For example:
Sister: Mommy, I’m going to be a Social Worker.
Mommy: WHAT?! Why duj eberysing hap to be dah poh way wiss you?! Don’ you wanna host Satahday Night Libuh someday?
S: …Saturday Night Live?
M: Satahday Night Libuh only habbuh dah best, most successpull people host. When you host Satahday Night Libuh, den you know you got it good.
So, the day before the start of every summer was spent sitting at a coffee table and going through drafts of pie-chart schedules that were full of the essentials. Drafts because if the proportions were wrong or more math-time was needed, mommy would make us edit until they were just right.
This is how a typical Kim-Toro girl’s summer went:
The saddest part about this, actually, was how normal I thought it all was.
Up until the second grade, I was under the impression that all kids made pie-charts:
Classmate: So how was your summer, Vickie?
Vickie: It was GREAT! I got 15 EXTRA MINUTES of freetime on my pie-chart!
C: …What’s a pie-chart?
V: Uh…what? Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout – onlynerdsscheduletheirsummerswithpiecharts…
From then on I acknowledged the fact that my sisters and I were nerds — outcasts, even, until I started making other Korean friends who commiserated. And the best part about this? While some would be convinced that this method of upbringing would forge Nobel Prize Winners, politicians, doctors, or architects, my mother managed to raise the following:
1. A social worker/education administrator.
2. An aspiring, brilliant creative mind.
3. A wannabe comedienne.
The lesson to be learned here, then, kiddies, is that you should bring up your kids like every day is Opposite Day.
Because late-adolescent rebellion is a bitch.
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