Never have I ever...been this delighted to watch a new, young celebrity-in-the-making

Maitreyi Ramakrishnan, not Mindy Kaling, drew me to watch the new teen Netflix series. And Maitreyi Ramakrishnan's charm, not Mindy Kaling's star, kept me glued to it. I am delighted that a seemingly down-to-earth, middle-class, Sri Lankan Tamil Canadian kid from Toronto is here to live out a Hollywood dream. It is easy to see why Maitreyi won the role over 15,000 other contenders -- she has a natural charm, is lively, spunky, and still disarmingly untouched by her own (healthy) ambition and early success. I love watching how Toronto celebrates her and am impressed by how well (how naturally) and lightly she wears her teen icon status. Her Tamil parents have raised her well, is all I can think.

I found the Devi character quite annoying -- I know, I am supposed to remember being a teen myself and also cut some slack given that Devi is experiencing a traumatic loss. Except for the loss of her father, Devi's story line is predictable: high achieving AND good looking South Asian kid with a physician parent; has an affinity for a high-achieving, well-off Jewish kid despite herself and their early rivalry, despite her attraction to a good-looking, non-stereotypically sensitive athlete. Come on! But the show, we are told, is based on Mindy Kaling's life. Kaling is lucky (alright, more than lucky, quite thorough actually) that she searched the world and found Maitreyi to play Devi for her and Poorna Jagannathan to play the mother. I certainly credit the full cast for my interest rather than the story and dialog itself.

The last episode of the first season, minus the drama, was my favorite episode of them all -- Nalini was more than a caricatured Indian American mother, an educated, liberal Indian woman. The trio of the women in the family reminded me of what I want for myself and my daughters -- relying on one another even when we each are different in our own ways.


Here are my kids' thoughts in their own words, uncensored, unedited:


I appreciate the effort that Never Have I Ever took to incorporate so much diversity; most of both the major and minor characters are minorities, especially Asian Americans. I also value the show’s decision to make Devi and her family be Tamil because I feel like the average American automatically associates an Indian person as a person who speaks Hindi. I liked that they show Devi’s family members speaking Tamil and eating Tamil food with their hands.

The show is entertaining, funny, and lively, while at the same time demonstrating the pain that people face. Although on the outside Devi often comes across as outgoing and comical, she is still going through a lot mentally and emotionally, what with the grief she faces from her father’s recent death, the shame she feels from having to be in a wheelchair even though she overcame her leg paralysis, and the struggles of trying to be popular and well-liked at school that she experiences. In a way, Ben, her academic rival, is much the same way going through internal pain though coming across as content. He always shows off to Devi and appears to be so proud of his academic success but in reality he is extremely lonely, always feels abandoned by his parents, and doesn’t have true friends to connect with (for the most part of the show). With these two dynamic characters, Never Have I Ever exposes the stigma of mental health problems that is especially common in high school.

-- Lekha Durai, May 24, 2020


I thought that Never Have I Ever was a pretty good show. It was entertaining and kept me really hooked while watching it, which is what a good show should do for viewers. It was also so cool to see Indian American representation in American media. I’m so used to watching shows like this, with a similar storyline, with a primarily white cast, so the diversity in the show was nice. It was really cool to see someone that looks like me represented on American television. Having said that, I do feel like the show had a few flaws. First of all, the dialogue was often poorly written. Some lines in the show were so cringey that they would never be spoken in real life. I think the script writers intended for these lines to be funny, but they just weren’t. 

Devi’s mom’s character confused me quite a bit throughout the show. She was supposed to come across as a typical, strict Indian mother, but she often had no reaction to things Devi and Kamala did. For example, she didn’t care when Devi stayed at Ben’s house. She didn’t know Ben or his parents very well, but she just let her daughter stay there all by herself for a week. Secondly, she had almost no reaction when she saw Kamala’s boyfriend in Kamala’s room the day they were meeting her potential husband. She even adds, nonchalantly, that she’d known about him all along. I’m excited for season two of this show to come out, but I hope that the script writers use the constructive criticism people have expressed about the show in the next season’s script.

-- Divya Durai, May 22, 2020


Never Have I Ever is a Netflix teen series created and written by Mindy Kaling. Narrated by John McEnroe, the show is from the perspective of the protagonist, Devi Vishwakumar (Maitreyi Ramakrishnan), a fifteen-year-old Indian-American girl. The plot highlights Devi’s struggles, which reflect those of many immigrant children. As a Tamil-Canadian living in America, I respect the historical significance of Kaling’s show. However, I would not recommend it; it is poorly written and unrealistic, and also has an unclear plot and mood.

