The Baby Expert: March 2014

Every parent has hopes that their child can be gifted at something, whether it be playing a musical instrument, singing, drawing, or sports. We look at what their interests are and send them off to various extracurricular activities, hoping to find the next Mozart, or Picasso, or Michael Jordan in them.

In that regard, the wife and I have started mulling over which types of classes to send Caitlyn to. She likes taking pictures with her camera and pretending to cook, but photography and cooking classes will probably have to wait until she's a bit older. So, first up is art class, which Caitlyn starts this week. What kid doesn’t like drawing or doodling? Caitlyn is just starting to develop a more lasting interest in drawing these days, and while her art pieces consist of squiggly lines, they are still pretty fine looking squiggly lines.

Next up on the list will probably be dancing and swimming. As long as Caitlyn’s having fun, I have no problem with whatever class she’s signed up for. But that’s where the wife’s view and mine start to differ. I knew I was in for trouble when she came home one day saying she had read the book, Tiger Mom, and how she agreed with the author about “pushing” her kids to be better.

For example, if we take Caitlyn to piano class and she doesn’t like it after the first lesson, I might encourage her to try it for a few months before making a final decision. If she still doesn’t like it, then she can stop. As long as she tried her best, I wouldn’t really call it quitting. I'd just call it saving Daddy a lot of money.

The wife, on the other hand, thinks that talent doesn’t come naturally to most people; it has to be pushed out. Her favorite example to use is Yo-Yo Ma, the famous cellist. If Yo-Yo’s mom had let him quit, would he have gone on to greatness? Is it feasible to believe that Yo-Yo had the self-discipline to want to practice hours upon hours as a child, or was his mom behind him cracking the whip?

On a side note, I have a funny story about Yo-Yo Ma. When I was in elementary school, my mom brought home this VHS that she had borrowed from her friend. The title read, “Yo-Yo Ma: A Day in Tanglewood.” I thought this was two titles of two different movies. “Yo, yo, Ma,” which I took to be a black comedy, and “A Day in Tanglewood,” which seemed like a boring family movie. Well, was I in for a surprise when I started watching. I kept wondering when the black people would show up, and I kept wondering why the movie kept showing a Chinese guy playing a cello. It wasn’t until later that I realized I had misread the title and had been duped into watching a documentary.

Anyway, so that’s the wife’s argument. We can’t let our child quit whenever she wants to. We have to push her to greatness. I have no problem with encouraging when one is frustrated, but when does encouragement turn into forcefulness. And what’s the big deal about learning to play an instrument? Sure, it enriches our lives and we appreciate music more, but unless that person actually likes playing the instrument, why force them to?

As a kid growing up, I was lucky enough to experience a nice range of activities, such as swimming, drawing, karate, tennis, and soccer. With each of these, my parents never forced me to practice, and whenever I wanted to quit, I was allowed to. But when I started to learn the piano when I was in preschool, their attitude was completely different.

My mom would sit in on my piano lessons and record them, so that we could “review” over it whenever we got home. She would take notes and sit by my side while I practiced. And if I didn’t perform up to her expectations, she would make me practice over and over again. And if I still couldn’t do it, the ruler would come out, as if hitting me on my hands and arms while I was playing would make me play the song correctly.

Sometimes, my practices would last long into the night, sometimes until one or two in the morning, with me crying and wailing to my mom to let me stop. Rest would come in the form of kneeling and facing the wall for being disobedient. No matter how often I would tell my mom I wanted to quit, she would never let me. Instead, she would just push me harder. But after about 8 years, she mercifully allowed me to stop going to lessons. All in all, it wasn’t a very pleasant or happy experience, and one in which I would never want to put my daughter in.

While the wife says she would never take it that far, I’m pretty sure my mom said the same thing when she first started out trying to turn me into a Mozart. But at the very least, after all those years of blood, sweat, and tears, I can bang out the tune to “The Wheels on the Bus,” to the delight of my daughter.