A Midwife Crisis, The Kennedy Year 2 Christmas Show A-La Rockstar

Said Wendy, John and Michael, “We can fly!”

And Rockstar looks like he’s going into battle during one of the many songs 😀

And then there was Sheep Envy…

Rockstar and Friends had long concluded the sheep had the best song. (But Rockstar felt swords still trumped songs. And well they all get to sing everything together.)

One of Rockstar’s good friends gave up a brilliant shepherd costume his mum showed me, in favor of simple black socks and gloves and white tee and shorts because of “Baa-baa-baa Bethlehem”.

The donkeys, they declared, had the best line: “Nobody e-ver listens to a donkey.” Which was about when Donkey Envy surfaced. (Bur Rockstar still favored swords.)

I thought the group of sheep who introduced themselves, “And we’re just sheep” were pretty cute too.

And that’s a pretty darn good way of learning

Some friends of ours who don’t live in Hong Kong had expressed interest at my description of Rockstar’s description of acting out parts in books in order to enhance understanding of the text (one of the important things about learning to read – reading with comprehension.) Since Rockstar otherwise has a very heavy preference for non-fiction (he loves library day because he can borrow some children’s encyclopedia or other) it’s especially nice to see him enjoy doing something a little less heavy and a lot more fun.

Then several rehearsals before Show Day, Rockstar remarked, “Actually I feel a little scared going up there.” 

That one little comment made me very scared. What if he shuts down in front of the whole Year 2 and their parents and all the teachers?? Should I let him go on and risk a big and public shutdown, or do I pull him out, thereby making it a “thing” and possibly creating for him a much bigger hurdle as he starts thinking about stage fright.

Well, lots of people have stage fright anyway, at least my child didn’t wig out on stage?

Now, to digress a bit – Rockstar is “Rockstar” on the blog because he really wasn’t an easy toddler. No one would call him dumb, but he doesn’t exactly have “pre-schooler interview savvy”. Intensely serious (and seriously intense), his bedtime fare are children’s encyclopedias and I Wonder Whys and National Geographic Weird Facts and the Fact vs Fiction App on my iPhone. And he can form some very serious dislikes.

I didn’t want him to form a dislike for speaking in front of lots of people. I consider being able to speak, to communicate ideas, to be one of the most essential skills – a brilliant mind is nothing without also the ability to make people understand what you’re trying to say. Back in banking we used to meet quants who either struggle or just really, really hate having to speak English (as opposed to speaking Quant :D)

Another thing: Rockstar’s father was once incredibly, painfully shy of speaking up during his first investment banking years in London, at a major options derivatives house. For about a year and a half, it was a weakness frequently exploited by competitive colleagues to their immense satisfaction. And so Kings got so darn good at it no one could possibly capitalize on it ever again. If you see Kings at huge public speaking events, if you watch Asia Bankers’ Club footage, you would never know he used to be unable to even speak up in a meeting room.

Now here we go Rockstar: “Do you know what that “scared” feeling really is? Adrenaline. That’s the hormone, the chemical your body makes to help you do better at things. In the animal kingdom adrenaline helps animals flee from predators. It makes them move faster, jump higher. Remember those famous scientists who observed their own bodily reactions to learn stuff? Next time you get that “scared” feeling before you speak up onstage, note all your body’s reactions – heart beating faster, excitement – note what else adrenaline does to your body.”

Rockstar would then return from the next few dress rehearsals and a performance to the rest of the school feeling no “‘drama-lin,” as he insisted on calling “adrenaline”. He was rather disappointed. “Well, maybe on de-day you’ll get the chance to feel a bit.” 

And then it was de-day.

Coming in all buzzed and excited, we pass a long line of tables and disposable water bottles etc all curiously set up – it turns out one of the other years’ kids are conducting their science experiments outside today (and after the show we have to then make way for the Year 1s’ outdoor play – at the back of my mind I wonder if this must be what it’s like even on regular days for Rockstar, he might be watching the older kids’ experiments or events – once I vaguely remember he mentioned going up to the older kids’ play areas with his class to observe a pair of…… I think he said they were cockatiels for some older years’ project) and it’s a quick lesson in perspective.

Only the stage hasn’t been filled

See? People are really, really keen to watch their kids’ efforts!

