2003-06-19 - 8:34 p.m.
MACHO, MACHO MAN
Day-Hay takes taekwondo from a man who believes he is in total control of his emotions. He is disciplined and he is tough, or so he thinks. He disdains mothers because they are emotional and they coddle children. But even at my teariest, my thinking generally is more clear than his, and at least I cry tears, not abuse�which is more than I can say for him.
Mr. Disciplined and Tough (or, as he prefers, Sir) is so disciplined that every mother in the place knows that he has good days and bad days and can tell within two or three minutes whether it is a good day or a bad day. On good days, he is a gifted teacher with a sense of humor and clear directions and I grasp why little boys, whom he understands well, love him and even girls, whom he barely understands, like him. On bad days, well, he confuses his love of power and its trapping for discipline.
Take the matter of some of his questions, for example. When the man starts harping on respect, any self-loving creature runs for the hills. The days with such lectures usually lead to questions. Those questions are not the kind of questions that have real answers. He may ask, for example, what a child�s mother�s name is. Some days the correct answer for Day-Hay would be �Mrs. Philately.� It would be the correct answer because it shows respect. �Mrs. Plankton Philately� would be the wrong answer because a child should not be using her parent�s first name. Other days, the correct answer for Day-Hay would be �Mrs. Plankton Philately� on the theory that not using her mother�s first name shows a lack of respect because it fails to give the person asking the question sufficient information to identify me. How do you know which answer is correct? It�s simple. It�s the answer you do not give. Whichever answer you give will result in having to do ten push-ups as punishment for lack of respect.
Yesterday, he went way too far. Day-Hay had testing for her next belt and she messed up her form. I knew she had not practiced sufficiently and had he just failed her, I would have had no problem with it. Whatever her reaction would have been, his would have been fair. She should not have gotten herself in the situation. But he chose to have her do it over and over until it was correct and then complain she was tentative. Still, so far, so good. Whatever her upset, and she was upset and embarrassed, it was her own fault. She managed not to cry, although she looked like she was fighting hard not to. I felt sorry for her but I had no urge to leap to her defense. That�s where it was and that�s where it should have stopped.
She still was fighting for control when it came to the board break. Her mistake made her anxious and tentative. She can do the board break but when things go wrong with that child, they go wrong. She had trouble. To his credit, he tried to clue her in on what her mistake was. But she did not thank him fast enough or comply fast enough for his taste. He told her to �lose the attitude.� She obviously was having some trouble with control but she did not cry and she did not tell him off. She followed through, albeit slowly, but she must have rolled her eyes. No one but him (and possibly his helper) could see but it�s possible. Heck, in her frustration and attempts not to cry, it�s likely. After she broke the board, he then dressed her down, in front of everyone, for her attitude and the eyerolling.
By then, she really was beginning to lose it. She asked for permission, sir, to take a break because she had something in her eye. The testing was over, except for handing out belts. All he had to do was say �yes,� and give her an opportunity to regain control with a moment out in the bathroom. But compliance was not enough. Winning required that he be totally right. Winning required that he be totally tough. Winning required that she not only knuckle under but that she like it and acknowledge his greatness and what she had learned. He would not grant permission and embarrassed her further by insisting and announcing to the assembled crowd that what she had in her eye was a tear and that was a good thing.
She held it together through getting her belt and her certificate. As she came off the floor, I tried to hustle her away and into the car because I knew she was going to lose it. But she was too far gone to understand and she retreated elsewhere. She went to the locker room. We still would have been okay�except for the kindness of strangers.
One of the women who helps him with class came in to comfort Day-Hay. I tried to tell her that Day-Hay was far too gone and desperately needed space, not comfort, but she insisted that she had a twelve year old girl and she understood. But, kind as her motives were, she did not understand and kept pressing Day-Hay until Day-Hay yelled at her to please leave her alone. And macho man, Sir Respect, heard it.
Had he left me and the woman to deal with it. Day-Hay would have calmed down and then I would have insisted that she apologize for rudeness. The focus would have remained where it should have remained: on regaining control and on treating others well. But he had to haul her into his office, along with me, and tell her that she was �always out of control,� that she �always had to have her way,� that he could not tolerate her behavior in his studio, and so on and so on and so on. She was hysterical. It was 9:30, neither of us had eaten, both of us had been working since early morning, and, although I did not know it, she was coming down with a cold. But, regardless, he was so far out of line that the focus had to shift from respect (where it actually belonged), from the wages of the lack of preparation (where it actually belonged), to him. And I felt I had no choice. I had to step in and protect her. At which point he did something to me, that I would never have done to him, he attacked my parenting. He told me I coddle and spoil Day-Hay. So I told him that I would not attack his teaching in front of her and I demanded similar respect from him. I told him that I would happily withdraw Day-Hay from the studio and that I had not been in favor of leaving her there for quite some time. And all of it was true.
But the problem was Day-Hay. For reasons I do not fathom (and Mr. Philately cannot fathom either. I know because I asked him), Day-Hay likes the man. She wants to please him. She wants him to be her teacher. So Day-Hay and I sat out in the car. She would not leave until she calmed down and she could smooth things over. I decided that I had to let her although it galled me.
And so, at 10:00, with no dinner and without my re-entering the studio because I did not trust myself, she went in to deal with him. By that point, Mr. Philately�s offer to come over had been accepted because I was afraid that Sir Macho would want to talk to a parent again and I was in no condition to deal with him. She was in a mood to smooth it over. I was in a mood to burn bridges. I was proud of her for dealing with the mess although I thought her a bit insane (and still do.) So she and Sir Macho started over�until next time and there will be a next time. They kissed (well, actually hugged) and made up.
All of which leaves me hanging. If she were six or ten, their relationship would end here. I do not like him and I do not trust him. But life is about dealing with all types of people and, now that she is thirteen, I think I have to trust her on this one.
So, I think I have to bring her to his studio but if she wants to tangle with him, she is on her own now. I have to bring her, but I do not have to go in myself�at least not until the macho man grows up and gains some emotional control.
LAST YEAR: Season�s Greetings
TWO YEARS AGO: in Washington, D.C.�no entry
IN CASE YOU MISSED THEM:
What Might Have Been
Evil Canadians
The Small Stuff
The Dump
Dreaming of Recall
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Copyright 2006 by Ellen |
