Chinese Mothers Are Superior to Western Moms

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Irvine511

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Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior

By AMY CHUA

A lot of people wonder how Chinese parents raise such stereotypically successful kids. They wonder what these parents do to produce so many math whizzes and music prodigies, what it's like inside the family, and whether they could do it too. Well, I can tell them, because I've done it. Here are some things my daughters, Sophia and Louisa, were never allowed to do:

• attend a sleepover

• have a playdate

• be in a school play

• complain about not being in a school play

• watch TV or play computer games

• choose their own extracurricular activities

• get any grade less than an A

• not be the No. 1 student in every subject except gym and drama

• play any instrument other than the piano or violin

• not play the piano or violin.



I'm using the term "Chinese mother" loosely. I know some Korean, Indian, Jamaican, Irish and Ghanaian parents who qualify too. Conversely, I know some mothers of Chinese heritage, almost always born in the West, who are not Chinese mothers, by choice or otherwise. I'm also using the term "Western parents" loosely. Western parents come in all varieties.
Ideas Market

All the same, even when Western parents think they're being strict, they usually don't come close to being Chinese mothers. For example, my Western friends who consider themselves strict make their children practice their instruments 30 minutes every day. An hour at most. For a Chinese mother, the first hour is the easy part. It's hours two and three that get tough.

Despite our squeamishness about cultural stereotypes, there are tons of studies out there showing marked and quantifiable differences between Chinese and Westerners when it comes to parenting. In one study of 50 Western American mothers and 48 Chinese immigrant mothers, almost 70% of the Western mothers said either that "stressing academic success is not good for children" or that "parents need to foster the idea that learning is fun." By contrast, roughly 0% of the Chinese mothers felt the same way. Instead, the vast majority of the Chinese mothers said that they believe their children can be "the best" students, that "academic achievement reflects successful parenting," and that if children did not excel at school then there was "a problem" and parents "were not doing their job." Other studies indicate that compared to Western parents, Chinese parents spend approximately 10 times as long every day drilling academic activities with their children. By contrast, Western kids are more likely to participate in sports teams.

What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you're good at it. To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences. This often requires fortitude on the part of the parents because the child will resist; things are always hardest at the beginning, which is where Western parents tend to give up. But if done properly, the Chinese strategy produces a virtuous circle. Tenacious practice, practice, practice is crucial for excellence; rote repetition is underrated in America. Once a child starts to excel at something—whether it's math, piano, pitching or ballet—he or she gets praise, admiration and satisfaction. This builds confidence and makes the once not-fun activity fun. This in turn makes it easier for the parent to get the child to work even more.

Chinese parents can get away with things that Western parents can't. Once when I was young—maybe more than once—when I was extremely disrespectful to my mother, my father angrily called me "garbage" in our native Hokkien dialect. It worked really well. I felt terrible and deeply ashamed of what I had done. But it didn't damage my self-esteem or anything like that. I knew exactly how highly he thought of me. I didn't actually think I was worthless or feel like a piece of garbage.

As an adult, I once did the same thing to Sophia, calling her garbage in English when she acted extremely disrespectfully toward me. When I mentioned that I had done this at a dinner party, I was immediately ostracized. One guest named Marcy got so upset she broke down in tears and had to leave early. My friend Susan, the host, tried to rehabilitate me with the remaining guests.

The fact is that Chinese parents can do things that would seem unimaginable—even legally actionable—to Westerners. Chinese mothers can say to their daughters, "Hey fatty—lose some weight." By contrast, Western parents have to tiptoe around the issue, talking in terms of "health" and never ever mentioning the f-word, and their kids still end up in therapy for eating disorders and negative self-image. (I also once heard a Western father toast his adult daughter by calling her "beautiful and incredibly competent." She later told me that made her feel like garbage.)

Chinese parents can order their kids to get straight As. Western parents can only ask their kids to try their best. Chinese parents can say, "You're lazy. All your classmates are getting ahead of you." By contrast, Western parents have to struggle with their own conflicted feelings about achievement, and try to persuade themselves that they're not disappointed about how their kids turned out.

I've thought long and hard about how Chinese parents can get away with what they do. I think there are three big differences between the Chinese and Western parental mind-sets.

First, I've noticed that Western parents are extremely anxious about their children's self-esteem. They worry about how their children will feel if they fail at something, and they constantly try to reassure their children about how good they are notwithstanding a mediocre performance on a test or at a recital. In other words, Western parents are concerned about their children's psyches. Chinese parents aren't. They assume strength, not fragility, and as a result they behave very differently.

For example, if a child comes home with an A-minus on a test, a Western parent will most likely praise the child. The Chinese mother will gasp in horror and ask what went wrong. If the child comes home with a B on the test, some Western parents will still praise the child. Other Western parents will sit their child down and express disapproval, but they will be careful not to make their child feel inadequate or insecure, and they will not call their child "stupid," "worthless" or "a disgrace." Privately, the Western parents may worry that their child does not test well or have aptitude in the subject or that there is something wrong with the curriculum and possibly the whole school. If the child's grades do not improve, they may eventually schedule a meeting with the school principal to challenge the way the subject is being taught or to call into question the teacher's credentials.

If a Chinese child gets a B—which would never happen—there would first be a screaming, hair-tearing explosion. The devastated Chinese mother would then get dozens, maybe hundreds of practice tests and work through them with her child for as long as it takes to get the grade up to an A.

Chinese parents demand perfect grades because they believe that their child can get them. If their child doesn't get them, the Chinese parent assumes it's because the child didn't work hard enough. That's why the solution to substandard performance is always to excoriate, punish and shame the child. The Chinese parent believes that their child will be strong enough to take the shaming and to improve from it. (And when Chinese kids do excel, there is plenty of ego-inflating parental praise lavished in the privacy of the home.)