Mindy Kaling is known for her writing; she has written for The Office and many books. However, Kaling did a poor job with writing Never Have I Ever— the dialogue is not authentic. If you watch the show, you’ll notice that the actors do an amazing job to make the dialogue seem authentic. But, many sentences—written by Kaling—still do not sound right. This is partly because Kaling tries too hard to put humor where it is not needed.

As an Indian-Canadian student in the U.S., I could not relate to Kaling’s depiction of high school. She centered the show’s high school on having different cliques that stereotype each other. That depiction is true to an extent, but far too many teen shows and movies have used and exaggerated it. Kaling’s depiction of high school may be true to her experiences as a teenager, but they do not hold for Gen-Z students like myself.

In Never Have I Ever, Devi struggles through the love-hate relationship she has with her immigrant mother. But she also has to figure how to handle her feelings for her crush, Paxton. She also stumbles in being there for her friends—Fabiola, who needs support as she realizes that she is gay, and Eleanor, who struggles in her relationship with her mother. But that’s not all—Devi’s cousin, Kamala, has to choose between her boyfriend and her family’s chosen groom. Also, Devi’s friend, Ben, has to find his way out of loneliness. And if that’s not enough, Devi’s mother Nalini, who misses her late husband, is reminded of memories of him. Clearly, Kaling did not create a clear plot that solves a main conflict. There is nothing wrong with a complicated plot, but it must be executed smoothly for a good story. And Kaling failed to center all of these unrelated conflicts into one central idea. And in the midst of all of these serious conflicts, Kaling tries to insert humor where it doesn’t fit. Humor is totally fine, but in Never Have I Ever, it creates an unsettled mood. Too often while watching the show, I wasn’t sure whether to feel sadness, anger, or humor. All of these unclear conflicts and moods produce an unclear purpose. After watching all of the episodes, I do not have a good answer to why Kaling created this show other than it gives cultural representation and makes money.

Never Have I Ever gives much deserved representation to minorities like myself, and it highlights many problems that many teenagers go through, from trying to fit in and be liked to trying to come out about your sexuality. But Kaling did not produce these ideas into a good show. The dialogue was written poorly; the plot, mood, and purpose was unclear; and the depiction of high school was unrealistic. The show is probably popular due to Kaling’s name and its historical significance, but it does not live up to valid expectations.

-- Rahul Durai, May 24, 2020

E-Learning

After reading a NYT article on online classes by a Junior High student, I asked my own children to write 150 words about their e-learning experience. My children's school moved to e-learning in late March, after an extended spring break. I was upset that, in addition to the forced changes that schools have had to necessarily make, they tweaked the learning in more ways than we all anticipated. E-learning days were just M-W-F, with T-Th reserved for teacher prep. So three-day work weeks instead of five-day weeks. Each day supposedly began at 9:00 am and lasted only until 2:30 pm, a full two-hour reduction to each working day. Moreover, rarely were classes live, prompting my children to wake up late, go to bed late, etc. It was frustrating that not only do they stay home without any club or other extracurricular activities (understandable yes) but the actual hours spent in structured learning e-classrooms were fewer than expected. I worried that study skills and habits will deteriorate, especially for the one child who is the least studious among my three children and who was also recently diagnosed with ADHD -- the one who doesn't let her schooling interfere with her life, the one who already drives me up the wall.

In reality, it worked out OK -- not too great, but not too shabby either. My two children who are good students followed through with all their assignments and spent as many hours as usual on their schoolwork and picked up on self-teaching and lifelong learning skills. My child with ADHD actually focused on her lessons better than while in class (or so she says), likely due to being by herself, away from other students in class, and thus avoiding the distraction that afflicts her when she is surrounded by peers. On her own, she is free to make mistakes, take risks, and learn in the process, devoid of the perception of being judged for not knowing or being slow. This experience with e-learning has sparked the hope in me that this child will be a good candidate for a hybrid college life -- part online, part in-class.

Below are my children's experiences in their own words:

E-learning is certainly not the ideal method of learning. In my chemistry class, my teacher recorded a video of himself doing one of our labs in his house since we couldn't do the lab ourselves. In the video, he told us out loud the numerical data we had to write down to use for further calculations. Even though we would often be very confused on the procedure, would have to ask each other for help, and wouldn't always be certain if we had collected good data, doing labs in school taught us to think critically and be independent and helped us reinforce chemistry concepts in a different way rather than studying them in our textbook. 

