Kindergarten Drop-Off

I'm finally feeling a little better about kindergarten.

The kissing hand doesn't work, Mom!

Today was the first day that Nolan didn't bawl his eyes out during drop-off. Last week was pretty rough. Nolan's first day of kindergarten was emotional, as expected. But the next day, the day after that, and the rest of the week? Even more gut-wrenching. Every morning, Nolan woke up wailing, "I don't want to go to school!" Every night, his last words at bedtime were, "I don't want to go to school!"

Nolan was the only kid in his class who cried at drop-off. His older brother was quite different at this age. Nico never wanted anyone to see him cry. Whenever he felt sad but knew other people were nearby, Nico would quickly pull himself together and wipe his face with his sleeve, saying, "I don't want anyone to see my tears." Nolan, on the other hand, seems to want everyone to see him cry - and the louder the better. Other parents looked at me sympathetically every morning as he carried on, clinging to me.

All last week, Nolan sobbed and said he wanted to stay home with me. When I said I had to go to yoga class, he said he wanted to learn yoga too. When I said I had to buy groceries, he said he wanted to help me. When I said I needed to work, he said he would keep me company. He sobbed until he hiccuped, gasping, "I - don't - want - to - go - to - school. I'm so scaaaaaaared!" I pointed to the tiny heart I drew on his hand for him to look at during the day when he felt sad. "It doesn't work, Mom!" he cried. "I still miss you so badly!" That was the precise moment when my heart shattered.

I started to second-guess our decision to enroll Nolan in kindergarten this year. He was close to the age cutoff and I had seriously considered waiting another year before enrolling him. Some of our friends have delayed their children's kindergarten start by a year, and i thought it might make sense for Nolan too. He's young, he's shy, he's small. Also, we live in an area where academics are highly emphasized and I'm surrounded by Tiger Moms. Are we setting him up to fail by launching him into the den too early?

Just when I started thinking about an exit strategy for de-enrolling him from kindergarten and putting him back in preschool, we hit a turning point. Yesterday morning, Nolan cried, as usual, and his teacher led him by the hand into the classroom. She said they would work on their self-portraits and told him, "Today, we're going to put clothes on them!" She whispered to me, "Don't worry. Once he's inside, he's fine!"

Nolan must have had a great day because after school, he told me, "I might not be sad tomorrow." This morning, he woke up and said, "I'm not going to be scared today." As we walked to his classroom, he reiterated his feelings: "Maybe on other days I might be sad but not today." At his classroom door,  he asked me to draw a tiny heart on his hand, which has now become part of our daily routine, so I colored one on his left hand with a pink highlighter. The bell rang so we ran out of time before he could draw one on my hand. I looked at him to see if he would fall apart. To my surprise, he didn't. He said, "Don't worry, Mommy. I'll draw a heart for you later. I'll give you lots of hugs and kisses and love after school." Then he hitched up his dinosaur backpack, got in line with his classmates and walked into his classroom, blowing kisses at me with both hands. He was dry-eyed. I was not. 

Kindergarten and kissing hands

Nolan holds his kissing hand

My baby started kindergarten this week.

Nolan's first day of school started out kinda shaky. He barely touched his breakfast of oatmeal with fresh strawberries. He was restless and defiant. He had to be pried from the elaborate setup he built of Thomas the Tank Engine tracks and Legos. 

I dressed him in his favorite dinosaur shirt and helped him put on his brand-new dinosaur backpack. I told him what I packed for his lunch, which included a special treat - a blueberry fruit strip. He stared at me stone-faced.

When I asked him to pose for a photo with his brother Nico, who was starting fifth grade, he refused. My husband and I reminded him that he and his brother would finally be in the same school together and how exciting it was! He said he wanted to go back to preschool.

Before we left for school, I sat down with Nolan and reminded him of his first day of preschool. "Remember when I drew that little heart on your hand? So if you were sad and missed me, you could look at the heart and remember that I love you?" He nodded. I drew a little red heart on his left hand. "Could you draw a heart on my hand so I can look at it when I miss you today?" I asked him. He took the marker and drew a little heart on my left hand. We kissed each others' little red hearts and walked out the door, hand in hand.