Second, Chinese parents believe that their kids owe them everything. The reason for this is a little unclear, but it's probably a combination of Confucian filial piety and the fact that the parents have sacrificed and done so much for their children. (And it's true that Chinese mothers get in the trenches, putting in long grueling hours personally tutoring, training, interrogating and spying on their kids.) Anyway, the understanding is that Chinese children must spend their lives repaying their parents by obeying them and making them proud.

By contrast, I don't think most Westerners have the same view of children being permanently indebted to their parents. My husband, Jed, actually has the opposite view. "Children don't choose their parents," he once said to me. "They don't even choose to be born. It's parents who foist life on their kids, so it's the parents' responsibility to provide for them. Kids don't owe their parents anything. Their duty will be to their own kids." This strikes me as a terrible deal for the Western parent.

Third, Chinese parents believe that they know what is best for their children and therefore override all of their children's own desires and preferences. That's why Chinese daughters can't have boyfriends in high school and why Chinese kids can't go to sleepaway camp. It's also why no Chinese kid would ever dare say to their mother, "I got a part in the school play! I'm Villager Number Six. I'll have to stay after school for rehearsal every day from 3:00 to 7:00, and I'll also need a ride on weekends." God help any Chinese kid who tried that one.

Don't get me wrong: It's not that Chinese parents don't care about their children. Just the opposite. They would give up anything for their children. It's just an entirely different parenting model.

Here's a story in favor of coercion, Chinese-style. Lulu was about 7, still playing two instruments, and working on a piano piece called "The Little White Donkey" by the French composer Jacques Ibert. The piece is really cute—you can just imagine a little donkey ambling along a country road with its master—but it's also incredibly difficult for young players because the two hands have to keep schizophrenically different rhythms.

Lulu couldn't do it. We worked on it nonstop for a week, drilling each of her hands separately, over and over. But whenever we tried putting the hands together, one always morphed into the other, and everything fell apart. Finally, the day before her lesson, Lulu announced in exasperation that she was giving up and stomped off.

"Get back to the piano now," I ordered.

"You can't make me."

"Oh yes, I can."

Back at the piano, Lulu made me pay. She punched, thrashed and kicked. She grabbed the music score and tore it to shreds. I taped the score back together and encased it in a plastic shield so that it could never be destroyed again. Then I hauled Lulu's dollhouse to the car and told her I'd donate it to the Salvation Army piece by piece if she didn't have "The Little White Donkey" perfect by the next day. When Lulu said, "I thought you were going to the Salvation Army, why are you still here?" I threatened her with no lunch, no dinner, no Christmas or Hanukkah presents, no birthday parties for two, three, four years. When she still kept playing it wrong, I told her she was purposely working herself into a frenzy because she was secretly afraid she couldn't do it. I told her to stop being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic.

Jed took me aside. He told me to stop insulting Lulu—which I wasn't even doing, I was just motivating her—and that he didn't think threatening Lulu was helpful. Also, he said, maybe Lulu really just couldn't do the technique—perhaps she didn't have the coordination yet—had I considered that possibility?

"You just don't believe in her," I accused.

"That's ridiculous," Jed said scornfully. "Of course I do."

"Sophia could play the piece when she was this age."

"But Lulu and Sophia are different people," Jed pointed out.

"Oh no, not this," I said, rolling my eyes. "Everyone is special in their special own way," I mimicked sarcastically. "Even losers are special in their own special way. Well don't worry, you don't have to lift a finger. I'm willing to put in as long as it takes, and I'm happy to be the one hated. And you can be the one they adore because you make them pancakes and take them to Yankees games."

I rolled up my sleeves and went back to Lulu. I used every weapon and tactic I could think of. We worked right through dinner into the night, and I wouldn't let Lulu get up, not for water, not even to go to the bathroom. The house became a war zone, and I lost my voice yelling, but still there seemed to be only negative progress, and even I began to have doubts.

Then, out of the blue, Lulu did it. Her hands suddenly came together—her right and left hands each doing their own imperturbable thing—just like that.

Lulu realized it the same time I did. I held my breath. She tried it tentatively again. Then she played it more confidently and faster, and still the rhythm held. A moment later, she was beaming.

"Mommy, look—it's easy!" After that, she wanted to play the piece over and over and wouldn't leave the piano. That night, she came to sleep in my bed, and we snuggled and hugged, cracking each other up. When she performed "The Little White Donkey" at a recital a few weeks later, parents came up to me and said, "What a perfect piece for Lulu—it's so spunky and so her."

Even Jed gave me credit for that one. Western parents worry a lot about their children's self-esteem. But as a parent, one of the worst things you can do for your child's self-esteem is to let them give up. On the flip side, there's nothing better for building confidence than learning you can do something you thought you couldn't.

There are all these new books out there portraying Asian mothers as scheming, callous, overdriven people indifferent to their kids' true interests. For their part, many Chinese secretly believe that they care more about their children and are willing to sacrifice much more for them than Westerners, who seem perfectly content to let their children turn out badly. I think it's a misunderstanding on both sides. All decent parents want to do what's best for their children. The Chinese just have a totally different idea of how to do that.

Western parents try to respect their children's individuality, encouraging them to pursue their true passions, supporting their choices, and providing positive reinforcement and a nurturing environment. By contrast, the Chinese believe that the best way to protect their children is by preparing them for the future, letting them see what they're capable of, and arming them with skills, work habits and inner confidence that no one can ever take away.



i dunno ... i find it hard to take her seriously. it all seems designed to shock "western" parents and cause instant hang-wringing and even more worries about what's best for Junior.

the piece seems a bit smug, and there's pictures of her daughters playing piano at Carnegie Hall.

thoughts?
 
