Mother sought my opinion the other day on the phone:
"Cousin Beans threw a tantrum again today. Do you have any advice for me?"
Cousin Beans is my father's 15-year-old nephew. His mother passed away, the reason of which nobody ever mentioned, and his father, my uncle, has bungled every job opportunities offered to him and now loafs at grandparents' home all day long. Cousin Beans grew up with his cavalier dad and my grandparents in a loud house, as my grandmother often yelled at him as well as my uncle, partly because my grandmother has a shrieking voice, and partly because Cousin Beans and his father were both unwanted burdens on her and grandpa's senescent age. Yet Cousin Beans is a spoiled child. He, after all, is the only grandson of my grandparents'. As unwillingly as they shouldered the responsibility of raising their grandson, my grandparents had tried to sate all Cousin Beans capricious demands as their only mail heir, a sort of a big deal in Chinese culture.
My mother, being selfless as she always is, made my grandparents a magnificent offer a few months ago: she and my father offered to take Cousin Beans to Beijing and send him, at my parents' expense, to a private boarding school in Xiangtang Village, Changping County. The school is run by a Buddhist practitioner who is willing to accept my cousin and teach him the specialized skill of Chinese calligraphy and painting related to the Buddha, Kitchen Gods, and other popular images. It is an unbelievably good offer for my grandparents, who yearned for less work, less expenditure, and some quietude at home. Cousin Beans agreed himself too. The idea of going to school in the capital city of Beijing appealed to him.
A few weeks ago in late August, therefore, Cousin Beans arrived at Beijing. For the first few days, he appeared quite self-sufficient. He went to the major bookstores, or at least so I heard, in downtown Beijing during the day and took care of himself until evening time when my parents got off work. He even, to my parents' delight, apprenticed for a newspaper parlor for a day and earned two free meals as a result of his work there. But things took a upsetting turn when the time came for Cousin Beans to go to his new school. He suddenly realized that the new school, located in a village in the mountainous suburb thirty miles north of Beijing, does not look nearly as glamourous as the city life he thought he was getting himself into. Therefore, when my parents visited him, they discovered, not completely shockingly but still unexpectedly, that Cousin Beans had caused quite some trouble by hitting his fists against the wall, cutting him arm with a knife, and making a fool of himself in front of his religious, even-tempered, and well-behaved classmates, teachers, and neighbors by howling and bawling remarks like "staying here will ruin me" or "I'll suffocate if you don't send me home." He did have his setbacks though: when he made secret phone calls to my grandparents hoping they would hear his plea and take him back, he did not get any affirmative answer.
Having seen how thoughtful and resourceful my mother is in raising me and managing her family, I knew she asked for my opinion because she really needed one. She also respects my perspectives because I have been a teacher for the past four years. I know something about education, we both believe.
So I told mother:
"Kids are always trying to push boundaries, and Cousin Beans is testing your boundary. He is trying to get your attention and see if you would bulge under his 'threats'. You have to stay your ground, set clear rules and consequences. If he breaks the rule, execute the consequence. Why don't you start with cutting his money?"
According to my mother, Cousin Beans came to Beijing with 800 kuai Renminbi, and splurged more than 600 in the city before he even started school. He had been a vain child in the sense that although my grandparents do not live in luxury, he had always been pampered with brand clothes, watches, and pocket money for fun. My parents obviously won't cater to his vanity, but they had originally considered giving him 100 a month as pocket money starting in October. Now, however, mother thinks my idea makes sense and she will adopt it.
She and my father then typed out what they prepared to present to Cousin Beans the following weekend: the rules, and the consequences of losing his monthly allowance if he fails to comply with the rules. I was eager to find out what would happen.
I called two nights ago:
"Hey, how did the talk go last weekend?"
"Not good," said my mother.
"What do you mean?"
"It didn't happen."
