The old people were clapping their hands, Big Brother was air drumming, tapping his feet and beating on the back of the chair in front of him.
Remember that kid who was always picked last for the team, and then everyone else groaned when she had to be on their side? Yup. That was me. And I don’t want my kids to ever be in my gym shoes.
We didn’t actually have any moon cakes. Oh well.
“Did you hear about the new governor of Louisiana? He’s this Indian guy, first-generation immigrant from India, and he converted to Catholicism, and went through the school system and then on to college at Brown and Oxford. It’s interesting how so many people from Eastern cultures are interested in Western philosophies, while here I am, studying lots of Yoga.”
A two-year old wonders “Why is my hair different from everyone else in our family?”
I’m not really a fan of the highly academic, grades-are-everything method of education. But having been raised by parents who come from a Confucian culture where education is revered above almost everything, and studying is the closest we came to competitive sports, it’s hard to escape the attention to education that has been ingrained in me since I was… well, Big Brother’s age.