A long time ago, I have decided that both of my daughters will attend Ateneo. One is ten; the other is three. And so it turns out that this particular mother is preoccupied with computing how much she has to save in the years before they'd go to university, while she still has Promil Kid in the grocery list and PSP in the Christmas wish list discreetly posted in the cork board by the library.
My older daughter often forgets to do her homework. I can sense my husband's disapproval that I am not strict when it comes to schoolwork, and it translates to my daughter's lack of discipline. Sometimes whole weekends would go by and we have not opened a single book in my daughter's school bag, but we found the time to cook together.
My three-year-old can identify letters in the alphabet, but for some reason refuses to say the letter 'E.' She can count, but she only counts going up and down stair steps. The older relatives say it's too early to send her to school, but if it means she'll learn to share and make friends I'd gladly pay her Nursery tuition for another year, and never mind if she sings the alphabet without the 'E.'
And so it also turns out that I think I will be ready for Ateneo, but my daughters might not be. I sometimes remember that at 10 years old, I was studying alone, and my art projects always got the highest grades. I also won all the Spelling contests, because my grandmother expected nothing less. I was also a stressed-out, grade-conscious, anxious child with chewed-up fingernails, but I cannot tell my daughter that. When I was 10, all I had to amuse myself were old issues of Life magazine and Reader's Digest, and comic books, which were forbidden but which we smuggled in the house anyway. My daughter amuses herself by doing Pizap on Facebook, and she has declared herself bored with Angry Birds. She spends hours practicing the flute, and when we go to the mall she stays in Tom's World while I do the groceries.
I have not asked her what she wants to be when she grows up. I do not want her to be pressured with school, but I realize that she should not grow up in the shadow of my ambitions. When she goes to university and someone asks her, 'Why Ateneo?' do I want her answer to be 'My mother had decided that when I was five years old' ?
And so it has turned out that in contemplating my desire to provide for a good education for my children, I have overlooked the necessity to provide them with a choice. My job, it turns out, is to be there whatever school they may choose, and not freak out when they decide to be deep-sea divers or hairdressers.
Their education is not the four years in Ateneo. Their education is the things I can teach them every day, as they grow up, how to be all that they can be.
My older daughter often forgets to do her homework. I can sense my husband's disapproval that I am not strict when it comes to schoolwork, and it translates to my daughter's lack of discipline. Sometimes whole weekends would go by and we have not opened a single book in my daughter's school bag, but we found the time to cook together.
My three-year-old can identify letters in the alphabet, but for some reason refuses to say the letter 'E.' She can count, but she only counts going up and down stair steps. The older relatives say it's too early to send her to school, but if it means she'll learn to share and make friends I'd gladly pay her Nursery tuition for another year, and never mind if she sings the alphabet without the 'E.'
And so it also turns out that I think I will be ready for Ateneo, but my daughters might not be. I sometimes remember that at 10 years old, I was studying alone, and my art projects always got the highest grades. I also won all the Spelling contests, because my grandmother expected nothing less. I was also a stressed-out, grade-conscious, anxious child with chewed-up fingernails, but I cannot tell my daughter that. When I was 10, all I had to amuse myself were old issues of Life magazine and Reader's Digest, and comic books, which were forbidden but which we smuggled in the house anyway. My daughter amuses herself by doing Pizap on Facebook, and she has declared herself bored with Angry Birds. She spends hours practicing the flute, and when we go to the mall she stays in Tom's World while I do the groceries.
I have not asked her what she wants to be when she grows up. I do not want her to be pressured with school, but I realize that she should not grow up in the shadow of my ambitions. When she goes to university and someone asks her, 'Why Ateneo?' do I want her answer to be 'My mother had decided that when I was five years old' ?
And so it has turned out that in contemplating my desire to provide for a good education for my children, I have overlooked the necessity to provide them with a choice. My job, it turns out, is to be there whatever school they may choose, and not freak out when they decide to be deep-sea divers or hairdressers.
Their education is not the four years in Ateneo. Their education is the things I can teach them every day, as they grow up, how to be all that they can be.
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