Acceptance

(this is a repost from Mom.Exchange.Ph)

A friend of mine sent me an email the other day. It contained Dave Marcus’ article on acceptance (I found the actual article on The New York Times website so I copied and pasted it below.)

There is certainly a huge tendency for parents to impose their wishes on their children. My mom always said that the reason why we went to highschool where we did was because she had always wanted to go there, but wasn’t able to. Another is ballet (ugh, can you imagine me in a tutu, wag nalang).

This piece below reinforces my beliefs in rearing our children — that we nurture their strengths. that they have their own personalities, and that we, their parents are theirhalfway homes.

I enjoyed this piece and thoroughly believe in its merit. Now, sharing it with all of you…

A Father’s Acceptance: His Son Won’t Be Following His Ivy Footsteps

Reflections on a critical month in the admissions process, by David L. Marcus, author of “Acceptance.”

The woman corners me after I give a speech about college admissions.

“My son isn’t the best student,” she begins, “but we think he has a good chance of getting into _________”

I can guess: Stanford or Duke, Yale or Northwestern. I’m sure I already know the story. The boy has a B-plus average and disappointing SAT scores, but Dad went there, and a family friend worked in the admissions office.

For seven years, I’ve crisscrossed the country, discussing what I learned while writing two books about teenagers. Help your children find their hidden talents, I advise parents. Teach your children to be independent. Don’t live your dreams through your son or daughter.

As this mother shares her application strategies, I want to recommend that she let her son find his path. I stay quiet, though, because I’m struggling to follow my own advice.

Somewhere in my files, I have a photo of my son, Benjie, and me on the steps of the admissions office of my alma mater, Brown University. We were framed by glowing yellow forsythia, and I was beaming.

Benjie was two weeks old.

At the time, I was a fellow at Harvard. Soon after, I did a brief teaching stint at Dartmouth’s Tuck School of Business. I secretly hoped my son would go to one of those Ivy campuses. Maybe I saw that as the seal of approval for my parenting – my boy in Cambridge, or Hanover, or Providence.

Benjie demonstrated, by his nature, that he had other plans. In kindergarten, he was the restless one who preferred exploring to listening to directions. When a private school turned him down for first grade, I felt I’d been gut-punched.

The homework wars erupted in fourth grade – a 20-minute assignment stretched on for three hours, punctuated by cries of “I hate writing!” Later, while I tried to explain long division, he stormed out of the house. He stayed in the yard till dark, digging holes and watching birds.

I pushed enrichment; he refused to try “stupid” scouting. He dropped soccer. Basketball lasted long enough for me to buy a uniform.

Experts analyzed Benjie with the Stanford-Binet, the Woodcock-Johnson Tests of Cognitive Ability, the Wechsler Intelligence Scale – and I fretted over his percentiles and hired tutors. At the same time, it seemed most of my friends’ preteens were doing genome research.

Benjie is 14 now. At that age, I pestered teachers for extra credit assignments. Benjie is satisfied with a C; he doesn’t understand why anyone cares about spelling words correctly; the notion of revising an essay is foreign to him.

At 14, I knew I wanted to be a writer. When I ask what he sees himself doing in 10 years, he answers vaguely about working with animals. But he most likely won’t be a vet – too much chemistry and biology, he says.

And yet Benjie has so much that I lack. As a teenager, I was a shy, awkward outsider. The other day, walking through Benjie’s school for a meeting, I saw him regaling a gaggle of kids in the hallway with some fascinating tale.

More important, he’s developed empathy. When he and six other kids saw a classmate accused of shoplifting on a school trip, Benjie persuaded the others to avoid gossiping.

Last summer, I envisioned Benjie toiling in a lab at science camp, but I lost the will to fight another battle. Instead, I sent him to stay with my brother and sister-in-law, who breed dogs. At their house, work begins at 5:30 a.m., seven days a week. Benjie would have to follow orders without questions.

Three hundred miles away, I waited for the call begging to come home. Instead, I got one-word texts like “awsomme” – misspelled every time, in true Benjie fashion.

When the visit ended, my sister-in-law sent a note saying that Benjie had pitched in tirelessly with chores and even cleaned the yard after 17 spaniels dirtied it. He groomed dogs for two hours straight without getting antsy.

“Benjie is an amazing kid and human being,” she wrote. “He is smart, funny, curious, caring.”

Twelfth grade is a few years away, but I’m already imagining Benjie’s application essay: “My name is Benjamin but no one calls me that. I’m an animal-loving, cello-playing, cross-country-running nomad who has gone to six school districts in three states because of my dad’s stupid career.”

I spend a lot of time in high-pressure communities, speaking to anxious mothers and fathers like me. We want our children to go to great colleges and prepare for a brutal job market.

Still, I tell families to stop obsessing about campuses with marquee names. I’ve visited dozens of little-known schools where professors are far more engaged in teaching than Ivy League faculty. Also, in this economy, I can make a strong case for going to community college or mastering a trade.

