I have a lot in common with the author of the hot new best-selling book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. Amy Chua and I are both the eldest of four daughters, we are children or grandchildren of hard working immigrants who believed education was the ticket to a better life, we were both born in the Year of the Tiger (thus we are Tiger Moms), and we both have daughters born in the Year of the Monkey who are musicians. That is where our similarities end, unfortunately. I only dream of writing a best selling book which would allow me to travel the world writing blogs from Thailand or Brussels. The book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, is about how Chua raised her daughters in the Chinese tradition, and American soccer moms and many others who have read the book or about the book are on the offensive. Even the mild-mannered Merideth Viera of the Today show went on the attack while interviewing Tiger Mom last week. Chua has even received some death threats. Child rearing has suddenly become a political football, or soccer ball as the case may be. The book came out in early January and it immediately had the internet, the blogosphere, the New Yorker, The Wall Street Journal, Time Magazine and People Magazine all in a buzz. The author, Amy Chua, is a law professor at Yale married to a Jewish law professor, also at Yale.
The combination of Jewish and Chinese spouses is not that uncommon, Chua says, on a lot of college campuses. I don't think you are alone if you have ever asked yourself what is the reason Chinese and other Asian students often do so well in school or play musical instruments so beautifully at such young ages. Is it the genes? Is it the parenting? Ms. Chua says the answer to this question is the parenting. She even goes so far as to say Chinese mothers are superior. Wow! That was the statement that got the mommie bloggers going.
How a person raises children is deeply personal but also profoundly cultural. There are many ways to raise a child. Hilary said it takes a village, the Chinese say it takes a parent who demands and gets only the best from their child. Americans would argue parenting takes a television, a computer, and video games. Seventy percent of non-Asian American moms believe that academic stress is not good for children. Yes, our babies may listen to Mozart in utero and gaze at colorful whirling mobiles that enhance brain development, but after that, parents feel they can step back a bit. Teachers will do the work of educating. Of course, many families home school their children today in America, but that is not a choice a majority of parents can make, for economic and other reasons. Besides, it's a hell of a lot of work!
In contrast, Chinese parents traditionally are totally involved from birth in the academic lives of their offspring. It is different from what Americans call helicopter moms, who try to protect their offspring from any unpleasant experience. Chinese parenting, according to Chua, is relentless and demanding. Children are not supposed to have lots of choices, and some things in life are unpleasant. Nothing but an A was good enough for Chua's children, and in the evenings, they were not allowed to watch television, play video games, or go on line. For the Chinese, how a child does in school is a direct reflection on how well their parents are raising them
Ms. Chua taught her eldest child, Sophia, the alphabet by 18 months and that was only the beginning. Sophia speaks fluent Mandarin, thanks to the nanny Chua hired who only spoke Mandarin, always got straight A's in school, and played piano at Carnegie Hall when she was 14. All went pretty well with Sophia subjected to Chinese parenting techniques, but then came Louise, aka LuLu, and all hell broke loose. This story makes for a good book!
I discussed the book this week on the phone with my daughter, social worker in training, and and she put it to me bluntly: "Mom, some of the stories the mother tells in her book to me sound abusive." Having had a physically and verbally abusive father myself, I was hit hard by her words. Parenting is a complex endeavor. Sometimes we parent exactly as our parents parented us, and at other times we swear never to parent our children the way our parents parented us. I vowed never to abuse my child. Once however, in frustration, I gave my daughter, aged four, a brief swat on the behind, and she looked at me incredulously and said, "Mother, what are you doing?" Chua also has moments in her career as a parent which she would like to forget, and obviously the ones she writes about in her book not only have caused a stir, but are making her rich.
