Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior – WSJ.com.
This is such a controversial article that I just had to keep it on record. I actually didn’t think of writing anything down despite several discussions with friends about this until I read this response: Tiger Mothers Leave Lifelong Scars. I don’t plan to give an opinion about the book or its author since I haven’t read it, but I’m thinking it may be worth a read just to see what all the fuss is about. Personally I was lucky to have been raised by parents who are rather reasonable, so I can’t really speak from the perspective of someone raised by ‘tiger parents.’ I’d rather just speak from my own experience, what I learned from my parents, and how I hope to raise my kids in the future.
First things first, education has always been the number one focus in my family. Neither of my parents finished high school due to lack of opportunities, and as a result, I was provided every opportunity to learn for as far back as I can remember. I first started learning to read when I was three (or so I was told), and by the time I started first grade, I already knew more Chinese characters than most of my classmates (again, so I was told). I don’t really recall learning to read, but I can’t imagine it being a fun process for a three year old. There might have been lots of cajoling and yelling and a few tears involved, and I am so very grateful for my parents and grandmother who had the patience to teach a very ADD me to read from such a young age.
Like many Asian parents, including Ms. Chua’s kids, I was not allowed near video games. “A waste of time and you don’t even learn anything from it!” Said dad. Other activities were encouraged, such as any sport or exploratory activities. My family made weekly trips to the bookstore, and I always managed to come back with a new book or two. My mom would sometimes tell my dad that I still haven’t finished the ones at home yet, but my dad would always say, if she can learn one or two things from each book, it’s already a good investment.
I had my chance at picking up some hobbies from an early age. My dad had a friend who was a renowned calligrapher who did not take on students easily. I lasted for about 3 weeks because I did not like holding my elbow up for such a long time. A coworker’s wife offered to teach me piano. I rolled on the floor for an hour as a sign of my displeasure, and that was that. I did last through a whole summer in a drawing class, and happily jumped in the river (yes, a river, in China, with no bleach and plenty other chemicals) everyday after school. I was selected to enter singing and reciting competitions in elementary school, something I dreaded as I hated being in front of large groups of people (unfortunately still feel the same way). My parents didn’t bulge this time when I asked to quit. When I was in high school, I looked enviously at my friends’ instruments and complained to my parents: “why didn’t you make me keep going to those piano lessons?!” I managed to make it on to the swim team, but I was never very good. I was in choir, but still too timid to even try out for solos.
As I write down these episodes from the past, I realize that who I am today is very much shaped by how my parents raised me. My love for reading, the arts, sports, exploring, karaoke — all things attempted when I was young. I am deeply grateful for the times my parents made me try harder than I was willing to on my own, and sometimes even wish they made me try harder. How many kids really want to work hard? How many adults even want to work hard? And Ms. Chua’s right, until you get good at something, it’s really not that much fun. So to make it fun, kids do need to be pushed, encouraged, not allowed to quit at the first failure.
While I agree that kids should be pushed, it’s really the methodology that I think needs work. “You should do it because I tell you to” is NEVER a good argument. True, kids should respect their parents’ authority, but if the goal is to get them to like something, that may not be the best choice. I remember in my rebellious teenage days, when I refused to do things not because I don’t understand why I need to do them, but because I resented to manner in which I were asked to perform. It’s not easy (dude, why have kids if you want an easy life?), but I think in the end, it’s the only way to really build an affectionate and respectful relationship.
I love my parents very much, and don’t have too many complaints about how they raised me, except one thing: I REALLY RESENT BEING CALLED A PIG! There were other names that were even more rude and hateful. I really think emotional abuse is much worse than physical (ok, so I’ve never been badly beaten, I’m just saying, personal experience wise), and even though I know things are mostly said in anger and they don’t really mean it, I can still remember how hurtful those words are. Most of the time time I probably did something really bad to deserve it, but I don’t think calling me names really help me get better, and mostly just make me resentful and more rebellious.
Ok, this turned into a disorganized rant of sorts and I’m too distracted to revise it properly. I guess here’s my final thought: Tiger Moms are hard on their kids because they want them to be able to survive on their own. It takes so much more time, energy and effort to be a strict parent than one that lets the kids do whatever they want. But maybe, just be a little softer with the growls and smacks to the head, you still want your kids to be happy don’t you? 🙂
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