In some of my classes, class discussion and teacher explanations are fundamental. In my personal finance class, my teacher normally explains financial concepts in simple terms and always gives specific examples of how finance concepts play out in all of our lives. We would watch explanatory videos but my teacher would do the important job of connecting the videos' contents back to our own lives. There would also be many opportunities to participate in class. With e-learning, we only watch the videos and submit short responses to questions. In economics, my teacher would always encourage as to read our textbook as we answered written questions, but in class he would still spend sometimes an entire period explaining a chapter's material and using references to sports, media, and celebrities to teach us economics. Although with e-learning he tries to write up explanations using popular references, it still does not have the same effect as hearing explanations out loud and being able to ask questions in-person rather than through email. Lastly, my government class is similar in this way. Earlier, my teacher would also spend most of the class talking and explaining our material, so clearly that those of us who paid attention would hardly have to read the textbook to prepare for tests. I would rarely get homework in government and it was a class I did not have to focus a lot of my out-of-class time on. Currently my teacher feels obligated to give us an assignment every day of e-learning and this is a lot more work than I am used to doing for this subject. 

E-learning is generally much easier for me and takes a much shorter time than in-person learning does. Before, I would go through an entire school day before coming home at 3:30 with a list of assignments from most classes to finish by the end of the day. Now, I wake up and start my assignments for each class right away, rather than going through what normally happens in my classes. Add the fact that e-learning is only three days a week and that makes it even easier. I have a lot more free time now and I honestly enjoy that part. I sometimes finish all of my work by mid-afternoon with the evening to enjoy. My classmates and I are experiencing senioritis and e-learning is only making it a lot easier for ourselves. But of course, there is still a price to pay when school becomes really easy and there are no tests. When I begin college in-person it will be an especially huge change for all of us.  

E-learning might not be an ideal system of education, although it is more convenient for many students like me. Yet we should be glad that we are even able to have e-learning; that we have computers and Internet, unlike people from many parts of the world. We can afford to get used to this system for a few months, stay home and practice social distancing, and make going back to school again in the near future happen.

-- Lekha Durai, May 5, 2020

I have mixed feelings about the whole e-learning thing. For one, I get to wake up a whole two hours later than I usually do for school, which is nice and all, but it’s annoying how long I usually work on e-learning each day. We’re supposed to be able to be done with e-learning every day at 2:30, but I normally finish all of my assignments around 5 every day. Some of my teachers really like to stack up on assignments for us. Live meetings are just not like regular school. Teachers try to make small talk with everyone, but it’s just awkward doing it through the screen. If the teacher decides to say something to you specifically during the live meeting, you have to quickly unmute yourself, respond, and mute yourself again. Also, if one of your family members decides to walk into your room during the live meeting and say something, it’s kind of embarrassing. Every day, whether it’s an e-learning day or not, my phone is constantly blowing up with Canvas notifications, Google Classroom notifications, and emails saying, “Larry Murphy created a new assignment” or “Jenn Hubbard” invites you to a live meeting Friday at 10:30.” In all, e-learning is not the best, but it’s not bad under the circumstances. I’d still take it over regular school any day.

-- Divya Durai, May 7, 2020

E-learning is extremely bittersweet. I love how laid-back it is; no longer do we have an overload of homework, and we are able to spend more time on activities other than school. However, we students aren’t getting the benefits of socially-interacting with classmates. In fact, the only social interaction we are getting outside of our families is by texting (and sometimes calling) those within our own friend groups, whereas in real school we have the experience of talking in person to everyone, even those who are outside of our friend groups. E-learning also creates a new kind of stress: Students have to work solely with a computer. In real school, we have a mix of sitting, standing, using a computer, using a notebook, talking, and listening. In e-learning, we are sitting in front of a computer for hours every day. Finally, with spring sports cancelled, we aren’t participating in any organized sports. This gives us no athletic accountability, so we aren’t pressured to exercise every day and only do it when we want to. So, while e-learning isn’t painful to experience for a short period of time, it definitely will be unhealthy and not fun if it is needed long-term.

-- Rahul Durai, May 6, 2020

  

Stay-at-home order

It is now nearly two months since schools closed in our state in response to COVID-19 spread. My children have e-learning and I worked from home until April 30. E-learning requires my children to be "in class" only on M-W-Fs for only about 5 hours each day. T-Th are teacher prep days and so my kids sleep in, do some homework (or not) and generally take life easier than when they were expected to be at school physically. So, I came up with different ideas of how they could be spending their time more productively. Not one was tried out or followed. Did I say my kids are teens now? 

So, after some frustrating days when they rolled their eyes at everything from board games to signing up for a Coursera course, I put my foot down and somehow wrangled a deal with them. They will each write a short essay of 150 words on a topic of my choice so I can put it up on my blog without requiring them to edit their piece. I am not sure what I promised in return -- maybe that I will stop screaming? -- but here is their first assignment for me. 

