The Question Here Is…

My father-in-law LOVES to ask questions.

He is a scientist, after all.

But that day, I was asking all the questions.

Dave and I fley home to Rochester (his childhood home) and I was “meeting the parents.”

Actually, it was the second time. I really *met the family* when everyone descended on Dave’s house for Thanksgiving.

But this lunch, mama Lin had prepared and I learned the true parallels between southern moms and Chinese moms. I mean… moms. They’re all the same, really. Make a million plates of food then tell all of your guests to keep eating until they pop.

This is the way.

And yah… I’m sure history will repeat itself in my house.

Because I, too… am now a mom.

But this was pre-“mom” days when we were barely thinking about kids. We were just having fun and getting comfortable with the possibility of a future. WHOA. Pump the brakes on kids. That’s too much to think about.

So I wanted to know all about these people who had raised my boyfriend.

I went for the jugular, like always.

“Mr. Lin, how did you and Mrs. Lin meet?”

A slow, sly grin appeared on his face.

He cleared his throat.

“Well, I was a doctoral grad student and Mrs. Lin was a masters-level teaching assistant. And then she became MY teaching assistant.”

And he left it at that. And sat back. And looked at me. And grinned.

“That’s very romantic.” I commented.

Dave was listening in the other room.

“WHAT??? I’ve never heard that story!!!”

Me: “How could you not have heard that story in your 38 years of existence on this earth???”

So there were two of us in the room who just discovered how his parents met.

Mr. Lin is a scientist through and through. Everything about him screams analysis. We’ve had fun bantering over the years, pushing each other and ‘getting to the bottom’ of many an investigation.

He will generally start any discussion with “The Question Here, Is–” …a trademark, if you will, of important Lin family topics.

Sammy, our middle, favors his grandfather immensely. We quietly nicknamed him “The Professor.” He likes to lecture everyone he meets. He asks a LOT of questions. He switches topics every minute or two.

Today, Sammy was knee-deep in applying the scientific method to his homework.

Me: “Sammy, finish your homework. We have to leave for school in thirty minutes.”

*Sammy just sitting there doodling on his paper*

Sammy: “Mom, I don’t understand how to answer this question. I just don’t want to do it. Look! THE SPACE IS NOT BIG ENOUGH!!! MY ANSWER WILL NOT FIT!!!”

*has a mini-breakdown while he contemplated the the incongruity of the question. His poor little scientist mind was having trouble being outside the box. Enter mom. I smash boxes for a living.*

Me: “Sam, here are some options to deal with the spacing issue. Just draw a line *up here* and finish the question on the line.”

Sam: “NOOOOOO!!!! That’s not RIGHT!!!! It doesn’t work!!!!!!”

Me: “Sam… you do *actually* need to finish your homework.”

Sam: “If I don’t… what happens?”

Me: “Good question. Let’s explore that. What do you *think* will happen?”

Sam: “Well, if I don’t finish something, Mrs. Harrison puts a ‘question mark’ next to that question.”

Me: “OK. What does a question mark *mean* in this case?”

Sam: “I think it means she doesn’t understand what’s going on.”

Me: “Oh, she understands what’s going on, alright. She understands that either 1) You forgot to do something or 2) you don’t want to do something.”

*****Pause in convo******

Me: “Are you OK with getting the question mark next to that number?”

Him: “Yeah. I’d be ok with that.”

Me: “Welp, mom is not. Can I tell you why?”

Him: “OK.”

Me: “The question mark means you didn’t answer the question. By NOT answering, the default grading scale means you get that question wrong. And you didn’t get it wrong because you tried, you got it wrong because you didn’t try. If you try to answer a question and get it wrong, we have something to work with… something to build on. But if you don’t try, we have nothing. And you’ve learned nothing.”

*Just FYI, I would have never had this conversation with Joshua. It’s in his nature to do what is expected of him. But this conversation with Sammy is so delicious to me. Because he requires a self-examined motivation.*

Sam looked at me as if he were weighing his option.

Me: “Sam… does God love us?”

Sam: “Yep.”

Me: “Does he love us regardless of what number is at the top of our papers?”

Sam: “Totally.”

Me: “And does He ALSO want His kids to ask Him for help when they don’t know the answers?

Sam: “Ooooh. Yes.”

Me: “Just like Dad and I. We feel loved when you kids come to us for help. So it is with God. It all comes back to relationships.”

Sammy put his head down and started working on his homework again.

In a few minutes, I passed by and glanced over his shoulder. He had drawn a line above the question and finished answering on the line.

He caught me looking. And covered up his answer.

If I’ve learned anything about boys up to this point, I’ve learned how powerful that pride is. So I looked away and let him save face without saying a word and went about my business.

The Little Professor wrapped up his homework and bagged it up for school.

As I cheered internally for this small victory, I imagined a whole crew of people cheering behind me. Mrs. Harrison, Mrs. Yan (Sam’s teachers). Mr. Adam, Mrs. Chi-chi, Mrs. Evelyn (Preschool teachers) and most of all, Dad Lin, the original Professor.

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