It’s only natural for all parents to think that their kids are geniuses. One moment, you’re holding a stinking poop machine that isn’t even smart enough to eat properly and can’t be trusted not to seriously injure itself. The next moment, there’s a miniature human being asking questions that can’t be easily answered.
As part of the craziness in getting you into kindergarten in New York, we had to get you tested, Cookie. IQ tests for four-year olds: absolutely, utterly, annoyingly crazy (and useless and meaningless and arbitrary). Due to a scheduling problem, your testing date was inexplicably moved up a month, and we didn’t get a chance to even show you the sample problems, let alone prep you. You were even sick on the day. Nevertheless, we told you that you were going to play games with a special teacher and dropped you off at the psychologist.
For the last year, Cookie, we sent you to a Saturday morning Chinese language class at an aftercare center near home. One hour. Full immersion. Short. Easy.
Mommy and I wanted something a little more challenging for you (you wanted something more challenging for you), so we signed you up for a three-hour weekend class in the middle of Chinatown. Unlike, the local Chinese class at the non-Chinese aftercare center, the Chinese class in the heart of Chinatown is taught in English. The teacher speaks mostly in English to teach a handful of words to kids who speak English because of the fear that parents might complain that their children won’t understand what the teacher is saying. Immersion? HAH.
Yes, Cookie, Mommy and I made a mistake. Next time, we’ll head back to Chinatown… and sign you up for an ESL class. At least that class will be taught in Chinese.