Surprisingly, we were the first to arrive at his classroom. Nolan's teacher had set up a table outside with nametags of all the students. Nolan found his and I helped him stick it to his shirt. The other kids arrived and then I started feeling anxious too. My little guy was much smaller than some of his classmates, as I predicted. Nolan is small for his age and has a late birthday that just made the age cutoff. Also, there seems to be a trend toward academic redshirting, particularly with boys. 

I've been having a hard time letting go of all the hangups I have about Nolan and kindergarten. I need to accept the fact that Nolan may well be the youngest, smallest kid in his class. I have to let go of the idea that he and Nico are not going to elementary school together in Ohio, as I had long envisioned. He will not have the great teachers Nico had in Cleveland Heights. But it's still hard to let go of these dreams. When Nico had started kindergarten, I was pregnant with Nolan. Nico's teacher was fantastic (her name - no joke - is Mrs. Miracle) and I had hoped that someday Nolan would have her as a kindergarten teacher too.

I need to let go of the idea that Nolan must have all the exact same happy experiences his older brother has had. Besides, Nolan has had his own share of great teachers too. Just like with his brother, Nolan's day care and preschool teachers have all been wonderful and each one has simply adored him. We are lucky that both boys have always had caring, nurturing teachers.

So anyway, as the other kindergarteners and their parents arrived, I saw that they looked nervous and excited too. There were lots of fancy cameras and iPhones on the scene. We buzzed about taking photos and introducing ourselves. Finally, the bell rang and the teacher came out. I had heard great things about her already and if I had to conjure up a dream teacher for Nolan, it would look just like her.

The teacher had the kids line up to enter the classroom. As they walked toward the door, Nolan waved and blew kisses at me. All of us parents tried to follow the kids into the room and had to be shooed out. 

I cried and had to look at the tiny red heart on my hand.

Birth(day) of a blogger - and a short diatribe about Comic Sans

Today, my first-born child turned 10 years old. Happy birthday to my amazing son, Nico! 

This blogger loves pancakes

The past decade has flown by and I can't believe my shrieking baby has grown into a thoughtful tweenager. Who is this long-limbed, floppy-haired, iPod-toting guy who now wears deodorant? What happened to my hippo-toothed chunk-a-lunk? 

For the past several weeks, Nico felt anxious about his impending birthday. He was dreading his birthday (except for the gifts). He was really sad about leaving the single-digit years. This week, though, he perked up and decided to embrace the double-digit milestone. 

Today, Nico started his own blog with his first post describing his favorite memories from the past 10 years. People, including my husband, assumed I helped him write it. Actually, I didn't, really. I gave him some very minor proofreading notes (e.g. spelling "tumor" instead of "tomber"), but kept my comments spare. Nico has always enjoyed writing and has had great teachers who have nurtured, supported and challenged him. I wanted to encourage him too.

If anything, my biggest suggestion to Nico was changing the font. Originally, he had used Comic Sans, and if you know me at all, you know I couldn't have let that go. So I went into a little thing about Cleveland Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert and his unfortunate use of the font. And I may or may not have spouted a wildly distorted version of C.S. Lewis' quote: "When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up." My version was more like, "When you become 10 years old, you put away childish fonts. Period." 

Anyhow, enough about Comic Sans. I am so proud of Nico for launching his blog and sharing his views with the world!

Deodorant for Tweens: The Decision

It is time. A mother knows. Her nose knows.

So I took my rising fifth-grade son to Target to buy him his first stick of deodorant. I tend to get overwhelmed when faced with too many choices (why does Baskin Robbins need 31 flavors? That's ridiculous - five should suffice). A wall of men's deodorants stood before me. As expected, I started to panic. It was not as bad as the time I tried to find a certain kind of moisturizer, but it was still not good.

My son was looking to me for wisdom and guidance and I was starting to sweat. (Good thing we were in the deodorant aisle.) Frantically, I called my husband at work. No answer. I texted him. 

In the mean time, Nico was sniffing all the different varieties. He wanted to know why all of the choices said "Men" and not "Boys". The marketing was not working for him - he didn't like the packaging colors or the names of the scents. 

Finally, after a few tries, I got hold of my husband. "Remind me what deodorant brand you use?" I asked Vic, who sounded like he had more important things to worry about. He told me. Nico was hesitant. "What about Gillette Clear Gel?" Nico asked. Vic was annoyed. 

