For many, the weekend is a time to recharge, to recover from the work week’s mental or physical drain. Some sleep in, ignoring the rigid cycles that define their work life. Others pack their schedules full. Most spend their Saturdays and Sundays with their families, forging deeper bonds. Yet others indulge in their passions and activities, which lift them up spiritually or psychologically.
For me, there is no choice in the matter. With the missus out of town for work, I have been left to take care of my daughter. The situation does not allow for much relaxing, sleeping, or any activity that does not involve bringing a seven-year-old along for the ride. And since her school teachers have indicated that her Mandarin is less than stellar, and wished to put her in a remedial class, I have had additional duties piled upon my plate.
Honestly, my wife’s Mandarin sucks. She is barely able to converse on a kindergarten/lower primary level. And she has difficulty reading even the Mandarin section of the daily free tabloid. I sometimes wonder how she managed to survive in China, Hong Kong and Taiwan, those years that she was outstation there.
It stands to reason, therefore, that I be assigned the task to teach my daughter the intricacies of Mandarin. Unfortunately, I know only the methods by which I myself had been taught. By ‘unfortunately’, I mean unfortunately for my daughter:
It was a harsher time when I was a student. The teachers do not mollycoddle their pupils as they do these days. Punishments were swift and merciless. My knuckles were not permanently damaged, and I can still sit on my arse, so I suppose it can be survived. So I am going back to these ‘tried & true’ methods – writing, recitation, repetition. And a swift whack when her attention wavers.
The results have been promising so far: she received 42/50 for the first ‘Ting Xie’ and full marks for the second. Now all I have to do is to keep her sufficiently motivated. All the praises heaped upon her by both her grandmothers help.
As does the promise of a new tech-toy. Like me, the daughter’s a gadget freak : )
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Tuesday, 7 June 2011
Swift and Pink
The missus had something to say about my driving playlist recently. I had purchased Taylor Swift's Fearless and Speak Now CDs, as well as Pink's greatest hits. And I've been cycling through these three for days on end. Apparently, my wife wonders at my sudden change, from what used to be a predominantly gothic & symphonic rock playlist.
Quite honestly, I don't really know how this came to be. Pink's lyrics are biting and harsh, despite her catchy melodies. Taylor Swift's music seem saccharine sweet, but there are some songs that hide a dark side, a bitter pill that lurks among the innocent-looking lyrics. White Horse, in particular, is a tale of betrayal. Not quite the sort of song that one expects from the one who sang Love Story.
I think I'll throw Avril Lavigne into the mix next. Black Star ...
Quite honestly, I don't really know how this came to be. Pink's lyrics are biting and harsh, despite her catchy melodies. Taylor Swift's music seem saccharine sweet, but there are some songs that hide a dark side, a bitter pill that lurks among the innocent-looking lyrics. White Horse, in particular, is a tale of betrayal. Not quite the sort of song that one expects from the one who sang Love Story.
I think I'll throw Avril Lavigne into the mix next. Black Star ...
Monday, 6 June 2011
School Daze Again
Well, it has been six months since I last worried about the sprog's progress in school. I suppose it is appropriate, given my work, to do a mid-year review. So here it is:
1. She is not the shortest in her class. (she missed that honour by a hair.)
2. She is rather good at math, although she does not check her answers and therefore loses points in careless mistakes.
3. Her mandarin is passable, though the teacher had mentioned on two or more occasions that her spoken mother-tongue has a rather western twang to it, if and when she deigns to use the language in conversation. My fault, I suppose. I really must make her watch more local chinese dramas.
4. Her english is ... This one is hard to judge. She speaks well and fluently, and her ability to answer questions is undisputed. However, she is very lazy when it comes to those open-ended questions. Her answers are usually too short and lacks completeness to score the full marks. Offhand, I'd say that she is just too lazy to copy out the 'whole' answer. Oh, well.
5. She still persists in eating far too little. I have attempted to rectify this by tempting her with scrumptious chocolate cake and delicious bak kwa, along with other goodies. However, with such matters, a longer period of assessment shall be necessary. I shall need to keep track of this.
6. The teachers have agreed that my daughter is a very helpful person, who likes to assist the teachers and her fellow students. Apparently, she regularly helps to move the chairs and tables around when needed, volunteers to collect papers for handing up to the teachers, and other such duties. She has also confessed that she was rather disappointed at being passed over for the class monitress job - due to her lack of inches, which prevents her from cleaning the top of the whiteboard. (I promptly exploited this to coax her to eat more and grow taller).