On the Thursday before spring break, my friend told me that the next day, Friday, may be our last day of high school for the year.  I wasn’t really worried or concerned unlike other people and I underestimated how much change could happen in our school district, even if change was happening in other parts of the country and in China and Italy. I never thought she would be right about it being the last day.

The number of big changes that are happening is insane. Prom is cancelled. Graduation will be virtual or pushed late into the summer. My Bharatanatyam performance cancelled. Video chats with an entire class and teacher. Piano lessons through Facetime. Videos of chemistry labs instead of doing the labs ourselves. Online college Q&A broadcasts instead of campus visits. I find it crazy that it takes a pandemic for literally the whole world to be experiencing the same thing. Even though I’m going through a lot of changes, they are nothing compared to what infected patients, life-risking medical workers, and laid-off workers are experiencing.

Throughout these weeks, I spend time with family, connect with my future college peers online, and text friends. I pay attention to the news a lot because there is no other time like now to be doing so. I learn about utterly distressing stories related to Covid-19 and just recently heard that a classmate’s relative was affected by it.

Even two months ago I would never have pictured being in this situation. Our lives might be limited right now but we must remember that we are all living through history and we are all in this together. I’m just thankful that my family and I are safe and that my community cares about protecting everyone, even if it means staying at home. 

 -- Lekha, a high school senior who, as one of Class of 2020, will be missing out on graduation parties and ceremony.

I did a lot of things during quarantine that I would’ve never done if I hadn’t been stuck at home for a long period of time. One of them is that I have baked and cooked every day. I’ve noticed that a lot of people I know are baking and cooking during quarantine. It’s a really easy and fun way to pass time in the day and it’s also a really good life skill. In addition, it makes me feel good when my family and friends enjoy the food I make. Last week, I made cake pops for eight friends and delivered them to their mailboxes. I had this idea because I saw a lot of people online writing their friends letters and sending them gifts to show their friends how much they cared about them and missed them. I decided to make cake pops because I love the ones at Starbucks and I knew they’d be a challenge for me to make on my own They took a very long time to make, since I had never made them ever before and because there were multiple flaws in the recipe I used, but I was really proud of the end product. All of my friends texted me later raving about how good they were and that made me feel really good and that the long process was worth it.

 -- Divya,who took 2 days to create the most colorful cake pops.

What I Enjoy Doing During Quarantine

          Walks:

The wind gives me small goosebumps. Millions of strands of green grass are approaching out of the ground. The road is almost empty of cars. The trees unapologetically stretch their branches as far as they can. The greyish-blue sky is quite dull. In the air, I can smell the soil and the thousands of animals in and around it. 

It is a plain old evening during Spring, and I am walking with my mom and my dog in West Lafayette. As simple and boring as it may seem, this is one of my favorite treasures during boring times like quarantine. This is the time of day where I can experience the calm, mysterious nature. Nature is a world that seems uninteresting, but when you walk through it, you can see how complicated and beautiful it is. From a distance, a tree looks nothing out of the ordinary, but when you walk under it, you can see the beauty of every branch and the thousands of lives it houses. When you walk through nature, you see a story that makes you forget all of your stresses. And humans are supposed to experience nature, for that is where they originally come from.

When on a walk with my mother, who at home seems permanently stressed with work and family conflict, I can see the inside of her. In the midst of nature, all of her stresses wash away, and I can see her invaluable knowledge, wisdom, kindness, and heart. I know that when she talks to me on a walk, she cares about me and is happy. Thus, going on a walk is one of my favorite things to do with my mother.

Walks bring my dog, Legacy, to her origins of nature, and she is at her peak of happiness. At home, she is constantly surrounded with our stresses and fights. But when on a walk in nature, when all of our stresses are gone, Legacy can come back to where she originally came from, the natural world, and experience it with us.

A walk isn’t just one hour for exercise. A walk brings you closer to those you love and closer to where all life belongs, nature.

-- Rahul, the youngest and therefore the sincerest when he puts his mind to it.

Madhuri Shekhar's 'A Nice Indian Boy.'

Here is the best thing I can say about how good the play 'A Nice Indian Boy' was: that I went to see it twice. 

The first time, on Valentine's Day, on my own, because it was rated PG-13 and because we have no friends or babysitters here yet that we can request taking care of our kids while we take some time on our own -- like a normal, parental couple would. So Melvin's Valentine's Day gift for me was to drop me off at Victory Gardens, take the kids for a treat in a nearby bakery and pick me up again after the show.  So pushing the guilt aside, I grabbed a 'Mumbai mule' from the lovely bar downstairs at Victory Gardens and headed up to the show -- telling myself that I love live theatre and it keeps me sane and connected in my isolated 'all work and no play' (pun intended) world.

