Expectation of... versus Expectation for... and navigating the terrain of Post-PSLE disappointment
My son collected his PSLE results yesterday. My wife and I had to enter the school premises separately, given that only one parent was allowed into the school. Surely, the person who arrived at that decision should know that the weight of anticipation requires the strength of two parents to bear? It was a bizarre experience, I must admit, sitting there, speaking to another parent, biding time till we saw the flicker of our children, emerging into the canteen, where the parents were herded. What do you say at a time like that? The mother whom I was with asked whether I would like a cup of coffee; her husband had been turned away by security because they came in together and went for a coffee run. I politely declined; I don't drink coffee.
But the civility was short-lived as the students trickled into the canteen. There were some screams, not in unison, but individual screams, from parents. Screams of relief, not of disappointment. In my brain, I was thinking, okay, let's be sensitive, shall we? Then there were those who walked out, looking defeated, and their parents glanced at their results, and they were ushered quietly away. No screams there. I saw a father sobbing, daughter in his embrace. He had to sit. I thought that was sweet. Oh, Liam, would you just come forth and spare your father from this torture; I am sure my wife was feeling the same kind of torture, but we had to keep our distance (she was the illegal parent who had snuck in, claiming she was the legitimate chaperon.)
My son did come bundling out soon and he smiled. It was enough for me. He smiled; he was happy. He handed his mother his results and she congratulated him too loudly. Be sensitive, I wanted to say. But we did usher him out, saying a quick goodbye to the mother whom had accompanied me; her daughter was coming out and receiving the results is a private moment, just like the birth of a child.
We led Liam out of the school for the final time and snapped photos of him as we made our way towards the exit, passed the security guard, who eyed us but didn't have anymore reason to chide us; he doesn't know I still have a daughter in the school. It wasn't until much later, after I had dropped my wife at Lion City Training Camp to accompany my daughter to meet Borussia Dortmund players she did not know, when I was walking with my son through the Tampines Mall carpark, did I place my arm over him, kissed him and told him that I was proud.
As the day wore on, my phone pinged with messages of congratulations. My friends posted about the exhilaration, their apprehension and their disappointment. Let's think about that word for a minute. Disappointment. We have expectations of what we would receive and we do not meet those expectations, so we feel disappointment. Seems simple enough. Let's think of expectation: our children's expectation versus our expectation.
What do we expect of our children? Expectations of anyone seem to always end in disappointment. When I married my wife, I assured her that I had no expectations of her. She was taken aback, maybe even offended. It seems like love is always attached to some sort of expectation. Do we expect something of our children because we feel as if our love warrants it? Or do we expect something of them because we think that is in their best interest?
What do we expect for our children? Having expectations for someone sounds a little silly too, because why in the world would we have expectation for anyone but ourself, but it does suggest that the children are the priority. We are doing something for them and perhaps we have expectations of how we should be for them. A close friend of mine struggled with how he reacted to his child's disappointment with his PSLE results; did he have expectations of how he should have behaved as a concerned parent and did not fulfil those expectations, or did he struggle with not even having expectations of how he should behave and thus felt inadequate to support his child through the process. Aiyah. It feels all so complicated.
Perhaps I am overthinking the issue. Perhaps all our PSLE children need is a hug. Perhaps that is all anyone ever needs.
For Liam, he was thrilled. He had predicted that Japan would win Germany by two goals to one, and they did.