Above all, I urge parents of high school juniors and seniors not to see their kids as SAT and ACT scores and G.P.A.s, but as creative, unpredictable, unprogrammable teenagers with their own gifts.

Like my son, Benjie.

Mr. Marcus is the author of “Acceptance: A Legendary Guidance Counselor Helps Seven Kids Find the Right Colleges – and Find Themselves” (Penguin Press), and a former education reporter at Newsday and U.S. News and World Report. At the end of this month, he will take on a new post directing public relations for the New York Institute of Technology.

Children Don’t Come with a Manual

Last Friday evening, S and I attended the first (of ten, which he hopefully agrees to attend to the end with me!) classes of “First Steps”, a parenting course offered by EduChild Foundation Inc.

The format that they use is the Case Method. The participants are divided into group and each group discusses the case. Though I’ve attended only one class, I was able to pick up a lot of things, the most important of which, I feel, is the significance of self-esteem.

I realize, on hindsight (and based on some feedback from P’s OT, Teacher Tisha), that perhaps we haven’t been encouraging Paul enough. We need to help him be more confident of himself.

One of the speakers that night mentioned a book called “Your Child’s Self-Esteem” by Dorothy Corkille Briggs. How coincidental that I actually find a copy at Books for Less in Residencia 8888 while waiting for P last Saturday (we were at Therabilities)!

The first few pages were so helpful! Check this out:

(page 25) Why Children Misbehave

…if you know that behavior matches the self-image, you can see that one cause of misbehavior is a negative self-concept. The child who believes he is bad tailors his actions to fit this view. He plays the role assigned to him….

Usually, the more a child misbehaves, the more people scold, punish or reject. And then the more firmly entrenched his inner conviction becomes that he is “bad”. Chronic misbehavior can be rooted in a damaged view of self, but low self-esteem is not the only cause of misbehavior.

…

The youngster with high self-esteem is rarely the problem child. He walks, talks, works, learns plays, and lives differently from the one who dislikes himself. His inner security radiates outwardly in his actions. As adults, such individuals are better able to work constructively on the problems and inequities that exist in our world.
Their solid cores free them to be innovators rather than hostile destroyers. The child with self respect is likely to be a constructive member of society.

Now I know why it’s not good to “label” children (“you’re a bad child”, etc.)…because they live up to the label. Once, an aunt (I shall not name names!!!) labeled Paul a “bad boy” because he refused to do something. That incident surely raised the ire of my folks and I. No one has a right to call him names. S and I try very hard not to do it. What we tell him what he did (an action) was not nice.

Anyway, that’s beside the point… =) Just wanted to say that…it’s hard pala to raise kids!!! Hahahahaha! (Should have thought about that before we had them, no?) But those two boys, man, they mean the world to me! Plus my 3rd boy, of course…S.

I’ll Do Better Tomorrow, I Promise!

A friend sent me an email yesterday. In it, she forwarded a rhyme (I dunno, I feel that calling this a “poem” isn’t right…it’s a bit grating, as she said) .

I’ve been having problems lately with P…perhaps I’ve been more tired than usual, perhaps both the boys have been more clingy, perhaps my hormones are going crazy. Whatever it is, this email from Ana really helped in making me realize that I should try and see things from their point of view.

To all the Mommies out there, this is for you!

I’ll Do Better Tomorrow, I Promise!

~~ Maurine Reynolds Adamek ~~

From the book, I’ll Do Better Tomorrow, I Promise

Dear God, are You still awake?

Have you got a minute or two?

You’re pretty good at understanding

And I really need to talk to You.

You see, Mommy came to tuck me in,

Like she does every night.

I was trying to play a trick on her,

Since she can’t see without the light.

I was going to close my eyes,

And pretend to be asleep.

But when I heard her crying,

I didn’t dare let out a peep.

She started talking to you, God.

Did you hear the things she said?

Could You hear what she was saying

As she stood beside my bed?

Why would Mommy be so sad?

I wondered just what I had done,

And then I began to remember it all

As she named them one by one…

This morning we worked in the garden,

But, honest, I really didn’t know

That if I picked all the little yellow blooms,

The tomatoes wouldn’t grow!

Charlie and I were trying to be helpers,

‘Cause I know that’s what Mommy needs,

But I don’t think she was too happy with us

When we pulled up carrots instead of weeds.

Mommy said we should stop for the day,

She decided we had helped quite enough.

I sure had worked up an appetite…

I didn’t know gardening was so tough!

We had peanut-butter and jelly for lunch,

And I shared too much, I guess…

But I didn’t realize until I was done

That Charlie had made such a mess.

Mommy said she needed a nap,

She had one of her headaches today.

She told me to keep an eye on my sister

And find something quiet to play.

Well, God, do You remember all those curls

You gave my little sister Jenny?

