back to the home he can barely afford, to coach his child with the homework which the tuition centre that he sends her to doles out in addition to her school work, it seems to be too high a price to pay.  He will naturally get more ‘spoilt’ as he is not certain he sees the effects of the GDP growth he is expected to make this sacrifice for reach him as directly as it does the PR he possibly reports to.  Who, by a virtue of the fact that he is a higher educated import, earns more and lives in a condominium and he sends his son to an international school on a long term visit visa so that he has the option to send him back to his home country before the NS call comes through.  Or the housewife, who when her child is in full time school wants that sales assistant job, but merely due to the fact that she needs to be paid CPF she is more expensive.  I say this not to paint people, Singaporeans and non-Singaporeans alike, as evil, good, nasty, lazy, stupid etc – but just to say that sometimes one needs to try and understand where the frustration comes from.  In formulating policies, as much as policies need to be intelligent, the government needs to understand the frustration of the populace.  And maybe sometimes the government needs to make hard decisions to set aside its cherished KPIs – to listen.  As Inderjit Singh said in his speech, maybe the government needs to take a breather.  There may be hardships that arise from this breather, but maybe Singaporeans would then feel that they are valued enough in this country to work hard, to innovate – to look for that fire that their fathers and grandfathers had to bring the country to where it is right now.  Today they probably feel merely as tools to meet the KPIs of Singapore Inc.  If we cannot compete with NY or London as a top notch city if we did this, perhaps we need to reconsider Ngiam Tong Dow’s words to even review if we want to compete with the top tier cities in the first place. http://newshub.nus.edu.sg/news/1301/PDF/HYPE-st-12jan-pD17.pdf

I say this also because my experience of Singapore has been a pleasant one.  I have never felt unwelcome here. I would like to believe that when Singaporeans complain about the influx of foreigners they do so because they are tired of not being listened to.  

Raffles or Bust

Sir Stamford Raffles went to some school in Hammersmith till the age of 14 and then joined the East India Company. One biography describes him as mostly self-educated. Yet the educational institutions in Singapore that bear his name are the ones eagerly sought out by parents for their offspring. It is amazing how most of the quotes attributed to parents in recent newspaper articles on the review of the PSLE revolve around the ability (or inability as the case may be) of their children to enter RI or RGS with the present system. I hope the conversations that MOE is having about the PSLE review is not centred on this narrow focus of entry to the top schools.


There are 2 sets of parents who have an issue with the PSLE. One set possibly well-educated, well-heeled – wanting to ensure they provide their children with a ‘head start’ in a world they increasingly view as ultra-competitive. This group of parents sees entry into a top school at the secondary level at the age of 12 as the ticket to success in life. A good friend once said she believed that if her daughter got into RGS her life was set. That’s it. Job completed. I do not disagree with this view; many leaders in business, politics, and education have indeed studied in these esteemed institutions. Yet, to make one institution a symbol of absolute perfection smacks not only of elitism, but also instantaneously demeans all other institutions whether they merit it or not. A lovely person I know once reacted with a look of such unmitigated scorn, when I suggested the name of a school which was affiliated to her daughter’s school as a possible choice of secondary school. “That’s a no good school,” she almost snarled, totally uncharacteristically. She could have chosen to say "my daughter can aim for a school that would challenge her more", rather than call it a 'no good school'. I had not heard much about discipline problems or truancy in this school. So I believe the branding as no good was due to the fact the T-scores of the girls attending the school was not as stellar as RGS T-scores. I felt for the girls who attended that school – did they deserve to be almost condemned so because of the cut-off point for their school? I felt for the teachers of the school – who wake up every morning and believe they can not only teach their students but also facilitate their growth into responsible members of society – only to have their efforts branded as those of a ‘no good school’.

For one sub-set within this group with academically gifted children, the parents would not want to tinker with the PSLE. They would want to ensure that their children are able to make it to these top schools. They would also like to ensure that the standards in these top schools are not diluted by the influx of less capable students just to ensure diversity. This sub-set is probably alarmed by the talk about relaxing criteria for entering the top schools. Incidentally – there will be children who are self -motivated and naturally gifted to earn themselves a place in these schools. My husband’s colleague’s son made it to RI without a day’s tuition in his life, from a neighbourhood school in Woodlands. Y, his mother, has A-level education and had not coached him on a single Math problem or Science question through his 6 years of primary schooling. All of us were thrilled when his PSLE results were out and we felt he richly deserved his place in RI. Principally, I am not against the idea of PSLE being a streaming exercise to identify the top students and for these academically talented kids to dominate the top schools. Let’s get real - in life and especially education there will be ranking and there will be prestigious institutions which would want to have the crème de la crème. It is only when, taking the lacteal analogy further, we throw out the rest of the milk as being useless (which clearly it is not) that it becomes a problem.

