Introduction
Growing up in a family that has excelled in medical studies was not easy for me as I had results to justify at the end of each semester. In comparison to my younger siblings, who managed to outshine me in academics, I lived a dream I did not understand. As a child, I developed a love for business. Making money by solving other people's challenges was a fascination, which was my calling. However, growing in a family of doctors was a threat to my real dreams. Every day, my mother would supervise my evening classes to ensure I did not bring any shame to the family. There were daily revision and study of science subjects with a minor change in the timetable on weekends when the lessons were strictly mathematical to ensure that my grades would allow me to join in the family tradition.
The Rebellious Self
The medical profession was exalted in the family, and there were occasional visits to familiarize me with the latest technology in the health industry that was a constant drag. Every night on the dinner table, my mother would bring stories of how each family member excelled through continuous studying and researching into academic materials. One particular night, she came with a story of a boy aged three but could recite the capital city of each state, including those in Europe (Tan, 1989). In this argument, even my father supported her in disclaiming my objection that the subjects were hard. This tradition was critical in my choice of becoming the family’s black sheep.
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The constant disappointment in my parents’ faces was akin that described by Tan (1989) as it killed me inside. Similarly, I had loathed the revisions that accompanied numerous tests, failed expectations, and false hopes. Some so many people were living a dignified life and had nothing to do with treating sick people. This thought consistently led to resentment of education and anything related. Just like in Tan (1989), I performed the evening classes, tests, and revisions listlessly feigning sickness or boredom to get away, but the parents were stern. One evening I decided enough was enough. If they will not have it my way, I was going into the streets with my $200 savings and will not relate to this family.
Making Hard Choices
Before I decided to flee from home and start my own business at the age of nine, with only $200 was not an easy one. But what was the point of living an unhappy life under captivity. At the same time, there was the opportunity of pursuing my passion, especially after I discovered a source that sold cheap dog biscuits that I could resell online for a profit. My little venture led to a life-changing experience, especially after my parents took me for counseling, and the best advice was given was that business was only for adults. Most of my questions were unanswered even though the argument held by the counselor was that companies could be overwhelming to children. He probably meant good through his advice, which focused on my career as a doctor ( Haley, 1965 ).
After I was caught on the street selling the dog food during school hours and taken to my parents with a severe warning from the police, it dawned on me that all adults would only support a kid with a career in mind. I returned to school, but was withdrawn from everyone else, and responded to questions only when called upon ( Haley, 1965 ). Privately, I would sneak out on weekends, at times pretending to visit friends for study groups, but in reality, I was discreetly selling my dog biscuits to neighbors, friends, and online. In comparison to Malcolm in ( Haley, 1965 ), I thought genuinely and vastly and even googled the idea before making the decision that was profound as well as pivotal in its consequences.
Working with Support
By the time I was thirteen, there was not much conversation between my parents and I, even though I only tried to work hard enough in studies to avoid the constant bothering attention they gave me. During this period, he had trouble explaining to people what career he had envisioned. After my parents' discovery that I was doing business on the side and for the last three years had accumulated nearly $20,000 from the sale of the dog biscuits, which turned out to be sensational. That was a remarkable achievement since my only wish was to be myself, which my father complimented that I was indeed myself but smarter ( Weaver, 1989 ). They agreed to support me if only I promised that I would work hard to become a doctor.
The business became a family business with my father becoming the marketing and financial manager to give me time for my studies. My mother purchased a cooking guide on how to make dog biscuits and is currently the production manager as she prepares the cookies in her free time. Even my younger siblings are on to it, assisting in suppliers. These changes made me relax and appreciate the family love. Similar to Amy in Tan (1989), I finally revisited my science subjects and went through the notes that made a lot of sense and did not look that difficult, maybe because I was no longer the pleading child but was rather perfectly contented.
References
Haley, A., (1965). The Autobiography of Malcolm X . New York: Ballantine Books, pp.41 - 46.
Tan, A. (1989). The Joy Luck Club, New York. GP Putnams Sons . pp.132 – 144. Doi.org/10.1002/9781444393675.ch66
Weaver, W. (1989). A Gravestone Made Of Wheat . New York: Simon and Schuster, pp. 169 - 175.
