Viral 'baby yoga' Vid - Has The Internet Killed Journalism?

Once upon a time, not so long ago, there was a video of a woman swinging babies. It is called "Baby Yoga." It went viral, of course, as any spectacle that is put on the net these days are wont to.

Then, there was this blogger who "scored" an interview with the woman. He blogged about it in detail, including the original video. To be fair to this blogger, he covers his grounds in the interview by asking the woman in the video questions from different angles. 

But it's one guy's blog about one woman's way of teaching 'baby yoga.' That is fine with me.

But then, Time carried the piece under its "Healthland" banner. There was no reporting done. This means that no one bothered to interview other kids yoga teachers, or to even google and provide background information. The Time piece just said: 1. there's this viral video of 'baby yoga' (as if that is the definitive of baby yoga) and 2. there's this guy who blogged it, read it here (linked). 

What made it worse, was that @HuffingtonPostLiving tweeted the link to the Time piece. 

Cyberspace is full of freak show videos and this-is-just-me shooting off blogs.  And unfortunately, these get more eyeballs than well considered, well researched and well reported pieces.

But when media brand names that people trust for veracity and objectivity, and responsible reporting, etc., etc., latch on to these to get eyeballs, then it is truly a sad day indeed, and I'll finally have to conceed that yes, maybe the internet has killed journalism.

What do I have against Lena Fokina (i.e. baby swinging baby yoga teacher)? Nothing. But I do need to point out that she doesn't own the 'baby yoga' label. There are many other baby and kids yoga teachers, myself included, who don't swing babies around when we teach. 

Of course she is free to teach in her own way, and there are parents who found her lessons beneficial. One of the key learnings in yoga is that there are many paths to one truth. So we are always respectful of that.

What do I have against the blogger? Nothing. He wanted to find out more about this woman after watching her video, so he interviewed her and wrote it up. I do wish though that he had done some research and put that in his piece. But again, that's his choice and I'm respectful of that. 

But, and this is where I get a little upset. At the very least, the person at Time who wrote up its piece linking to the blog post should have done that. All one has to do is google kids or baby yoga and one will find a host of other information and resources such as the highly acclaimed YogaKids program and another well known program, Itsy, Bitsy Yoga. These would have provided a more complete picture to "the deal with baby yoga" as the Time headline proclaimed the piece to be about.

Just as there are more dynamic forms of yoga for adults, such as ashtanga and vinyasa flow practices, as well as gentle forms, there are different ways of teaching baby yoga. I teach it as bonding exercises for parents or caregivers and child.  

Yoga teachers, like professional journalists, train hard and for years in their vocation. Both are committed to seeking truth, albeit in different ways. I know, because I am both, and I'm passionately committed to both journalism and yoga. 

Ms Fokina has her way of teaching baby yoga; I have mine. But there are some principles and common beliefs that those in the news profession hold. In the day and age of Twitter, blogs, self-publishing and a barrage of information being posted on social networks all the time, it is even more critical that media organizations hold true and hold on tightly to these principles.

What is the difference between something posted by a media/news organization and someone on a blog? Readers expect 1. context 2. fact checking 3. accuracy 4. timeliness of information 5. objectivity (although that is questionable these days) and so on and so forth from the former.  Otherwise, seriously, why should anyone continue to pay for news and information. It's all free on Twitter and the blogosphere, and Facebook and YouTube and so on.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there was a profession called journalism. I hope it doesn't go away. Is there a way to make sound journalistic principles go viral?

By the way, when this video first went viral, there were many people who thought it was a hoax. And 'the blogger' is also a journalist, who writes on Russia for Time, and he says that he practices yoga as well. And if you HAVE to watch the video, be warned...here it is:  



 

Banana Parenting Part 2: I'll Never Be A "Chinese Mother."

This is why I will never be a true blue "Chinese mother." Ariel missed her first violin lesson today.

Last night, I saw an email from her music teacher at school with an attachment - both online and on the Blackberry. Groan. More schedules. Let me tweet these articles first, before I look at it. Of course I Twitter-ed away the hours, in between fiddling with Rapid Weaver.

This morning, I received a very polite email from the violin teacher, Ms C, gently reminding me that Ariel is "clearly very interested in starting violin lessons."

I'm just glad Ms C is not Mdm Amy Chua. I think I just commited a reprehensible offense in the latter's books.

In my "Banana Parenting" response to Ms Chua's piece in WSJ (Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior), I painted myself as prefering a more balanced approach, but nevertheless veering towards the camp of discipline, rules and my own somewhat oxymoronic concoction of reasonable strictures.

