"Judge not, that ye be not judged"

Here's one for inclusion in the annals of 'mind your fucking business.'

I've waited for this to happen and it's a good thing for the person's sake she didn't confront me directly. Just short of witnessing someone actually hitting or molesting his or her own child, I'm very much an advocate of letting parents parent in their own way. Abuse and neglect are very real concerns and, as a parent and a teacher, I'm hyper-sensitive to them. But in today's world on ongoing psychobabble and knee jerk responses to everything, thanks to our undereducated readings of reports and articles on parenting in publications like The New York Times and its weekly magazine, TIME, Psychology Today, Parents, Parenting and the like, we need to stop putting the cart before the horse and ask before shooting.

I play squash every week on Sunday at 7 am. My son has swim lessons Sundays at 9:55 am at the same location - Lifetime Athletic in  Florham Park. Instead of driving to the gym for squash, back home or to my wife's work to get my son, then back to Lifetime, my son and I make a father-son morning of it. We go to bed the night before earlier than usual, get up early on Sunday and get to the gym for my squash hour. After playing, I give my son a brief squash lesson before the next players who booked the same court arrive. Then we take a short trip for hot cakes after which we return to the gym and chill before swi.

Today, as usual, we arrived and were greeted by the same employee who works the desk every Sunday. We were met with her usual smile and offerings of a good day. It was about 6:15am. After hot cakes, the same employee was at the desk and she told me of the woman who came in just after us. I wasn't even aware there was someone behind me, to be honest. I wasn't even aware there was someone behind me. From the way it was told to me, the impression I have is that the other gym member was, at best, surprised but really, I think, shocked that a six year old would be at the gym that early. There is a day care at the gym but it doesn't open until  8 am. The employee at the desk appeared to have my back. The woman apparently inquired if there were programs for kids that early. The employee did mention that the gyms (there are two basketball courts) aren't used and children could play there, if there aren't any pick-up basketball games going on. And I've seen other kids at around 7 am shooting hoops or kicking a soccer ball.

I'll give the other member the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she was just surprised and curious but, in my experience, when people can't mind their own business it's usually to tell someone else that he or she is in the wrong. And, with my stance on parenting - let the child's parents parent the child - it's best that the woman hadn't confronted me directly. If she had, I would likely have just shaken my head and walked away. If she'd persisted, however, I would've reminded her that she knows nothing about me or my son and how he's raised and, basically, for her to mind her own fucking business. 

Perhaps this entire post is me judging those who judge but I believe people really do need to remember to clean up their own backyards, not throw stones in glass houses, and be aware that if you spit in the wind it's only going to come back at them. Ironically, I turn to The Bible to help illustrate this point. I say ironically because, while religion can be good in a general sense, I think it is one of the greatest proponents of 'judgmentalism.' That notwithstanding, in Matthew 7:1-3 it says "Judge not, that ye not be judge." Hypocrisy, self-righteousness, holier than thou attitudes, closed-mindedness are, in my opinion, things that cause more problems than good. There is more than one way to do any one thing - parenting, spirituality, exercising, generosity, what have you - and I think it is worth reminding everyone to see things from other people's eyes, to walk in their shoes, practice tolerance and acceptance and to remember that no matter how wise you are, and how much of an expert you are at whatever it is you are an expert in, no one of us is wise enough or expert enough to be able to judge the heart of a fellow human being. More importantly, none of us are perfect.

So, when asked for your input, remember to give it respectfully and humbly. And, if you're not asked for it and no one's lives or limbs are in danger, mind your own fucking business. 

Class of 2026 - A Father's Hopes

Yes, 2026. 

Earlier this month, I had my first parent-teacher night. That's not entirely true. I had my first parent-teacher night, and conference, as a parent earlier this month. (Being a teacher in my twenty-first year, I've had many parent-teacher nights.) And, even though I'm a big believer in lettings kids - especially kindergartners - be kids, I couldn't help from feeling some trepidation, amidst my excitement, as I headed to the school. It seems that the pressure surrounding kids today and the (over) specialisation they undergo in academics and sports and other extracurricular activities they are put through at much younger ages than kids were in my day, reared its ugly head into my psyche for the night. Heading to my son's school, I hoped that my son's teacher would have only good things to say about his behaviour and development and that my son, of course, would be the cream of the crop and the standard against which all other kindergarten students get measured. 

As it turned out, my son's behaviour is well within his teacher's expectations - and my expectations - and in adherence to her class rules and the school's code of conduct. Also, developmentally, Jude is doing just fine. His reading is better than some and not as advanced as others but such is the world of kindergarten. Numbers seem to be his strength - hold the jokes about numbers and Asians (which I can hear some of my Caucasian friends making) - and among his favourites are PE (well, his dad is a PE teacher, after all), music, technology (again, hold the chuckles) and his weekly visit to the library. 