Finally, my cheap Asian mom instincts kicked in and I settled the issue. I found a two-pack for both of them; it had that Target red sale sticker I can't resist. The winner? Speed Stick Ocean Surf deodorant.

Can I smell a bargain or what?

Hungry Ghost artist talk in San Francisco this Saturday

Today is the last day of Asian Pacific American Heritage Month and the end of a jam-packed period of wonderful cultural activities in the San Francisco Bay Area. I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to curate an art exhibit during this time featuring the work of 38 Asian American women artists.

This Saturday, the Asian American Women Artists Association will host an artist salon where several of the Hungry Ghost artists will join me in discussing their pieces and the overall exhibition.
 
Artist Salon:
Saturday, June 2, 2012, 4 PM
Free event - donations gratefully accepted! 

Exhibition Dates:
Monday, April 23 - Friday, June 8, 2012
9 AM - 5 PM

Location: 
Thoreau Center for Sustainability
The Presidio, Building 1014
Torney Avenue
San Francisco, CA 94129

Join us for the Hungry Ghost: Yearning for Fulfillment Artist Salon to engage in an intimate discussion with artists from the dynamic exhibition. This is an opportunity to hear about their art making process, learn about how they interpreted the culturally rich metaphor of the "Hungry Ghost" and understand how they personally addressed the questions: How do we crave acceptance and fulfillment? What feeds us?

The Artists: Octavia Baker • Mitsuko Brooks • Jennifer Cheng • Karen Chew • Linn Chiu • Wei Ming Dariotis • Ganga Dharmappa • Stephanie Han • Khay Hembrador • Julie Huynh • Jaimee Itagaki • Zilka Joseph • Rosie Kar • Leslie Kitashima • Susan Kitazawa • Julia Kuo • Amy Lam • Lucy Liew • Elaine Gin Louie • Grace Hwang Lynch • Wei Ma • Mia Nakano • Choppy Oshiro • Cat Chiu Phillips • Michelle Salnaitis • Linda Shiue • Leah Silvieus • Sokunthary Svay • Elizabeth Travelslight • Cynthia Tom • Vivian Truong • Solongo Tseekhuu • Cat U-Thasoonthorn • Nancy Uyemura • Susan Lien Whigham • Pamela Ybanez • Stephanie Yu • Leslie Zeitler

The Curator: Lisa Chiu is a Taiwanese American writer and food fanatic. Her interest in curation stems from a desire to cultivate creative opportunities that foster cultural awareness. She conceived Hungry Ghost as a forum to amplify Asian American women’s voices and showcase their art.

Asian American Women Artists Association (AAWAA): AAWAA is a nonprofit arts organization dedicated to ensuring the visibility and documentation of Asian American women in the arts. Through exhibitions, publications, and educational programs, we offer thought-provoking perspectives that challenge societal assumptions and promote dialogue.

Emerging Curators Program: AAWAA’s Emerging Curators Program provides a platform for curators residing in the San Francisco Bay Area to develop their vision and encourage curatorial expertise in the Asian American Art. Support this project by donating to AAWAA.

Student newspaper memories

It's fitting that I'm writing this on a Wednesday night (and Thursday morning). Seven years ago, I spent many Wednesday evenings with a dozen or so college kids in the basement of a university building.

Today, I had a wonderful chat with a friend who was one of those students I met when I was the adviser to The Observer, Case Western Reserve University's student newspaper. We reminisced about those Wednesday production nights where we ate pizza from Cleveland's Little Italy neighborhood and the students put together the weekly campus newspaper.

Serving as an adviser to The Observer was among the most rewarding experiences in my career and led me to write about it for the CWRU alumni magazine. I went to work at CWRU, my undergraduate alma mater, 10 years after I earned an English degree there. It was exciting being on campus again and I loved my job. The university used to be known mainly for science and engineering, but now attracts students from all over the world for its arts, humanities and social science programs as well. When I was a student there, there weren't any any journalism classes. Today, the English department offers classes taught by faculty including Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist Jim Sheeler and bestselling novelist (and former journalist) Thrity Umrigar.

The student body has changed dramatically too. It used to be that CWRU students were perceived as nerdy academic overachievers and little else. The students I got to know at The Observer were also supersmart, but they were multidimensional. Predictably, they fretted over homework assignments, research papers, exams, lab reports. But they also packed their days full with student leadership roles, Greek life activities, sports, performing arts, volunteering. They were bright, inquisitive, conscientious and committed. I adored them.

