What defiance and obedience means
When I was young (and many can attest to this) I have a huge aversion of doing homework. The reasons range from the most insignificant thing you can think of, to the most obscure. I think, at one stage, one of my main reasons were “why do something that is not new?”. The word practise makes perfect doesn’t apply to everything, in my naive opinion (and for many some things these days, I still feel quite the same).
I am about the most disorganised, untidiest person you can find within my cohort of friends. To me, however, there’s a reasoning behind each mess, an order in the chaos that only I can find the line and connect the dots.
I was about 4 or nearly 5 when my mother set me up with a $2000 piano and a “good music education” with the infamous Yamaha Music School. My mother needed to give me the best of everything that she felt I would need/want that she never had. my dad had similar thoughts, and went along with it. It was, of course, a source of much bragging for my mother as well, despite the fact that the piano, at that price, was all they could afford.
At my age then, I couldn’t understand the importance of money the way they view it. all I recognised about it was that it brought something magical in my life. I also liked to show off, but more in demonstration than anything else. So, imagine my disappointment when I couldn’t cart it around and have anyone else tell me “well done!” that was not my mother.
But, Yamaha education was not all it was cut out to be. Personally, looking back on my vague memories now, I always felt that other than a particular foreign piano teacher, whose name I can’t remember now, I felt that most other teachers I had were somewhat biased against me. Particularly the last teacher I had at Yamaha, I was often picked upon by her for various reasons.
In fact, for a good part of the last year of my once-weekly education at Yamaha Music School, I remember spending entire class times standing outside of class more than inside the class. I was learning organ in Yamaha then, don’t ask me how that happened, which felt different from the piano in certain aspects (and of course, they were). If I played a wrong note, I get a rapped on my knee if it came from the pedals. If it came from my fingers, it was a rap on my knuckles.
If I “obviously” did not practise of any sort, or my homework was badly done/incomplete, it was out of the class I go. While I spent it in shame because of the wondering looks from other parents, I also felt a deep seeded anger.
I believe the teacher yelled at me for wasting my parents money for not doing assigned practise/homework, but there was not much of her trying to understand WHY it was difficult for me to grasp playing the organ. Eventually, it got to a point where I didn’t even care to practise so I can make her go reflect upon how bad a teacher she is.
the rest of the class thought that I must be an idiot, they grasped the organ, and I didn’t.
As years went by, my dad made me understood many things about myself: I have odd opinions of people, things that I take for granted is common sense - but they did not understand at all. Furthermore, while in certain aspects I am “prudish”, I follow red-tape like a hawk on it’s prey - but I can not conform to things that are obviously set in a linear manner. Therefore, the best way for me to learn is to have a structure hidden out of sight from me. Therefore, too, he was afraid I will one day find my feet in a place with similar ideals, and I will never “stay home”. He spends most of his time, then, trying to inculcate many things to me in his “perceived” limited time with me -and he was not wrong in that perception.
the interesting thing is, now that I am older and not much wiser, I suddenly find myself conforming to certain “rules” in life that I never expect myself to even think about.
age does not bring wisdom, but does it bring obedience?
Current Mood: cheerful