Don’t get me started on pushy mums in the playground.

Don’t get me started on pushy mums in the playground.

I always feel very stressed in the five minutes before school finished when I am waiting in the playground. Mums stand around chatting together, looking for opportunities to show off the latest achievements of their darling children.

Mums are fearsomely competitive with each other, desperately vying for their child to be the most musical, academic or athletic. This will come as a no surprise to anyone who has endured the school gates at pick-up time.

“ What is your Molly up to after school this term? Is she still learning violin, swimming, French, Gymnastics, Ballet etc?”

“ She has taken up some new hobbies. She has fencing, Spanish, and piano classes this term. She is still doing very well with her violin, oh she is going to have her grade one exam soon.”

“I took James to Sedgwick museum this weekend, he identified every single fossil in one of the glass display cabinets.”

All with an undercurrent of showing their children are better than yours. Their children are the busiest; or the most cultured, and the brightest in the whole school.

There are two types of pushy mums, one type is the Hothouse Expert, the other is the Hovering Helicopter.

You probably know some of the Hovering Helicopter mums. In play group they stand over their toddlers telling them the RIGHT way to play with toys. They explain everything in every occasion, and use every opportunity to educate without giving the child pause for breath.

Once I took my children to a children’s concert with a Hovering Helicopter mother of two. She just could not help herself, pointing out all the instruments to her children, and constantly explaining the storyline of Animal Carnival, so the children never actually heard the music. For goodness sake, they should enjoy the music, they are learning in their own way. Ironically, when she asked the childrendid they enjoy the music afterwards, none of her children said yes!

Stop controlling your children’s lives. Children flourish when they have opportunities to do trial and error and make choices about they want to play. Let them have fun playing. Let them explore the world themselves. Most of all let them think for themselves. The constant pressure and hovering will crush any curiosity and destroy any love of learning.

You find the Hot House Expert mums in any baby and toddler groups, or school playground. Those mums are mortally afraid other people do not recognise their children’s genius. They are showing off their babies are the earliest at eating solid food, standing up, and taking their first step. They of course possess Baby Shakespeare, Baby Einstein, and Baby Newton DVD. They sign up to baby sign language class. Then they are incredibly irritating by announcing their little babies can sign and talk when yours are still sitting on the floor chewing some plastic toys.

They tell you their little darlings can read, count, and do math before they even go to primary school! They claim that they only send their children to school for socializing. Of course there is the competition of who has the harder spelling words, reading big chapter books, and doing harder math.

I felt like screaming! We're all unique, and our children are all unique. And I for one won't be giving a damn what anyone else's darling offspring are doing when I have mine. It seems it's the parents who need to grow up, not the children.

We make a terrible mistake if we think we can guarantee our children’s success by pushing them to extreme. What is more we have forgotten how important it is that they want to succeed through their ambitions of their own , not their parents. Let them learn how to deal their own failure, stand on their own two feet. The worse that can happen is that they fail. But failure can often be an even greater motivator than success.

Let children be children. Let them climb trees, kick a ball, and play with Lego. I certainly want to raise rounded happy children, who believe in themselves.

I must confess I am a bit of pushy mum. Even though I know it is bad and wrong. The pushy mums who dominate playground suck me in. Standing there I am telling myself my children are the special ones and the best. I cannot bear any shadow cast upon their magnificence. At the end of school day, my children’s beautiful happy faces drag me back to the ground. “ Mummy look at my spelling book, I got five words right today. “ You are my special one even if you got five out of ten in today’s spelling.

Heat

Heat

The sound of the gun going off ripped through my ears as if I was right next to a fireworks display. The echo of the ear-splitting "BANG" carried on for a good minute. Then there was an eerie silence as people sitting around me took in what they have just heard. Voices were raised to a deafening crescendo with shouting and screaming.

“The army is here!” I gripped Lin’s arm tightly. My sweaty hands were trembling.

“What about them?” Hui shouted. She was worried about the group of senior students who were on hunger strike sitting directly in front of the government building. Lin stood up suddenly, shouted at us to leave then ran towards the gun shot.

I swallowed my apprehension, and we started to run away from the square. The scorching sun was furious. I ran like death was chasing me. Sweat beaded on my forehead, causing my hair to cling to it as my throat ached for air, more air. Something was blinding my eyes, perhaps tears.

People around me were streaming away from square, and a ripple of panic appeared which grew and swelled until they were drowned in screams.

I stopped briefly, gasping for air. I looked behind me and could not see my friends Lin and Hui at all. I continued running for what seemed like longer than it should have taken to get back to the lakeside where I left my bicycle. I dared not wait. I found my bike, and rode back to our student dormitory. Forcing my legs to push harder, I raced. I felt my screaming lungs were about to burst. I felt stingy tears on my cheek, saltiness in my mouth. My pulse was thundering fast, my mind started to fill with images of friends’ bodies.

I reached our dormitory building. There was a note for me. Dad and mum had phoned to ask me to go home immediately. They must have heard. I sat there motionless.

It was dark. Hui emerged stealthily from the shadows. Her lovely long hair was tangled and messy, her large almond shaped eyes were filled with tears. The police had stopped her as the army’s gun shots rang out behind her. They took her to police station for questioning, and confiscated all her leaflets.

That was a sweltering and restless night. Mosquitos were attacking as though they were in training for their mission all day. We could not sleep. Our short wave radio was on with Voice of America alerting the world to the bloodshed in Tiananmen Square. Lin did not show up. The remorse that gripped us was powerful, a deep sadness laced with guilt. We should have stopped her, stayed together, ran away together.

I spent the next morning working out how to get home. All public transport had been shut down. I packed mechanically, hitched a rickshaw to the quay. The long ride in the canal boat during the night seemed never ending. The pungent smell of the boat, the stench of garbage from the canal and the worry constantly hitting the back of my throat, I gagged and drifted into a semiconscious sleep. In the oppressively hot and humid boat, the mosquitoes menacingly circled me. Lin’s small determined face and bright eyes kept appearing in my dream. I woke up periodically from the horrific images of her lying in a pool of blood. I remembered her undaunted enthusiasm for the democratic movement. And where had it led her?

I cocooned myself two weeks in my parents, not wanting to go outside. I did not want to say anything to anybody. My mind was numb, racing in circles, unable to make sense of what was happening. Was everything real? Had it happed? I received a letter from the university, saying every student must go back immediately. We would still have the end of term exams, and everything would be as before for us. I said “ Good bye “ to my worried parents, and left home.

I walked back to our student dormitory with apprehension. There was an aura of grey hanging in the air. Nearly everybody was there. They looked like there was a terrible weight on their shoulders. One evening, the slim figure of Lin walked in. She had changed, her zest was gone, her eyes were sorrowful, sadness raked her body. We all hugged together, she whispered, “ Hong from our department is dead. We failed totally. ” A single tear rolled down her cheek.

There was a giant hole in my heart and I knew nothing would ever be the same.