It was quickly obvious that the play's PG-13 rating does not apply to Melvin's or my values and sensibilities and that this could have been a family outing for us. Adding to my regret was the fact that another extended family in the audience had brought along some kids -- and at least two appeared to be of my girls' ages (pre-teens). Two more appeared to be in their teens. I texted to my family during intermission that we are coming back again. Together.  Melvin's response was 'huh?' 

So we went back again yesterday-- February 15th.  I gave a crash course to my kids on DDLJ (which is referred to quite a bit in some scenes), Mumbai's cosmopolitan Marathis, Ganesha, Indian stereotypes, parental magnanimity, sibling rivalry, sibling love and support, liberal values, first generation immigrant parents' idiosyncracies, second generation's insularity, first generation's expectations of second generation's behaviors towards them. And finally, the elephant in the room and it is what you think (if you clicked on the link above) but it is also not what you think.  It is not even Ganesha who as a deity has a huge presence in the play.  It is the Indian's expectations about who is a true or a good, natural-born Indian and this little-discussed -- perhaps light-hearted but perhaps not -- reverse "discrimination". I also told them not to be shy about a very explicit kissing scene, putting it in context thus: "I allow you to watch Western movies where men kill men with one fast-drawn gun. If you are allowed to watch that, you can see this without any doubt."  I warned them that on a couple occasions they will hear some swear words -- but nothing that they haven't already heard on their school grounds or from my mouth when I am really mad about something. (Yes, so I said it out loud and publicly. Now flog me.)  Whether the crash course helped or not, I cannot be sure; whether the kids followed every dialog or understood every issue, of that too I cannot be sure (my kids' ages range from 8 to 12). But of this I am sure: that the big-picture impact of this beautiful, sensitive, witty, clever play will only make them more self-assured Indian American children and better human beings overall. That the play emphasizes the triumph of love and mutual respect for all -- whether separated by race, community or sexual orientation -- and by all -- whether by parents or progeny; brown or white -- is what they would ultimately remember. Of that I am sure. 

The California-based playwright Madhuri Shekhar (Chennai roots) appears to be talented and extremely insightful. All the actors were amazing -- but Alka Nayyar and Kamal Hans, even more so. Perhaps, they were just a tad older and much more experienced as actors, but they commanded the stage, even more so than the actors who played the younger characters (Kaiser Ahmed, Riley McIlveen, Suzan Faycurry).  

If you have a chance to see this Rasaka Theatre production, please do so.  Or better still, perform this play in your local community.  It is a lovely, lovely play.  

Director, Anna Bahow, on the play and the playwright: 'A Nice Indian Boy' is a romantic comedy with familiar tropes -- that are anything but familiar when immigrant assimilation collides with the adoption of a foreign heritage. The play challenges our traditioal concepts of ethnicity ad marriage. Shekhar has such respect for her characters and the humor is generous to all.  
          

Tamizh makkal, Tamizh magalgal (Tamils and Tamil daughters)

Discussions about Tamil (the language) and Tamils (the people) like Periyar and Annadurai seem to abound currently in India because the question of national language is back in the limelight.

The Dhaka Tribune has an in-depth article on the history of Tamil language and the identity of its people.
 
Perhaps it is time for me to tell my thirsting-for-all-things-Tamil twelve-year old that her great-grandfather went to prison in the '60s, along with C. N. Annadurai, protesting against Hindi imposition. 

But then again, I will have to deal with questions such as 'why don't you and daddy speak Tamil like Tamils do?', 'why don't you think in Tamil?' and 'when are you going to teach me Tamil?'  Alas, no Tiger Mom am I. 

So maybe it will become time for me to tell her that I am just about busy surviving somewhere, somehow; that, if my thatha wasn't snatched prematurely from this world, maybe I will now be a Tamil in Tamil Nadu rather than a Tamil in oblivion; that perhaps, she, my daughter, will have more opportunities to live life on her own terms; possibly, after the meandering and lost generations in between, she will connect right back to that proud, hardworking, self-respecting Tamil whose blood and love for the language runs deep in her veins.

Yes, maybe it is time for a Tamil moment between a Tamil mother and her much more Tamil daughter.      

President's award for academics

My 12-year old graduated from elementary school last week and, as her parents, my husband and I were notified a week ahead that "one" among our children was receiving an award (it wasn't hard to guess which one). "It would be a wonderful surprise for your child if you could be in school on the last day at 8:30 a.m.", we were told.  