While I do think she might have some points (and yes, she sounds smug), this article shows another side:

One evening in 1990, Eliza Noh hung up the phone with her sister. Disturbed about the conversation, Noh immediately started writing a letter to her sister, a college student who was often depressed. "I told her I supported her, and I encouraged her," Noh says.But her sister never read the letter. By the time it arrived, she'd killed herself.
Moved by that tragedy, Noh has spent much of her professional life studying depression and suicide among Asian-American women. An assistant professor of Asian-American studies at California State University at Fullerton, Noh has read the sobering statistics from the Department of Health and Human Services: Asian-American women ages 15-24 have the highest suicide rate of women in any race or ethnic group in that age group. Suicide is the second-leading cause of death for Asian-American women in that age range.
Depression starts even younger than age 15. Noh says one study has shown that as young as the fifth grade, Asian-American girls have the highest rate of depression so severe they've contemplated suicide.
As Noh and others have searched for the reasons, a complex answer has emerged.
First and foremost, they say "model minority" pressure -- the pressure some Asian-American families put on children to be high achievers at school and professionally -- helps explain the problem.
Push to achieve tied to suicide in Asian-American women - CNN.com
 
I am glad that she is not my mother. I am also glad that she is not the mother of my SO.

That's pretty much the main thing that popped into my head.
 
Interesting, Irvine, thanks for posting.

For anyone interested in looking at this from an academic perspective, this controversial article was featured in Canada's Macleans magazine's November issue: The enrollment controversy* - Canada - Macleans.ca (note - the article was first titled "Too Asian" but the title has since been changed.) Here's the first bit of it:

When Alexandra and her friend Rachel, both graduates of Toronto’s Havergal College, an all-girls private school, were deciding which university to go to, they didn’t even bother considering the University of Toronto. “The only people from our school who went to U of T were Asian,” explains Alexandra, a second-year student who looks like a girl from an Aritzia billboard. “All the white kids,” she says, “go to Queen’s, Western and McGill.”

Alexandra eventually chose the University of Western Ontario. Her younger brother, now a high school senior deciding where he’d like to go, will head “either east, west or to McGill”—unusual academic options, but in keeping with what he wants from his university experience. “East would suit him because it’s chill, out west he could be a ski bum,” says Alexandra, who explains her little brother wants to study hard, but is also looking for a good time—which rules out U of T, a school with an academic reputation that can be a bit of a killjoy.

Or, as Alexandra puts it—she asked that her real name not be used in this article, and broached the topic of race at universities hesitantly—a “reputation of being Asian.”

Discussing the role that race plays in the self-selecting communities that more and more characterize university campuses makes many people uncomfortable. Still, an “Asian” school has come to mean one that is so academically focused that some students feel they can no longer compete or have fun. Indeed, Rachel, Alexandra and her brother belong to a growing cohort of student that’s eschewing some big-name schools over perceptions that they’re “too Asian.” It’s a term being used in some U.S. academic circles to describe a phenomenon that’s become such a cause for concern to university admissions officers and high school guidance counsellors that several elite universities to the south have faced scandals in recent years over limiting Asian applicants and keeping the numbers of white students artificially high.

Although university administrators here are loath to discuss the issue, students talk about it all the time. “Too Asian” is not about racism, say students like Alexandra: many white students simply believe that competing with Asians—both Asian Canadians and international students—requires a sacrifice of time and freedom they’re not willing to make. They complain that they can’t compete for spots in the best schools and can’t party as much as they’d like (too bad for them, most will say). Asian kids, meanwhile, say they are resented for taking the spots of white kids. “At graduation a Canadian—i.e. ‘white’—mother told me that I’m the reason her son didn’t get a space in university and that all the immigrants in the country are taking up university spots,” says Frankie Mao, a 22-year-old arts student at the University of British Columbia. “I knew it was wrong, being generalized in this category,” says Mao, “but f–k, I worked hard for it.”

That Asian students work harder is a fact born out by hard data. They tend to be strivers, high achievers and single-minded in their approach to university. Stephen Hsu, a physics prof at the University of Oregon who has written about the often subtle forms of discrimination faced by Asian-American university applicants, describes them as doing “disproportionately well—they tend to have high SAT scores, good grades in high school, and a lot of them really want to go to top universities.” In Canada, say Canadian high school guidance counsellors, that means the top-tier post-secondary institutions with international profiles specializing in math, science and business: U of T, UBC and the University of Waterloo. White students, by contrast, are more likely to choose universities and build their school lives around social interaction, athletics and self-actualization—and, yes, alcohol. When the two styles collide, the result is separation rather than integration.

...

One of the schools referred to is my school, the one I attended in the '00s, and the one that my daughter currently attends. There is *some* truth to it, but as with any generalization, it's not accurate for everyone. Some white students are overachievers. Some Asian students are slackers. Some social groups are made up of a mix of ethnicities, some people keep to their own ethnic group.

From my experience, and my daughter's, the notion that it's all work and no play is ridiculous - she has marks that would rival any high achieving Asian student (and I didn't even have to shame her! ;) ), but still has plenty of time for a social life. Granted, we're both in the faculty of arts. The professional programs are much more pressure-packed, but even those students find time to let loose and blow off steam (she has friends, both Asian and white, in the engineering and business programs).

As for social separation of groups, I had several Asian friends (as a mature student and single parent who commuted daily, I wasn't that able to take part in campus life), and so does she, but they are Canadian born Asians. The separation seems to occur with either recent immigrants or international students. I don't think it's intentional - part of it could be the language barrier, and part of it could simply be that there's greater comfort hanging out with those you are culturally familiar with. I've heard more disparaging comments made about international students by Canadian born Asians, who refer to them as FOBs (fresh off the boat). I'm really not sure what can be done on an institutional level to combat this, and to integrate them into campus life. I've certainly never had the sense that they were unwelcome, though.

Kind of different from Irvine's original post, but this is what it reminded me of.
 
one point that i've come across in reading on this stuff is that, for all the outstanding achievement of Chinese (and Korean and Japanese and Taiwanese) students on international tests compared to their "western" counterparts, there's a lack of Nobel prize winners in math and science from China, especially compared to the US. likewise, while there are floods of engineers coming out of China and India, there aren't too many Googles and Apples.

but then i wonder if we're not wading too much into cultural stereotypes, and also ignoring much broader cultural contexts. which Chua seems to certainly be doing.

and the WSJ also knows that a good dose of China Panic is a great way to get some readers flocking to the site.
 
