Not to be bragging on my kids all the time, but yesterday, Lilia got a 97 on her Japanese test.  No kid of mine has ever brought a Japanese or math test home with a 90 or higher on it, so I’m pleased as punch.

A little over a month ago, I told my husband the results of Lilia’s IQ test.  He said, “dame, dame.”   Apparently the test indicates that she is almost an imbecile, but hey, I know better. 


6 thoughts on “97

  1. Once more: my two cents. Apparently I tested at 100 when I was a little younger than Lilia. We lived in Sacramento California, and my mom said afterwards, “What do you mean you didn’t know what a dome was? every time we drive by the capital building, I say ‘Look, kids, there’s the dome!'” The pain my mom went through for the sake of her idiot child. My eldest daughter, too, was a total non-achiever for so many years. She hated school, and failed math big time in fifth grade. Now she is a math whiz, and aced it straight through college along with chemistry and all those other horrible subjects. So you tell whoever what they can do with those IQ scores. My husband, too, the special-needs teacher can talk for quite a while on the worthlessness of figuring out people’s IQs (although he wan’t quite so laissez faire about his own daughter).

    You enjoy that 97–that’s the only number you need to know!!

  2. PS I had a half hour of feeling sorry for myself so I pre-ordered Love You to Pieces. I’m headed to the US, but it won’t be out before I get back and I see that Amazon offers these tantalizing discounts for preordering…OK, now I feel better.

  3. My son is at the bottom of his class, I think mostly because everyone else at his fancy private school goes to juku after seven class periods of regular study. And they’ve probably been going to juku since birth! My husband thinks that our son is destined for a tech high school and that he won’t be able to get into college and that he’ll have to be a truck driver or something. He tells me, “Now you know why parents send their children to cram schools. They see those kind of scores and then they panic. You’ll be sorry some day.” The kid is only in the second grade.

    I told him about Jonathan Mooney, who wrote a wonderful blurb for LOVE YOU TO PIECES. Mooney rode the short bus to school (thus, one of his books is called THE SHORT BUS), but he rose from special ed to graduate with honors from Brown University.

    And then I remind my husband that no one is having babies, my college professor friends are worried about job security and are having to go out and recruit students, and that Japan is reverting to conervatism and the government isn’t going to be welcoming immigrants any time soon to help out with the labor crunch. My son can speak English. His future is golden, baby.

  4. My eldest began to hit the books about the time the juku-from-first-grade crowd was burning out–age 15, you can plot it on a graph. She went on to be first in her class in high school and got first dibs for college “suisen.”

    My second went off to school for six years (7-12 grade) with nothing but her lunch in her backpack and she also did just fine without juku.

    Only downside: your kids get into hoity-toity Tokyo colleges and the rent on those apartments is hell to pay!

    You let that boy play in the dirt and and I guarantee you he will do just fine. Mothers who panic live to regret the day… I position juku as “mizu shobai.” They rake in the money based on the fickle panic of mothers. Once that fickle panic has a sea change, bam, they are out of business.

    As for speaking English, uh-yeah!

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