Tapu Misa: Daughter's degree great delight for these dedicated parents

I wouldn't say I was overly ambitious for my children. Really, I just want them to be happy. And as long as they all graduate from university top of their class, with at least a master's degree and first-class honours, I don't mind what they choose to do.

Am I a pushy parent? Hell yes.

I guess that's why I'm particularly drawn to the annual graduation affairs for Auckland University's Pacific Island graduates and their families: so many tired but relieved-looking graduates; so many other pushy and controlling parents basking in their children's achievements. Yes, that will be me a few years from now.

Their success is all the sweeter when you consider that Pacific Island university graduates remain a relatively select group - just 198 came out of Auckland last week, another 43 from Wellington's Victoria University this week, and a mere five from Otago.

In fact, so many PI students stumble along the way - as many as three-quarters are lost between the third and seventh forms - that I always want to hand out medals to those who make it, seemingly against great odds. And particularly to their parents, many of whom, I am comforted to discover, are more controlling than I am.

Take the Liva family, of Mangere, whom I met at one celebration. Michael is a bus driver who left Samoa in the 1970s. Chris is originally from Niue, and works as a cleaning supervisor for a motel. They have three daughters, the eldest of whom, Monica, is on her way to becoming a fully fledged doctor. She graduated last week with a bachelor's degree in human biology.

And absolutely no one was happier about that than her father. No wonder, considering the degree is almost as much his as it is hers. Michael Liva always said his little girl was going to university to become a doctor. He never wavered for a minute, and it was lucky for him that Monica eventually came to share his conviction.

Not that she was ever going to fail. If there is a prescription for raising smart, well-adjusted children, then the Liva family had pretty much found it.

They encouraged her to read and took her to the library from the time she started school. They had a TV, says Michael, but it was seldom switched on. Chris always made sure she was home before and after school: they felt it was important to know what their girls were up to, and make sure they did their homework.

And until Michael reached the limits of his Samoan education (Chris' English was never that flash), he always helped with the homework. "I'm still with her for moral support even though I can't help any more. If she studies until midnight or 2 in the morning, I always stay up with her."

Michael also did what many PI parents find difficult to do - he got involved in the schools his daughters went to, volunteered as much as possible, and eventually got himself voted on to the board of trustees for two Mangere schools.

That didn't stop him wanting to send Monica out of Mangere for her high school years, though. She had good teachers at the local schools, he says, but he had been worried about the discipline.

They managed to get her into Auckland Girls Grammar, where she picked up an A bursary. And although she was accepted into medical school on the special admission scheme for Maori and Pacific Islanders, she has passed her exams with flying colours.

If they've been a wee bit overprotective, they believe it's been worth it. Monica has seldom been off their radar. She has spent only one night away from home. Whenever she went to nightclubs, her dad would drop her off and pick her up again. If she needed to study at the university library, he was there at midnight to drive her home.

He admits that he's learning to let go more.

The Livas took out a loan on their home to buy Monica a car so she could be more independent. And she has a boyfriend. Michael has loosened his hold. "But I'm like an octopus. I've pulled some tentacles off, but I've still got a few there."

He has tried not to push too hard, he says, because he's seen a few kids unravel under the stress.

They have been aware of the need for balance. Monica played soccer, rugby, netball, touch and hockey at school even in the days before they could afford a car, and Michael had to catch a bus to pick her up after her games.

Monica joined the Samoan cultural group at Auckland Girls, too, and took Samoan and Niuean language classes during the summer holiday break.

Michael admits that that wasn't a priority for him. "I'm a selfish man. I didn't want her studying Samoan. I wanted her to focus on one thing. If you go to Rome, you do the Roman thing. In this world you have to do the Pakeha thing to succeed."

I ask Michael how do we take more kids from Mangere to medical school?

"I believe it's a partnership between the parents, the teachers and the daughter or son. You all have to play your part in that. If you just rely on one or two things, you're not going to succeed."