Today began as any other school day.  At 5am when I knocked on my son’s bedroom door, and opened it to make sure he was awake, he asked me, “Are you sure there’s school today?”

Of course I was not sure there was school today.  But they had to get ready in case the weather lets up. Before I could say anything, my son got up and started moving about with purpose. My daughter also got up when I called her.  And this surprised me.  Given the weather condition the past two days, I expected them to linger in bed and wait for me to text the principal to confirm if there will be classes.

Today was different and when they were about to leave, it dawned on me why they felt compelled to get to school.  Today the Language Arts festival competition will be held.  Both my children will compete in the extemporaneous speech category.  My daughter already competed last Friday in the essay writing contest.

My son joined the extemporaneous speech competition last year and he did not expect one win to lead to a chain of wins that brought him to the national level.  This year, my son’s former English teacher has her eyes set on my daughter.  She was grooming her to take her brother’s place after he graduates next year.

Extemporaneous speech is one of the toughest competitions in Language Arts.  A child is given a topic and three minutes to think of what to say.  At the end of the three minutes, he will be given another three minutes to deliver his speech.  In order to win a child must have confidence to stand up in front of a crowd; he must have the ability to understand the question or topic and with lightning speed, gather and compose coherent thoughts; he must have a good command of the English language; he must have a wide knowledge of current events; and most of all, he must have the ability to develop an opinion while on his toes.

I was surprised that my son joined the contest last year. I was even more surprised that he won.  This year, I am nervous for my daughter.  She was feeling pressure.  She does not want to be in her brother’s shadow, naturally.  And yet, she and her brother are two sides of a coin.  As deeply insightful as my son is, my daughter is quick-witted  and she has a flair for stringing words that sting and charm at the same time.

I received a text at 8 this morning.  My daughter said that they had drawn lots and she would be the first speaker, her brother, the last.  Again, I was afraid for my daughter. She will be the first to speak. She is only 13.  She has to stand next to her brother and prove her mettle. I told her to do her utter best to speak her mind clearly and coherently.

Of course, my daughter won the class competition a few weeks ago.  Her teacher gave her a 97 rating, highest in the class.  That win earned her the right to compete in the school-wide competition.  But still, there would be other competitors who were older, more experienced.  She is my little girl, after all. I don’t want her to be disappointed.  I don’t want her to be unsure of herself.

My daughter’s teacher last year is now my son’s teacher this year. On the first day of class, the teacher said to my son: “Are you the brother of Leanne?” When he said yes, the teacher said, “Do you speak English as well as she does?  Your sister uses big words.  After class, I look in the dictionary to make sure I know what she means. I also bring tissues to class to make sure I can stop my nose from bleeding.”

For  my son, his pressure comes from within.  He has to pull another win the same way he pulled the win last year.  He likes to play with words. He pulls facts from all over and ties them all up neatly and coherently to present a clear thought.  That is his advantage.

When his coach last year asked him if there was any competitor that made him nervous, he said no.  He said “There is only one person who can make me nervous– my sister.”

My daughter speaks with an American accent. She can be very charming when she wants to be and charm in a speech competition is an ace up one’s sleeve. What my daughter worries about is that she might be given a topic that she knows nothing about.  She has realized that she has not been reading the newspapers and she has not been listening to the news.  There is a world out there that she has ignored most of her life.  This competition will force her to give an opinion over some things that she has never before examined or cared about.

My son is logical, he is incisive in his explanations, he is serious but he wants to blend in.  He downplays his innate charm (he’s cute and he hates it when people tell him so). He also does not want to win by sheer bravado.  He relishes the competition because he wants the opportunity to think and to express himself. He wants to be taken seriously. His problem is that he does not usually want to rise to his full intellectual height because it embarrasses him to stand out. He does not want people to make a fuss over him. I tell him that modesty is not always the same as humility. He says he is reining in his tendency towards pride.

The pressure is on.

A friend of mine overheard my children conversing one day and she asked me, “Did you train them?” I honestly did not know how to answer her.  My children are not parrots or dogs to be trained. They are persons who have minds that need to be fed and characters that have to be molded.

Did I show them standards of personal excellence?  I hope I did.  Did I show them my love for words?  I hope I did. Did I show them that one needs not only to speak well but also to have something worthwhile to say?  I pray that I did.

I did not push my children.  I do expect them to grab every opportunity for learning no matter how painful or hard. I expect hard work and diligence from them. I require self-discipline.  Most of all, I expect them to make full use of every gift God has given to them.

At 2pm today my daughter called.  The competition is over. She won first place against nine competitors.  She then competed in the second round against last year’s champion (her brother).  She lost to her brother. She felt relieved and also a little disappointed.  I told her that she could not have lost to a better competitor.  I said that only diamonds can cut other diamonds.  It was good that it was her brother who beat her and not any other. I think that this loss would either spur her on to improve her grasp of current events or it will make her shy away from competition forever.  I hope she chooses her path wisely. I pray she does not choose the path of least resistance. I pray she rages against mediocrity and reaches to come to her full intellectual stature.

I am anxious for my son.  He hates an easy win.  He also hates winning against an underdog.  He will come home wishing he had said something better or expressed a thought with more clarity.  He is his own worst critic.

I should be ecstatic because both my children won.  I am not. I am more concerned for their emotional health.  I have to teach them how to examine the events of the day and learn from it instead of just being sad or happy about losing or winning.  I am not the kind of parent who likes to see her children compete against others or against each other. But I respect the fact that this competition can shape and build their character.  It is the opportunity to stare their enemy in the eye and the enemy, they will find out, is  fear and self-doubt. They will learn to face these enemies, stand their ground against them and reason themselves out of fear and self-doubt.

The competition will allow them to know their strengths and weaknesses.  They will be able to take stock of what they are capable of. But my prayer is for God to use this competition to show them that their talents are not theirs to own: their talents are lent to them by God.  They are stewards who must give an account to God for their use or abuse of their talents. They were not given the talent to speak so that they can be famous, influential or rich.  Their talents, their lives and their very persons must be offered up to God as a living sacrifice.They are creations of God and to Him alone must all the the glory be given.