Which brings me to the second sub set within this group – the ones whose children are probably not academically gifted enough to make it to the brand name schools. The problem this group seems to have with the PSLE is simply a petulant one – not fair! I want my child to go to RI – but if he is not in the top 3% of PSLE he cannot. They rail against the DSA system. They rail against the PSLE ranking system. Their solution to the problem is whatever it takes for their child to go to these brand name schools. Whether it is suitable for their child or not is immaterial. This sub-set needs to be patently ignored.

There is another set of parents who have an issue with PSLE – but don’t know or are not sure how to articulate it. This set is the bulk of the heartland parents. These parents believe strongly that education is the means by which to ensure social mobility. They exhort their children to study hard – because if you study hard you will be successful. But primary school exams these days are not only about studying hard to get good marks. Primary 1 students are faced with problem sums. They have to have a good enough grasp of the English language to differentiate between a Math sum that says “Susan shared 24 chocolates with 3 friends” and “Susan distributed 24 chocolates to 3 friends” - the former divided by 4 to include Susan since share connotes Susan had some for herself too! Both my children from English speaking families with tertiary educated parents got this sum wrong in their Primary 1 Math exam. Should a Math sum be so couched to emphasis understanding of English? Problem sums which so dominate Math papers often involve linguistic gymnastics to decipher what information is provided in the sum – some explicitly and some requiring children to infer. Now, set against the background of uneven pre-school education this makes the playing field for primary school children extremely uneven. I am not even talking about children who enter primary school with delayed reading abilities – that is a different level altogether. I was shocked when a Head of Department for Math assured us not to worry about the difficulty of some sums – because most of our children are expected only to answer about 80% of the paper. The balance 20% was higher order sums which not all our children would be able to attempt.

But then that is also not true. I was determined that my children would be able to attempt at least 10% of the higher order questions. Not getting adequate support tuition wise – I took it upon myself to learn how to solve these sums - spending hours solving them in algebra and then converting that into the model method espoused by Primary school math to teach my son. I could not blame his teacher for not spending this time to ensure all her students are able to attempt more than 80% of the paper. This was not just for Math. For Science I spent time scanning question papers to a parents’ forum and finding out answers to the questions that neither my son nor his Engineer Dad could answer. His Science teacher taught 150 students, and could not possibly ensure that every kiasu parent’s query was answered. See how the playing field gets skewed further. I skewed it. Other parents from the first set of parents skewed it. Of course there are students who continue to obtain marks that are line with historical average for Math and Science – which allows the boffins in their ivory towers at MOE to proclaim that there has been no perceptible increase in difficulty levels as evidenced by the fact that average marks obtained have remained stable. But what about the heartland parent who is at work, who cannot scan papers or solve Math sums using Algebra – whose child’s teacher aims to ensure he can solve 80% of the paper. Can we honestly look the child in the eye and say study hard and you have the same chance as everyone else to do well?

There are two problems with this scenario – firstly, our incessant claim that the system is meritocratic and the outcomes therefore are just. Clearly – the badge of meritocracy gives the system a false legitimacy which will further accentuate the imbalance in the system. Secondly, the damage it does to the children’s self-confidence. Admittedly, this affects some children more than others. But the fact that even some children feel that they have already been intellectually sifted at 12 to be able to attempt 80% of a paper – leads them to believe that they have been slotted into their place in society and should chart their paths from that point onwards. Every country has its prestigious schools and its neighbourhood schools. But only in Singapore would a person, when asked where he went to school, preface it with an apologetic “Neighbourhood school only, lah.” I went to a neighbourhood school in India and I have never hesitated mentioning my school’s name to anyone, it was just a name – it did not define me.

Issues such as these are the ones that need to be attended in the PSLE review. It has more to do with the fact that the testing has become some sort of a competition between those sitting in the ivory towers at the Ministry and the blessed top 10-20% - to see who can get the better of the other. The exams have totally lost their objective in testing the efficacy of learning and become IQ tests in much greater proportion than a “School Leaving Exam” ought to be. Clearly, the number of Maths and Science tuition centres purporting to teach your child magic methods to answer the exam papers should get alarm bells ringing. One does not need to be taught tricks to answer questions if they followed the logic of a teacher teaching a method of solving a sum and the student diligently applying it to get the answer. When I was growing up in India there were many ‘coaching schools’ which promised a bag of tricks for students – but not for primary school. These were catered more towards entrance exams for hallowed institutions of higher learning like the Indian Institute of Technology. The difference was that these students chose to enroll themselves into these challenging exams which have an avowed objective of sifting them intellectually to assess their suitability for attending these extremely competitive institutions of education. They were not 12 year olds who after 6 years of ‘primary’ education are subjected to a test that is supposed to assess how well they have learnt – yet almost evil-ly had the objective that 80% of them would only be able to answer 80% of the paper, no matter how much they slog.

It is not the need for diversity in top schools (with possibly the exception of SAP schools which is a separate issue in itself) that needs to be addressed in the PSLE review - but more a need for getting some balance and sanity into the testing process. Straits Times has been frustrating in only citing parents’ who seem still obsessed with getting their children into brand name schools as the ones thrilled about the review. These parents are the last lot we need to worry about. The discussion about PSLE has to be about how no 12 year old in Singapore, if he/she has worked hard, ought to feel that he is only expected to answer 80% of the paper. It should be about how no committed teacher (and I can vouch the lady who said this was a wonderful teacher) should have to say “Sad to say, the sg education system is for the elites, in my opinion. I hope some bright spark from the ministry will try to bring back the joy in learning and teaching. :)”

Technical Advisor

It's all in the presentation.