They enriched my life by sharing their lives with me. They welcomed me and my toddler son into their domain and didn't seem to mind that he ate the most pizza week after week. (It should be noted that the copy editor was exceptionally gracious when Nico powerfully filled his diaper while sitting in her lap.) Nico was two years old then, right at the midpoint between my age and that of the newspaper editors. So while these students were developing as young adults, they could still relate to my little boy. Sometimes, the sports editor would take a break to play with my son and his Thomas the Tank Engine toys. The cartoonist drew a special dinosaur illustration for him to color. The photography editor played movies on his laptop to keep him entertained. I loved that Nico was surrounded by so many caring, positive influences. 

Where are they now? Some of them are married and have kids. One former editor-in-chief, who was a first-generation college student, finished a Teach For America stint. Another is an internal medicine resident. The features editor is a pediatrics resident. The sports editor graduated from law school. The cartoonist is studying geology in graduate school. The production manager is a software developer at CWRU. One of the photographers is a Facebook engineer. (Thanks to Facebook, it's been easy to keep tabs on everyone after they graduated!) They are leading active, full lives and finding their way in this world. 

They inspired me then and still do today. 

Starry Skies

This essay was published in the Final Exam section of CWRU, the magazine for Case Western Reserve University, in Spring 2002. 

Starry Skies

After several sweaty trips between our car and my dorm room, the last of my boxes and suitcases were finally stashed into my new home in Michelson House at Case Western Reserve University. It was a hot August afternoon, and my parents dumped me off (their firstborn child on her first day of college) without so much as a hug or tearful goodbye. I offered to take them on a campus tour, but my dad scoffed. He had been working at CWRU for years and already knew his way around the university.

The campus was nothing new to me either, after countless visits to the lab where my dad, Song-mao Chiu, worked, dozens of piano recitals at the Cleveland Institute of Music, and seemingly endless trips to the orthodontist at the dental school. Still, even though my family lives just a few miles from campus, I hadn’t anticipated that CWRU would open up a new world to me – a rare, diverse international community.

By living on campus, I developed friendships with people from all over the globe. I lived on a floor with students from Sweden, Vietnam, Pakistan, and the United Arab Emirates. In the first week of school as we all got to know each other, I found myself struggling to find an easy answer to the question: “Where are you from?” Did this mean where was I born? Or where do I live? Or what is my ethnicity? I didn’t know how to offer a succinct answer without providing a long-winded explanation: I was born in Canada to Taiwanese immigrant parents but grew up in Cleveland.

Spending time with a close circle of international students introduced me to other cultures, while crystallizing feelings about my own. It also helped me better understand and cherish the idea of living in a multinational community. Sometimes our political discussions lasted all night. Ethnic differences were not always celebrated. One time, a group of American-born freshmen grilled a Middle Eastern student, accusing him of being associated with terrorists. They questioned what his father did for a living. Surprisingly, the student remained calm and joked that his dad was a farmer. When pressed for details on what was grown on the farm, he replied with a straight face, “Ravioli.”

Overall, though, living in a multinational community proved to be positive and enlightening. One night, a Swedish graduate student, after decorating our suite in blue and yellow streamers, threw a “Swede party” for all of us. Muslim students explained Ramadan. An Iranian student described the dazzling sight of stars lighting up a desert sky.

In the classroom too, I developed a broader perspective on international cultures and traditions. In my senior year, I took an English class called the Immigrant Experience. We read literature from Asian, Russian, and Mexican writers, among others. We wrote and shared our own stories, which illustrated how each of us found our way to the United States and to CWRU. We wrote about how our families arrived in the country, the reasons we came, and the reasons we stayed. We wrote about living between cultures, among languages, within religious customs.

I began to sense that being American does not preclude coming from an Asian, Arab, European or any other ethnic background. In fact, in many ways, the immigrant experience is uniquely American. Coming to this realization helped me in my decision to formalize my commitment to this country. I decided to become an American citizen.

Considering how much our world has changed since September 11, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be an American today. I’ve been thinking about the situations that bring us together and the conflicts that drive us apart. I’ve been thinking about the friends I made during my freshman year and in that remarkable English class. I’ve been thinking about the Iranian student and wondering if he still looks up at the stars. And I’ve been hoping that we are looking at the same sky.