7. More astonishing is the fact that she has declared that her goal is to become a prefect! Goodness gracious! Where did she get this from? The missus and I have both avoided public office our whole lives! Is this a way of the Fates getting back at us? Sigh.
Apart from this, the little girl has persisted in her love of the colour green, boy cartoons like Ben Ten and Generator Rex, and a preference for jeans over dresses. However, just this saturday past, she suddenly cosied up to me and asked for a Hello Kitty hairband. Ah yes! The princess syndrome finally kicks in!
Heh heh heh.
1. She is not the shortest in her class. (she missed that honour by a hair.)
2. She is rather good at math, although she does not check her answers and therefore loses points in careless mistakes.
3. Her mandarin is passable, though the teacher had mentioned on two or more occasions that her spoken mother-tongue has a rather western twang to it, if and when she deigns to use the language in conversation. My fault, I suppose. I really must make her watch more local chinese dramas.
4. Her english is ... This one is hard to judge. She speaks well and fluently, and her ability to answer questions is undisputed. However, she is very lazy when it comes to those open-ended questions. Her answers are usually too short and lacks completeness to score the full marks. Offhand, I'd say that she is just too lazy to copy out the 'whole' answer. Oh, well.
5. She still persists in eating far too little. I have attempted to rectify this by tempting her with scrumptious chocolate cake and delicious bak kwa, along with other goodies. However, with such matters, a longer period of assessment shall be necessary. I shall need to keep track of this.
6. The teachers have agreed that my daughter is a very helpful person, who likes to assist the teachers and her fellow students. Apparently, she regularly helps to move the chairs and tables around when needed, volunteers to collect papers for handing up to the teachers, and other such duties. She has also confessed that she was rather disappointed at being passed over for the class monitress job - due to her lack of inches, which prevents her from cleaning the top of the whiteboard. (I promptly exploited this to coax her to eat more and grow taller).
7. More astonishing is the fact that she has declared that her goal is to become a prefect! Goodness gracious! Where did she get this from? The missus and I have both avoided public office our whole lives! Is this a way of the Fates getting back at us? Sigh.
Apart from this, the little girl has persisted in her love of the colour green, boy cartoons like Ben Ten and Generator Rex, and a preference for jeans over dresses. However, just this saturday past, she suddenly cosied up to me and asked for a Hello Kitty hairband. Ah yes! The princess syndrome finally kicks in!
Heh heh heh.
Sunday, 5 December 2010
December Will Be Magic Again
I travelled North this morning, just as the sun rose over the City. It was a mission that no one else desired, to tell the truth. But someone needed to represent the interests of my Order at the Confluence of the Rivers, so I had be chosen. Of course, the true work does not begin until tomorrow morning, and I have had the larger part of the day to prepare myself, and to visit the sights, such as they were.
The journey itself was pleasant enough, and a part of me wished to see the Muddy River Valley again. The last time I had visited that place was shortly before I was we'd, and I was curious to see how much it had changed.
Well, the changes were many. Indeed, it now greatly resembles the City that I call home.yet, there were differences aplenty; enough to make me miss the land of my birth. And my family.
The journey itself was pleasant enough, and a part of me wished to see the Muddy River Valley again. The last time I had visited that place was shortly before I was we'd, and I was curious to see how much it had changed.
Well, the changes were many. Indeed, it now greatly resembles the City that I call home.yet, there were differences aplenty; enough to make me miss the land of my birth. And my family.
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
Graduation
My daughter has graduated from Kindergarden 2. A small step, perhaps, in the whole of her scholastic life, but the first one. To be sure, I felt a deep sense of pride when I saw her up on stage that night of the 25th. Of course, in her usual close-lipped manner, she gave my missus and I no warning that she would be the first to walk across the boards that night. And so left the pair of us scrambling to get our cameras out. Sigh. Well, the footage is short, but at least we have it.
There was a concert following the ceremony, and both the daughter's grandmothers were in attendance. She seemed to enjoy herself, doing the dance thing, and I suppose that was the most important. The missus and I recorded both her numbers (two cameras, independent filming, slightly different angles) and ordered officail DVD as well. Hmmm. That was what we did for her K1 concert too, I recall. Not that I saw much of the official version - the daughter didn't have enough close-up screen time, in my biased opinion.