My son told me about a dance item his class was performing in school as part of (extended) Deepavali celebrations tomorrow.

"Are you dancing?" I asked.

"Are you nuts?" he responded, which is longhand for NO in teenspeak. Or pre-teenspeak.

"So what are you doing then?"

"I am the Technical Advisor - so I am handling the technical angles," he responded.

"Did you do a song mash up or something?". "Nope," was the response.

"So then what do you do?"

"I press the play and the pause button!"


This boy is ready to conquer the corporate world!

"I will be very hot"

PSLE results to be released on 24th Nov. My son is as cool as he has been throughout the year - admits to mild jitters, that's all.



His 8 yr old sister cannot understand how he can be so. "For my PSLE results, I will be very hot," she says. "I will be like a volcano, waiting to erupt. For 3 days before the results I will be boiling. Then, on the day of the results, if it is bad - my head will blast off (sic). If it is good, then - pheeeew - the volcano will cool down."


Same parents, same upbringing - what vastly different perspectives.

Gods Must Be Crazy and the iPhone

I watched Gods Must be Crazy for the second time some time back. I found it hilarious - I guess I had forgotten most of the movie. As I was watching the movie, it dawned upon me that the iPhone was the coke bottle in my relatively sedate life.

I had subscribed to the mobile phone pretty late in life. But I had to acknowledge that it was useful - now I could sms people when I was going to be late. You see I have never been able to rid myself of this Indian concept of time - which is probably better viewed as a dynamic flow of life in the vein of the "Main Samay Hoon...." prologue that preceded every episode of Mahabharat on Sunday mornings. To bring it down to mere hours and minutes would be profane and worrying about keeping time would almost be vulgar. Anyways, the gist is - I was never punctual. So the mobile phone to me was a boon - I could call the people who were invariably waiting for me, apologise profusely, ask them to commence whatever it is they were doing - all as I was locking up my front door. I could then enjoy the next 45 min of my journey to the destination with relatively less guilt than otherwise.


But the smart phone - ah, the smart phone is indeed my coke bottle. I have come to the conclusion that much like the coke bottle the smart phone seduces one into believing that we need it. But do we really?  Perhaps its just the luddite in me - but do we really need to get excited that we can now read our emails on the can? My husband and son huddled together excitedly one evening to wax lyrical about the IOS5 - and they shook their head condescendingly when I failed to get excited over the new noticification centre or when I did not gush like a teenager about the Reminders feature.  I eventually did agree that the enhancements made on the IOS5 could prove to be useful - possibly the reminders feature, the changes with camera function, the photo cropping, I guess the newsstand is kind of cute.  The point though is that now that I am aware of these things, I feel compelled to use it.  Whereas my life was perfectly alright before this without these features. 


Take the camera function.  Yes, it is so lovely to have a camera handy at any time. Now you can capture all the fantastic moments of your life.  So you feel compelled to snap ridiculous moments like baby's first snot pool or my kid in school, playground, living room, kitchen, bathroom, eating, sleeping, nodding, kicking, running, shouting, crying .... I think you catch the drift.  And then the pictures of one's lunch, dinner, breakfast. The utter surfeit of photos have totally made good, interesting photos rare.  One wonders if every moment of life is captured, would there be any sense of nostalgia in flipping through photographs to run down memory lane.  That bitter sweet feeling of a distant memory has got to do equally with the images that are absent as much as the images that have been captured for eternity. 


Developments in technology have been fabulous - but for any invention or discovery it is its impact on our lives that would define the significance of the development. Take the invention of the wheel - that had far reaching ramifactions on agriculture, industry, warfare and many more areas (as well as being a contributory factor to the prevailing obesity in our society).  Whereas the smart phone gave us Angry Birds. The compressing of both time and space brought about by such smart devices should technically leave us with more time to do things that matter, the so-called "meaningful things".  But what do we fill all that time up with? Nonsense mostly.  Be it the information overload on television through absolutely unnecessary 24-hr news channels that make a mockery of breaking news through their miniscule minute-by-minute updates or the inane reality shows - there is one, I believe, which takes viewers through 30 rivetting minutes of peoples' disgusting obsessions like eating paper.  We talk less, read less, think less - yet feel more overwhelmed by things around us and the pace at which its happening.

So I have decided that just like Xi, I am going to fling my iPhone off the edge of the world - just as soon I as I have figured out where it is with my  'Google Maps for iphone'.

Sent from my iphone.

My Son

This year so much of my thoughts about my son have been framed by numbers- what is his potential T-score, what are marks he can realistically aim for? What schools can he realistically attempt to apply to? Where is he going to stand vis-à-vis his peers in this mother of all placement tests? How would he deal with it if he could only be admitted a school which is considered to be less than mediocre? How would I deal with it?


