My brother may not be able to get into Science stream for his last two years of high school and my mother is hugely upset. She won’t admit it, but I suspect she secretly resents the fact that my sister and I opted for Arts (read: a non-medical career).
My youngest sister became the first sibling to pursue a science-related field, much to the delight of my mother, until she announced that she wanted to become a veterinarian. As opposed to a human doctor. That, I imagine, must have been the equivalent of me choosing to study media and communications when I could just as well have put my language skills to use in say, a law degree.
My brother is my mother’s final hope, and he actually is thinking about attempting medicine. To say this latest development is a huge spanner in the works would be an understatement. My mother is fuming. And inadvertently proving my long-held suspicions about her resentment towards my chosen career path, she responded to my suggestion that, worse come to worse, my brother could always do Arts with: “I’m not going to let him do Arts. Look at what limited options you had when you did Arts.”
Ever defensive about my beloved Arts degree, I took offense. When my mother says “limited options”, I know what she really means is “you didn’t do what I wanted you to do – medicine or law, in that order.” I never felt like I lacked options because I knew exactly what I loved, what I was good at and what I wanted to do. Fortunately for me, the three sort of coincided. Sure, it hasn’t been the most lucrative of trades (more on that on another post, perhaps), but then again, how many writers actually do it for the money?
This Asian obsession with medicine and law and engineering and (as a final resort) accounting baffles me to no end. Correction: It frustrates the hell out of me. I sort of understand why Asian parents pressure their children so, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it. When it comes to my future offspring and their chosen vocations, only two things worry me:
a) They might actually decide to become doctors. Now wouldn’t that be ironic? Especially if I spent years hopefully cultivating a love for language and literature and music and performance arts and sport.
b) Y will want them to become doctors. I already see glimpses of that, even though he’s an IT graduate-turned-advertising executive who never so much as unrolled his degree from its scroll. Why does he feel that way when I don’t, not even the tiniest bit? Am I missing an Asian gene in my DNA or something?
Thinking about it, I suppose not discriminating against others’ choices carries across the board, regardless of the chosen path. And considering I’m not even pregnant, the careers of my yet to be conceived children could not be less important at this point in time. For now, I shall wait to see how this episode with my brother plays out. As for my mother’s remarks, I’ve brushed them off. The good thing about not living at home – it’s so much easier to just let bygones be bygones when you walk out the door.