But now that the deed is done, I find myself worrying about other matters, as most parents do. Primary school is very different from Kindergarden, and I am fraught, wondering if she can adapt. She is small for her age, and there is the constant worry that she will be picked on by bigger girls. At least, there are no boys in a convent school. But after a conversation with a friend of mine yesterday, that leads to another set of possibilities in my mind .... Sigh.
I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
There was a concert following the ceremony, and both the daughter's grandmothers were in attendance. She seemed to enjoy herself, doing the dance thing, and I suppose that was the most important. The missus and I recorded both her numbers (two cameras, independent filming, slightly different angles) and ordered officail DVD as well. Hmmm. That was what we did for her K1 concert too, I recall. Not that I saw much of the official version - the daughter didn't have enough close-up screen time, in my biased opinion.
But now that the deed is done, I find myself worrying about other matters, as most parents do. Primary school is very different from Kindergarden, and I am fraught, wondering if she can adapt. She is small for her age, and there is the constant worry that she will be picked on by bigger girls. At least, there are no boys in a convent school. But after a conversation with a friend of mine yesterday, that leads to another set of possibilities in my mind .... Sigh.
I guess we'll just have to wait and see.
Saturday, 23 October 2010
Back from the Old Country
I have always had a soft spot in my heart for Hong Kong. Especially the food. *grin*
Unfortunately, this last trip to the Pearl River Delta did not pan out entirely as planned, and I've had to forgo my beloved roast goose (from Yung Ji), and roast pigeon. Sigh... I did get some traditional Cantonese soup, so I wasn't utterly devastated.
Unfortunately, this last trip to the Pearl River Delta did not pan out entirely as planned, and I've had to forgo my beloved roast goose (from Yung Ji), and roast pigeon. Sigh... I did get some traditional Cantonese soup, so I wasn't utterly devastated.
Sunday, 10 October 2010
Insomnia & Inspiration
I find inspiration in the oddest things. Once in a while, I have the good fortune of revisiting some of the events that shaped my youth. I have had just once such opportunity moments ago, when I enjoyed once again a marvelous mystery of the Dame of Murder Mysteries herself, Agatha Christie.
I grew up surrounded by books. Most of them rather boring texts belonging to my parents, who were both Primary School teachers. Children's stories adorned the shelves, with Enid Blyton's leading by sheer numbs. (I like to think that I had been a generous sort of older brother by purchasing all those Twins of St Clare's & Mallory Towers books so that my younger sister could share.) Of course, Secret Seven & Famous Five mysteries soon became favourites of mine. But I can still recall that that it was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Speckled Band & Red-head League that truly inspired my great love of puzzles. I was also deeply fortunate that I have a mother who is, to this day, a great fan of Sherlock Holmes. Just today she showed a great deal of interest in my iBooks app, when she saw the Holmes titles therein. (I might have promised her an iPad for christmas. Hmmm.)
Agatha Christie's Poirot was similar in his detachment and brain-power. Who would think it possible for ten people, coming from all walks of life, to have convened for the sole purpose of committing murder? That tale awoke my curiosity regarding the limitless human capacity for revenge, I confess. Till now, I still find the subject incredibly fascinating.
Yet, despite the pleasure of following the exploits of that Baker St genius, I have always felt intimidated by his intelligence. Just as it was somewhat depressing to read of Hercule's little grey cells. I also found the pair of them to be egotistical to the extreme, though I shall admit, deservedly so. I would not like to sit next to them at a dining table, however. No doubt they would find me utterly boring.
Then one day, I was called to the living room while a television movie was playing. I honestly cannot remember who it was who called me to join the family. I was never much for watching television. The commercials I found terribly irritating and only a handful of shows were interesting in my opinion. I did remember what it was that drew me to watch that show that evening - it's based on an Agatha Christie mystery, I was told. So I sat myself down, prepared for yet another American adaptation that completely destroyed the plot. But to my surprise, I rather enjoyed it! But who was this captivating old lady who saw past all the glitz and glamour? I dug around, and discovered the single greatest force that shaped my life, Miss Jane Marple.
I thought it rather odd that I had not heard of her before I watched that movie (it starred Elizabeth Taylor, it one must know which version). I learnt, much to my dismay that my earlier devotion to Hercule had blinded me to other works by the great lady, and I had missed Miss Marple in entirety! Horror. Well, I soon rectified that! After all, I had a Library Card and I was not afraid to use it! Ha!