Mother then explained that as soon as they brought up the "talk" with Cousin Beans in their car, he threw another tantrum. He kicked and yelled like a madman. Then my mother lost her temper in the car, and said things like "get out." Cousin Beans did get out, on his own. When my father stopped the car before a traffic light, he ran out. He ran so fast that my parents lost sight of him in a couple seconds. Then my parents, somewhat worried for him, went to the teacher's house and waited. There, they learned that Cousin Beans called grandma and grandpa again and separately, and he was rejected twice. Grandpa said he did not believe that my parents have "abandoned" (in Cousin Bean's words) him, and nor did he believe that Cousin Beans needed money for "school." Grandma said even more bluntly, as is her wont, that she did not want him back. Cousin Beans did come back to his dorm later in the day, but he and my parents never saw each other anymore that day.
I was livid listening. I was fuming at Cousin Beans for treating my parents with such churlishness and disrespect. Disrespecting my parents is disrespecting me. I asked mother why she is putting herself through such an ordeal, why she wants to raise an ingrate whom she has no obligation to raise? I worry about my parents. The last thing I would accept is for Cousin Beans to upset my parents, exhaust them, make them sick, or hurt them in any other way.
But mother, then, showed me that her love goes beyond her own child. She said,
"You don't have to worry about me. I appreciate your love for me and I appreciate your care for Cousin Beans…"
"I do not want to care about him. I care about, about you." I interrupted, although I knew I should not have said that.
"But in your care for me, you are showing your care for Cousin Beans. You want him to do well, and so do I. Yes, he may not ever thank me and your dad for putting him in a completely strange place, but we believe this is his best chance learning host to support himself. It is not his fault that he has so many faults in him today. He is still a child.
"Your father and I have decided that we will help him. For things we believe in, we will try our best to see it through."
I am not surprised to hear mother say it. Mother has taught me too much as I grew up. Her belief, her determination, her perseverance, her magnificent love are not strangers to me. Yes as I try hard to understand her, it still pains me to think about how she may suffer in being selfless.
Sensing my lingering reluctance and angst, mother tried to calm me, "My darling, we had a good chat today. Every time we have a candid, heartfelt chat, you make me extremely happy. A chat is just a chat. There is no need to dwell on this afterwards. Don't think about it too much."
All right, mother. I won't think about it more. But tears still welled up in my eyes. They are not tears of sadness, but tears of wonder and awe at my mother's profound, magnanimous, and altruistic kindness and love. Perhaps I am a better person than I think I am. Perhaps I do care about Cousin Beans. It is Mother's Love that has melted my hearts, dyed my eyes pink, rendered them lachrymose, and made me believe in goodness, forgiveness, and hope.
1. Modern ink art:
This student started from scratch to make this lion head. He experimented with several different materials for making the frame of heads, failed a few times, and finally got the frame made with chicken wire.
He then covered that frame with paper mache. While he was doing it, according to his mother and sister, he was covered with paper dust like a carpenter.
What is amazing about these two calligraphy work is not only that you can see the nascent structure of the characters emerging in these two works, not only that the student knows how to go from right to left, and from top to bottom, not only that he knows to sign his name in a smaller font in the mid-bottom on the left side of the scroll.
What is amazing about this project is that the student, who is of French heritage, compared Chinese calligraphy with French calligraphy, and found that both Chinese and French people take great care and pride in producing beautiful calligraphy and value calligraphy as a cultural heritage.
This handsome rendering of Suzhou's Lion Forest Garden is done by careful planning, meticulous attention to details, willingness to work hard, an eye for beauty and a heart for gentleness.
And it's not just the specialty materials that enabled this great work, but an understanding of Chinese culture embodied in the Suzhou gardens. By naming her garden "Serene", this student has understood the essence of garden art lies in tranquility and peace. By designing a moon-shaped gate into her delicate garden, she is clearly inspired by Suzhou-style garden aesthetics. By positioning distinctly stylish objects in her garden seemingly randomly - but in fact strategically and purposefully - on both side of a meandering brook, she understands the Daoist philosophy of "the highest order of having no order."
