MADE IN THE USA ONLY

Hilarious (and fascinating) article from today's L.A. Times about the challenges of bearing gifts back to China. I guess the mini-Hershey's chocolates of my youth in the '80s don't cut it anymore.

LESSON PLANS

Funny, I was writing in response to a new post on the site but by the time I finished tapping out my comments, the OG post was removed. In respect to the privacy of the original poster, I'll just paraphrase the part I was responding to: "to what extent should we push our kids to learn things that they may not enjoy?" The OP was talking about Chinese school, a grand tradition that many an ABC can probably relate to. Here's what I wrote in response:

I went to Chinese school for several years as a kid. I retained practically nothing out of the experience and while I won't say it was a waste for time, I do think that trying to master a second language that you're not immersed in at home is extremely difficult, especially if not done at the inception of language in a child's life.

The thing is: my parents made a very conscious choice to raise my sister and I in an English-speaking household; they wanted to see us succeed educationally and to them, that meant mastering English. In hindsight, one can question the logic of their decision; my mother's older sister raised her son (my cousin) in a Chinese-speaking household and as a result, he's very proficient in both English and Mandarin. But I rarely felt like I missed out. I have skill sets other people don't have as a consequence of my education just as I lack some skills that I might have acquired if my life had gone differently.

Do I wish I spoke better Mandarin? Absolutely, especially the times where I'm visiting China. But I don't put that on my parents' decisions. I could have taken Mandarin in college. I could take it now. But just as my parents made their choices, I've made mine too and that's been to accept that, at least right now, learning Mandarin isn't enough of a priority compared to other things I'd rather spend my time on (and in any case, if I was really going to go to language classes, I'd take Spanish first).

All of this is to say: it's complicated. My daughter (5) has her first piano recital today and she's very nervous about it. The pain of her anxiety pains me but I'm glad she's taking piano. I wish I had stayed with my lessons more as a kid but like Chinese school, my lack of progress and general antipathy eventually lead my parents to accept my decision to stop doing it.

Do I wish my parents had insisted otherwise? That's very hard to say. On the one hand, I wish *now* that I had better musical skills. But I can't say, "I wish my parents had forced me to learn." That would have created tension in our relationship by forcing them to force me to practice. Would that tension and resentment have been worth it in the end? Possibly. Possibly not. The old taunt, "you're going to thank me for this one day!" doesn't always get proven right. Sometimes, decades later, people are resentful about what they're forced to learn. That's the risk.

My wife and I talk about this a lot: is it our responsibility to pick what skills we think our daughter should master? Obviously some - how to read and write, how to swim, how to get along with others - have practical social and literal survival skills. But playing piano, learning another language, learning how to draw, etc. - those aren't essential (not to us). I think our current philosophy is to support what she wants to learn but not necessarily pick those paths for her. We wonder, all the time, if that's the best thing for her but like I said, we all make our decisions and have to learn to live with them. As the cliche goes, only time will tell if our choices were the "right" ones.

Do Rice Daddies Hate Parenting?

You've no doubt read the flurry of reactions that followed writer Jennifer Senior's New York Magazine cover story earlier this month, "All Joy and No Fun: Why Parents Hate Parenting." Last week, NPR's Tell Me More with Michel Martin devoted its regular parenting segment, "Mocha Moms," to discussing the article.

Today, I joined Keith Morton of African American Dad (who I had the pleasure of speaking with in 2008 and 2009 on Tell Me More's pre-Father's Day roundtables), Paul Fidalgo of Bloc Raisonneur, New York Magazine writer Jennifer Senior, and host Michel Martin to lend a dad's perspective on the issue.

I think it was a pretty good discussion, and would love to hear your opinions here. (Oh, and this was my 1-and-a-half-year-old's NPR debut! LOL--didn't realized she'd be that loud!)

Father’s Day & that Chapin Song

[Cross posted at Cranial Gunk]

Father’s Day always makes me think of that Harry Chapin song, “Cat’s in the Cradle” – More so now that the kids are getting noticeably older.