Once that was settled, his son's teacher gave my wife and I a sheet of paper. On it was login information to an educational website where she'd set up separate accounts for all of her students. In each account are online books that help with reading and learning sight words. My son and I have visited that site and read many of the books and it's a joy to see his excitement when he sounds out the words and gets them right. 

What slapped me in the face, however, when his teacher gave us the paper, was the login name. It's a combination of parts of my son's name with 2026. That's the year he's scheduled to graduate from high school! High school! My son only started kindergarten two months ago and already thoughts of high school graduation are popping into my head. I guess it hit me because of how fast the last five years have gone. It's still vivid how I held my son in one hand, shortly after he was born, and when he began preschool and when he started to talk and....I could go on. Now, he's in kindergarten, which is flying. Before my wife and I know it, he will be a high schooler and a graduating one at that. 

I suppose what I'm experiencing is nothing new and common to what all parents experience especially, perhaps, with their first child. My wife and I only have one child and, probably, will only have the one child. And, while all children are precious gifts, for now, all our eggs are in one basket, so out speak. I just hope the time doesn't go by too fast and that I'm able to be a good role model and guide for my son; to help him avoid the mistakes I made, to be more fearless than I was, to be his best regardless of what 'best' means to the rest of the world. There were many things I did and choices I made that were good and right for me and I wouldn't change for the world. There were also many I regret and many more I wish I had made that I didn't because of fear and uncertainty; and my own fear and uncertainty gave in to the fear and uncertainty of others so those things I never did will always be a bit of a 'what if' for me. And, for me, the 'what ifs' are in many ways worse than the mistakes. 

I love you son. 

Fathers and Sons and Martial Arts

My son is something else.

The past few months, Jude has come home from day care getting into martial arts stances and throwing kicks and punches in the air. I don't know where he got them. Perhaps there's an older kid there who's shown stuff to him and they play some kind of cops-and-robbers (as much as a less than three year old can) game or imagine themselves to be Batman or Spiderman or Iron Man or something. Either way, I was very impressed and even please, excited. As a 25 year student of martial arts, fourth degree Tae Kwon Do master and active instructor, seeing Jude kick, punch and kihap (kiai in Japanese) touched me and felt a little 'like father, like son" warmth.

Sometimes, however, he can take his kicks and punches too far. Once, the owner of the day care told me that Jude had hit another student. At home, he throws sidekicks at our dog. When he throws a tantrum, when it's bath time or bedtime, sometimes he  lashes out with hammerfist strikes. And this isn't just the random flailing of limbs. There's preparation, chambering of his weapon (arm or leg) and forceful execution.  To help him control his lashing out, I've taken to letting him hit the various kicking targets and shields I have at home and that I use in my Tae Kwon Do classes. I've also started to teach him some of the other martial arts moves that don't involve physical contant with another person.

Today, just before heading out for mass, I showed him how to get into an attention stance, how to bow and how to get into a ready position. He did them all and when I just wanted to watch and didn't bow he got annoyed and told me I had to. I counted out three kicks and he did them. After we bowed and finished. As we stepped outside and headed for the car for church, I decided to try something else as his mother had to go back inside to grab a jacket. I demonstrated some blocks and he mimicked, for lack of a better word, competently.

Maybe he's taken to martial arts, so far, with ease because of a genetic or hereditary component since I've been doing it for so long. When he was only a few months old, lying down on a bed, he brought his knee to his chest and extended his leg into a good sidekick with a pulled back foot. Maybe it's because his mother is an amazing athlete - a former ballet dancer and, now, Pilates and Gyrotonic instructor - who also finds it easy to perform many martial arts kicks and he got an abundance of her genetics.

I'll be fine if Jude never takes martial arts seriously but I'll be lying if I say I wouldn't be disappointed if he didn't try it at all. Really, I'd love for him to, at least, get his black belt. And, honestly, I wouldn't care what martial art he'd try as long as he honours, practices and shares its traditions. To be completely frank, I don't care what college or university he ends up attending. I wouldn't care if he attends at all as long as it's the right thing for him to be doing - or not doing. I, also, wouldn't care what kind of professions he pursues as long as he is happy doing it and that he gets some fulfillment and meaning out of it.

However, seeing Jude bow and kick and punch and get into his joombi, ready, stance I couldn't help from feeling that between us maybe the Bas family martial arts legacy may develop somehow.