Monday April 17, 2006
Extracurricular activities
But The Again: By MARY SCHNEIDER
WHAT’S not to like about a lazy Saturday morning? No alarm clock to jar you out of a deep sleep; no frantic rushing around as you prepare to exit the house; no snarling traffic jams. Instead, a new day unfurls at a languid, leisurely pace. There’s time to really stretch, savour breakfast and read the newspaper.
Well, at least that’s how my weekends used to unfold in the days before my children’s extracurricular activities expanded to take over my life.
Take last Saturday morning, for example. While my teenage daughter relaxed in the passenger seat next to me, togged out in her own unique idea of what golf fashion is all about, I sluggishly steered my car in the direction of the driving range, which just happens to be located at the other end of one of Penang’s busiest roads. As she changed the radio station and turned up the volume to ear-bursting levels, I tried not to think about the cosy bed I’d left behind.
After dropping her off, I turned the car around, went home for an hour, and then returned to the driving range to pick her up.
Thinking about it now, I’m probably in need of another frontal lobotomy. I mean, who in their right mind gives up a Saturday morning snooze just so that their offspring doesn’t miss out on an activity that was voted the Most Pointless Athletic Pursuit of the Decade, more than three times? The same sports magazine that organised the vote also described the sport as being nothing more than an expensive game of marbles.
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Another thing that bothers me about extracurricular activities is that they seldom finish on time. For example, whenever I arrive to pick my daughter up from her golf lesson, I usually spend half an hour sitting in the car park next to the driving range, waiting for her practice session to finish.
Over the years, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve sat in my car, waiting for my children to come out of some activity or another. In an attempt to while away the time, I’ve read my car’s operating manual (three times), studied an out-of-date book of KL road maps (a couple of times), filed my nails (countless times), and memorised the text from an old flyer promoting a hotel in Cameron Highlands.
“Why don’t you just show up late?” I can hear some of you saying round about now.
Well, I have tried that but Murphy’s Law of Pick Up Times usually comes into play when I start messing with such things: When you arrive early to pick up your children from an activity, they will finish late.
When you arrive late to pick up your children from an activity, they will finish early. Just ask as any parent.
Sometimes, when my children are late, it can be interesting to watch the antics of other parents who are killing time, too. Some sit quietly reading the newspaper; others preen themselves in the rear-view mirror; and yet others get out and walk around their cars in a territorial manner.
Then there are the parents who like to compare notes about their children’s academic progress. According to them, there are only two types of children: the ones who do their parents proud by getting straight A’s, and the ones who don’t. You never hear the parents of average students exchanging notes.
“Hey, my Johnny got a 8C’s and 2B’s. We’re really proud of him.” If you ever hear anyone saying something along those lines, you can guarantee you’re hallucinating.
The parents who usually exchange notes about their children often build a huge exaggerated story about how good or bad their offspring are at school. The children of such parents can never win. The high achievers have to keep on achieving, because all it takes is just one average grade to negate all their other results.
I mean, what’s the use of 10A’s when you only got a C for History? And the under achievers ... well, what can a parent say about a child who doesn’t quite make the grade in their eyes? Switched at birth, perhaps!
Anyway, got to go now and make another pick-up.
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