Jokes. These are jokes – but every time my friend Galya visits me, she begins the conversations with complaints about her daughter – impertinent, willful, and stubborn. Her school work is haphazardly done. In Russia, she went to music school, played the piano and even performed on a children's program. Here, her studies are pushed to the side; she isn't interested in anything, doesn't read, stares into the T.V. and eats chips.
Galina's daughter is 10 years old. She's not even 15 – only 10. From my perspective, the child is a child. I haven't noticed any specific manifestations of meanness in her, but Galya is suffering.
It's no secret that the fate of our children became one of the main incentives for leaving Russia. That's why, even those of us for whom it was difficult to endure the loss of social status and the lowered position of an immigrant, in the end, come to terms with the idea that all of us are merely fertilizer – the manure on which our children, the next generation, must grow up and grow strong. But why are you laughing? If we strive towards this and our children put forth the maximum effort, then they – certainly! – will live under their own, personal communism: they will become real full-fledged Americans, enjoying full rights, their American diplomas and the corresponding money. And no one will have authority over them. In short, our children are doomed to the embodiment of their parents' dreams of a good life.
But children don't want to embody anything. They have different plans for this life. For example, Anna's son wants to become a clown and absolutely not a dentist, like his mom would like. And Galina's daughter dreams about the stunning career of a dog groomer. We obviously want our children to grow up as prodigies, but due to a persistent Soviet habit, we try to force our offspring into all sorts of ballet, art, and music schools, hoping for the great fame of Nobel laureates. We try with all our might – after all, here, none of these things are free. At one time, in Russia, it was fashionable to send your child to figure skating lessons, now the fashion is tennis. Athletic trophies and gold medals do little to calm the parents. And children prefer playing computer games to frolicking about the court with a racket. And you can call them dunces and good-for-nothings all you like – just don't try to compete with this "dunce" when it comes to the computer or you will certainty embarrass yourself in front of your own child.
Psychologists assert that all children, without exception, are talented, only their talents lie in different fields and you shouldn't think up "life plans" for them. It's better to keep an eye on them at around three or four years of age when many children begin to exhibit their talents. Just be aware that if your toddler independently repeats a phrase in a foreign tongue, it is not grounds for immediately signing him up for language courses – all children have remarkable auditory memory at the age of four. And if he began reading at the age of three, there is no need to rush to enroll him in school, where they will find themselves in the unfamiliar company of older children, or to pressure them into racing through two to three classes a year. Children learn anything that interests them quickly, so the ability to read, write and count at age three is not a sign that your child will effortlessly advance in other subjects. Besides, practically all children of this age like to draw and beat drums, but it does not mean that they will develop into Van Goghs or Ringo Starrs.
Psychologists recommend raising gifted children gently, leaning on the natural inclinations of the child. Of course, you can force your obedient Mark or Peter to sit at the piano for five hours a day in spite of his school work. You can stand over him with a belt, forcing him to learn the scales by heart, because the piano was expensive and would be cumbersome to take out of the apartment; when it was brought in, the doorframe had to be taken down. And, what now? Just because of the whims of this young troublemaker, are parental sorrows to be forced aside? Not happening!
A few years ago, a boy enrolled at a very prestigious school earned his high school diploma before turning 12. Meanwhile, he had also finished music school and typically performed at all sorts of competitions, big and small. Looking at this boy was painful – he had such an over-burdened look to him. He was afraid of his classmates – even the girls – his teachers, his parents, the director of the school. He was afraid of being late to class, of receiving a grade below an "A", of losing a contest. He was very short for his age, frighteningly weak, pale, with bags under his eyes, with big ears that stuck out in every direction and shined in the sun. His parents are extremely proud of him and extremely strict with him. They had raised a child prodigy!
Not holding back, I asked if such intense lessons didn't have a negative impact on the child's health. "Oh! What rubbish!" was what I heard in response, "Yes. Mark is a very sickly boy, but the lessons are not at all responsible. It's hereditary. All our relatives are of weak health."
I felt so bad for the poor child that I rushed to say goodbye and leave. You think these parents don't love their child? They love him dearly. But from my perspective, this love is thoroughly selfish. Parents want the best for their child: world fame. And they are prepared to do everything in their power to attain this. Mark doesn't need world fame. He needs at least a little free time in order to make friends, run around in the grass with them, and enjoy life. But his desires don't interest anyone; after all, his parents suffer for him so that he will be able to achieve anything in life.
There are worse cases. One of my friends from Moscow sent her son, Leonard, to a conservatory music school at age three, not because her child had exceptional hearing – in fact his hearing was unremarkable – but because she spent all her own childhood wanting to play the violin, but did not have the means. When Leonard turned four, his mother took him to learn figure skating, swimming and gymnastics, to ensure he would develop a good figure and to put him in line to compete for an Olympic medal – all this in addition to his music lessons. At age five, she took him to Mosfilm [a film studio], to acclimate him to crowd scenes and prepare him to become a future film star. By age seven, tormented by ceaseless headaches, the boy wound up in the hospital for a few months. What's there to be surprised at? Burdens beyond his ability and the constant fear of grieving his beloved mom turned the child into a neurotic.
Our American situation is all the more aggravated by immigration – the loss of the child's usual surroundings, friends and often close relatives too, like grandmothers, grandfathers and cousins. That in itself is very stressful. In the case of Galina's daughter, she had no access to a piano, so by the time her parents could afford a piano, Masha had not only forgotten the technique, but had lost interest. In Russia, she was a first-class student, performed at concerts and competed in contests. Here, first-graders play better than she does. How does one endure that? In addition, she must attend a general education school where everyone speaks English. Although back in school in Russia she got an "A" in English. Here, the English is different and her accent isn't quite right and she doesn't catch half of what is said, and understands only 15 percent of the other half. Complete abasement!
Galya is still angry, impertinent, willful, and stubborn, perhaps the only means of self-preservation accessible to a 10-year-old child. Galya wants to be kind to her and wants to see her daughter as a child prodigy and first-class student. But for all that, she forgets to see her as a person.
Our children should not be realizations of our unrealized hopes and luckless ambitions, but just happy people. Because each of them has their own fate and they are within their rights to choose pants torn at the knees and footballs or poems and violins.