As the kids get older, I get older, so maybe it is just me getting old and sentimental but Chapin’s Cradle seems to have more resonance now. It’s like a friend once told me about reading Hesse’s Steppenwolf. He said it was a totally different book read at 30 than it was read at 20.

I joke with friends that I am still my children’s hero and that I want to milk it for all its worth. One day I’ll find myself clumsy and out of step with my children – unable to understand their language or appreciate their logic. Where once my children were proud and hungry for my attention, they’ll let their voicemail pick up and find me meddlesome. But until then I want to spend every moment I can with them. I want to see them grow despite knowing that one day they’ll grow out of me.

That said – there are those “other moments.”

Those “other moments” when I am not a father enamored of his children. Those “other moments” when the choir of their pleas becomes a din – a drone – a whine – an annoying buzz of insect wings silenced with the wave of a hand only to reappear as soon as you begin to believe the pest is gone.

It is not a secret that if you told me ten years ago that I would be the father of two today, I would have simply have dismissed the comment. A decade ago, children were not part of my life’s plan. However, as a friend put it once about her own children (I’m paraphrasing and taking some poetic license but her sincerity and the truthfulness of the statement remain unchanged): Before kids it was hard to imagine life with them, now (with kids) it is hard to imagine life without them.

Like the father in Chapin’s song, my father and grandfather worked long hours to afford me the luxury of “teaching my children how to throw.” I don’t remember if I wanted to be like my father though I do remember (regretfully) hating my father. There was a lot of going on then and my father represented yet another entanglement I believed was keeping me from soaring towards my goals. I realize now that he was just trying to keep me from falling over the edge of this flat earth.

As an adult, my sister once told me that my father “does not understand me.” The comment took me aback. It had never occurred to me that he “didn’t understand me.” I just thought we disagreed. I mean he and I are peers now, right? We are both adults. We are both fathers.

Sadly, at some point in time I am certain my children and I will not understand each other. I am hopeful we’ll get over it like my father and I did (at least we’ve become better at feigning a shared perception).

I don’t encourage my children to “grow up just like me.” I want them to be better – just like my father wanted for me. So maybe someday my children will hate me for wanting so much but hopefully someday they will forgive me as such.

Wu Are You

Heavenly Kings is one of my favorite movies. It's sort of Spinal Tap but from the HK Boy Band Pop perspective. Daniel Wu interviews well in this CNN clip. I'm not going to say he makes any revelations but its oddly comforting to know we have shared frustrations and challenges.

Now, look at this clip. I used it in a post I wrote reacting to Arizona's law banning ethnic studies classes. It's from the 70s. It's sort of "awakening" to hear the same sort of comments regarding Asian Americans in the mainstream (both in the US and in Asia) spaced almost two scores - almost 40 years! - apart.

The Happy Americana Meal

[Cross posted at Cranial Gunk.]

Andy Warhol from The Philosophy of Andy Warhol:

The most beautiful thing in Tokyo is McDonald’s

The most beautiful thing in Stockholm is McDonald’s

The most beautiful thing is Florence is McDonald’s

Peking and Moscow don’t have anything beautiful yet.

In 1990, Moscow became beautiful.

Beijing (formerly Peking) didn’t become beautiful until 2007.

America is “The Beautiful.”

When I was young,I knew I had done well when my parents would tell me we were going to McDonald’s. Together we would drive deeper into Queens for Big Macs, cheese burgers, vanilla shakes, and a mountain of crispy French Fries.

Coca Cola, McDonald’s, Chevrolet – it was all a part of becoming more American. And while I desperately wanted to assimilate more in my youth, I understood even then that a visit to the Golden Arches was not a visit made without thought or purpose. It was not something we did everyday.

This doesn’t mean I didn’t scream and cry for McDonald’s whenever the opportunity presented itself. However, my parents were firm. They said, No!