In the midst of all this is a 12 year old who is trying to cope with this year and balance the expectations around him with his own sense of some of his limitations. When I sit back and look at him – I notice there is a young individual being created with so many more shades than a T-score can define. I need to remind myself to take some time off my obsession with the PSLE circus, and get to know my son. This morning he showed me an email I had sent him when he was 8, titled “10 Reasons why I love D”. I had forgotten I had sent him that email. He was able to recite a few of those reasons from memory, as we waited for the file to download. He remembered the context of all the incidents I had described in that email. It was so wonderful – that he remembered and that he cherished that memory. Do I want his memory of this year to be his mother’s obsession with DSA, PSLE, T-Score and feverish reminders to read the questions carefully, check your answers, mind the time, try and remember the vocabulary, watch out for spelling else 2 marks would be wasted?

I would want him to know that even in the midst of this mayhem, I watch with amazement my little boy grow up into a wonderful human being. I marvel at how hard he tries and how much he tries to learn. Although, I am afraid at times when I look ahead and see a long journey and wonder if he has it in him to stay the course – I need to look back and marvel at how far we have travelled.

So, here’s what I see, when I just sit back and look at this lovely 12-yr old.

He has long eye lashes and the most beautiful eyes imaginable. When he smiles, those eyes light up and a wonderful sense of calm suffuses your being.

He has a guffawing laugh at times. Lately, that laugh explodes out of him when I make funny wordplay, or launch into mock agitation or mock lectures or when I come up with quirky full forms for computer related acronyms he is always talking to me about. He is discerning though – he will dismiss my less impressive attempts and will clearly let me know I was being merely juvenile.

He is caring. His mother works. So when he calls, he always asks, “Are you free to talk now?” It blows my mind and warms my heart, that he could be so generous as not to put himself at the centre of my universe. When ‘Aunty’ has had to wait for him, if he had been unable to get a message across to her that was going to be late, he always apologises to her. He feels sorry she had to wait for him.

He is mature. When there are times I comment on the fact that Aunty spends far too much time on the mobile phone, he chides me gently – “She has a family and she is away from them, you know”

He tries hard at things to make me happy. Maths papers, English compositions, Science questions are not really his favourite ways to spend his time. But he does so, to study – because I ask him to do so.

He WILL NOT do things that don’t make sense to him. No matter who tries to persuade him. He is the child who asked me, “How is it important to me in life to be able to ride a bicycle?”

He reads obsessively. Really. Notices on any noticeboard, any flyer or circular, any piece of newspaper howsoever obtained. The printed word fascinates him.

He reads Digital Life, a supplement to the Straits Times religiously. He has been doing so ever since they introduced the supplement. A friend once had a problem with the Windows 7 operating system. He solved his friend’s problem – much like a tech support personnel over the phone, while sitting at the dining table. When I marveled at his ability to do so, he answered matter of factly, “Actually Digital Life had a list of 100 common problems with Windows 7, when it was introduced. I remembered this problem from the list.” “You remember all 100 common problems,” I asked him excitedly. “Are you mad?” he exclaimed. “Of course not!” Made me wonder, which one of us was the adult.

He is infuriating. Every so often, he tries to push the envelope. That extra hour on the computer without permission, grumpy attitude, rude answers, doors slammed shut. He wants to remind us, beatific smile notwithstanding, he is at the cusp of adolescence. If I say things one time too many, he says he finds it annoying. Yet, very often things are such that I have to repeat them more than once to get him to do them. He is polite enough, though, to hesitate a little, before declaring that he finds my ways annoy him at times. Again I am astounded by the maturity this not yet 12-year old exhibits, to understand the difference between finding a person’s behavior annoying and the person himself annoying. I have resolved to change - and allow him to make his own mistakes. I hope he is understanding with me as I attempt to change.

He loves music. He refers songs to us and exhorts us to download clean/radio edits of songs with unsuitable lyrics. When he a heard a song on his friend’s MP3 player, he exclaimed “Oooh! I love that song!” with such fervor, it shocked me for a moment that he should so love something that I had not introduced to him. He is beginning to be a brand new person, all of his own making.

He loves a good argument. He has to have the last word in, but acknowledges quickly when he has been beaten.

His world lights up when talks about anything technology related. He says that sometimes he dreams that he was developed a super operating system and that he is launching it to an audience – a la Steve Jobs. He is going to found a company, he says. It will manufacture hardware as well develop software. Sometimes, I am tempted to say – that is too wide and vague a vision, D. But I hold myself back – at least he has one.

And that is what will drive him. Yes, he may take a more scenic route to that destination. And I am so glad he chooses to let me ride along with him.

How to work around difficult words

So this was a conversation I had with my daughter as we passed by a cute neon sign for a foot refloxology centre.

D: "So Amma, Appa likes to go for footsology, right?"

Me: "Foot - re- flex-o-logy"

D: ya, right - footrexology?