Somewhat new to America's K-12 school system, we were unaware of the different awards and recognitions.  On the day of the awards, we sat through all the certificates of participation, intramural achievements, awards for club activities, recognitions for volunteer efforts and appreciations for positive response to behavioral expectations.  We were happy to see each of our children go up on stage at least once, but we suspected that something more was to come.

The principal, Ms. BR -- a warm, welcoming and very capable person -- began the last set of awards with a description of the President's awards.  She read out loud a form letter from President Obama and announced to the school and the visiting parents that each child who receives this award will go home with a copy of the letter, a pin and a certificate. She also described the two categories within the award -- the President's Award for Educational Achievement and the President's Award for Educational Excellence.  The former, she informed us, recognized all those students that show outstanding educational growth, improvement, commitment or intellectual development in their academic subjects and is meant to encourage and reward students who work hard and give their best effort in school, often in the face of special obstacles to their learning. 

My line of work being in Assessment currently, my first thought was about children with disabilities, including learning disabilities such as dyslexia, ADHD, affective disorders.  But the word 'obstacles' loomed large in my mind and I also imagined kids from difficult socioeconomic circumstances, family and immigration issues, custody battles. I was happy to know that the President's office was incorporating in their recognition the concern and efforts from Admissions committees in several institutions and from advocates of Diversity & Inclusion principles. I also heard Ms. BR say that she was going to call the former group of awardees first (the recipients of the Achievement award), give time for a collective applause and camera clicks, before calling out the latter group of awardees (the recipients of the Excellence award).

Then she proceeded to read out names with the loving pride reserved for principals who love their jobs -- first off, an Indian American boy looking well-adjusted and capable.  Then an Indian American girl -- my girl.  And my quiet, shy and unassuming girl walked to the stage and towards her principal only to find Ms. BR looking horrified for a split second and beginning to apologize. "I am sorry," she said, "this goes to show that even principals are capable of making mistakes.  I am truly, truly sorry and quite embarrassed."  It turns out that she had interchanged the order of the two lists and read the latter first.  She sent the two kids on the stage back to their seats, assuring them that she will call their names again -- at the right time, in the right order.  The whole incident lasted no more than a few minutes before the Achievement kids were honored and the Excellence kids were called back onto the stage.  My husband would later turn to me and whisper that seeing our kid then and there made the Principal realize she was onto the wrong order of lists. 

Later, in the unfettered privacy of the world of my thoughts, I wondered if Ms. BR would ever know or realize that she not only recognized my child for her academic excellence but also unknowingly gave testament to my child's strength and resilience and my own unsung efforts at surviving, to the best of my abilities, in the face of my own obstacles. My children, especially my first-born, have survived more than their share of school transfers; cushioned a forever-mismatched, sometimes-rocky/sometimes-rock solid marriage between their parents; watched their bread-winning mother making dents in a profession that is, perhaps, the most difficult for any foreign-trained professionals to be established in the United States and Canada; learned to help glue back the pieces of their mother every time she falls apart as the unhappy ghost of a birth family that denies her, period; rarely experienced grandparents' unconditional love; wondered if parties, vacations and wealth are only for relatives far away.   

For such a 'non-recognition' of the trials in my family, Ms. BR, I will forever be grateful to you.  I hope to live up to your non-expectations -- which, for someone who wakes up every morning wondering how much more has she possibly messed up everything under the sun, such 'obscurity' is as good as it could get.          

                               

Kid speak -- Part One

Divya: Rahul, you put water in my eye!

Rahul: Well, just spit it out of your eye!

Mom (fascinated): Spit it out?

Rahul (correcting self): Well, just drop it out of your eye, Divya!

****

Rahul had his hand on the window (glass) of the car and was pressing the power-window button up, down, up, down, with the other.

Mom: Whatcha doin', Rahul?

Rahul: Nothing. Just giving my hand a ride.

****

Rahul: Is a documentary a dictionary on TV?

****

Divya: Are people the best animals?

****

Rahul (at 6 years of age): You look too cool, Mommy. Like a rock star!

****

Dad (loading the dishwasher): Rahul, can you bring the glasses from the living room?

Rahul (cheekily) brings his eye glasses that he hates to wear.

****

Lekha: Do you want pepperoni?  Or pepper only?

****


Divya: If you eat yourself, will you be inside out?

****

Rahul (at 5&1/2 years of age; impatient for Mom's attention to turn to him): It is boring to hear about Lekha's and Divya's dreams. It is fun when you listen to my dreams.  

****

Rahul: Is that a thinking job or a doing job?

