However, this year, she had a request of her own. One frosty evening, she glided up to me and said, “Dad, this year for my birthday, I want to learn how to be a figure skater.” And thus began a two-month tale that started with a birthday surprise and wrapped up with a big performance.
I explained that figure skating would require lots of hard work, but she remained undeterred, flashing a smile that could melt the iciest rink. For her birthday, she swirled over to the ice rink for her very first class. It was a match made in heaven and all she could talk about during cake and candles. Still unsure if this new interest would be a fleeting passion, we signed her up for a few more trial lessons. Fast forward a few weeks and she is now a full-fledged member of our local ice-skating community.
Ah, the first couple of lessons were like a comedy of errors – a bit shaky, and she certainly got our money’s worth out of those knee pads. However, after four lessons, she started zooming around the rink with all the exuberance of a penguin on ice. Then came the real challenge: learning how to actually figure skate. While I have never been particularly well-balanced (think hippo on a snowboard), my wife is as nimble as a ninja. Our daughter, thankfully, lies somewhere in between – definitely not the bull in the china shop that I am.
The classes have been challenging, but she seems to be gliding smoother not only on the ice but also on climbing frames as well. I think the real improvements stem not solely from the instruction but also from her newfound friends at the rink. We take her to practice a solid five days a week, and a lot of that time is filled with epic games of tag across the ice. Her friends, many of whom have been skating for much longer, have helped her refine her form, allowing her to make leaps and bounds, both literally and figuratively.
In fact, Beijing is the perfect place for kids with a burning passion for winter sports. Ever since the Winter Olympics graced this vibrant city, such activities have grown in popularity, fostering tight-knit communities where kids can make friends with common interests. To my surprise, just a stone’s throw from our home, we have four different ice rinks to choose from. I never imagined my little girl would dive headfirst into such a niche sport and find a whole new circle of pals along the way.
After lots of hard work, she was recently asked to perform in the ice rink’s Christmas show. Cue the proud dad moment. However, this also made me ponder the concept of jiwa, which essentially translates to over pressuring your kids. If you’ve spent time in China, you might be familiar with this phenomenon. Once kids start any extracurricular activity, it’s a slippery slope from being encouraging to diving headfirst into a jiwa mindset.
On one winter evening, while watching my daughter practice, I saw a positively gifted 7- or 8-year-old gliding alongside her. But when she stepped off the ice, I heard her mom critiquing every mistake while the prodigy glided past like a swan. It took all my restraint to avoid telling her how amazing she was. Watching that strict side of jiwa unfold was sobering, a seriousness that simply doesn’t seem appropriate for most kids.
When the day of the performance rolled around, the atmosphere was positively festive with a Christmas flair: raffles, prizes, performances, and of course cake. I expected her to be super nervous, but instead, she was ready to hit the ice with enthusiasm, finishing her solo without a hitch. I would have asked if she enjoyed it, but she was way too busy mingling with her new friends.
Safe to say, she had a blast and has been working harder on her new craft ever since. Reflecting on the past few months has made me extra confident about raising a child in Beijing. The extracurricular scene promotes dedication and passion, allowing kids to form friendships over shared interests and learn the value of hard work. While there are pitfalls to consider, it’s up to us parents to navigate how much jiwa culture influences our parenting.
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