The other day, I received
my son's report card, with his teacher's comments in black ink
stating “follow-through with more efforts in school-work to fulfill
utmost potential.” We never go through school stuff together –
we had to call a truce to our incessant arguing, a few years back.
As I looked at his grades, I asked myself how much of his
accomplishments are mine and how much of his? A parent, proud of a
child but not of oneself, quite reasonably would ask such a question;
while, a parent who takes credit for a child's achievements would
not. Obviously, I am no stage mother and, indeed, maybe even a
strange one.
In this modern era of
technology and “new age” thinking, I find it more difficult to
digest that the old has no more place where fast and functional seem
to be the norm. Culture is a funny thing. More often, it tells us
how to behave, against which we rebel without realizing that the
choice is not for the choosing. Evolution, however, tells us that
the way is not usually paved with great intentions. Thus, we choose
to believe that culture “evolves”. But each time I hear a parent
talk about a child's unreasonable objections, I flash back to my
younger years. Did I ever listen to what my mother was saying when
she said so and so? Did I ever hear my father complain about this
and that? Was there actually a time when I listened to my parents?
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| My Choice |
