The Thursday before last, I consented to Smolhauz being absent from school since it was raining and their exams ended the day before. I was planning to meet his teacher then as was requested of me. According to our househelp’s reports, Smolhauz was sent home earlier than the rest of the kids because he apparently ran delightedly outside the classroom and played in the rain with wanton disregard of his teacher's pleas. Unfortunately, the rain did not let up for two straight days — the weather only worsened, with news of a thunderstorm. So, immediately the following Monday, I went to meet Teacher Maricel. I was already trying to compose myself because I couldn't seem to wipe the smile off my face. For some reason, I found it really funny that I would be summoned to my four-year old son's school for his mischiefs. Tales of devilry as children from my elders played in my head and I remember these stories of misadventures with fondness.
His teacher told me that my good son was unable to finish two of his exams because he lost all interest in them and instead amused himself by running in the rain. When asked why he would not finish his tests, he simply said he was already tired. Teacher Maricel asked me for help so that he understands his mistake and so that he won’t do it again. She confessed that in her frustration, she had to employ tactics such as telling him frightening things that happen to unruly children. (I had to suppress a smile.) I told her that we at home are able to get him going just by promising a reward with each star that he gets from his teacher. Understanding glimmered in her eyes and she said she can now make sense of his dismay one day when she told him he would not get a star. I then asked if my son is able to cope with the learning pace of their class. She said he has good comprehension skills but quickly loses interest after a certain point. And what that certain point was? I soon found out. He apparently becomes disinterested about any topic introduced after their lunchbreak. At this, I was already laughing inside my head. She said that there was even one time when she had to give him a juice drink because his water smelled of "kanal". That did it. I laughed so hard and so long I was already crying. I literally shed tears! I can imagine what his teachers (Teacher Audrey was there to listen to our talk) must have thought of me. I definitely did not mean any disrespect. Quite the contrary is true. (I have only admiration for their ability to carry on with their tasks, no matter how daunting.) I simply thought it was hilarious that he would know what a "kanal" is and how it smells considering we very rarely go out of the house and the times I allow him to play outside with other kids in the compound are very few and far between. He learned to play Counterstrike and basic DOTA at the age of three so he is definitely a homebody and what others would call a kid that lives a very sheltered life.
This incident yet again provoked fears that I might be tragically inept to be a Mom. I feel that I am not serious and deliberate enough. Unlike many of my friends who have become mothers themselves, I seem to be the only one freestyling motherhood. From their stories,it seemed like they have hard and fast rules about disciplining their kids. No giving in. No sleeping beyond the pre-set bedtime. No eating in the bedroom. No TV or YouTube and computer games (if it were my son) during exams or schooldays. No talking back. Doing the homework before going to bed, etc,etc.
In my defense, though, I think that my sons are growing up healthy (in mind and body) and free-spirited. There is no sense of tyranny in the house so that the younger ones respect their older brother only because he is older and not because being older equates to always being right. And Bengt and I are definitely not above this rule. Inputs about running the house are acknowledged and deliberated upon,no matter who it comes from. Love, loyalty,respect. In the end, for us,it all boils down to these values.
At last, seeing my thoughts in written form, I feel a whole lot better. I may not be that bad after all. Maybe even far from it.
*Title borrowed from Anne Tyler's The Accidental Tourist