There are a few specific issues I take with her methodology, for lack of a better word.

First, as much as she can claim that EVERY Chinese child will get an A in anything (except gym, drama and art class seemingly) if you just drill it inside them, she's blowing smoke out of her ass. It isn't possible and does a real disservice to right-brainers who cannot excel at Math and Science, but on the other hand could be wonderful artists, musicians, etc. Skills which she doesn't seem to value at all. A professional classical musician friend of mine said to me "as much as I saw some real Asian prodigies growing up playing piano and violin with me, not a single one of their parents allowed them to actually study Music at the university-level since that was seen as a total waste of time." Not a positive outcome, IMO.

The second one relates to various social inadequacies which I think this encourages. For example, the real lack of a community feeling when you forbid your children to participate in a school play where they would get to know lots of other kids and teachers and the ban on playdates, organized sports, etc. But what mostly bothers me is her completely overblown responses to relatively small problems in life. She treats an A- as a complete calamity, refers to her daughter as "garbage" in public when she misbehaves, etc. There is something to be said for both learning and maintaining perspective in life - the ability to recognize what is and is not important, what is and is not worth a fight, and so on. I think that is a hugely important trait to have as a functional adult. This is a woman who is clearly part of the upper middle or upper class and it makes me very much wonder how she would have dealt with real stress in her life - instead she got two brilliant daughters, albeit one who rebelled to an extent.
 
and what's interesting, perusing the comments in the WSJ article, is that this is an excerpt from a book and the book is actually about how she has modified her parenting style and become less "chinese" when her youngest daughter rebelled when she was 13.

so way to go WSJ -- work that China Panic!
 
Typical.

I do think that it's unfortunate that she is such an obviously extreme case. In subsequent interviews she has herself stated that she's a workaholic and has not learned how to enjoy life (how sad). She brings up some very interesting and valid points but I think her totally over-the-top style will kill positive discussion because she'll be written off and kind of nutso.
 
That sort of authoritarian Chinese parenting described will certainly produce highly efficient and obedient drones if that's what your particular society needs and values.

To add to Irvine's observation, highly efficient, obedient drones aren't equipped to be particularly inventive or innovative.
 
She's way over the top. Her whole theory falls apart to me where I basically was like those kids (straight As, played violin and piano, bla bla bla) and my mom didn't raise me in a bubble or restrict me from playing with friends, being in the school play, etc. She has some good/interesting points but I don't think it's all mutually exclusive, that in order to be a top student you HAVE to socially quarantine yourself, in order to be an accomplished violinist you can't be in the school play ever, etc.
 
i guess on a personal level, if i were to one day have a child, i would like to encourage excellence -- particularly as they become teenagers, i think it's important to pick an activity (sports, music, drama, art, whatever ...) and really put in the time and dare to become really, really good at something. that probably will involve endless repetition, and that probably will involve some "pushing" and not letting a child quit when they are bored or frustrated and reminding them of the commitment they've made, and it will probably mean endless carpooling on the parent's end. but, gosh, i can't imagine myself having done well with a mother like this. it probably would have been fine until i was about 12 or 13 and then, having come to realize that i was interested in things beyond my mother's approval, the backlash would have started and probably not have been pretty and all that work might have been torn down.

western kids grow up expecting a degree of autonomy, and part of the challenge is likely watching them (and even allowing them) to fail. Chua seems (or seemed) to be afraid not for her daughter to fail, but for her to have been a mother to a daughter who failed at something. that's a critical distinction, in my mind.
 
Well, Chua's already said the WSJ's headline (the editor's choice, not hers) upset her, and that their "excerpt" in fact strings together decontextualized (albeit provocative) passages from a book that's in fact overall about how her approach to motherhood evolved over time--including adopting some of those "Western approaches" she initially considered anathema. And there's definitely some self-deprecating satirical humor in there, too (as readers of some of Chua's previous writings will be unsurprised to see). Nonetheless, on the whole she's quite serious; I'm just pointing these things out because Chua herself has made clear that she feels her book's been significantly misrepresented by this "excerpt."

But, I think what's more interesting is probably the range of responses "mainstream American" parents and children have had to the piece. Chua's not wrong, of course, to suggest that immigrant parents in general really do tend towards (what the rest of us might call) a "traditional," "authoritarian," "slave-driver" approach to inculcating not only filial respect, but also great drive for achievement and for wide-ranging competencies, in their children. Nor is she wrong to suggest that Americans, period, tend towards the impression that Chinese-American immigrant- and first-generation parents, in particular, are renowned for setting extremely high standards for their children, from kindergarten through to the commencement of career. And that the rest of us often react to that with an ambivalent mix of, on the one hand, perhaps smugly reassuring ourselves that we (or our kids) are "cooler," and "better socially adjusted," and "braver" about choosing the paths in life we really wanted than they (or their kids) are--yet on the other hand, sometimes looking enviously (wistfully?) at all that inarguable achievement, at the genuine pleasure in making one's parents proud, and thinking, Wait, I (or my kid) could've done that--that kid's not really smarter or more gifted, after all--and what does it say about me that I didn't? So, part of the widely outraged response to this piece is simply because Chua directly called that unspoken dialogue out, in a way that's slyly (or sincerely, depending on your perspective) ambiguous about where exactly the truth, the holy grail of "perfect parenting," really lies.

FWIW, one thing that has drawn her a lot of blogosphere criticism from other Asian-Americans is her seemingly untroubled relaying of the supposed commonness of openly derogating one's children when they don't meet the standard. Quite a few objected that no, that kind of talk is neither normative nor admired as a parenting tactic, plus it undercuts the case that ultimately this is all about truly believing in your children's potential, about wanting only the best for them and being determined to equip them as well as you can to achieve just that.

