Tag: parenting

Defining Peace

peace

It’s the best place she could be. It’s big, it’s cozy, and it’s guarded round the clock.

“You’ll be happy there.” her mother had said.

She stood in front of the great gates of Markersson High School thinking back the one-sided conversation she had had with her mother a few weeks earlier.

She had come home after a fist fight, giving the rude boy across the street a bloody eye. Her mother had handed her a leaflet of Markesson and marvelled, “It’s as peaceful as a sanctuary, they say. Isn’t it beautiful?”

She looked down at the photo on the cover, and saw barren land, scooped up of its grass, life, and lusciousness. She looked at the caption that read: Our very own football ground.

She flicked the five-page graphic leaflet, pausing at a picture of a classroom. About 50 girls sat in straight rows, facing the teacher who clutched a book too large for her ageing hands. She saw that the girls in the photo wore blue pinafores, black shoes, and had braided their hair. Not a single streak had escaped.

She flicked on and stopped at another photo. There were parakeets, love birds, and even a cockatoo — all in cages. Students were feeding the birds, their faces alight with bright smiles. The caption read: A sanctuary; for birds and children.

The gates opened and a stiff, beefy-looking man walked up to her. His khaki uniform smelled of flowers, and as he picked up her trunk, she realised his hands smelled of disinfectant.

It was her mother’s idea of a sanctuary.

Child’s Perspective

child's perspective

She bruised herself at soccer,

her play doh castle crumbled,

she finished last in the game,

and always dropped the ball,

she missed homerun by a mile,

and was late for the park swing,

Her parents thought it embarrassing.

The four year old thought it fun.

The Visit

She answered the phone and heard her daughter’s voice for the first time in many years. – Today’s Author

“Hello, Ma. How are you?”

Click.

Must be a wrong number, Mrs Graham concluded. She turned her back on the phone and walked to her couch, and Dr Oz.

She sighed as the doctor announced a commercial break. The phone rang again. She heaved herself from the couch mumbling, “Oh, these things never leave me in peace.” She trudged over to the telephone stand in the kitchen and picked up the receiver with a trembling hand. “Hello,” she meant to say in a crisp voice. All that came out was a treble. She tried again.

“Hello,” Shaky this time, but not as squeaky.

“Mama! It’s me, Karen.”

“Eh?” She cleared her throat, “Karen?”

“Yes, yes, Mama! How are you?”

Mrs Graham crinkled her eyes, “Who’s mama?”

Click.

“Hello?” Mrs Graham looked at the silent now-receiver in her hand. She didn’t understand. One moment there was a woman’s voice, and the next, nothing. “Hello?” she called into the receiver. “Anyone there?”

She heard no reply. She could hear that the jingles had come to an end, so she went back to Dr. Oz.

By the time the show ended, about an hour later, the doorbell rang. Mrs Graham let it ring for a few moments before making a grudging effort to get up from the couch.

The bell continued to ring as she traced her footsteps to the door. Imagining the old days when she would just yank the door away, she turned the knob with a soft touch.

There stood a young woman at the door, her eyes wide and lips apart in uncertainty. She looked about medium age, tall, and tanned. Her curly hair danced to the breeze playing outside. Mrs Graham looked at her in exasperation.

Earlier, whenever the bell rang, Mrs Graham would rush to the door, hoping it would be someone to visit her. They had told her she had a daughter. And a grand daughter. And that they’d stop by whenever they had the chance. But ever since she had woken up from her coma, no one had called.

“The girl’s house is over there,” She waved her hand at the house opposite to hers. She had grown tired of young high schoolers stopping by her doorstep looking for their class mate who threw parties all night.

“Mama, it’s your daughter.”

Live, Learn, Pass It On

I’ve always loved to talk about formal education. Or the futility of it, rather. And I enjoy people who talk about it too. But Sir Ken Robinson isn’t just another person talking about how education ruins our lives.

He’s British. That matters, but only because the accent mesmerises me. There’s more to this TED talk than a flawless speaking style.

John Lennon said, “Learn to smile as you kill.” Perhaps, Sir Ken Robinson took this to heart. Because throughout the video, he never once stops smiling. He’s not angry; he’s not biting his tongue to keep himself from swearing — though I would’ve enjoyed it — at schools that forbids children to dance without thinking, making them memorise theorems instead.

His words are brilliant.

“The education system has mined our minds in the way we strip mined the earth.”

Defining the body: “It’s a way of getting their heads to meetings.”

Here’s a small request: Please spare 20 minutes of your day for this talk. It’s so good, you’d never regret it. And maybe some time, even we could influence a child to draw out of the dotted lines.

Gaping Gap

Flurry skirts swirled

Tropical shirts followed

The Beatles bug surfaced

And flip phones were hip

Jumpsuits and wristbands

Meant fashion, not health

Curly blondes and redheads

Had dinner with Jackson

With a pop tart for dessert

They turned the page over

That turns the world over

Mini’s the new skirt

And tank tops make the day

Beatles are broken records

While phones have an extra i

Jumpsuits mean business

Semi-casual and sensuous

Straight cuts date pixie styles

While Harry Styles hums away

But let’s skip the dessert

Cos’ I’m on a strict diet.