Not infrequently I worry about my ability to be erm, “vocal enough” in Rockstar’s school. There always seems to be some concerned mum or other who’s pulled the teacher or principal aside for what looks like a serious discussion about their child’s Development And Overall Wellbeing And Happiness In The Educational Program.
And then there’s me.
(Rockstar seems to be the only child who insists on being carried all the way to his class (even as all the other mere mortal toddlers are schlepping it up the stairs on their own), but then after he gets his way on the carrying, he happily forgets I exist and he busies himself with his school routine the moment I let him down in class so I’ve been “Aileen, pick your fights” about it.)
I do the Rockstar Stairs Schlep to a background of, “Have you seen the quality of art work our kids are bringing home from school?” and “I wish they were doing a different book since it’s almost like they’ve already done a story with those themes,” and all the while I’m thinking I don’t give a flying f— about what they’re discussing, what juice have they been drinking and do I need to get some.
Bearing in mind Kings and I went to public school in Malaysia (and later Singapore for Junior College – go CJ!) and turned out just fine, I count parental involvement, support and Other Factors as equally important in determining a child’s success (though Kings is forever looking at atas school brochures <scoff>)…
Besides, my mum taught in some scary schools overrun by gangs, offering additional free English classes to any kids who wanted to learn more, and has some inspiring stories of kids who turned out wayyy better than say, an ex boyfriend of mine’s top-scoring top-school-attending younger sister who decided a string of academic As was a license to treat the rest of her family like they didn’t matter.
But. When I hear all these other Mums With Issues, I worry whether the teacher and principal will be all “Oh, we better make sure that kid is happy, he/she of the Anal Mum Who Will Make Our Life Hell Otherwise.” What if they’re all Oh, that kid’s mum is really easy going, she’s probably not even going to say anything if we let Anal Mum’s kids take all his raisins at snack time <shudder>.
(No. Cannot, cannot. Must do something. How about killing a few brain cells as a volunteer at school functions, does that count?)
Then I worry about my accent. (Yeah I can feel all the ??!!??!! now). I have watered down Manglish accent. Decidedly not ABC or BBC. Outside work, I’ve encountered unenlightened Caucasian mums (mostly who haven’t been in Asia long – when I said I did Uni in Singapore, one asked “is that like, in Japan?”) who Uppity Sniff at my Malaysian-ness. (Not to be confused with the many more Caucasian mums I’ve met who are really cool and nice.)
Before you think I’ve gone all Psychomum, I had a bad experience with the school admin staff (who are all Asian btw) and was a little wary of the principal and also Rockstar’s class teacher (both absolutely professional and having done nothing to warrant such concern). I hate dealing with the school’s more junior admin staff, and am not the only mum who feels that way.
(I met a mum from Bombay who really hates talking to them . They’re all “But you should know this, it was in your child’s diary 2 months ago. Yes you went on a vacation but we stuck it in the diary when he first started school 2 months ago what,” and “I received no instruction to forward the email to your new address after your old address bounced and you updated us with the new one.” Really think some admin staff at relatively desirable schools have a tendency to power trip when no one’s looking – and they behave very differently when the more senior staff are about.)
So last week it was pouring, and our Friend Who Drives Us To School By Way Of Cushy Odd-Job Til His Business Takes Off decides to wait for me with an umbrella on the doorstep right after I do the Rockstar School Run Schlep. The principal is right there.
That afternoon, the principal’s weekly email to parents includes a note, “If you have a driver, please have him make a turn rather than wait outside the already congested area,” because some other stick-up-your-butt parent has complained about traffic congestion in front of the school when they try to drop their children off. And they didn’t just complain to the principal, the poor guy gets a visit by two pleasant, polite, understanding police officers who kindly explain they’re obligated to make a house call to the school when someone complains to them.
(For pete’s sake it was freaking pouring. Can’t Stick-Up-Their-Butt-Parent count til 10 before opening their mouth when on any other day it really isn’t that bad?)
Therefore I have this impression that in Hong Kong if you don’t open your mouth and voice something, anything, you’re gonna get bullied. Cos so many other people just open their mouth and complain about so many other things that everyone then gets hard-pressed taking care of them and then might forget about you and your kid.
And today I bump into the principal again. I’ve wanted to ask him for some time why he always seems to be rushing to the airport (pure curiosity) and because he’s closing the school gate (and therefore sans issue-raising parents for once), I do.
“My family lives in Malaysia,” this principal (whom I thought was British) says. (Now I’m ??!!??!! It’s a real shocker.)
“I have a house in KL. It’s where I’ll ultimately retire. My son has one more year of schooling there.”
Suddenly I’m bursting to tell him I’M MALAYSIANNNN!!!
“My mother taught high school in Sandakan, Petaling Jaya and Penang all her life.”
He gives me a conspiratorial smile, “I’ve been to Sandakan. Love the town.”
Un-freaking-believable.
And suddenly I look at all the issue-raising Hong Kong residing parents thru his eyes. His Malaysian-living, teenaged-son-in-KL-raising eyes.
Thank you, God. You really think of everything.
Thank you!!!