Perhaps partly as a child of immigrants myself (and, how could she fail to mention Jewish mothers! What's up with that? :tsk: ), I did rather like this passage:
"Oh no, not this," I said, rolling my eyes. "Everyone is special in their special own way," I mimicked sarcastically. "Even losers are special in their own special way. Well don't worry, you don't have to lift a finger. I'm willing to put in as long as it takes, and I'm happy to be the one hated. And you can be the one they adore because you make them pancakes and take them to Yankees games."
"What's this 'everybody wins a ribbon' crap?" I remember my own mother snorting once, as I recall, in reponse to the way my little brother's school handled Science Fair "judging." In her case, not so much because she was the kind of parent who'd only accept blue ribbons from her children, as because she was indignant that any child should ever be given a "token" reward when s/he hadn't actually earned any; that that teaches them the wrong lesson about what reward and distinction really means. I agree with her, and tend to see this kind of misguided "confidence-boosting" as going hand-in-hand with the equally misguided tendency to want to be your kids' best buddy, rather than guide and mentor charged with producing an upstanding and productive member of society, a far weightier and more important responsibility than being their pal and confidante (the latter state won't last, anyway).

Chua's faith in "rote repetition" (an ironic redundancy) is, at least as a matter of degree, something I expect I'd disagree with her on, though. Particularly having just come from a year teaching mainland and HK Cantonese students in Hong Kong, where they're wisely revising their higher education system and its pedagogical philosophy to make more room for approaches which cultivate original, critical thinking and innovation through teamwork among peers--skills the business community there has long warned them are in damagingly short supply among Chinese students, even though they know how to ace standardized tests like no one's business. That's absolutely not to say there isn't a place for repetition in education--but it's far from the whole of learning, and the sense of its ultimate use must be kept in perspective.

Perhaps because of her faith in repetition, I think Chua also does "traditional," "demanding" parenting a disservice by portraying academic achievement as a reward one may only enjoy after years of tedious, joyless, nose-to-grindstone work. Again, I'm absolutely not saying that cultivating a hefty appreciation for delayed gratification in kids isn't important. But there can be so much more to studying and learning together than that! I remember a friend of mine in high school disapprovingly and grumblingly deeming my father a "slave driver" because my brothers and I had to spend all afternoon every Saturday studying Talmud with him (which required considerable self-prep on our parts during the week, as well). He didn't get that we truly loved to do it--that we had a big family and a busy father, and for us, this was among other things a cherished dose of quality time where we knew we'd enjoy his full and undivided attention...not just his hugs or his efficiently dispensed advice on schoolwork or personal problems, but several hours' worth of real conversation, wrestling with ideas--logic, philosophy, narrative--and invariably, some stories drawn from history or literature or his own life experiences too, ones we'd never have heard otherwise. Same for our weekly Greek lesson with that other "slave driver," our mother--we didn't just do dry grammar and vocabulary drills (though there was plenty of that), she also got us reading and discussing actual texts the very moment we were able. That's the kind of attitude towards learning I most want to pass onto my kids--yes it's about hard work, yes it's about performance pressures and regular moments of self-disappointment and knowing you've missed the mark, but it's also about sharing and coming to appreciate one another's unique insights, and the excitement of knowing there are always more discoveries waiting around the corner.
 
i would like to encourage excellence -- particularly as they become teenagers, i think it's important to pick an activity (sports, music, drama, art, whatever ...) and really put in the time and dare to become really, really good at something. that probably will involve endless repetition, and that probably will involve some "pushing" and not letting a child quit when they are bored or frustrated and reminding them of the commitment they've made, and it will probably mean endless carpooling on the parent's end.

Agreed, as long as it's the child who has chosen the activity. And as long as it's not to the exclusion of other beneficial and enjoyable activities that would help them be well-rounded.
 
But, I think what's more interesting is probably the range of responses "mainstream American" parents and children have had to the piece. Chua's not wrong, of course, to suggest that immigrant parents in general really do tend towards (what the rest of us might call) a "traditional," "authoritarian," "slave-driver" approach to inculcating not only filial respect, but also great drive for achievement and for wide-ranging competencies, in their children. Nor is she wrong to suggest that Americans, period, tend towards the impression that Chinese-American immigrant- and first-generation parents, in particular, are renowned for setting extremely high standards for their children, from kindergarten through to the commencement of career. And that the rest of us often react to that with an ambivalent mix of, on the one hand, perhaps smugly reassuring ourselves that we (or our kids) are "cooler," and "better socially adjusted," and "braver" about choosing the paths in life we really wanted than they (or their kids) are--yet on the other hand, sometimes looking enviously (wistfully?) at all that inarguable achievement, at the genuine pleasure in making one's parents proud, and thinking, Wait, I (or my kid) could've done that--that kid's not really smarter or more gifted, after all--and what does it say about me that I didn't? So, part of the widely outraged response to this piece is simply because Chua directly called that unspoken dialogue out, in a way that's slyly (or sincerely, depending on your perspective) ambiguous about where exactly the truth, the holy grail of "perfect parenting," really lies.


i found this really interesting, and for me, perhaps not being a parent, i find these parental concerns, while understandable, fairly self-absorbed. does it really matter how *you* (the collective "you," not "you, Yolland") feel about how you feel your child reflects your parenting skills? assuming a base level of good citizenship and basic kindness, is it not better that you have a child who is happy, whether or not that child derives their happiness from making the parent happy or from whatever else? or is a child's happiness even the point here? i remember the admiration my mother would express towards some of the stereotypically violin-and-math Asian kids i knew growing up, but i never, ever wanted to trade places with them. in fact, one was one of the more unhappy people i knew growing up. i can also think of another who was even more math-and-violin, who was happy, but that seemed more a natural reflection of who she was rather than something imposed upon her.

but i dunno. :shrug: i felt like i was pushed, possibly too much at certain points, but the pushing was only unpleasant when it felt like it was to gratify my mother rather than achieve my own goals.
 
she also got us reading and discussing actual texts the very moment we were able. That's the kind of attitude towards learning I most want to pass onto my kids--yes it's about hard work, yes it's about performance pressures and regular moments of self-disappointment and knowing you've missed the mark, but it's also about sharing and coming to appreciate one another's unique insights, and the excitement of knowing there are always more discoveries waiting around the corner.