What disturbs me most about the outcry to retire Ronald McDonald and to remove the toys from the McDonald’s Happy Meals is that the arguments to do so seem less about healthy eating and more about parents not wanting to say, “No” to their children. From what I read, the proponents of the forced retirement and ban justify their stance by clinging to the belief that it is too tough to get their children to “eat healthy.”

Damien Hoffman at the Wall Street Cheat Sheet writes:

As the father of a 9 1/2-month-old, I prefer to have a level playing field when taking the time to teach my children how to eat healthy. If Ronald is giving toys with his meals, I have to work that much harder to get my children to eat what is best for their self-interest (which is also best for our economy and society). Personally, I am sick of having to compete with the lowest common denominator when it comes to creating a healthy environment for my family.

I agree. It is tough to get children to eat healthy. As our careers seep more and more into our personal lives and through cell phone and net book our offices become viral, the time traditionally reserved for healthy meals is diminished. Greater effort and planning needs to be done to insure a healthy diet for us as well as our children.

However, just because it is tough doesn’t mean we don’t attempt it. The problem is not Ronald and his Happy Meal toys but busy parents not wanting to spend the time to cope with the consequences of saying: No!

I am my children’s parent, not their friend. Damien is right in asserting: “Children don’t have a mature sense of social reality.” I would add that a lot of adults don’t either (and I don’t mean that in a passive aggressive pot shot way). Reality is a social construct. Individuals who have not had the benefit of developing in a diverse community logically lack the array of tools with which to construct their social reality. This is where we as a society work together to inform and guide. 

Parenting is very inconvenient. Parenting is very tough. These are social realities. Expecting a “healthy” fast food meal is not socially realistic. Fast food is about convenience. It is filler until something substantial can be had.

The Happy Meal toy is a symbol of American innovation. The Happy Meal was created as a way to promote McDonald’s as a family restaurant specifically servicing small children -

The very first Happy Meal in 1979 in Kansas City was the Circus Wagon Happy Meal and McDonaldland Fun-To-Go in St. Louis. It cost one dollar and contained either a McDoodler stencil, a puzzle book, a McWrist wallet, an ID bracelet or McDonaldland character erasers. The Circus Wagon Happy Meal consisted of a hamburger or cheeseburger, twelve-ounce soft drink, a small order of french fries, and a "McDonaldland Cookie Sampler", a small portion of cookies.

The Happy Meal is that little slice of Americana my parents risked their livelihoods on. They traded their familiar worlds for one they had only seen in the movies. They worked hard for their baseball and apple pie. However, this doesn’t mean we had either everyday. They knew a healthy diet could contain some pie but was not entirely pie. A healthy diet is balanced. And when I screamed for pie, they knew enough to say: No! (and mean it)

Not Ready For Prime Time

Mace Marvelous turns 5 this summer. Wifey and I spent the past couple of months checking out potential kindergartens. We live in California and the woeful budget is slowly chipping away at what's left of the public schools. Even in lovely, coveted Cupertino where I work, the town literally held a city-wide bakesale to stave off furloughs and layoffs. The prediction was that even in Cupertino where test scores are traditionally off the charts (Chinese and Desis represent), kinder class sizes could rise to a 30-1 ratio.

We've decided to go private and it's been quite an education. We saw immaculate classrooms and desks all in a row with amazing artwork. We saw sterile education facilities churning out uniformed geniuses (almost all South Asian). We met an amazing kindergarten teacher who was eager to take our son under her wing. Some of the private schools were so academic there was no P.E. classes. Others made our area public school look dowdy and antiquated as the mismatched sweats the kinder teacher was wearing when we visited.

Mace shadowed at two separate kindergartens months apart and on different spectrums of philosophies. He spent the day in class and pulled out and tested on basic pre-K curriculum. Both came back with the same verdict: Junior K. Painting in broad strokes, one cited fine motor skills and the other cited maturity and language.

We want our son to be fulfilled in class and confident but I'd be lying if I said we weren't disappointed. We all have egos and every parent wants to believe their child is brilliant. We're coming to terms with the placement and signing him up for Junior K program. I know he's totally gonna dig it.

