Adventures of Scooter Boy

Meet Scooter Boy, awarded me by one of Rockstar’s classmates at my last volunteer session (I’m behind blogging it because I hadn’t gotten round to loading the pics). Waiting to go up, periodically a group of 4 or 5 kids with clipboards would gather round the main entrance for a brief discussion with school staff before going outside for a counting-in-real-life exercise.

(I learn later these are Kindergarten 2 car-counting excursions – they were making use of the traffic congestion brought about by the construction works going on outside to count construction vehicles and well, the average slower-moving car – talk about opportunistic glass half-full inspirations… Have got to tell Rockstar the annoying traffic jam he’s complaining about is good for car-counting – you can grouse or you can enjoy a count… Hmm, this is hard…)

We get papers, flyers and some magazines to cut up and stick and some of the kids start cutting out the alphabets in their names and sticking them onto colorful magazine scraps. And then, “Rockstar, are you making anything or just sitting with mummy?” Oops. Good question. It’s true he’s enthusiastically snipping this and that but well, he isn’t exactly following thru on grand aspirations to make the “double-decker bus” he’s going on about and some of the school staff have caught that. (I view these as inspirational but of course he should also be applying himself.) Make mental note to follow up at home.

It’s one of the main things I use my chance at volunteer sessions for – Rockstar listens to me more when I walk the talk. Mum can’t wait to get to go again, she really believes school’s fun and important. This is either a conspiracy of massive proportions, or she really means it – learning’s important, we should revise what we learn in school <insert sagely Rockstar-nodding>. He, my under 3-and-a-half-year-old, who knew my son would have such a sensitive built-in hypocrisy-dar. Is it because Kings has very good gay-dar? (One of his roommates was gay, to this day he has a talent for identifying my gay ex-colleagues before they come out – been right every time, too).

Anyway. Catching Mum Out is a favorite pastime of my offspring and I’m hoping to get the habit of a school-revision rhythm in early – I picked that up from a former mummy boss I greatly respected, she parented 2 daughters (was at aggressive i-bank, got pregnant twice in quick succession, quit  market for 4 years, took step down when she went back, soon became super duper senior and successful again) – the elder topped HK public exams and is now attending Wharton, the younger is at HK medical school. I continue to admire my former boss’ ability to motivate. I remember how I felt, working for her. I remember her advice: instill young, that sense of achievement and your child’s love for it.

Hell, truth is I couldn’t Tiger Mother to save my life, what else am I gonna do when he has to take school work seriously? I can’t talk myself into believing TM-ing works without at least the additional communication that achievement is for you, child, not me, parent. In which case you would not need to force it every step of the way if you can effectively find a way to communicate it in the first place… (I keep thinking if your kid is at all smart he’s probably thinking Just You Wait, Henry Higgins and then first chance he gets to do his own thing he’s gonna stop doing whatever it was you were pushing him so hard to do.. Just because you pushed him to do it. At some point in the pushing I believe it becomes too easy for kids to believe they were not being pushed to achieve for themselves.)

At cleanup time I’m amazed when one little boy efficiently finds a waste paper basket and then a few other classmates position it at one end of the table and deftly sweep all the paper scraps in. Wow. (At home we do all our cutting on the floor to “JD! Don’t. Eat. My… Paper!” “JD! Don’t step! JD! I’m busy! Go… away!” And yet… when I tried having us cut papers while JD was out on one of her 90 minute walks I got mildly plaintive “But… Where’s JD??”)

Every time I volunteer at Rockstar’s school, my relationship with Rockstar benefits. It’s hard to explain, every volunteer morning I’m Maybe Today’s The Day I Flake, and then I realize my son ain’t buying, and then after, I’m glad he didn’t.

“Uh, Mum’s tired today. So she’s a little worried if someone else is naughty and you get really mad she won’t be able to think of a way to talk you down from a fight.” “Tsk! DON’T worree Mu-um!”<theatrical eye-rolling, head-shaking> “I’ll be-have!”

Y-eah. I’m not getting out of it so easily.

Then I remember Rockstar was so bent on helping me cut stuff, get tape, entertain the other kids we didn’t get anything meaningful done ourselves. So we learnt to do anonymous letters. (Sharrup, all you people who think I’m teaching my child to turn stalker… They’re still ALPHABETS, aren’t they?)

And well, you’re never so cool to your own rockstar as when his friends think you’re cool. I mean yeah, you’re the parent, you’re the boss bla-de-bla but if doing this inspires him more then why the hell not? It’s a lot more fun, anyway.

Ps: Dear Rockstar, that’s how much I love you.

(In case you were wondering, Scooter Boy was from some toy store pamphlet one of the other kids was cutting up and then I moved him about the pics in a parenting magazine lying around to make up something to entertain Rockstar with over the weekend… Got the idea from Rockstar’s Kindy’s Learning To Read – How To Help Your Child where they talked about creating your own stories and comics to foster a love for books.)