Me: Re-flexology

D: Tch ... ya - relaxogy, right?"

Me - reflex - o - logy

D: Appa likes to have his feet massaged, right?

:-)

.

Salwar Kameez

It was worse than yesterday.

Today she wore her black corduroy pants, which billowed slightly at the thighs, with an over-sized pink T-shirt, that was plain but had a dark blue stripe, about an inch and half wide, running down from the left shoulder. She remembered having begged Amma to talk to Appa about buying those pants.

“They are all going to trek up the hill, behind our college,” she said referring to her new found friends at a junior college in India, where she studied for six glorious months. “Amma, I can’t wear my salwar kameez. Everybody will be in jeans!”
That was before she was awarded the scholarship for Junior College studies in Singapore. Yesterday, she had worn her salwar kameez; a long sleeved, shapeless tunic, that stopped above her knees and cotton pants that were slightly baggy at the hips and thighs and narrowed at the ankles. She had left the scarf at the hostel, even though she knew her mother would not approve of her wearing the salwaar kameez without the scarf draped across her shoulders.

She walked into the main hall at the Junior College in Singapore, where she had started JC1, four days into the school year. She had only set about getting a passport when she got the letter, in early December, informing her about the scholarship. Orientation was in full swing. It seemed to her she had walked into mayhem – there were girls in dark blue pinafores, light blue pinafores, boys in all white, white and dark blue pants, some with military-like buttons on their school uniform.

She should have easily disappeared into this disorder; shrugging dramatically to explain her attire as “On scholarship from India. Nobody told me to pack my secondary school uniform!” But cultivated arrogance was something she could not master, even many years later when she became the Country Head for a leading FMCG in Singapore. She felt as if the orange and green salwar kameez made her stand out, like how they made Sonia Gandhi or Manmohan Singh or other prominent leaders stand out in the huge billboards they put up before the elections, while the rest of the party workers formed the background. It felt like she could not go anywhere without being stared at. She did not know how she participated in all the activities that required her participation, but she did not flinch from any one of them. The school was awash with girlish giggles and boyish guffaws; everybody, it seemed to her, was laughing at her.

She wore the ill-fitting corduroy pants, T-shirts and the white sneakers today, in an attempt to blend in. So innocent was she, that she was not even aware of the fashion faux pas the fabric of her pants represented. She had only worn the pants on that one day when they had trekked up the small hill behind Fergusson College and quite forgotten how she had longed for her salwar kameez that day. Tears welled in her eyes, as she kept tugging at the T-shirt which already was un-fashionably hanging over the billowing pants, around mid-thigh.

She rushed to the computer room at her hostel after dinner. She had not felt like eating the vegetarian fare prepared for her by the bewildered caterer at the hostel. The caterer had thrown a fit when informed he had to innovate to provide vegetarian meals for the three Indian students - “I am not paid enough to create magic!” he had probably screamed in Cantonese. Many years later she was able to distinguish between the sounds of Hokkien, Cantonese, Teochew and Mandarin. That was when she had also learned to appreciate kai lan cooked the Chinese way, with garlic. Today, she just felt she would choke on the uncooked leaves and pushed the plate away when she found it had been cooked with garlic.

She was going to IM her parents, who had arranged to go to a neighbour’s house as they had a computer. But it was arranged they had to keep the interaction to minimum, the internet access was on a dial-up modem and the neighbour was conscious about his telephone bills. The conversation was a variation of their unsynchronized phone conversations, where they both stared to talk at the same time and then stopped simultaneously to allow the other party to speak.

Throughout the session, she reassured them that she was doing fine and was adjusting well, even though it had only been 2 days.

“It’s really great. There is so much happening. I am so excited,” she typed.

“Of course, I miss you guys”, followed in the next box, as her insides suddenly coiled.

“But we have this orientation thing, were there are a lot of activities. Nothing like anything I have experienced in India.”

“I feel great, Amma. Thanks for having the open mind to allow me this experience.”

She stayed back in the computer room, after they had signed off their goodbyes. The screen showed the record of their conversation. She read through the session, tears flowed freely now.

“I lied, Amma”, she typed. “I don’t feel great. I feel like curling up and crying.”

She clicked cancel and put her head down on the keyboard.

Take a Hike

I recently got ticked off for saying someone liked to go for hikes. It was an innocent comment, in admiration of an active couple, who in their 60s are still into hiking and trekking, activities which they have enjoyed since their youth.

But my usage of the word 'hiking' elicited a snort-smirk combo of such gargantuan proportions, that the original intent of the comment was totally hijacked.

Apparently hike is a pretentious way of saying "walking through the woods".

The dictionary defines hike as "a long walk in the country". So presumably it is an acceptable word to define that activity. Much as swim is an acceptable word to describe an activity which is to "move the body through water by using arms, legs etc." and walk is an acceptable word to describe the activity which is to "move by putting forward each foot in turn".