Have you experienced the same situation or been in it as a kindergarten-aged child and put in Junior K? How say you?

SD

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

I made it official. I now put the "ass" in Assistant Coach for a bunch of U-6ers one of which is my son Maceo, now 4.

The team is composed of mostly first-time soccer players mixed in with a couple of 5-year old ringers. At the other end of the spectrum there are the oblivious ones, who I like to call "daisy pickers," that I try to point in the general direction of the goal. The head coach is the father of one of Maceo's classmates and a fellow soccer fanatic so we get along well. Practices are a mix of stretching, FUNdamentals, and scrimmage. We understand the main thing is for kids to exercise, learn teamwork, and be good sports. And pass! Pass!

It's been more fulfilling that I originally expected it to be. I was admittedly reluctant at the task of corralling a bunch of 4-5 year olds and teaching them the game I love but it's good times. When they do something you tell them to and it pays off — like making a good defensive play or scoring — the kids break into a big smile and it melts you. I've laughed out loud during these moments. I also realize that scoring their first goal ever is a significant moment in their lives so I try to respect that.

Other observations:

1) The kids always ask: "Did we win?" and "What's the score?" My answer is always a frank "We're all winners" and "The score is FUN-to-FUN". I scoffed at the concept of "fun-to-fun" games as important lessons are learned from losing as well as winning but at age 4? Scoring is moot.

2) One of the coaches this weekend was this pressurized Korean dude who ran his charges like a confused drill instructor. He'd position his kids all over the field for kickoffs and inbound play. I felt bad for the players because they're just learning the game and he's peppering them with questions like, "Why are you doing that?" He was going off on his son and the boy pushed him in the face. Wow. The parents on our team are a supportive lot, thankfully.

3) Before we start we do a roar and chant "Tigers!" and I do that rap show cliche where I feign disgust that they're "not loud enough" so they get fired up and yell louder. I think they're excited because it's the only time they're encouraged to roar and scream.

4) Maceo is a borderline daisy picker and it's secretly killing me. :)

SD

Bitter Tea

[Cross posted at Cranial Gunk]

Recently Turner Classic Movies played The Good Earth and The Bitter Tea of General Yen back to back. I caught the former as the locusts descended upon the crops and continued to the latter as a “Chinked up” Nils Asther rode away in “Yellow Face” without care or concern for the rickshaw driver his car had just hit.

I grimaced as I watched Nils Asther’s exaggerated Yellow Face – painfully narrowed eyes and pencil-thin eyebrows – look preoccupied and distant as a desperately concerned Barbara Stanwyck (playing blonde White Christian) tries to get him concerned about the rickshaw driver he just injured. I couldn’t watch any further than that despite telling myself I was being unfair – things were different then – Al Jolson – Black Face – It’s a Capra movie for Crissakes! You know - It’s a Wonderful Life!

I was ready to be offended. But then both movies were made in the 1930s when minstrel shows and Yellow Face went unquestioned. I accepted the caricatures and pacified myself with the excuses of time and place – It was the 1930s – pre-Civil Rights – pre-Dr. King – pre-Vincent Chin… I focused on the story – the drama unfolding.

And they were good stories. The former about a family coping with the challenges presented by nature (both earthly and human) and the other about the mutability of faith. With the latter I couldn’t stop myself wondering why it hadn’t already been remade with Chow Yun Fat and Charlize Theron or Simon Yam and – I don’t know – Gwyneth Paltrow? - But that’s not the point. The point is it is a good story that can be a great one with some modernizing and tweaking.

Perhaps the most poignant example of modern day Yellow Facing is the movie Gandhi. Gandhi because I watch it every time it is on – It is one of my favorite movies! Gandhi because he is my inspiration - I am awed by the resolve he showed in not hitting back and his perseverance through such hardships (first with the British and then with the religious divide between Hindus and Muslims).