But this morning, I felt more like a bananas-in-pyjamas parent. I was sloppy, in my own book - no excuse. Thus humbled, I thought it fitting to acknowledge that while I don't completely agree with Ms Chua's style of mothering, I should give her credit where it's due.

Ms Chua has written a response to the responses to her piece and her memoir, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. She maintains that her style of "Eastern parenting" involves high expectations "coupled with love, understanding and parental involvement."

Despite her clarifications, I believe many people will still find her methods extreme and be unable to wrap their minds around how such methods can speak of love. But if one was to stop for a moment and turn off one's own cultural biases and personal judgment and just read her response objectively, it is not so hard to fathom.

Open Salon blogger Grace Hwang Lynch has written an excellent review of Ms Chua's book and it would be a good idea to read this, if not the book, before passing any further judgment or comments on Ms Chua. Some of the more impassioned reactions (on other forums, of course) have included name-calling and other uncalled for vitriol. I don't believe Ms Chua meant to find herself in a clash-of-the-cultures maelstrom. At the end of the day, I agree with Grace, that we need to remember that this is one woman's personal memoir.

This woman, in allowing us a no holds barred look into the (sometimes ugly and painful) details of her struggles in parenting has laid her vulnerabilities at our feet. That may not be so apparent on the superficial level because she is coming across as being so strong, so agressive and yes, somewhat superior.

But this is also the same woman who confesses in her reply to readers that she is "definitely a Type A personality, always rushing around...not good at just lying on the beach." She didn't say the rest of us shouldn't lie on the beach if we choose to - just that she can't seem to do that herself.

So here is my confession. I'm very much a Type A maniac myself, always doing too much. That is why, despite not agreeing with Ms Chua, I can empathize with her.

Consider this: doing everything that she did for her daughters required extreme stamina and focus.  If the child had to practice for 3 hours, it meant the mom had to watch for 3 hours. I can't do that (especially if Glee is on TV.) On my good days (i.e. not the bananas/pyjamas days), I can probably claim to have a B+/A- level of that kind of mental strength. (And yes, I was pretty much a straight A student, or at least in the top cohort because I went to schools that sadistically didn't give "A" grades to motivate us to perform better. Let's not go there.)

So again, while I don't agree with Ms Chua completely, I have to say I respect her for: 1. being honest and sticking up for what she believes in; and 2. her commitment to her family.

Let's put this in perspective. We may feel strongly that it's not good to call our children "garbage" but she is also not an abusive drunk who left her kids starving out in the streets like garbage. Different strokes for different folks. Let's leave it at that, and thank Ms Chua for giving us fodder for much interesting debate/discussion.

So I'll never be a true blue "Chinese mother" but I'm happy chewing on my parenting bananas. Now I need to get out of my pyjamas and go pick the kids up from school.

Note to self: print music schedule, highlight dates, put it somewhere I won't forget to look. 

Banana Parenting: Best of East & West or Just A Crazy Mashup?

It is Saturday morning. My 8-year-old son, Amon, is grounded in his room. There will be no TV, Wii or playtime this weekend. He has until 12 noon to clean up and organize his room, failing which, he will not be allowed to attend his friend's birthday party this afternoon.

What did he do to deserve this? It's what he didn't do. He has Tae Kwon Do classes every Saturday. We have an agreement that he is going to be responsible for making sure his uniform and gloves are ready and packed in his bag for every class. Yesterday, I asked him twice if he had done so. He replied in the affirmative both times. This morning, as we were about to rush out for his sister's ballet class, I found the bag empty and strewn on the floor.

Most parents reading this in the US or Europe would just pick up the bag, find the clothes, gently remind him that he needs to do it the next time, and get going. You will probably be quietly disapproving of my harsh diatribe and punishment. Most parents reading this in Asia will be wondering if I was punishing my son for being rude and disobedient to me, rather than for not being responsible for his things (especially in the newly rich cities where such 'chores' are delegated to domestic helpers rather than have the little princes and princesses do them). Both groups need to reserve judgment and read on.

I delivered a 10-minute lecture on 1. paying attention to instructions (did he hear me when I said to pack his bag?); 2. discipline and responsibility (his class, his bag, his clothes, his duty to get them in order, just like it's taught in TKD class); 3. honesty (if he told me he did it, I trusted that he did; he didn't so it was a lie).

Then I set him on his task and sat down to coffee, and my main source of parenting stress therapy - Facebook. And what is the first post I should see but this piece in the WSJ ("Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior) .