:up:

I'm also a big believer in driving excellence in areas that build on one's natural strengths and abilities.
 
The whole piece is extremely arrogant, and is clearly targeted at weak examples of American parenting, but it sounds like it was out of context anyway, so whatever.
 
i found this really interesting, and for me, perhaps not being a parent, i find these parental concerns, while understandable, fairly self-absorbed. does it really matter how *you* (the collective "you," not "you, Yolland") feel about how you feel your child reflects your parenting skills?
Well, yes, it is self-absorbed, but whether that's Really Bad or just plain old Being Human is a matter of degree, I think. To use an analogy--it's like, here you are, setting out on a walk with your loveable, chubby, and also @!#% stubborn and less-than-perfectly-behaved bulldog mix, who's presently pulling on the leash and gazing eagerly at the kids across the street rather than you. And now here comes the hotshot executive who lives up the block, running his daily 10 miles with his handsome, buff, perfectly behaved Lab who's per usual off-leash, yet running in perfect sync with his master, whom he never takes his adoring eyes off of. And for a moment you flinch and think--That does it, I'm gonna rent me some of those Dog Whisperer training DVDs, maybe even sign us up for an agility-training class, and put him on a diet and get rid of that potbelly once and for all. But then defensiveness kicks in--THAT dog is a fanatically disciplined and overcontrolled ROBOT who exists only to impress and awe his owner's friends, MY dog has PERSONALITY and everybody loves him and thinks he's the greatest because I let him be who he is. Sure, it's all kinda vain and silly, because so long as dog and owner are both content and the dog is obedient enough to pose no danger to other dogs, people, or possessions, the rest is really just differences in approach to dog ownership, not a matter of better or worse. But we don't always maintain conscious awareness that 'parenting' (whether of kids or canines) is about duty and responsibility as well as pleasure and togetherness, and there's nothing like a little invidious comparison to remind you with a jolt of whichever part you weren't consciously holding in mind just now.
assuming a base level of good citizenship and basic kindness, is it not better that you have a child who is happy, whether or not that child derives their happiness from making the parent happy or from whatever else? or is a child's happiness even the point here?
..............................
but i dunno. :shrug: i felt like i was pushed, possibly too much at certain points, but the pushing was only unpleasant when it felt like it was to gratify my mother rather than achieve my own goals.
One thing that's always been very important to me as a parent--though more as a personal philosophy, not something I'd hold forth on to my kids themselves--is that it's a pretty sad indictment if all I can articulate about what I want for them is "happiness." Especially since, however desperately I might--and do--want that, it really is the goal I'm least capable of ensuring in the long view. (I would've loved for my father to have seen me earn my doctorate and become a professor. I'd just as soon he not know how much I've struggled with depression or selfish feelings of envy towards people who are smarter or more prolific or more likeable, even though I'm well aware that like everyone else, he had his share of demons too.) I wish I could say I fully share Chua's professed 'Chinese-style confidence' that children's psyches are so natively strong. But I do in some part agree with her that you mustn't fall into the trap of being afraid to challenge, confront and at times curtail them as if you were sure they are--and if there's some unpleasant 'feedback' as a result at times, so what. In a strange way, it actually gives me comfort to envision that one day my kids are going to sit around in a bar with their friends and declare, 'My parents did this, and that, and those things were wrong, and not stuff I'll do with my own kids'...provided, naturally, that it's not said with some deep-seated inflection of hostility and embitteredness, the sort that accompanies pretty deep psychic scars.

I do agree that the satisfaction of making your parents proud (through whatever means you deliver it) is one of those things that only emerges if it comes wholly from you. Certainly one can't just lecture one's kids that they have some 'duty' to make you proud and expect it to follow from that, and I doubt that's what Chua meant to imply, either. I don't know how common this sense even is among Americans towards their parents, and I obviously can't speak to the Chinese-American version of it. I do know that for many, if not most, American Jews roughly my age on up--and particularly for those whose parents were immigrant or first-generation, like mine--there was something at least somewhat similar there, an unspoken understanding that you have a duty to do your people, and in the process your parents, proud: your murdered relatives never got their chance to succeed and contribute, therefore you must; likewise, your parents have invested the lion's share of their adult hopes, ambitions, resources, and capacity for devotion directly in YOU, therefore you must pay that back by paying it forward. But I'd want to emphasize that this is first and foremost a felt emotional dynamic that comes from inside you, not something that's suffocatingly enforced and threateningly held over your head at every turn. Are there parents who unfortunately made it feel like precisely the latter, and children who suffered and/or rebelled as a result--sure. But mostly, it's a response that comes about because you really want it--it simply feels good, feels deeply affirming in a way the accomplishments themselves don't, to "give" them to your parents and your community, the sense of belonging through shared heritage that unites you. I don't really expect my own children will feel this, precisely--times have changed, social circumstances have changed; I suppose I do, though, tend to proceed under the assumption that that sense of being answerable to a heritage, and the accompaniment of that with feelings of confidence and joy in belonging rather than intimidation and dread at the responsibility, will one way or the other come through for them. In any case, I'm ultimately far more concerned that they grow up to embody the values I associate with that heritage, than that they directly identify with it per se. Maybe this is something like the journey Chua went through both as a child and a parent, maybe not.
 
I think her kids might suffer some future problems as a result, if they aren't already. I can't imagine being under that kind of pressure from a parent. Balance is healthy.
 