Gandhi because he is played by Ben Kingsley in “Yellow Face” (or more appropriately “Brown Face”). But Kingsley plays so well and so convincingly I don’t see Ben Kingsley past the opening credits – I see – in some perverse rearrangement of time – Gandhi as I imagined he would be as the young lawyer being booted from a train in South Africa and years later as the frail looking robed defender with a walking stick.

And I wonder - What would Gandhi say about this portrayal? What would he say about Yellow Facing?

In the Arthur Dong documentary, Hollywood Chinese, Luise Rainer’s (the actress who played O-Lan in The Good Earth), sentiment on authenticity is reiterated by Nancy Kwan and a few of the others interviewed: “It’s illusion… It’s much more important to be true to the character inside than to be exactly right on the outside.”

Racebending (the site that got me thinking about this again), was created to encourage “fair casting practices. As a far-reaching movement of consumers, students, parents, and professionals, we promote just and equal opportunities in the entertainment industry.” Its creation was sparked by M Night Shyamalan’s decision to cast only White actors as the protagonist leads in his adaptation of Nickelodeon’s cartoon series, Avatar.

He rationalizes his decision in an io9 interview:

Here's the thing. The great thing about anime is that it's ambiguous. The features of the characters are an intentional mix of all features. It's intended to be ambiguous. That is completely its point. So when we watch Katara, my oldest daughter is literally a photo double of Katara in the cartoon. So that means that Katara is Indian, correct? No that's just in our house. And her friends who watch it, they see themselves in it. And that's what's so beautiful about anime.

”So that means that Katara is Indian, correct? No that’s just in our house.”

And so I think that’s where the problem lies - “just in our house…” Why should we be Katara just in our houses? Why can’t Katara be Indian? Why does she have to be White? While I agree with Luise Rainer about the craft of acting and the art of making a good film, I think she and Shayamalan miss the point – It is about the opportunity to indulge in the illusion, not about the illusion itself. It is akin to Shyamalan telling his daughter: “Honey, that’s cute but you can’t wear the Katara costume outside like the other kids.”

Siblings...

Growing up as an only child definitely gave me my own unique perspective regarding family life. I remember the looks on people's faces when I told them I was an only child. They often remarked on how "spoiled" I probably was. In retrospect I guess I was spoiled, but definitely not to the point that I wasn't thankful and appreciative of what I had. My mother made sure of that. I did often wonder what it would have been like to have a brother or sister around.

It was a huge leap of faith for my wife and I to decide to have a second child. Our first foray into parenthood hasn't been a cake walk and the sleepless nights alone were almost reason enough for us to stop at one. The utter exhaustion that we experienced in the early weeks and months obviously had an effect on us. However after much discussion and debate and ultimately throwing caution to the winds, we were lucky enough to bring another wonderful life into this world. Thankfully we've been very fortunate as number two has been so much easier and compliant than our firstborn. Maybe you can chalk it up to experience or perhaps it's because we're a little more prepared and easygoing. Who am I kidding, it's mostly due to our daughter herself, have I mentioned how great she's been? I know many parents may hate us, but she was pretty much sleeping through the night by seven weeks. She'll even go days without really crying. Trust me, we thank our lucky stars every night. She's been amazing.

You hear stories and nightmares of sibling jealousy or behavioural issues associated with bringing a new baby into the house. For the most part our son has been indifferent, which is way more preferable than what we were told to expect. Lately, he's even been showing her more affection, odd considering he has never really been the cuddly type.

As parents, my wife and I try our best to lay a strong, nurturing foundation for our children. We strive to establish a stable, warm, and supportive home environment. We constantly stress and try to model the importance of manners and respect. No where is this more apparent than in the things that we tell our son. We try to convey the responsibility he now has as the big brother, to watch out for his sister, to teach her things, and to reinforce that the bond that they share is like no other. We want to be able to see them grow up together and be able to lean on each other in times of need; however, we also know that there are no guarantees. Although we want them to be best friends it may not necessarily turn out that way. So we're keeping our fingers crossed and our hopes high for the future. And if anyone has a magic formula as to how to foster such a relationship, we're all ears.