(no subject)
One day as a child, I believe it was in grade 4, I really wanted to watch a show on TV. However, I was doing poorly in school and my mother made it a rule that I couldn’t leave the kitchen table until I was done my homework. I would come straight home excited to be done my boring day and just wanted to indulge in being a kid. But my mother would quickly command me to the table and begin taking out my books from my back pack. She was determined that she could make me a better student.
But on this particular day, I came up with a scheme. I told her I was done all my work, even though I had another chapter of math to do. (I remember it was specifically math.) She believed me, of course, and I went to watch my show. When I was done, I had dinner. After dinner I went to my room to play, like normal. However, when I shut my bedroom door, I quietly took out my math book and began to finish my homework. After all, if I didn’t do it, my teacher would catch me the next day, and my mom would find out anyway.
This went on for a bit, until one night she began to suspect something. I told her directly what I did, after all, there was no sense in lying anymore. It was for a purpose, and having nullified that purpose, there was no point in lying. (I was a logical child.)
She was upset, but didn’t get mad. There was no way she could prove how much homework I was supposed to have, and all the work was getting done any way, so who’s she to argue.
Then at the beginning of grade five things changed for me. For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted a kitty. I even have drawings in my first diary of the house I would build for my kitty, when I got her. When birthdays or Christmas would come around, people would ask me what I wanted as a present. Always, always, I said I wanted a kitty. But no. What I didn’t realize was that my mom was quite poor after my parents got divorced. I didn’t understand that though. And in my innocence all I could think about was getting a kitty.
Grade five was one of the changing points in my life, though. I had asked my mom for a kitty, and like normal, she said no. So I thought about it. After toiling in my mind for a bit, I went back to her and rephrased my question. “What do I need to do to get a kitty?” Exasperated with me (and probably everything else a single mother has to deal with) she made me a deal (probably just to get me to stop pestering her.) …. (Little did she know….)
She said I could have a kitty if I fulfilled three obligations. 1) I had to be kind to my brother. 2) I had to keep my room clean. And 3) I needed to do well in school. I’m sure you can remember your youth well enough to know that these three things were virtually impossible.
But my determination was stronger.
One day in April of Grade 5, while she was washing the dinner dishes in our basement apartment I asked my mom for a kitty. She, like usual, said no. Then I reminded her of our deal. I had, for many months kept my room spotlessly clean, ensuring to put away every toy and clothing article I had daily. My brother and I had become, one might say, friends. And finally, I went from almost having to repeat fourth grade, to being the smartest kid in my fifth grade class.
My mother was stunned. “Ok,” she said not believing the situation. “You can have a kitty.”
Although I was ecstatic about my new unknown kitty, the point of this is not to relate how I got my Little Love. The point is how I chose my goals.
Tonight my mother was lecturing me on what’s right and wrong on a specific topic we disagreed upon, critisizing me. Regardless of what was said, all I kept thinking of is, “You’ll never know when I don’t finish all my homework at the dinner table, will you?” I could tell her what ever she wanted to hear, and in reality I could just go about my business as I pleased doing exactly what I did earlier.
When someone (it just so happened to be her both times) orders me as to how to lead my life, I respond more than poorly to it. But I’m a smart child. I learn quickly. And I am oh so sharp. If/when I agree with what you say, I can do it in a matter of seconds. But don’t even think you can get somewhere with ordering me as to what I’m doing so wrong with my life, criticizing me. You see, it’s just that: my life.
And the odd thing is that after the harsh words, I wasn’t upset or angry. I was actually very calm. This isn’t something I feel guilty over. Criticism won’t work on my like that.
But on this particular day, I came up with a scheme. I told her I was done all my work, even though I had another chapter of math to do. (I remember it was specifically math.) She believed me, of course, and I went to watch my show. When I was done, I had dinner. After dinner I went to my room to play, like normal. However, when I shut my bedroom door, I quietly took out my math book and began to finish my homework. After all, if I didn’t do it, my teacher would catch me the next day, and my mom would find out anyway.
This went on for a bit, until one night she began to suspect something. I told her directly what I did, after all, there was no sense in lying anymore. It was for a purpose, and having nullified that purpose, there was no point in lying. (I was a logical child.)
She was upset, but didn’t get mad. There was no way she could prove how much homework I was supposed to have, and all the work was getting done any way, so who’s she to argue.
Then at the beginning of grade five things changed for me. For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted a kitty. I even have drawings in my first diary of the house I would build for my kitty, when I got her. When birthdays or Christmas would come around, people would ask me what I wanted as a present. Always, always, I said I wanted a kitty. But no. What I didn’t realize was that my mom was quite poor after my parents got divorced. I didn’t understand that though. And in my innocence all I could think about was getting a kitty.
Grade five was one of the changing points in my life, though. I had asked my mom for a kitty, and like normal, she said no. So I thought about it. After toiling in my mind for a bit, I went back to her and rephrased my question. “What do I need to do to get a kitty?” Exasperated with me (and probably everything else a single mother has to deal with) she made me a deal (probably just to get me to stop pestering her.) …. (Little did she know….)
She said I could have a kitty if I fulfilled three obligations. 1) I had to be kind to my brother. 2) I had to keep my room clean. And 3) I needed to do well in school. I’m sure you can remember your youth well enough to know that these three things were virtually impossible.
But my determination was stronger.
One day in April of Grade 5, while she was washing the dinner dishes in our basement apartment I asked my mom for a kitty. She, like usual, said no. Then I reminded her of our deal. I had, for many months kept my room spotlessly clean, ensuring to put away every toy and clothing article I had daily. My brother and I had become, one might say, friends. And finally, I went from almost having to repeat fourth grade, to being the smartest kid in my fifth grade class.
My mother was stunned. “Ok,” she said not believing the situation. “You can have a kitty.”
Although I was ecstatic about my new unknown kitty, the point of this is not to relate how I got my Little Love. The point is how I chose my goals.
Tonight my mother was lecturing me on what’s right and wrong on a specific topic we disagreed upon, critisizing me. Regardless of what was said, all I kept thinking of is, “You’ll never know when I don’t finish all my homework at the dinner table, will you?” I could tell her what ever she wanted to hear, and in reality I could just go about my business as I pleased doing exactly what I did earlier.
When someone (it just so happened to be her both times) orders me as to how to lead my life, I respond more than poorly to it. But I’m a smart child. I learn quickly. And I am oh so sharp. If/when I agree with what you say, I can do it in a matter of seconds. But don’t even think you can get somewhere with ordering me as to what I’m doing so wrong with my life, criticizing me. You see, it’s just that: my life.
And the odd thing is that after the harsh words, I wasn’t upset or angry. I was actually very calm. This isn’t something I feel guilty over. Criticism won’t work on my like that.