Home-schooled or school-homed?

I stumbled upon a great little piece in The Onion today, which reported the increasing popularity of school-homing. Not home-schooling, but school-homing.

Obviously, this is satirising the rise in home-schooled children, but the irony in it, quite possibly intentional, is that it hits raw nerves with a pretty serious point.

It's one of my fundamental criticisms of our society that we tend to not want to actually parent our children. We prefer to outsource the job to day care centers, nannies, schools and anyone else who will fill in for us.

Fictional parent Kevin Dufrense is quoted in the article as saying

"Simply put, it's not the job of parents to raise these kids"

Couldn't have said it better. Effective satire is defined by the ability to simultaneously amuse and provoke thought, and The Onion has nailed it yet again.

Laughter, the best medicine.

Our child often straddles the very fine line between absent-minded genius, and genetic absence of mind. In particular, despite being a spectacularly unfussy eater who will consume anything, bland or spicy, cooked or raw, liquid or solid, she would completely forget to eat if we didn't remind her to do so.

Consquently, dinnertime, which I make it a point to be home in time for, is always a long, drawn out affair. Full of stories, questions and idle conversation. I love it, but at the same time, it can be inordinately frustrating to sit down at the table at 6:45pm and not be able to leave until 8pm.

The other day however, the experience took on a life of it's own. Dinner only lasted about 35 minutes, but I think my daughter was laughing out loud for 34 of those 35 minutes. Eating at the same time, which is no doubt dangerous, unhealthy and many other things.

She was laughing because her toy doll apparently had to go to hospital with a hurt leg, but then the whole foot fell off and had to be re-attached, but then during the operation, the whole doll broke into "teeny teeny pieces so you needed a microscope to see them" and then when it was re-assembled it had extra arms and heads and a foot on its tummy, a nose on its leg... and, well, you get the picture.

I'm far from the first person to make this cliched observation, I know, but the evening got me thinking that we really don't laugh enough. Just sit back and enjoy life with the wide-eyed revel-in-the-moment innocence of childhood. We articificially restrain and inhibit ourselves with rules and all sorts of societal conformism (does that really mean anything or does it just sound sophisticated?).

What's worse is that if we're not careful, we start imposing those same restriction on our children. We impose our adult-world rules on everything they do. Of course, children have to learn to live in our world, and obey the fundamental rules of civilised society, but it can go too far. We tell them how they should play with a particular toy, as if there's only one 'correct' way. Even lego, the greatest of toys, comes with set instructions, and I see parents almost forcing their child to build precisely what is prescribed therein. Why is it so hard for us to let go a little - and let our children engage in their own way? They've got a lifetime of conforming ahead of them - let them live, laugh and be creative while they still can!

Someone else had told my daughter a while ago what the "correct" way to play with her doll was. Dress her up, hold her, pretend to feed her - that's what you're supposed to do, she was told. I'm glad she didn't listen. I would have lost 34 precious minutes of a laughter-filled dinner, and we would never have tried to see if we could make a "doll-kite". And those are the moments I live every day for.

Sibling adulation

It's been a great thrill over the last few months to observe how our 5 month old reacts to her older sister. Put simply, she adores her. She's always looking around for her sibling, and the mere sound of her big sister's voice is enough to send her into peals of laughter.

It was therefore even more heart-warming to see the roles reversed the other day. We were at dinner, and the baby was watching us eat, eyeing the food hungrily. I asked her if she would like some of our "adult food" and with the timing and delivery of a world class comedian, she let out a sound that could be heard far and wide as "yeah!"

The look on big sister's face was to die for. Sheer, unadulterated bliss. Followed by a squeal of joy, arms thrown up in the air and a yell of "She can talk! We have to call the doctor and tell her that she can already talk at 5 months!!"

Moments like this are what I live for - and it's amazing how many of them you encounter in a day if you keep your eyes and ears open.

Your baby can read!

During my daily commute over the last couple of months, I've been bombarded by ads on the radio for a product called "Your baby can read." I find it amusing enough, in an admittedly supercilious sort of way, that there are so many products out there on the market that supposedly facilitate what I would consider to be basic parenting. However, I paid attention to these ads because I'm a firm believer in the wonders of a lifelong love for reading, and its impact on the learning process as well. Reading skills, coupled with a genuine enjoyment of reading and learning, are things that all too few of us truly have.

Little did I imagine then, that there could exist a product or system that could be focused on getting children to read, and yet be so antithetical to everything I believe about parenting and reading. It beggars belief, but Your Baby Can Read appears to achieve this.

I should clarify at this point that I know very little about the actual product, other than the fact that it is TV based. That in itself is enough to turn me off it, but what I'm really reacting to here is the content of the radio ad.

Early in the ad, a mother, purportedly extolling the virtues of the product, proudly states that "I just plopped him in front of the television." Later on in the ad, the mother is asked what she had to do to get her child to read, and she responds with something along the lines of "That's the best part - I didn't have to do a thing!"

It's bad enough that we think that it's reasonable and rational for our children to learn to read by means of a television. I don't even care about the argument for sight-reading versus phonics and all of that at this point. It just does not compute that a television is the appropriate medium for reading. There is no love for books, literature, reading, or learning being developer here - it's pure technical instruction.

What's even worse though, is the sales pitch that the ad is clearly centered around - the concept that you as a parent don't actually have to get involved in your child's development, and that's a wonderful thing for you. Unfortunately, that's the sort of world we seem to live in today.

This all seems to come back to the self-centred approach to parenting that we now aspire to. We're not consumed by our kids, and we're not dedicating ourselves to building their futures. We're instead concerned about portraying ourselves as brilliant parents of a genius, the irony being that we're usually the diametrical opposite.

Rather than looking to instill in our kids our lifelong love for books and learning, we want to be the person who can proudly announce that our kid could recognize words while still in the womb. The other beautiful irony is that we for some reason want to achieve this without actually being involved in parenting! I suppose it's reminiscent of most workplaces -- we want all the credit and glory and instant gratification, without having to put in the hard yards and take responsibility.

I really feel for the parents who get suckered into this as well - the joy of your child's face lighting up as he or she reads books and stories, and gets lost in a world of imagination is completely lost to those who are apparently devoid of the desire to parent. Someday, people will learn that if they just want a plaything to show-off to their friends and colleagues, a puppy is the better solution.