We played barber shop…very quietly…

And now, well, she doesn’t have any.

Boy, was Mommy mad at me…

I had to go sit on my bed.

She said never to cut “people hair” again.

I guess I’ll practice on Charlie instead.

We sat and watched poor old Albert,

I just knew he must be so bored

Going round and round in the same place all day,

Wouldn’t You think so, Lord?

I didn’t think it would hurt to let him out for a while,

I mean, mice need exercise, too

By the way, have You seen Albert lately?

He’s been sort of missing since two.

Mommy sent us outside for the rest of the day.

She said we needed fresh air.

But when Daddy came home she told him

She was trying to get something out of her hair.

We thought Mommy needed cheering up,

So we decided to brighten her day.

But, God, did You see the look on her face

When we gave her that pretty bouquet?

We had gotten a little bit dirty,

So Mommy said to get in the tub

“Use soap this time,” she reminded,”and please don’t forget to scrub.”

Charlie didn’t like the water too much,

But I lathered up real good.

I knew Mommy would be so proud of me

For cleaning up like I should.

I went downstairs to the table,

But during dinner it started to rain…

I’d forgotten to turn off the water, it seems,

And I hadn’t unplugged the drain!

I decided right then it was just about time

To start getting ready for bed,

When Mommy said, “It’s sure been a long day,”

And her face began turning all red.

I lay listening to Mommy,

As she told You about our day.

I thought about all of the things I had done

And I wondered what I should say.

I was just about to tell her

That I’d been awake all along,

And ask her to please forgive me

For all of those things I’d done wrong.

When suddenly, I heard her whisper,”God, forgive me for today…

For not being more understanding

When those problems came my way…”

“For not handling situations

In the way You want me to…

For getting angry and losing my temper,

Things I know You don’t want me to do…”

“And, God, please, give me more patience,

Help me make it through another day,

I’ll do better tomorrow, I promise…”

Wiping her eyes, she kissed me

And knelt here beside my bed.

She strokes my hair for a little while…“I love you, precious,” Mommy said.

She left the room with out ever knowing

That I’d been awake all the time.

And God, could we make it our little secret?

You know, Just Yours and mine?

I’m sorry I was so much trouble today.

I really didn’t mean to be…

Daddy says it’s tough being a kid sometimes,

But I think it’s harder on Mommy than me.

Well, goodnight, God.

Thanks for listening.

It’s sure nice to know You’re there.

I feel so much better when I talk to You

“Cause You always hear my prayer.

And I’ll do better tomorrow, I promise…

Just You wait and see!

I’ll try not to be so much trouble again,

But, God, please give more patience to Mommy just, in case, for me?!

Two-Parent System

Now I know why God made a two-parent system.

We had a full day today. Mostly spent meeting with S’s cousins, the earlier part at their office, the latter part in Akiga Podium (so we could eat lunch).

I took P with me to Akiga so he could have some time out of the house as well.

I suppose the day’s activities took a toll on me, plus K’s asthma (boohoo…just found out that allergic rhinitis, eczema and asthma go together…meaning, if the family has any one of those mentioned, the others can manifest as well. S’s family has eczema. Seems like Kev may have asthma after all!) pa, haaaay….

In the evening, I was beginning to be cranky, and I think P was, as well. He was a bit disoriented, and quite magulo. I turned him over to S so that I could focus on K.

Thank goodness for a partner in parenting! (Thanks, Hunny!)

I am in awe with single parents who raise great kids!

I hate K

P’s been a little bit more KSP (kulang sa pansin, wanting in attention) lately. And all of us agree that the cause is K.

I noticed that both of them have become more clingy…hence the “awol” status from blogging for quite a while (I couldn’t help the LTO blog though…I was so pissed at them!)…it totally wrecked my schedule and I’d be so tired all day!

Yaya was telling me yesterday that P said to her that he hated K, and that he didn’t want any more babies!

Our resolve:

1. Pay more attention to P
2. Let him and K play together (K can kind of sit already)
3. Include P in things I’m doing for K

P wasn’t like this at the start…perhaps he’s now feeling how it is to have a sibling. Any tips from those with more than one child there?

Sandbox

14 April 2003

Sand is known as a material that one can be very creative with. Thus, this is considered as one of the best “toys” by early educators.

For a while now, I have been wanting to get P a sandbox. His generous aunts (my sisters) had gotten him one! It was delivered last Friday–a round blue castle sandbox that has a cover. On Saturday, Stan and I went out in the afternoon to buy him the sand that we were going to put in it. (look at the picture by clicking on this: )

Boy, you should have seen his eyes when he saw the entire sandbox filled up! He couldn’t wait to get into it!

The sand was nice and damp, ready for molding. We played the rest of the afternoon (he didn’t even want to have merienda!)…and not only P had fun, but all of us playing with him!

Sand play is really fun play!