But apparently somewhere through evolution hike has earned some sort of snob appeal. Of course, where there is snob appeal, there must be the anti-snobbery brigade - ridding the world of the scourge of vainglory by eliminating the use of reprehensible words such as hike and trek. A fatwa has to be issued against both people who enjoy this immodest activity and those who defile the sanctity of unaffected conversation by uttering words such as hike and trek. (As with any religious edict, intent, context or an understanding of the character of the offender are no mitigation.)


We live in a world where the hip quotient is revered as much as anything else in defining our choice of clothes, vocation, holiday destination, leisure activities - pretty much in every sphere of our life. And fads and fashions, as with physics, follow the newtonian law that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. So you also have the proliferation of the anti-hip.

The proponents of both views are in essence similar - they think they are uber-cool for either embracing a trend or totally holding themselves above such trends. In expressing his disgust at the usage of the word hike, presumably due to the implied hip quotient of the activity and thereby the perceived pretentiousness of people who engage in these activities - my friend proved himself to be as totally consumed by the very affectation that he sought to decry as indeed the self-proclaimed hiking aficionados. To me - it seemed like they were 2 sides of the same coin.

So here's the deal. 'To hike' is a perfectly acceptable verb to describe the activity of walking through wilderness. Yes, there may be people who emphasise the accoutrements of the activity and thereby appear pretentious. But there are people who genuinely enjoy the activity. The existence of the former should not necessarily tarnish the character of the latter. Much as deifying trends is annoying over zealous vilifying is equally annoying.

Perhaps, the next time someone snorts at an innocent statement, I will just ask them to take a hike.

The Unimpressed

"Hey, your school has been mentioned in the newspaper," I shouted to my son. I showed him the paragraph where the principal mentioned that XYZ school uses motivational speeches and Homework Clubs to help children deal with exam stress.

My 10-yr old literally dived into the paper to read the article but when he emerged from the papers he wore a patently unimpressed expression.

"Well," he said shrugging his shoulders, " motivational speeches just means random babbling by the Principal on assorted topics. Homework Clubs? They are no fun .... they are menial!"

Thank you very much, young man, for sharing your views.

Credit Card

Bombarded with yet another long list of items that she wished to buy, I decided it was time to teach my 7 yr old daughter some basic lessons on personal finance. I was trying to explain to her that there is only finite supply of money we have access to, which means we need to save and therefore delay gratification. Made for an extremely interesting conversation:

Mom : If you had $5on Monday and you spent the $5 on Monday on menthos, markers, keychains, stickers and everything that you wanted, how many dollars do you have left?

D: Zero dollars.

Mom : What if you need to buy an exercise book on Tuesday? You have no money left.

D: You can give me the money.

Mom : But I can only give you $5 every week - and I have already given that to you. So I have no more money left.

D: Appa can give me. I saw he had many $5 notes in his wallet.

Mom : O! But all Appa's $5 will be gone when he buys petrol on Monday. Then he will have no $5 to give you.

D: (silence)

Mom : You will have no exercise book then. So do you think it was correct to spend $5 on Monday on things that you did not need?

D: But I like menthos and keychains.

Mom: But you will have no exercise book and teacher won't like that. But if you only spent $1 on Monday, how much you have left?

D: Four dollars

Mom: Yes - then you can buy your exercise book on tuesday, right?

D: It's ok Amma - if I have no dollars, the Bank can give me the money!!!!!

The concept of having to have money in bank first before you can withdraw from the bank was bewildering to her.

We headed to the supermarket after this conversation, to buy things for her birthday.

We piled our cart with things for loot bags, pizza, and her birthday gift. As we approached the cashier, she asked me "Amma, how much money do you have?" "$40, I think." She was silent, but her eyes ran over all the things in the cart, and she looked a little worried. As the cashier rang in the purchases, her eyes were peeled on the little rectangle that rose above the register to indicate the total cost. She got shifty once the numbers raced past $40 and let out a soft "Whoa" when the green numbers finally said "$140.40."

I could almost hear the silent prayer she uttered while I rummaged through my wallet in search of my credit card. Her eyes lit up when she saw that magical piece of plastic that could instantly wipe away the deficit of currency notes. There was a spring in her step as she helped me carry the purchases to the car.

On the way back, as is her habit, she recounted everything we did at the supermarket. She rounded up her re-cap with, "And Amma ,the cashier was so kind, because she let you use your credit card." I could already hear soft admiration in her voice as she uttered the words credit card.

I tried explaining to her that I still need to pay for the purchases. I explained that at the end of the month I instructed my Bank to pay the credit card company all the money spent over the month.

Her eyes widened, "See Amma, I told you - if you don't have the money - its ok - Just Ask The Bank to Pay!" (I am sure she added a 'Stupid' - at the end of the sentence in her head.) Exasperated at the circularity of the conversation, I tried again to clarify. "But I have to save money and put some money in the Bank, before I can ask the Bank to pay for my credit card. If I spend all my money, and have no money in the Bank - I will not be able to pay my credit card bill, sweetie!"

"It's simple," she exclaimed triumphantly. "Just put your credit card into the bank. When there is no money .... ta da Credit Card."