The writer, Amy Chua, discusses, a little tongue-in-cheek perhaps, how her "Chinese" (broadly encompassing most Asian) style of parenting is fundamentally different to the "Western" style. Her kids had no playdates, computer/TV time and had to play the piano and violin and score straight As. Once, when one of them was rude to her, she reprimanded the child, calling her "garbage" the way her own father had done. That caused her some bad PR at a dinner party and a mother so horrified at the "abuse" she had to leave.

The point of her piece is that the stereotype of the "evil" Asian mother is really a result of a lack of understanding of cultural differences and motivations by the Western writers. Similarly, many Asian parents secretly hold many misconceptions of Western styles of parenting.

At the risk of being reductive or over-generalizing, I will have to state upfront, as she did in her piece, that I'm using the terms "Asian" and "western" loosely to depict observations and trends. There are many people in both cultures and parts of the world who don't fit in the stereotypes (and I certainly am one of them).

She underlines several fundamental differences but I would trace them all simply back to basic value systems.

Western philosophy values the pursuit of individual happiness and freedom above all. Perhaps John Stuart Mill stated this most succinctly in On Liberty: "the necessity to the mental well-being of mankind (on which all their other well-being depends) of freedom of opinion, and freedom of the expression of opinion.…” The happiness of society as a whole depends on the happiness and freedom of the individuals.

Eastern philosophy and values, on the other hand, are largely built around the community and the world around us. Confucius teaches that the country comes before the family, and the family before the individual. Buddhism and Hinduism value the respect and embracing of nature and other beings over the selfish interests of the individual. True happiness, inner strength and peace of mind, the Dalai Lama often says, is to be had only when one is caring and compassionate towards others. When society as a whole is happy, the individual can be so too.

These fundamentally different approaches explain a lot about the difference in parenting styles. In traditional Asian belief, the child has a duty to his or her parents to obey and respect them, and the parents have a duty to ensure the child does the right thing. So if he or she fails in a task, the parent has to guide, punish or do whatever is necessary to set him or her on track to succeed. In western cultures, as Ms Chua noted, the parent is more concerned about the child's feelings and self-esteem, and more likely to tell the child, "It's ok. You did great."

Again, I don't want to come across as being reductive. These are two ends of the scale and many parents today - especially Asians educated in western philosophy or schools of thought and westerners who are exposed to the cultures and philosophies of Asia - fall somewhere in between. There is also much to be said for the good old Protestant work ethic or simply just "grandma's dictum of hard work and discipline" that many parents in the west adhere to. The most memorable story about Barrack Obama (for me) was that his mother used to sit with him early in the morning to make sure he got his homework done. And I've already mentioned a recent observation in newly rich Asian societies where the children are treated like "little emperors" and not subjected to the same kind of strict parenting as my peers and our parents before us were.

I believe that there are intrinsic value and benefits from both styles of parenting and the different schools of thought of both western and Asian cultures. I believe that, as with all things in life, the answer to conscious and good parenting comes from going back to the basics and striking a balance. Where those basic values are and where that balancing point is will be different for everyone.

For me, they fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, in the shaded part of the Venn diagram that tries to encompass the best of both worlds. I do believe in playdates and having fun with computers and games. But I also believe in never missing a deadline for homework or school assignments. If that happened as a result of neglect or irresponsibility, I also believe in consequences -- just like the ones I meted out to Amon.

I will not pick up his pieces and tell him gently to remember to do it next time, because I know he won't. And he wouldn't learn anything if I did everything for him just because I was afraid he will feel bad if I berated him. I saw his face when I was delivering my lecture. Of course he felt bad. But I also do not believe in calling him "garbage" or derogatory terms like "stupid" (some of the examples Ms Chua mentioned in her piece that Chinese parents get away with). I don't believe in that kind of feeling bad. My lecture revolved around the basic tenets of discipline, responsibility and self-confidence that his TKD classes were built on. What's the point, I asked him, of going to class and learning the actions, when you don't even want to be responsible for something as simple as packing your uniform in your bag? I also didn't want him to pack his uniform and go for class because I dictated it. He only goes for TKD classes because he wanted to.

So he exercises free will and choice, but he also needs to understand and perform the duties and responsibilities that come with it. And yes, I draw the boundaries of where those duties lie because I'm his mother. If he is rude and disrespectful (which he was initially this morning because he yelled back at me) he will be punished for it. But similarly, if I made a mistake and lose my cool with him (and I have), I will apologize for it. So I expect my child to show the kind of respect Confucius said one should accord a parent, but I also treat him as an equal human being with a right to free will and happiness.

