Raising a kid in Beijing can present a number of joyous parental moments. For a Westerner, raising a Chinese kid who happened to come as a package in the relationship, these happy moments multiply as the language barrier fades and the 4-year-old girl sees me more as a father figure. Yet the reasons for frustration, many of which arise from my cultural semi-ignorance, also tend to increase as both of us get more exposure to society together. Chinese kindergarten is just one of these. Here, parents and grandparents battle with each other for the highest display of love toward their little darlings before they go on battling with them at home about how much porridge they need to eat.
Ever seen a crowd of adults outside a kindergarten at 4:30 in the afternoon? Grandmas actually start loitering outside of the gates an hour before the dismissal time. As the time gets closer, the mass of parents and grandparents is almost uncontrollable as they press their faces against the gate. The scene resembles a news report from a nation stricken by natural disaster as a crowd of desperate citizens attempt to get fresh water and food from the UN emergency relief trucks.
When I stand back patiently waiting for my kid, I feel the glares, which may be interpreted as "he probably doesn't love his child enough to push through the crowd and holler her name while pressing his face against the fence."
Last week I attended a kindergarten dance recital where I learned how awful an audience can get when it consists entirely of the performers' parents and grandparents. We were all seated on tiny children's chairs waiting for the show to begin. The spectators looked quite orderly and I actually thought for a minute that, at least, Chinese parents had some respect for organized performances. They did, but only until the first group of toddlers showed up on stage covered in makeup beyond recognition. As the first notes of the Wonder Girls hit ("Nobody, Nobody But You") came out of the speakers the parents and grandparents abandoned their seats and rushed to the stage. The clicks of the cameras would have made the real Wonder Girls jealous. Those whose kids were not up, stayed put staring at the backs of the adults. When the second group of kids came on stage, it was the turn for their parents and grandparents to stand up and rush to the stage. The first group of adults, though, was quite content to go backstage to watch their dearest change.
And so it went. At some point in the performance I found myself in front of the stage with my camera, cheering for my kid. I couldn't care less that I was blocking the view of the people behind me. Their kids were not on stage, and if they were, I knew they would elbow their way through to definitely defeat me in the fight to express just how much they loved their little ones.