End of Lesson One.

In memorium

Dev has become an avid newspaper reader. Recently he came by asking what an effigy meant and then told me that he read the word in an article about the suicides at Foxconn, the Chinese plant of the company manufacturing parts for Apple products.

I thought I would test the conscience meter on this digital-native 10-yr old.

"If you had an i-Phone or an i-Pad and knew, that to produce it people had been put through an almost inhumane working environment - leading them to commit suicide even - how would you feel about using the instrument?"

"Well, I first need to find out if somebody really committed suicide trying to make the parts of my iPhone," he began. "If I do find somebody died making the iPhone for me, then I will use it even more. You know, in memory of that person."

It was said with such sincerity. Not quite with the sneer that would accompany this retort if a hip materialistic wannabe was putting down a pain-in-the-ass tree hugger.

Ah, the innocence of childhood.

Conversations with a 6-yr old - Again

Dev: Seriously, you are lost in the carpark? Why don't you turn the GPS on?

10-yr old Dev is approaching adolscent levels on the 'absolutely annoying' scale. "Seriously" is a word that prefaces every sarcastic utterance - which is to say, anything uttered by Dev.

Div: The GPS will not work in the carpark. Right, Amma?

Mom: Umm Hmm ....

Div: It needs sunlight protection.

Mom: What?

Div: You know the lady will say, when we enter B1, "sunlight protection lost"

Dev: Aaaiyyyoh!! Its SATELLITE RECEPTION. Seriously, Div!!!!

Conversations with a 6-yr old

"You mean Thatha had an accident?" queries Div.

"Yes, in July, remember I told you. He was hit by a scooter." replies Mom.

"Has he died? " Div asks.

"No, sweetheart. You spoke with him last week (December). He fractured a bone in his hip.", Mom replies patiently.

"Oh. Why did the scooter hit him? Was the man on the scooter not looking? Was he looking this side? " bang, bang, bang - last question accompanied by a sideways cock of the lovely 6-year old head.

"Yes, he was not looking carefully," still answering.

"Oh you mean Thatha was here (left palm indicating rough spot) and the scooter was here (right palm about six inches away. NB :drawing not to scale) and the man was looking this side (head turned away from palm representing Thatha)? "

"Umm Hmmm.."

"Oh. Thatha was walking to the car or what?"

"No Thatha does not have a car, he was walking back home."

"Oh. Did he know the way back to his home?" (because it could be a very valid reason why he was involved in a accident, he may have been lost)

"Yes, he did."

"Hey Amma, that is Farveenisha's home!" Thatha dumped. "When can I go to Farveenisha's home to play? "

(Total Minutes elapsed from question 1 to change of topic - 2 minutes)

The Young Ones

I read this in the Straits Times in an article about Philip Jeyaretnam joining the PSC. Talking about interviewing potential scholarship holders, he said ‘When you’re 18, you’re entitled to try out different viewpoints. Part of the fun of being smart and young is actually to argue different sides of the coin.’

It reminded me of my own interview for the SIA Youth Scholarship, nearly 20 years ago, when I was 16. India had just gone through an election where a National Front coalition had won and V.P. Singh became the Prime Minister. Perhaps it was because I had Political Science as one of my subjects in the junior college that I was studying in at that time, the conversation veered towards the election. I said I was very happy that the decades long domination of the Congress Party had been broken and that we needed a fresh perspective. My parents had voted against Congress that year - after many years of being staunch Congress supporters. Clearly, I was channelling some of their views.

But somehow the conversation pursued on this track - I am not sure how, but I ultimately concluded the topic by saying what I would really want for India is a Communist government. I can remember the excitement with which I made the case for a Communist government - at 36 now, I can sadly not remember any of the arguments I made. For maybe I do not believe in any of them now.

Of the panelists - one was a fairly senior Ministry of Education Officer (we later found out). He said with raised eyebrows and a wry smile, "Communist? " "Yes!!" I said fervently.

Later my father questioned me - "what did you talk I about?" "Oh this and that, " I replied. "I said I thought India should become communist." He looked at me incredulously, "Lets pack our bags and leave," he said, "You are not getting this scholarship. Don't you know anything about Singapore? "

I guess the Ministry official subscribed to the essence of Philip Jeyaratnam's statement - I got the scholarship. Can't claim much on the smartness front, but idealistic I was and was able to readily defend my views.

Which is a lot more I can say for myself now. Over the years, most of my views have become resolutely centre of the continuum - regardless of the topic. At times I wonder if it is age (and attendent wisdom which is to see the world not as purely black and white but swathes of grey?) or living in a fairly affluent society where practicality seems to be valued over idealism (even in the enduring democracies like UK and US, the distinction between right and left is increasingly getting blurred).

Or is it simply that the ability to wage a debate is too exhausting intellectually - especially after one has turned simply into a receiver of information, not so much a processor - in this age of information overload. Seriously, between keeping count of Angelina Jolie's children and Tiger Woods' misstresses who has time for ideology.