How does her parenting model account for families that have children all raised the same way yet there's variation in grades, strengths/weaknesses, responsible behavior....??
 
The article is definitely over the top--to the point where I sometimes wonder if Chua wasn't humorously overstating to make her point. Certainly, if taken completely at face value I would find her views harsh to say the least.

But I didn't take the article completely at face value. I saw it as a much needed corrective, with ideas that if at least considered would help American parents and their kids pull away from an increasingly entertainment-oriented approach to every aspect of life, not necessarily to Chua's other extreme, but hopefully to more of a balance in between.

For me, my biggest objecton to Chua's viewpoint is just that for me, having my son have a high-paying, prestigious job is not that important to me. At the same time, I'm not content merely for him to selfishly pursue "whatever makes him happy." I hope to teach him the value of service, of choosing a life that seeks to make the world a better place. Of course the best way I can teach that is not by forcing it down his throat, but by striving to modeling it. If as an adult, he gears his lifework around making a difference and being a blessing to others, I will be more than proud.
 
In Ireland, in my experience, Chinese immigrants are hard-working and sociable and, strangely enough, integrate better and make more of an effort to 'fit in' than immigrants from Eastern Europe. Poles tend to stick to their own communities whereas the Chinese and Asian immigrants are more likely to make friends with Irish people.

I don't necessarily think they are any better educated than Irish people. They are generally extremely confident without being arrogant in any way. (Of course, economic migrants in general are perhaps more likely to be confident and extrovert than those who stay at home.) They have not been here for long enough to progress to positions of authority in Irish society but that may change over time. Our own native oligarchy have failed us so why not let the Chinese run the place, say I! :wink:
 
The article is definitely over the top--to the point where I sometimes wonder if Chua wasn't humorously overstating to make her point.

you may be on to something

Amy Chua:

And so the book is about many of the strengths that I see and that kind of tough immigrant parenting, but also about my mistakes. It's about making fun of myself - a lot of people miss this - and ultimately, about my decision to sort of pull back when really confronted in a moment of crisis.

So the book is absolutely not a how-to book. I do not think the Chinese way is superior. It's a memoir. It's really sort of a story of my own journey and transformation as a mother, and it does explore these issues. You know, what's the right balance?

This is a topic to which I probably won't devote a lot of my time.

But, I did hear a segment on NPR today with her about this.

Here it is.

A Memoir Of A 'Tiger Mother's' Quest For Perfection : NPR
 
i am very thankful my experience as a daughter and as a mother couldn't be further away from her "methods"... horrifying stuff!!!

her book has been causing a bit of a stir in the media over here as well... seems things did backfire for her youngest daughter in the end...

Amy Chua: 'I'm going to take all your stuffed animals and burn them!' | Life and style | The Guardian

The book bares all about how the parenting model worked for her older daughter Sophia, now 17 and heading off to an Ivy League college, but backfired dramatically for her younger girl, Louisa, or Lulu, who is now 14. Chua spares no detail in recounting her early methods: banning television and computer games, refusing sleepovers and playdates, drilling academic activities for hours, insisting on lengthy daily practice of the piano (Sophia) and violin (Louisa), including weekends, high days and holidays. Even travelling abroad, Chua would book a practice room near their hotel. With missionary zeal, Chua spurned the permissive style of "western parents" (she uses the term loosely), the tendency to underplay academic achievement (no rote learning!) and emphasise nurturing, play and self-esteem (overfetishised!). The result is that at times Battle Hymn reads like an American-Asian version of Mommie Dearest.

Dominant throughout is the powerful figure of Chua herself, a larger-than-life matriarch: draconian, emotionally volatile, loving, often verbally cruel, hard-working, always devoted. Chua herself was raised on the Chinese parenting model, and her view is simple: "Childhood is a training period, a time to build character and invest in the future." As a result, both daughters are straight-A students, over-achieving and musically accomplished. By the time Sophia is 14 she has performed Prokofiev's Juliet as a Young Girl at the Carnegie Hall in New York while Lulu, aged 11, auditions for the pre-college programme at the world-famous Juilliard School.

But the cracks beneath the surface begin to show. Toothmarks are found on the piano (the culprit is Sophia, who gnaws on it during practice), and Lulu becomes rebellious, openly defying her teacher and her mother and bitterly complaining in public about her home life. By the age of 13, writes Chua, "[Lulu] wore a constant apathetic look on her face, and every other word out of her mouth was 'no' or 'I don't care'."

What brings the situation to an end is two horrifying incidents. First, Lulu hacks off her hair with a pair of scissors; then, on a family holiday to Moscow, she and Chua get into a public argument that culminates in Lulu smashing a glass in a cafe, screaming, "I'm not what you want – I'm not Chinese! I don't want to be Chinese. Why can't you get that through your head? I hate the violin. I hate my life. I hate you, and I hate this family!" Her relationship with Lulu in crisis, Chua, finally, thankfully, raises the white flag.
 
another interesting excerpt... looks like she's had a real change of heart...

the whole thing has been great publicity for her book... :D

Nevertheless, fact, and her own telling of it, shows that the way she brought up her children nearly wrecked her relationship with Lulu, and in some ways Battle Hymn can been seen as her atonement for that. "I think I stopped just in time," she says. "Right now it seems OK, but I have many regrets … I have a head full of regrets. I worry that by losing my temper so much and being so harsh and yelling so much that, by example, I will have taught my daughters to be that way, and I'm now constantly telling them not to do that."
 
1. it doesn't surprise me that the "Chinese" mothering worked better with the oldest child, since oldest children likely identify more strongly with their parents than do younger ones, as a result of birth order.

2. it also does make sense that "Chinese" mothering is going to be both more and less successful in the "west" because, obviously, their children aren't Chinese, aren't living in China, and grow up in a culture that has different values.
 
