I Wasn’t A Good Student

30 09 2010

09 September 2010 – I had good (not great) grades in grades school, poor grades (but awesome extracurricular performance) in high school, okay grades (again awesome extracurricular performance) in college, and somewhat great grades in grad school.

And yet, I survived work life. No, not just survive, but am doing pretty well in my chosen path. This just goes to show that grades are not the end-all and be-all of one’s student life. I’ve always know I’m smart, although it hardly ever reflected in my academic record.

One would think that given my history in school, and the subsequent satisfying performance I’ve accomplished professionally, I would be a relaxed mother when it comes to grades. I truly don’t believe that school grades matter much, at least after a year so of working.

Still, here I am, obsessively torturing my child about studying, strictly keeping a homework schedule, which I never really had when I was a kid (my mother, the academic performer that she was, never really cared to sit me down and monitor my work – not that I complained).

I would validate Tala’s tests and make a note of even a single point that could be reconsidered (the Sibika teacher replied to say she “mislooked” the point – GAH!). Tala gets a mere smiley face instead of the much-coveted star when she makes but one mistake in answering my reviewers.

Why am I doing this?!?!?!

Dear Tala,

Your Nanay was never a good student. As a matter of fact, I never took my schooling seriously until graduate school. I was extremely busy with my extracurriculars that I simply couldn’t be bothered with homework or reviewing for exams. I doubt my teachers looked at me and saw someone with tremendous money-making or fame-generating potential at anything.

Yet now I nag you to death about homework. I impose a strict review schedule on you. I employ every strategy to get you to buckle down and study. You must think me such a ghoul when I come home every afternoon and demand that I take a look at your Bridge.

I guess that’s what happens when you become a parent. And I apologize in advance for making your life a living hell, but I will not change. I see such potential in you. I know that you are intelligent, and the last thing I want is for that to go to waste.
Perhaps it would be a good idea to ease up on you just a little bit. After all, this is your first year at big school, and there are so many other things new to you apart from the study load. So okay, I will try to shield you from your father’s attempt at keeping his jock-nerd reputation. I will give you an extra hour of play, or surprise you with a little something-something… but only after you’ve done your part.

This has to be a partnership between you and me.

17 September 2010 – Nagging, bribery, abuse of power… THEY ALL WORK.





It’s all MY fault

17 09 2010

25 July 2010 – Tala was supposed to have finished her homework the day before, seeing as she had this hugely special birthday party to attend. The deal was she would work on her homework on Saturday, then go to Leona’s Hawaiian-theme 7th birthday party on Sunday.

But she didn’t.

So I said she can’t go. I left her at wailing at home… no, I didn’t go to the party. I took Ate Faye to lunch with Kay in Greenhills, then to the airport for her flight back to Silay.

As we parked the car at the multi-level carpark in Greenhills, I receive a text message from my darling 6-year old:

“Why did you do this to me?”

I’m not the type to back down on this kind of accusation, so I promptly replied, reminding her that she broke the deal, and that she brought this whole damn situation on herself (obviously not in those words).

She tried to call, and I refused to answer the phone. After a while the phone stopped ringing, and I guessed that was the point where the drama wore her down and left her unconscious on her bed.

I don’t know how long the nap lasted, but when I got back home from the airport, she was already awake, reading a Percy Jackson book in the living room. When I stepped into the house, she looked up very calmly, and said:

“I hope you had fun.”

And then she went back to her book.

A bitch is not going to give birth to a lame duck. That’s all I’m going to say.








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