****

Rahul: What is that thing in the hotel room that you and Daddy kept your computer?

Mom: A safe?

Rahul: Yes, and I think my memory is in a safe.

****

       

The act of touching others' feet

Watching an old Tamil movie clip on Youtube the other day, I was once again witnessing the grace and humility with which most women kneel or prostrate in front of their husband's feet.

This is what I wrote as a comment on Sepia Mutiny's blog a few years ago on the art of prostrating:

I come from a very irreverent family. As far as I know, 3 generations of my kin have not lowered or bent their spines for another human; not once. So as an outsider looking in on adult-children expressing their love, gratitude and respect for their parents (or gurus, as in Bharatnatyam gurus or aged tuition-masters), I cannot help but wonder if I am missing out on a very unique and beautiful expression of the parent-child (or guru-sishya) relationship. When done right, the gesture is akin to an art form; the body expresses so much: complete surrender of the ego, near-rapturous attention, utter devotion.

Of course, not everyone is picture-perfect enough to feed my romantic notions of this tradition. Some, especially the men, are as stiff and awkward as I will be if pushed onto the catwalk and expected to sashay in a seductive manner in front of hundreds of strangers.

In my circle, the only times I get to witness similar uninhibited, gracious public displays of highly-esteemed relationships are when the adults are interacting with cuddly toddlers, brand new loves, potted plants and furry pets. And not necessarily in that order.

Nature vs nurture vs the random factor

My girls are preparing to audition for one of the local annual musicals. While looking for a video to teach (steal, basically) some easy routine, we came across the Cimorelli. They are a family of 6 sisters and 5 brothers. The sisters have their own You tube-assisted presence in the tween world and have gone on to be signed up with some label (or something; music world terminology/jargon eludes me). I am quite taken up with their story--they are home-schooled, and taught classical piano and voice lessons including barbershop quartet by their mother who was a music major in college. And I can't even get past wondering how the heck does she manage to feed a family of 13? What does she drive to get the family from point A to point B? A mini-bus?

But future celebrity-watching apart, I am fascinated with the thought that here is a natural, real-world experiment to add to the discussion about nature vs nurture fractions to outcomes big and small. Here, the Cimorelli sisters all have the same nature (genetics), same nurture (learning environment and opportunities). But then each child also has something unique that separates one sibling from another. The random factor. The X factor. I personally see a/an (admittedly) subjective hierarchy of talent, attractiveness, stage presence, and oomph, if I may, among them. My money is on one child. And then another.

And finally, I want to admit that another level of my fascination lies with the mother. What patience, what dedication, what strategy! What ambition! And I don't mean that last one in a negative way. I have spent enough of my life and energy hoping to earn something special (apart from a pay check), to make something of myself, in return for all the time I invested in working for others, with others. As the first woman to have gone to college and to have earned a university degree in my family, this is as far as I have gotten to understand and express my ambitions for my own life. But I never felt the desire to invest in my own family, teach them, train them, and to trust with all my heart that success in some form would be possible all on my own (with a little help from this new world with new technology). And even when I watch home schooling parents around us, for example, all I conclude is that it would be impossible for me to give my all just to my family. I need my distance from them; my children need their distance from me. I realize that I am prone to thinking, believing that my children need to take their chances learning from others--the others that are presumably more knowledgeable, more powerful, more different than me. But this Cimorelli mother seems to have discarded all such notions, all conditioning of such mindsets. And, devoid of self-doubts (if any), she has managed to come out the other end somewhat triumphantly. Hats off, Ma Cimorelli.

Watch the Cimorelli cover "Price Tag" by Jessie J and B.O.B here.

Amy Chua: Chinese (American) Mother Superior

Perhaps out of necessity, Amy Chua, in her Wall Street Journal article, 'Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior,' argues for an extreme position when it comes to parenting. I can understand that her philosophy has a balancing role to play in the current North American environment that demands passivity from parents--take, for example, this advice column from Miss Lonelyhearts to a dad bewildered by his drunk teen son--but as a stand-alone position it leaves me sputtering. The exaggerations, bordering on lies -- since when do all Chinese kids get only 'A's? -- are unnecessary hyperboles that only served to irritate me, the reader. Her confidence that her demeaning methods work for all and that all children are inherently strong, mule-like and thick-skinned leaves me extremely troubled.