Tiger Mother devotes time early in her book to a discussion of Chinese astrology. Law professor Chua makes it clear that she, of course, does not believe in astrology, but after saying that, goes on to discuss how Chinese astrology, had she paid attention to it, could have made her a better parent. Chua is a tiger mother because she was born in the Year of the Tiger. We tiger mothers are noble, fearless, powerful, magnetic, and authoritative. Chua's eldest daughter, Sophia, was born in the Year of the Monkey. This combination is fated for success. Monkey children are curious, intellectual, and able to accomplish difficult or challenging tasks. Sophia presented few problems for Tiger mom, though she did throw a few tantrums, and you can still see the toothmarks she made on the piano bench in frustration when forced to practice piano for hours on end. All was going well relatively well for Tiger mom and Monkey daughter; but then second child, Lulu, born in the year of the Boar, came along. Boar children, Chua writes, are stubborn, capable of rage, honest, and warm hearted. Not so good a match for a Tiger mom, according to Chua, who, as you recall, does not believe in astrology.
In People this past week, Chua admits she has a few parenting regrets, but in one story leading to regret (and there are several), Tiger mom tells how forcing LuLu to practice piano did not always go smoothly. LuLu, stubborn Boar child that she was, did not comply like Sophia, the Monkey child, who liked difficult and challenging tasks. Chua admits that she now realizes how different the personalities of her daughters were from the beginning: after all, one was a Monkey and one was a Boar. Lulu hated piano from the start. On one horrible day, Chua locked Lulu out on the back porch in the freezing cold, dressed only in a t-shirt, tights, skirt and shoes, because she would not practice as her mother instructed. Tiger Mother was forced to realize that Boar child would rather freeze to death than practice piano. The child was left outside for a goodly stretch of time, before Chua brought her in off the porch. She then put her daughter in a hot bath, where she served her cocoa with marshmallows and a chocolate brownie. Tiger Mother changed her tactics but did not give up on Lulu. Lulu was given a violin, which she also hated. Tiger Mom did relent after a few years had gone by, and she let Lulu pursue her passion, tennis. Chua says she should have realized earlier that children have different personalities that must be adjusted to by their parents. (She must have missed taking the course at Yale that teaches you that one.)
I think parents are curious about Chinese parenting because we think our American focus on creativity and imagination may foster happy childhoods, but we wonder whether our practices will make them happy adults? Those of us who have parented or taught children know they don't naturally behave themselves all the time, nor do they want to work hard at tasks they find difficult. Expectations and boundaries are part of the job of parenting and sometimes it is just easier to just give up and let the child win. The problem with children, too many parents fail to realize, is that if they keep winning, it does not make them happy, so their demands only become greater and they run the risk of becoming what we call "spoiled brats."
I guess it must have been the tiger mother in me which made me jump at the idea of giving my daughter violin lessons beginning at age three. I thought the discipline would be something she could apply to other areas of her life. I remember one summer my mother made me go into my bedroom everyday and read for a good amount of time. Suzuki music lessons and all that went along with them were a huge parental commitment. It was not easy: my ex-husband and I worked long hours outside the home. We could not afford a nanny who spoke only Mandarin Chinese (or even French) and undoubtedly supervised some of the long hours of piano and violin practice (though now, at least, I can afford a house-husband!). Alexis didn't always want to practice either, and when I got home from work and she said her practicing was done, I was tired and chose to believe her. She was eight when her father, who diligently took her to all the lessons, said she could choose to continue with violin or not. We were both tired. She chose to continue with violin, and also said she wanted to take piano lessons. She never played at Carnegie Hall. She did, however, play at my mother's funeral when she was 16, and it was something that those of us who were there will never forget.
Chua's younger daughter now plays tennis with the passion she did not find playing violin. It is hard to know what a child's passion will be, but perhaps it is worth teaching a child that to be good at anything takes hard work and lots of practice. Teachers try all the time to teach their students academic rigor, but it only works if parents are giving the same message at home. (Harry thinks that this is becoming something of a King Charles's head for me: non-Dickens lovers can google the phrase!) It may be worthwhile to insist that children attempt the difficult, have good manners, and strive for good grades. It may also be worthwhile for parents to be a little more positively involved in their children's lives. A little less television, a little more reading, a little more family time, a little less hanging out with friends. Perhaps a little more astrology???
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