Somewhere, in the convoluted mashup of east and west thinking lies my clear vision of banana parenting. Call it order in chaos, or trying to have my cake and eat it, if you will, but it makes perfect sense to me.

The "yellow banana" is a term, often derogatory, used to described Chinese (or more politically correct, people of similar skin tone) people who reject their roots and culture for "western" values -- yellow on the outside, white on the inside. But really, if you look at it, a banana on the inside is not white. It's a lighter shade of yellow, and in the best of the crops, the texture and firmness is just right -- not too hard and not too soft.

I'm very much a banana. I'm deeply rooted in my origins and culture, but I have also studied and reflected on several different cultures and value systems from around the world. I see myself as a truely global netizen of my time, and that is how I will parent my children -- to learn the best from both east and west, and become true citizens of the world. 

So, there are many points in Ms Chua's piece that I do not agree with. I prefer a more conciliatory and all-embracing approach. But I'm also glad though that someone is finally speaking up for the "evil" Asian mother because I'm sick and tired of the judgmental looks I get when I speak sternly to my children in public.

In the time I took to write this piece, Amon has cleaned up and organized his room. He stayed in there when he was done, and asked his sister if she could convey the message to me to come inspect it. I told him he could come out and have a mid-morning snack. After he eats, I will go with him to his room, and we will assess it and add the final touches together. Then, I will let him read this blog post.

Right now, he's making me a cheese sandwich ("Mom, you have to try this...it's good!") It looks like we're going for the party this afternoon and his feelings are none the worse for wear.

Footnote: So he organized and cleaned up his room. But he also hid all his Chinese books in a paperbag, under a pile of loose 'scratch' paper (i.e. trash). Sigh.

This post can also be viewed on Open Salon http://bit.ly/guGvlF  where there is a great discourse going on about the subject. Thank you!

The Price of Life: $10k to be born and $7k when you die.

I began the first Monday of the new year as I do most "working" days. I trawl, tweet and retweet news.

So, what's new in 2011? There was an earthquake in Chile; Zsa Zsa Gabor is in hospital and her lower leg needs to be amputated; British actor Pete Postlethwaite died; and organic beef contaminated with E Coli was recalled in California.

So, what's new?

Technically, this is "work" for me, although I don't go to work. I'm working on my thesis in grad school and I write freelance. But as a new breed of independent multi-media journalist, I'm on Twitter all the time being part of the new, news breaking crowd, in the hope that one day some old media organization would notice me for tweet-breaking news and hire me.

The one news article that did catch my attention beyond 140 characters was the WSJ piece comparing consumer purchases made in 2008, 2009 and 2010.

These are the price tags of living. The prices of a pair of jeans ($54.50) and a McDonald's Big Mac ($3.20) cost the same last year and the year before. Yay...not that I eat Big Macs.

But what about the price of life? Not cheap...and it costs more to be born than to be sent off when one dies. The average hospital cost for a newborn and his/her mother was $10,679 last year. The national average cost for a funeral (excluding cemetery cost) was $7,710.

And if one should be sick? The average cost of a day's stay in a semi-private room in a hospital, excluding fees for a private physician, was $7,507 -- almost as much as a funeral.

I don't really want to be morbid and talk about death at the dawn of a new year. But these numbers really made me think about life. I really don't want to be sick. I want to live well and live healthy. Between one day in hospital and a funeral, I think I would pay for the funeral and be done with it.

Knock on wood, I want to live healthy and when it's time to go, go quickly and be done. I don't want my children to have to fork out $7,507 a day.

Speaking of children, a college education at Penn State cost $23,620 a year in 2010. That is two-and-a-half times the cost of having a baby in the hospital. A Toyota Camry would cost less than a year in college. Car? Degree? Car? Degree? Tough call.

Gas has gone up by 40cents to $2.81 from the year before to last. It actually costs alot more than that around here. It would probably be a good idea in the interest of all life to drive less in 2011.

So should we make babies? Or just go out to the movies? The cost of a movie ticket was $7.85 (about 0.1 % of a funeral). Taking into account all the other costs of the nine months before the birth and the 18 years after before this baby makes it to college, it would be safe to assume that the price of making a life is pretty hefty. I can't put a number there.

It's probably least costly to just hang out in the blogosphere..write and read great writing. But even that will get pricier. The average cost of broadband cable and internet service went up by $2.00 from the year before to $44.95 last year. And we can be pretty sure it'll go up again this year. It's probably hidden in the fine print somewhere.

