Last week, the Supportive Spouse and I had a heated argument - over schoolwork.
Specifically, the amount of revision that our elder son, seven, should do. As the Primary 1 kid's term tests were coming up, the SS mapped out a revision schedule for him.
For days, I would hear Papa instructing the boy to go through his English and Maths textbooks. Assessment books were purchased and done. Mistakes were reviewed.
When I suggested doing something fun at home with the firstborn, the SS would remind me that the boy's maths/English/ health-education tests were coming up, and that there was much to be revised.
On days that work-from-home Tiger Dad had to leave the house for business appointments, he would SMS me about our son's studies: "He has a listening-comprehension test tomorrow, can you go through with him?"
I sifted through the materials in the child's school folder and looked cluelessly at the listening- comprehension worksheets.
They comprised columns of pictures, some marked with ticks, others with crosses. The correct answer depended entirely on what the teacher verbally asked. I had no idea how and what to go through with the kid. A few hours later, when Tiger Dad came home, I threw up my hands and cried: "Aiyoh, listening comprehension, just go there and listen, lah!"
Things came to a head when I walked into the boy's room to find him leafing through a picture book on the floor, procrastinating on his work. Somehow, the boy had got the idea that his dad was going to make him do more and more work if he got any of the maths questions wrong - "I'll never be done," he said, sulking.