Well, I had the pleasure of watching 'A Mirror Crack'd again this night. The Joan Dickson version by BBC, this time. And I find myself thoroughly fulfilled by it's conclusion. The acting was impeccable and very British. That is to say, with great subtlety and no little humour. And watching the show, rather than reading the book, made me understand why I love Miss Marple mysteries so much:
Unlike dear old Sherlock and the Belgian, Miss Marple relies on one very simple principle - people will be people. From her, I haves learned that one only needs to pay attention to understand what it actually going on around oneself. She has taught me to open my eyes and see, to use my ears to listen, and to empathize, to feel what each character must be feeling. Unlike the pair of great Brains, she gave me hope that I too could solve difficult puzzles by doing these very simple to achieve things. And so I have, from time to time.
It is a reminder, more to myself than to anyone, to watch, listen, and put oneself Into another's shoes. Each time I watch or read Jane Marple, I feel the touch of my muse. And I wonder if, like the dear old lady, if there has been anything that I've missed.
I grew up surrounded by books. Most of them rather boring texts belonging to my parents, who were both Primary School teachers. Children's stories adorned the shelves, with Enid Blyton's leading by sheer numbs. (I like to think that I had been a generous sort of older brother by purchasing all those Twins of St Clare's & Mallory Towers books so that my younger sister could share.) Of course, Secret Seven & Famous Five mysteries soon became favourites of mine. But I can still recall that that it was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Speckled Band & Red-head League that truly inspired my great love of puzzles. I was also deeply fortunate that I have a mother who is, to this day, a great fan of Sherlock Holmes. Just today she showed a great deal of interest in my iBooks app, when she saw the Holmes titles therein. (I might have promised her an iPad for christmas. Hmmm.)
Agatha Christie's Poirot was similar in his detachment and brain-power. Who would think it possible for ten people, coming from all walks of life, to have convened for the sole purpose of committing murder? That tale awoke my curiosity regarding the limitless human capacity for revenge, I confess. Till now, I still find the subject incredibly fascinating.
Yet, despite the pleasure of following the exploits of that Baker St genius, I have always felt intimidated by his intelligence. Just as it was somewhat depressing to read of Hercule's little grey cells. I also found the pair of them to be egotistical to the extreme, though I shall admit, deservedly so. I would not like to sit next to them at a dining table, however. No doubt they would find me utterly boring.
Then one day, I was called to the living room while a television movie was playing. I honestly cannot remember who it was who called me to join the family. I was never much for watching television. The commercials I found terribly irritating and only a handful of shows were interesting in my opinion. I did remember what it was that drew me to watch that show that evening - it's based on an Agatha Christie mystery, I was told. So I sat myself down, prepared for yet another American adaptation that completely destroyed the plot. But to my surprise, I rather enjoyed it! But who was this captivating old lady who saw past all the glitz and glamour? I dug around, and discovered the single greatest force that shaped my life, Miss Jane Marple.
I thought it rather odd that I had not heard of her before I watched that movie (it starred Elizabeth Taylor, it one must know which version). I learnt, much to my dismay that my earlier devotion to Hercule had blinded me to other works by the great lady, and I had missed Miss Marple in entirety! Horror. Well, I soon rectified that! After all, I had a Library Card and I was not afraid to use it! Ha!
Well, I had the pleasure of watching 'A Mirror Crack'd again this night. The Joan Dickson version by BBC, this time. And I find myself thoroughly fulfilled by it's conclusion. The acting was impeccable and very British. That is to say, with great subtlety and no little humour. And watching the show, rather than reading the book, made me understand why I love Miss Marple mysteries so much:
Unlike dear old Sherlock and the Belgian, Miss Marple relies on one very simple principle - people will be people. From her, I haves learned that one only needs to pay attention to understand what it actually going on around oneself. She has taught me to open my eyes and see, to use my ears to listen, and to empathize, to feel what each character must be feeling. Unlike the pair of great Brains, she gave me hope that I too could solve difficult puzzles by doing these very simple to achieve things. And so I have, from time to time.
It is a reminder, more to myself than to anyone, to watch, listen, and put oneself Into another's shoes. Each time I watch or read Jane Marple, I feel the touch of my muse. And I wonder if, like the dear old lady, if there has been anything that I've missed.
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