For all Chua's high credentials, she forgets, or is unaware of, the phenomenon that epidemiologists and social scientists know as ecological fallacy. What works at the population level is not guaranteed to work at the individual level. (This is the opposite of the mistake we tend to commit when we use anecdotal evidence to influence behavior at the population level. More about that later.) More precisely, Chua's children could be practicing-learning, practicing-achieving, practicing-thriving despite Chua's methods and not because of them, but Chua grabs the credit every single time it works (Other intrinsic and time/place-specific external factors may influence motivation and success). But for simplicity's sake, let us assume it is solely Chua's style of parenting that ensures her children are successful at every scheduled activity ordained by her. So, proportionately speaking, Chinese (and Indians) may be over-represented in the hallways of Yale, thanks to upper-middle class Chinese(or Chinese-American or Indian-American) style of mothering, but there is no guarantee that your Mandarin-speaking or my Tamil-speaking child will benefit from that appalling scene Chua describes with herself and her child Lulu at the piano. Woe is us if our child happens to be the one exception: the one resentful rebel in the neighbourhood who would rather self-destruct than put up with an overbearing parent. An academic and a policy analyst who advocates the finer points of democracy across the world, she never second-guesses her inability to practice democracy at home.

After committing the ecological inference fallacy (whether by intent, to drive home a point, or by blind convictions), Chua stomps on ahead and passes off anecdotal evidence as accepted methodology to sell more of her points. The anecdote: her undented self-esteem even when her father calls her 'garbage.' Yes, even garbage may sound as sweet as nectar if you are lucky enough to come from a solid, secure, loving environment. But try coming from a dysfunctional family, being insecure, and being called garbage and you will find it to be a whole new ball-game. In my opinion, dysfunctional families are the last to know about their own dysfunctionality. My point is that parents should stay away from name-calling and verbal taunting, however high an opinion they may have of themselves and their parenting skills. Words have this strange and powerful way of coming alive, in the manner of a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Between the two extremes posited in Chua's article ('Western parents' vs. 'Chinese mothers'; by the way, where are the Chinese fathers?), lie a sea of invisible European parents, specifically, Eastern European parents. Economic and academic successes achieved by Eastern Europeans and their progeny in North America is largely ignored by mainstream America. Their model of rearing the second generation is ignored. Unless, of course, we are talking of generations of Jewish families. Then we are all ears (as we should well be). But in my opinion, contemporary Russian or Ukrainian immigrants (with post-secondary education) bring with them the best of the values endorsed by the 'Western parents' and they balance those values with the respect and reverence for hard work and scholarship that the 'Chinese mothers' supposedly instill (I hate this dichotomy drummed up by Chua since every one of my professors have been Caucasian.) The Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, Hungarian children I know actually stop to smell the roses without feeling compelled to write rose-inspired poetry, bottle and patent rose perfumes, and ship long-stemmed roses to Siberia at 10 bucks a piece. And yet, I will not be surprised if, in due course, one of them genetically engineers thorn-free rose bushes. Until then, they play (and why not? even animals encourage their young ones to play just for the fun of it), and work, in seemingly right amounts.

The Chuas and the Misses Lonelyhearts can flaunt all the tales the old and young wives in their cultures, respectively, spin, but it will be prudent of us to study and listen to our own individual child's need, style and quest for achievements. A small example from my life as a mother of young children: The 1-2-3 discipline rule works without a hitch, every time, with two of my three children. And it never works with one. Never. Strangely enough, this is the one child who is most like me in temperament. I am still trying to figure out what works or doesn't work with this child, and I am still making mistakes.

Chua never mentions what makes her daughters happy. We only get an idea of what makes her, the Mother Superior, happy. Disappointed, I went to back to a favorite article of mine. To remind myself that there is no guarantee that success is entwined with happiness. Or that success is even a pre-requisite for happiness. And Chua should probably pay attention to what is being said. After all, that body of happiness research comes from Yale's rival institution, Harvard. I don't care how much we achieve but I know that we are never going to be happy if we do not know how to love and accept people in all their weaknesses, fears and imperfections.

Here is a review by Elizabeth Chang of Amy Chua's book, 'Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.' Any lingering doubts I had about Chua possibly being self-deprecatingly funny have been dissipated.

Here are two scenarios that I have been mulling over as potential analogies and as fodder for further thought:
1) How do we react if a poor, black mom in the United States (or poor, Aboriginal mom in Canada) puts her to child to work for endless hours doing menial labour such as doing other people's laundry, ironing, folding just to make a little extra money? (My guess is that in the States, Geraldo will be in with his TV crew, ready to mock on air, and Child and Family Services will come to hear of it in Canada.) Is it fair that upper class and a Yale professorship (and musical accomplishments) confuses our understanding of reasonable expectations from a child?
2) Why is even Hollywood not allowed to work a child until breaking point (they have to respect the right of the child to reasonable work hours), but a mother, under the guise of parenting, can?