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Amy Chua Responds to Readers on Chinese Parenting - Ideas Market - WSJ

On Saturday, Review ran an excerpt from Amy Chua’s new book “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.” The article, titled “Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior,” attracted a lot of attention, generating more than 4,000 comments on wsj.com and around 100,000 comments on Facebook. Below, Ms. Chua answers questions from Journal readers who wrote in to the Ideas Market blog.

Do you think that strict, “Eastern” parenting eventually helps children lead happy lives as adults?


Erin Patrice O’Brien for The Wall Street Journal
Amy Chua with her daughters, Sophia and Louisa.
When it works well, absolutely! And by working well, I mean when high expectations are coupled with love, understanding and parental involvement. This is the gift my parents gave me, and what I hope I’m giving my daughters. I’ve also taught law students of all backgrounds for 17 years, and I’ve met countless students raised the “tough immigrant” way (by parents from Pakistan, India, Nigeria, Korea, Jamaica, Haiti, Iran, Ireland, etc.) who are thriving, independent, bold, creative, hilarious and, at least to my eyes, as happy as anyone. But I also know of people raised with “tough love” who are not happy and who resent their parents. There is no easy formula for parenting, no right approach (I don’t believe, by the way, that Chinese parenting is superior—a splashy headline, but I didn’t choose it). The best rule of thumb I can think of is that love, compassion and knowing your child have to come first, whatever culture you’re from. It doesn’t come through in the excerpt, but my actual book is not a how-to guide; it’s a memoir, the story of our family’s journey in two cultures, and my own eventual transformation as a mother. Much of the book is about my decision to retreat from the strict “Chinese” approach, after my younger daughter rebelled at 13.

I have a 20-month-old, and my husband and I both enjoyed the article. How can you apply this to toddlers?

We didn’t actually do anything that different when my daughters were toddlers, just the same kinds of things that you probably do already: read picture books with them, took them for strolls and to the playground, did puzzles with them, sang songs about ABCs and numbers and mainly snuggled with and hugged them! Maybe the only thing different I did is that I always had a babysitter or student speaking in Mandarin to them every day, for at least four to five hours, including weekends, because I wanted my girls to be bilingual. (I wanted my daughters to learn from native Mandarin speakers, because my own native Chinese dialect is Fujianese [Hokkien], and my Mandarin accent is terrible.)

Your method may work with children with a native high IQ—but demanding that kind of excellence from less intelligent children seems unfair and a fool’s errand. Demanding hard work and a great effort from children is the best middle ground we can reach philosophically, isn’t it? Your thoughts?

Jokes about A+s and gold medals aside (much of my book is tongue-in-cheek, making fun of myself), I don’t believe that grades or achievement is ultimately what Chinese parenting (at least as I practice it) is really about. I think it’s about helping your children be the best they can be—which is usually better than they think! It’s about believing in your child more than anyone else—even more than they believe in themselves. And this principle can be applied to any child, of any level of ability. My youngest sister, Cindy, has Down syndrome, and I remember my mother spending hours and hours with her, teaching her to tie her shoelaces on her own, drilling multiplication tables with Cindy, practicing piano every day with her. No one expected Cindy to get a PhD! But my mom wanted her to be the best she could be, within her limits. Today, my sister works at Wal-Mart, has a boyfriend and still plays piano—one of her favorite things is performing for her friends. She and my mom have a wonderful relationship, and we all love her for who she is.

Ms. Chua, are you a happy adult? Do you look back on your childhood and feel that it was happy? Do you remember laughing with your parents? Do you wish that you could have taken ballet or been in the high school musical?

I was raised by extremely strict—but also extremely loving—Chinese immigrant parents, and I had the most wonderful childhood! I remember laughing constantly with my parents—my dad is a real character and very funny. I certainly did wish they allowed to me do more things! I remember often thinking, “Why is it such a big deal for me to go to a school dance,” or “Why can’t I go on the school ski trip?” But on the other hand, I had great times with my family (and even today, it’s one of my favorite things to vacation with my parents and sisters). As I write in my book, “When my friends hear stories about when I was little, they often imagine that I had a horrible childhood. But that’s not true at all; I found strength and confidence in my peculiar family. We started off as outsiders together, and we discovered America together, becoming Americans in the process. I remember my father working until three in the morning every night, so driven he wouldn’t even notice us entering the room. But I also remember how excited he was introducing us to tacos, sloppy joes, Dairy Queen and eat-all-you-can buffets, not to mention sledding, skiing, crabbing and camping. I remember a boy in grade school making slanty-eyed gestures at me, guffawing as he mimicked the way I pronounced “restaurant” (rest-OW-rant)—I vowed at that moment to rid myself of my Chinese accent. But I also remember Girl Scouts and hula hoops; poetry contests and public libraries; winning a Daughters of the American Revolution essay contest; and the proud, momentous day my parents were naturalized.”

And yes, I am a happy adult. I am definitely a Type A personality, always rushing around, trying to do too much, not good at just lying on the beach. But I’m so thankful for everything I have: wonderfully supportive parents and sisters, the best husband in the world, terrific students I love teaching and hanging out with, and above all, my two amazing daughters.

What is your relationship with your daughters like now?

I have a wonderful relationship with my daughters, which I wouldn’t trade for the world. I certainly made mistakes and have regrets—my book is a kind of coming-of-age book (for the mom!), and the person at the beginning of the book, whose voice is reflected in the Journal excerpt, is not exactly the same person at the end of book. In a nutshell, I get my comeuppance; much of the book is about my decision to retreat (but only partially) from the strict immigrant model. Having said that, if I had to do it all over, I would do basically the same thing, with some adjustments. I’m not saying it’s for everyone, and I’m not saying it’s a better approach. But I’m very proud of my daughters. It’s not just that they’ve done well in school; they are both kind, generous, independent girls with big personalities. Most important, I feel I’m very close with both of them, knock on wood.

Read more on the controversy over Chinese mothers this Saturday in Review.
 
^Yeah, sounds like the WSJ article was not the full picture by any stretch.
 
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