I know not what it is. The soul searching has to be the topic of another blog. For now, I simply feel a little sad that I am no longer that girl who dreamt of a communist India.

Wonderment

As we walked from NTUC in Hougang, daughter D notices a crack in the paved walkway.

"Amma, the Earth has cracked, " she declares solemnly.

"That's just concrete, sweetheart. It is not exactly the earth.", I try to explain.

"You mean someone built this?" she queries.

My affirmative answer results in a silence of a minute, after which she asks, "Amma, what did they stand on, when they built this?"

I said it too soon

I said I was ready for the vicissitudes of child-rearing. Bring it on - I said arrogantly. And boy has it ever been raked in - vicissitudes wise we are scaling some pretty decent heights. Dealing with major boundary issues - how much computer time are you allowed? When privilege of computer has been taken away for transgressions - how do you punish the child for sneaking behind your back and playing computer anyway while you are away. What to do about the cover ups of the sneaks ups. Are they lies? Or an act of self defence? Will not curbing them develop the child into a pathological liar? Will curbing them to harshly just induce the child to hide more?

The books and Dr Spock, wax eloquent about setting boundaries and communicating them very clearly to the child. They also say to communicate very clearly the consequences of not respecting the boundaries. They have been mum on the topic of communicating the consequences of not respecting the boundaries of the consequences. Huh, Say that again? That's right - I figure I am just a muddle headed mom - who does a bad job of communicating both boundaries and consequences.

And I fret - o how do I fret - about this whole parenting issue. The hubby has a fairly easy solution - swift smacks on the bottom. There's communication for you. But how long does this method last? Does it guarantee that when the bottom smack-able age has passed, a beautiful boundary bound and consequence cognizant adolescent rises from the ashes of this baffled 10 yr old.

And baffled he is - yes he has done things that he should not do - but he does not seem to be able to help himself. He nods vigorously when I practice the preachings of the books on him - perhaps just to get me to shut up - but I do sense a small child somewhere that wants to do what is right ..... but oh! no computer is so cruel a punishment and if she does not know I played computer on the sly, and I complete ALL my god zillion pages of homework -it should not really matter. Should it? If a tree falls in the woods and nobody hears it, was there a sound? Or something like that.

I do love this child - so so much. I do fear where these green shoots of misdemeanour will lead to, unaware how they will develop - either into bigger mischief or to hinder the potential for achieving great things. I am hoping for the normal sitcom solution to such situations where the child miraculously understands the errors of his way and hugs his parent - and then willingly gets grounded of a month. Happily ever after.

A Journey of a different kind

I return to a rather stale topic - working mom or stay at home mom. I got support from a rather unexpected source yesterday. My 9 yr old had been appalled when I quit my position as VP in a bank April 2008. "You will have no name cards!" he exclaimed. "And your Blackberry? You will have no blackberry!"

I had thought he would be thrilled at the idea of mom staying at home, but he was rather disconcerted. I later found out that that he used to very proudly tell everybody that his mother was a "Banker". Well, since the beginning of this year I have thrown myself with gusto into the business of Financial Advisory. I have been worrying whether in my desire to succeed in my chosen vocation I have been neglecting the children.

"So what do you think of Amma working as a Financial Consultant?" I ask.

"I think its good. You help others plan their finances, which is a good thing." say De thoughtfully.

"As good as being a banker?" ... "Yes, as good." comes the response.

"But do you think I should spend more time with you? "

"No, I think you are trying to spend some time with me - that's enough. Besides, I like asking you about your work."

"But don't you sometimes wish Amma would be at home and cook you your meals?". "Naat really....." says he, "Aunty can do it quite well! I think you would be better off going out to work. Anyway, just strike a balance between working and spending time with me. There is no need to give up working."

Children do have the knack of making things simple - if Aunty can do the cooking quite well, why on earth would you want to do it? My new namecard sits proudly in his collection of his parents' namecards - the blackberry is not missed, because I have all these wonderful software from various firms I represent spewing illustrations used in financial planning.

This has to be added to the list of grown up statements / reactions from De:

1) Amma, don't agonise your day, organise your day.
2) "Are you busy, Amma?" - the opening statement anytime a phone call is made to me during the day. The understanding he displays - his mother may be otherwise occupied and may not be immediately available - is to me, astounding. If I am in a meeting, it is always followed by "call me when you are free."
3) Its ok for you to want to do well in what you do Amma. I think it is quite natural for people to want to succeed in their chosen profession ....... (and I am not paraphrasing)


I do lament that I am unable to travel geographically due to a myriad of constraints - kids' school, financial consideration of 4 people travelling, kids' preferences when travelling, reluctance to holiday without the kids - oh the list is endless. But then I think of the journey this child has made - from almost sheer silence upto the age 3 to these incredibly fascinating conversations at almost 10. Through travel I mostly seek to grow as a human being - to understand different perspectives. As far as growth is concerned - this journey of parenthood has certainly been an intensely rewarding one.

I certainly look forward to the pittstops ahead - come as they might with warnings of treacherous alleys and slippery slopes through adolescence and beyond.