Arriving 13 minutes early and walking to the school hall, we think we’re early, and I even consider sticking my head into his classroom to ask if they need an extra hand for anything – until we step into the hall. It’s 80, 90% filled already. Sitting in a corner next to Kings I decide I had better stay put or risk losing my seat. (Was a nice touch the kids were told to observe where they were onstage in relation to the audience, because Rockstar came home telling us to bag a corner seat, as he was at Stage Right for most of the show – one of the little yet big things towards fostering their independence and looking out for themselves…)

The kids made diapers at craft time to welcome baby Jesus….

(Baby Jesus btw, was “a doll.” And I liked that the awesome-est songs/lines were by the humblest parts. I will never look at a sheep or donkey the same again.)

This one was pretty darn cute – “Zap Power!” haha

A stir goes up, as all the little costumed rockstars make their way onto the stage.

When I first see Rockstar, I feel such a thrill. And then I notice his costume.

The straps had come completely undone. I’d steeled myself that in the commotion and hustle and bustle, some of the Velcro might not hold, and maybe his wings would flap closed, but now I was looking at him up on stage with even the very secure buttons on the modified baby toy ties I’d used unfastened – the entire thing was flapping about ineffectively. I had sewed and re-sewed those stiff velcro bits and strap til my fingers literally bled (needle too fine, no thimble, the back of the needle kept going through my skin) so they would pull the costume together to fall on Rockstar’s tiny shoulders just right. What had happened, in the hustle and bustle before show time had “they” overlooked securing the straps?

But.

Those tiny shoulders were doing just fine. Rockstar was doing better than fine, and “they” had done that. The kids were very well rehearsed. Confident. Happy to be there. 

I recognize one of Rockstar’s former Kindy classmates in the corner near him. They were both small, and relatively subdued. Us mums once thought they might become friends (unfortunately she was then quite girly, and Rockstar very rarely plays with girly girls) – then no longer in the same class, I hadn’t seen her in awhile. As I watch, she leans on one knee, hand to her ear and belts out “CALL FOR THE ANGELS, STRAIGHTEN YOUR HALOS…..”.

And my anal retentive fusspot firstborn, whom I thought couldn’t handle a pressure cooker interview (albeit I still don’t approve of those especially for young kids) makes his way across the crowded stage in full view of the packed little auditorium on cue. Delivers his lines perfectly. All his friends deliver their lines perfectly. It’s seamless. Fast-paced, but not too fast, they know exactly who speaks before them, picking up right after. I’m not sure Kings could’ve done a better job that day. (Kings’ll probably give me a look and say “Uh…. I don’t…. sing, either.” :D)

Rockstar moves back across and up to where he should be. All the while, those unused straps flapping ineffectively, unable to draw his attention away from giving his best performance. Even when once during one of the songs I watched the chest plate slip and him secure it back without blinking. This is my fusspot son who sometimes washes his hands 5 times in an hour at an Artjam session and can remember where he’s “kept” some of the most obscure little bits of Lego about the apartment.

Family selfie…

Later, a completely exhilarated Rockstar would meet us on the playground as parents waited for a photo op with their child, before going back to class. So exhilarated is he that I forget to ask about the costume til much later, at home.

And at home Rockstar tells us his costume HAD been completely secured. While getting ready during each rehearsal, he would tell me, he often noted the number of clicks the buttons on the straps made, and what he thought was the little push against his back as the velcro was fastened. Also, how often they had been fastened. “Well, there was one rehearsal when they weren’t on. <holds finger up and nods for emphasis> Only one.” 

I thought the buttons were really tight on the straps, but somehow they had still managed to come undone. You know, you try to sew on the most perfect-fitting straps, re-doing them over and over again, fussing over things like whether his angel wings stay open….. and then your child shows you he can fly without them. “They” did that. All the people who do all the things so your child is up there being all perfect. What straps?

In the end the loose straps didn’t go unused, they simply served a different purpose than  I had intended – they illustrated how far Rockstar had come, in a way a perfectly fastened costume couldn’t have. Isn’t that also how God’s will for us also works? It’s Christmas time. This-is-the-Christmas-show.

And so Peace on Earth, joy to the world, love in Heaven and on Earth.

Epilogue: “Mum. I DID feel some ‘drama-lin. It was AWESOME. I really enjoyed it. <seriously> No, really, Mum, I really, really enjoyed it.” 

He did awesome. He wasn’t distracted by flapping straps. He thoroughly enjoyed learning, and getting up there to speak in that packed hall.

What more could any mum (or dad) hope for?