All these numbers are giving me a headache worthy of a hangover. Tagging the price of life and cost of living is too sobering an activity for post New Year bash recovery. Maybe I should just stick with resolutions.

I have only one resolution for 2011. Last year, I learned that happiness comes from deep within me, and isn't determined by who or what is around me. So my single, focused resolution for the new year is: if I'm not happy, it's not worth it.

That's it...my new outlook on life. Simple. Now I'm happy. Remind me not to go look at those numbers again. As for the price of life, I guess the simplest and happiest answer is really: priceless.  

A Room Of My Own

This is a piece written in response to an open call on Open Salon on writing space.

My kindle has a name - Judith S. Porte.

The "S" stands for Shakespeare, and her favorite song is The Doors' "Light My Fire." She is thus named, because she came into my life at a point when a flame was ignited again.

I fell in love all over again in the fall in 2009. But the relationship was rocky. Then, late last year, I realized that to truly love, I needed to let go of fear and allow myself to be vulnerable. I threw caution and doubt to the wind, and joined Open Salon. It was scary to go out on a limb like that, but I made a committment to my love.

I have been in love with writing since I was a little girl. I wrote my first story in middle school.

It was a novella scrawled in girlish cursive in an unassuming notebook with brown paper cover. It was a romantic mashup of the first three novels I had ever read (Pride and Prejudice, Wutthering Heights and Jane Eyre), with an urban, present day setting and Asian names.

I showed it to my best friend, who took it home to read. She showed it to her dad. The next day, she came to school with a message from her dad: "Don't stop writing...and don't stop reading." He also loaned me a copy of Watership Down.

I realized much later on that he must have thought I was reading paperback romance. I guess he was my first critic and writing coach.

I can't remember where I wrote that first story. But my parents were not well off. I didn't have a writing desk and I did all my homework from school on the little child's size table that also served as my dining table. So I guess I wrote on the dining table.

The best part about that little eating/writing/all-purpose table was that it was portable. It was made of wood, with a white top and bright orange legs. Whenever Happy Days came on, I would move it to the room with the TV on. When I didn't want the distraction of the TV, I would move it away again.
Those early days of nomadic writing must have been ingrained in me somehow. This is the same way I write today.

I saw that post by aliquot on Open Salon on desks and started reflecting on my own writing space. Then, I read lschmoopie's open call post (http://open.salon.com/blog/lschmoopie/2011/01/01/open_call_your_writing_space) and a couple of responses with all the great pictures of everyone's writing space.

I realized I don't really have a physical writing space. For a start, I have a desk but I don't use it. Most of the time, I write in the kitchen, from the breakfast table. It is next to the window. I need to look out when I write, and this is what I see:


When it's not too cold, the black squirrel who lives in the yard comes out to play. He does that a lot in the spring. But fall is my favorite season because I like watching the leaves in the wind.
Sometimes, I move from the breakfast to the dining table.  I guess old habits die hard, especially those formed in childhood. Good thing is, I don't have to port the whole table, with the book I'm writing in now - just the Macbook. Still, I need to look out:


But they don't show Happy Days on TV anymore. So now, when I want to be around happy people when I'm writing, I go out to Starbucks. (Actually it's also for the coffee and free wifi.)

The people at my two favorite Starbucks locations are always happy to see me (and I'm happy to see them). I was told that at one of those locations, the manager and staff were shot and killed some years back, and even today, some of the takings from the store go to the families of the deceased.

I don't need to post a picture. Everyone knows what a Starbucks looks like. I usually get a seat by the window. It's not a pretty view. It looks out to a carpark in one location, and a road in another. But it's a view, nonetheless. 

There are times though, when the happy wanderer in me feels the need for a serious space to do some serious writing. Usually, that would be an essay or paper for grad school. Then, I would travel to the space that every student can call his or her own - the library.

I love libraries and I hang out in them a lot. It's communal and yet private. I get a desk of my own, even though it is one amongst many, and shared by many. In the campus library, there is a common identity and yet I can be anonymous.

So I can't take a picture in the campus library for this post, because I don't want my anonymous identity to be: "the weirdo who took a picture of the library." Right now, I'm "the girl with the purple mac who likes to sit by the window." I would like to keep it that way.

So I guess, in short, I don't really have a writing space. I write from everywhere. But then again, maybe I do. I write in a room of my own, with a window I'm always looking out of...and that space is mostly in my head.

Since I can't take a picture of the space in my head, here's one of Judith, who is often with me these days when I write: